* * *
Throughout the day, he listened closely for chapel bells to the south in order to gauge the hour. It was painfully boring to trudge about the frostbitten tower, accomplishing the useless tasks that Jori brought for him. Apparently, his title still carried a miniscule amount of weight in the castle and each afternoon, his manservant brought him a small mountain of papers to be sealed and signed. Soryn never read them. He had a distinct hatred of paperwork and resented Jori for bringing it each day. He never wanted to be a lord anyway. A boy his age should have been able to be something else. Fenris, his eldest brother should have inherited the horrid task of signing papers all day. The thought of his elder brother had been fleeting, but he felt keenly alone once it had passed through his mind. Though Soryn had been young when Fenris and Olan were taken from him, he missed them.
After wading through the pile of papers and sending them away with Jori, he sat and fidgeted for about twenty minutes before he finally persuaded himself to move. Since Arna had not yet returned and he knew Jori wouldn’t be around until dinnertime, Soryn walked over to the north wall, which housed his bookshelf. Thankfully, he had remembered to place the horse book on his nightstand, to maintain his façade of interest. He could see the blank space between the books on the second shelf and it reminded him of the secret door in the fireplace.
All of a sudden, he was unbearably filled with excitement. “Oh, please hurry up, Arna,” he whispered. Much to his chagrin, she did not bound up the stairs at that moment. He looked at the spines of the books on his shelf. He saw many that were about matters related to running a town—the upkeep of a large castle, land treaties of years past, the history of his country, Oban, the ancient history of his planet, Niflheim. All of these books, he usually avoided. His eyes were drawn to the bottom shelf.
This shelf had successfully evaded his attention for six years. Never had he taken the time to pay attention to its contents. Since he still needed to wait for Arna, he folded his legs underneath himself and sat level with the lowest shelf. It would make sense that the most insignificant titles would be placed here. Many people reserved a bottom—or top shelf—for items that were forgotten. However, after only a moment of browsing, he began to see that most of the books were very interesting, indeed.
This shelf only contained thirteen titles when all of the other shelves had a full load. These books were grouped according to common theme and importance. All of them were oriented around the containment, use, and history of the Seidh on the planet Niflheim. From what he understood from conversations with Jori and odd tidbits he heard from guards through the window, the Seidh was what common people called magic. His heart fluttered in delight and he scanned the spines of each of them.
The books were incredibly dusty and old—in fact, he felt certain that, if he hadn’t sat down and looked closely, he would most likely never have given them a glance at all. “What unusual books to have in this room,” he thought. Magic had never really been discussed much around him. He never talked about it with Father Kimbli. He felt it was acutely unusual to have such things in his tower room.
A strange excitement bubbled up his spine, and in the pit of his stomach he could feel a feathery sensation building. What if he could learn magic? As irrational as it was, the books were making him feel as though the Seidh were some real power. “Silly of me,” he thought to himself as he raised himself from the floor and walked to his window. “Belief in magic is only for superstitious old people and fools.” Still, he found that he rather liked the sound of the Seidh; perhaps if it were real, he could someday come to learn how to use it.
Six tolls came from the church bells. Annoyed, he thought, “Won’t Arna ever come back?” Impatience started to settle into his bones. A thought occurred to him that had never crossed his naïve mind before. He left the window and crept cautiously toward the doorway that led to the extensive corridor attached to the main castle. An invasion of behavior that was out of character for Lord Maslyn had filled the day, it seemed. He had never explored the corridor; it had simply never occurred to him to try. The door would be locked at the end, but why not explore a bit? Jori would not arrive with his dinner until six-thirty in the evening, and Soryn would have plenty of time to reach the end of the cloister and back.
