*Anna?*
*I’m here.*
*I’ve been sleeping and don’t know what time of the day or night it is.*
*If that is the only reason you are talking to me, I’ll punch you next time I see you.*
*No, there is a lot going on here. When I woke last time after fighting off that essence in the king, Elizabeth was talking about armies from Fairbanks, Landor, and Malawi leaving on ships to the coast near you. I made her promise I’d be on one of the first.*
*That’s wonderful news. Kendra will be excited.*
*I have to go now, but we’ll talk later when I know a few facts.*
*Wait. What about giving me another letter?*
I passed two of them on to her and felt her joy in there being two instead of one. At the rate she was going, we’d be sounding out basic words before long.
The room felt cold, so I wore a blanket like a cape as I explored. There was no consideration of leaving until Elizabeth returned. Aside from dust and the smell of things old and unused, the room contained all a person would need over an extended period of time. A shelf held clothing of all sizes, another food such as nuts and dried fruit that would last season after season. A series of kegs held mild wine and others sour ale.
The bed, sofa, a few small tables, and a large store of candles laid beside flint and steel. Those meager furnishings completed the room. It was safe, not comfortable, probably constructed when the wing of the castle was built, unknown to all but a few . . . and it bothered me. Besides being a safe place to hide, it was a trap.
If enemies forced part of the royal family to hide in the room, after a few days they could only depart to face their enemies and possible execution. It was an unpleasant thought and not the way I’d construct a safe room.
My eyes searched the undecorated walls for the outlines of a hidden door. There were none. The floor was made of flagstones far too heavy to lift. The mortar between them indicated they were permanent. It didn’t make sense.
The musty smell triggered a thought. I’d smelled it before. A cave. I’d explored a cave with Kendra in Dire, an old mineshaft, and it smelled similar. I placed a hand on the wall nearest me and tapped softly, then moved to my left until I’d circumnavigated the room, tapping the entire time.
I went to my knees and began a minute exploration of the floor, moving everything to search under. The bed had a metal railing that fell off and clattered to the stone floor, certain to be heard by anyone in the outer suite of rooms. It hadn’t been attached to the bed but held on with hooks. No demanding pounding came from the door, so I continued searching—and find nothing.
Finally, I sat on my bed again, frustrated and puzzled. The faint smell continued to antagonize me. The room was in disarray, far more than when I’d entered. Knowing the tongue-lashing Elizabeth would give me, I started cleaning.
All went well until it came to attaching the metal railing to the rear of the bed. There were two hooks on the back of the bed to hang it on. That made sense of a sort, but it didn’t provide any support for the bed. What didn’t make sense were two other items. First, was the length of the railing was too long for the bed. While all the rest of the bed was of quality construction, no craftsman would make the railing stick out on each end so far.
The second thing was that I noticed there were small iron hooks at one end of the railing, built to look as if they were part of the overall design, but hooks all the same. The other end of the rails were flattened.
It isn’t a bed railing. It’s a ladder.
The thought sprang into my head as a fact, not conjecture. The slats were steps when it was stood upright. The hooks on one end were there for a reason. I looked at the walls again, with new eyes. At a height my hand could almost reach, a decorative band of molding circled the room. It was at the same height the railing would be if stood on end. My heart pounded. Above the molding was a small section of wall, decorated with geometric designs.
My eyes tracked it, starting at the nearest corner. Nothing stood out. I started on the next and instantly saw a pair of decorative slots cut in the top of the molding, the width of the railing apart. Heart pounding, I lifted the ladder, turned it right-side-up, and moved the top to the slots. It slipped into place as if made for it, which it was. There were posts to hold the hooks in place.
I tested the bottom step and found it solid. Three more and I examined the ceiling above the ladder. There had to be something else. Nobody would go to the trouble to construct the ladder and hide it unless there was a reason.
Up close, located above the molding where it was unseen from below, was a thumbhole. I reached in and lifted. A section of the geometric design pulled free, hinged at the top. Behind it was a tunnel through solid rock and the source of the smell.
It was dark inside. Cobwebs filled it so full I couldn’t see more than a short distance. Before entering the tunnel, I’d want something to clear the cobwebs and a candle. I closed the hatch, removed the latter and replaced it on the bed, and sat on the sofa, letting all sorts of ideas run free.
The tunnel cut into the rock told me it was an escape tunnel, the last resort. It made sense. However, where the tunnel emerged was a weak point in the defense system. If anyone knew, or discovered it, on the outside, they could enter the room and thus the castle.
Nobody had, not recently, the cobwebs said, but my devious mind told me that if the care to build one tunnel and the secret room had been taken—there were more.
A tap at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I peeked through the pinhole and found Elizabeth. I let her inside. Instead of her gown, she wore a pair of work pants, a loose shirt, and a floppy leather hat. Where and why would come later, I assumed.
I still wore my fancy dress clothing.
She started talking from the time the door opened. She and the king had been in the conference for an entire morning. Outside of his private quarters, from a small private balcony, she’d watched the army organizing, gathering supplies, and plans being made. The two mages had not yet been located and I wished I had Kendra’s power to locate them.
Two enemy mages in the palace could be a problem. They might use their magic and call down storms with lightning to destroy the army ships, or worse. They could be attempting to assassinate the king and his sons.
The dying Waystone outside the east gate returned to my thoughts. I hadn’t seen or heard of any magic in Malawi since arriving. Not only was that odd, but there had been no resistance by the four mages who were captured and executed. What mage would allow himself to be captured without using magic to defend himself?
Remembering the small rainstorms I’d created in the desert, I had no doubt I could create a veil of mist to hide me in all but direct sunshine. A true mage could probably do much more to hide or disguise himself. Without having ever done so, I believed I could distort my features enough that nobody would recognize me. A slight change to the cut of my hair, a bit of light brown, and perhaps a distinctive fake scar on my cheek and I could go anywhere unrecognized. Why hadn’t the mages done that to protect themselves?
I believed I knew the answer. I interrupted her dialogue, “The Waystone here is dying. The mages have no essence to draw from, or if they do, it is very little, or they couldn’t have been captured. The only place to obtain more essence is from the Wyvern we’re seen near here and they were too high. We need to tell the king to order them killed on sight. No Wyvern, no magic.”