The hard-soled shoes provided for him each year were far too loud for such an expedition. He was sure it was best to move as silently as possible, so Soryn removed them and tested the first stone step. No sound. The next step…no sound. Good. Fearing the servants would hear even at the faraway end of the corridor, he moved as stealthily as possible and stayed close to the stone walls. It felt oddly thrilling to be sneaking about in an area that was wholly different from the tower. Even though it was still part of his prison, it seemed different, closer to the rest of civilization.
Voices of far-off servants resounded off of the stones. Soryn caught snippets of small talk being tossed about. The air was warmer the closer he moved towards the door. He still hadn’t caught sight of the door itself. The tunnel was almost pitch black because of the fact that the windows were all boarded up. Apparently, his captors did not want him looking outside too close to the main castle. A streak of light manifested itself and Soryn could tell that he was nearing the great door that barred his life from the rest of the world. The noises of the house were far louder there. He was careful to stay out of the path of light that extended from the crack underneath the door.
Footsteps came dangerously close and he froze. His heart beat faster than it had in six years and sweat broke out on his forehead. Soryn instinctively closed his eyes, as a key was inserted on the other side of the door. Metallic clicks and clangs rang out as the door latch opened. Soryn plastered himself as close to the shadows as he could. The door opened. Arna walked in, carrying his dinner tray and a small parcel underneath. She hadn’t seen him.
Forgetting himself, he breathed a sigh of relief. She turned quickly, only to gasp at the sight of him. They both gave a stifled shout and clamped their hands over their mouths, but it was clear that no one else was near the tower corridor entrance. After she realized there was no danger, Arna closed the door, locked it back, and made sure nothing was amiss with his dinner tray or the parcel. Next, she turned on him with what he could imagine as the most severe look she possessed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
“I was just exploring. I got bored,” he mumbled.
She scowled and stomped off in the direction of the tower room. Soryn followed along like a chastised dog and glumly ascended the steps. She did not say a word the entire time they walked back. His feet started to go numb on the cold floor. He quickly put his shoes back on as she plunked a tray on the table without the usual amount of grace she showed in her work.
“I can’t believe you could be so careless! What if Jori had seen you? You aren’t supposed to leave this room!” Heavy breathing accompanied her outburst.
“If they didn’t want me to leave this room, why didn’t they put a door before the stairs?” he countered.
She realized that he had a point, but she just clenched her jaw and tossed the parcel on the table before turning to leave.
“W-Wait! Arna, don’t be angry with me! I was just impatient. I wanted you to come back.” Soryn watched a blush rise to her cheeks. “Uh…I mean…I was really excited about my reading for tonight, you know…”
She raised her chin up a little higher than it had been and marched over to his seat. She smelled of jasmine and lavender. He could not help smiling. Leaning down, she said,
“If Jori or Father Kimbli finds out you are going ‘exploring’ too often, you can be sure they will install that door you mentioned.” Her voice was serious. “If I were you, I would know what was good for me and stick to reading my little books and doing as I am told.”
With that, she elegantly tossed her head and marched down the steps into the darkness. He sat dazed at the table. There was no time to recover before
she stomped back into the room and grabbed the pile of laundry that she left earlier in the morning. At least she had a good memory.
“Have fun reading about sick horses, Lord Maslyn.”
And she was gone.
He uncovered his tray and found an extra piece of fish, an apple, and a raspberry tart. He reached for the parcel and gingerly untied the sack, dumping its contents next to him on the table. She brought eight candles, stand, flint, and tinder. There was also a small book entitled, The Behavior of Horses in All Seasons. Lord Maslyn smiled to himself. Arna was thoughtful, despite her snappy tone. Again, he was sorry for how long he had waited to talk with her. Perhaps they could still be friends if he tried to speak with her more often. In the back of his mind, however, her advice pulsated like another heartbeat. Her opinionated outburst was most likely correct. Angering Jori or Father Kimbli was something he never wanted to do. Even though they put strict parameters on his life, they had always been kind to him. He put the candles back in the bag along with the rest of the stash and ate his dinner. All the while, he thought about the tunnel in the fireplace.