The View From Castle Always

by Melissa McShane

  12:04. Her hands were starting to ache from gripping the book so tightly. Would she feel a pull? Or would it hurt? She scowled at another sprite that drifted through the door and floated toward her as if it were interested in the book. If she didn’t succeed tonight, she’d keep trying until she did.

  12:19. Her eyes were sore from staring at the book’s oil-slick cover; it had started to look blurry, as if she were seeing it through a piece of fine gauze. She blinked. The effect didn’t disappear. She hugged the book to her chest, thinking You can’t have it, I won’t let you take it. A vibration very much like Miriethiel’s silent purr shook her hands and chest and forced her to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering.

  Ailanthe closed her eyes and concentrated on the angular hardness of the book’s wooden covers, the faint grain overlaid with the smoothness of white paint, and willed that feeling to continue. The vibration increased until her whole body shook and she had to tighten all her muscles to keep from falling over. Her fingers had gone numb, but she could still feel the book clutched to her chest. I am not giving up, damn you, she thought, hoping the Castle could hear her furious thought.

  The door slammed open. “Did it work?” Coren said, sounding a little out of breath. Ailanthe didn’t respond; she was afraid if she tried to speak she would lose her concentration. She hoped he wouldn’t touch her, because that would really distract her. She hunched her body around the book and willed it to stay with her. For the first time, she felt as if the Castle was paying attention to her, as if whatever it had for a consciousness was completely focused on dragging the book out of her hands. Ailanthe half expected to open her eyes and find herself in the Library, crammed onto a shelf.

  The vibrations ceased. Ailanthe felt numb all over. She felt Coren’s hands gently prying her fingers loose from the book and opened her eyes. He was dressed haphazardly and his long hair hung loose around his face. “It worked,” she said.

  “It worked,” Coren confirmed, and set the book on her lap to take both her hands in his, rubbing them gently. She winced as the blood began circulating again. She ached everywhere and could feel a headache developing behind her eyes.

  “I think I’ve proved my point to the damn thing,” she said, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see how close Coren was, “and I’m not doing that again unless it’s essential. Though I’m sure it would get easier with practice.” He’d stopped massaging her palms and was holding her hands now, loosely, and she realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly. Did it mean he felt—?

  “No reason for it,” Coren said, and let go her hands. He sounded casual, just as he always did, and the hope that had begun rising in her heart vanished, leaving her feeling empty. She heard him stand and take a few steps away, so she opened her eyes and picked up the book. “I’m curious,” he added, “to see if the Castle is able to reclaim that book later.”

  “So am I. But mostly I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to try sleeping with all the lights off and the curtains closed tonight.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “I don’t know. I’m too tired to care. I just know if I sleep with the lights on, this headache is going to get worse.”

  Coren looked as if he were coming up with more objections, but only said, “I’m across the hall if you need me.”

  “Good night, then.” I do need you. I wish I dared say it.

  The dark felt blessedly cool, and her head stopped aching almost immediately. She lay wide-awake watching sprites cross the room. There seemed to be more of them around lately, or maybe she was just more aware of them now she could see them clearly.

  She took the key in her right hand and ran her finger across the cool silver streaks. It was possible whatever changes it had made to her would persist after she left the Castle. The world would be a very different place if she could see magic wherever she went. Those spirits Coren talked about, for one, and suppose she was able to see the shape of the magic the kerthors summoned? The idea made Ailanthe a little afraid.

  She let go of the key and ran her fingers across her body, over her legs and her narrow hips and her breasts and up across her face, her round cheeks and her too-straight nose and the hard ridge of her eyebrows. She didn’t think her body had changed, she didn’t look any different in the mirror, but how likely was it that it was a change she would notice? “I’m not afraid of you,” she said to the darkness, but she thought she might be lying.

  She woke the next morning as sore as if she’d spent the night trying to lift her bed instead of sleeping on it. Coren was already gone when she left her room, but rather than go downstairs to help him carry breakfast, she went into the window room and sat heavily on a chair facing the high cloud-capped cliffs. The clouds were moving rapidly today, blown by a wind that didn’t touch the lowlands.

  Far below, the stream rushed past the base of the Castle. It was wider today, swollen with ice-melt from the mountains, probably. It looked cold and made Ailanthe feel cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think warm thoughts.

  Coren’s hand came into view, holding an apple. “You look cold,” he said, and returned moments later with the blanket from her bed, which he draped over her shoulders. “Go look out the desert window. That should warm you up.”

  She nodded, and took her apple and blanket across the room, leaning against the glass to feel the heat of the sun. Something skittered across the dunes, far below; it looked like some kind of lizard, and it had to be fairly large for her to be able to see it clearly at this distance. She took a bite of her apple, which was juicy and tart, and let her mind go blank.

  She felt the vibration in her cheek before she heard the sonorous tone of the Castle bell. She sat up and turned to look at Coren, who had his mouth full of cheese and looked as startled as she felt. He chewed and swallowed, and said, “We watch the Honor Hall from above, Ailanthe. No rushing out to greet this quester.”

  Ailanthe grimaced, but nodded. Coren was taking this far too seriously, but he’d been here a lot longer than she had and his seriousness might be justified. She waited for him to strap the sword on—maybe the quester needed to be afraid of them—then followed him down the stairs to the second floor and the windows overlooking the Honor Hall.

  Soon, they heard the faint, distant thud of the Castle door closing. Ailanthe looked over at Coren, who was intent on the empty hall below, his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was several minutes before they heard footsteps, and, strangely, a tuneful whistling. The quester was moving slowly, which combined with the whistling gave Ailanthe the impression of someone out for a casual stroll. The steps drew closer. Ailanthe focused on the Honor Hall, waiting for the moment when the quester would descend and the Things would appear.

  She almost missed it. The air within the Honor Hall filled briefly with a cloud of glittering particles, then the Things were there. And, yes, a few of them gleamed with the iridescence of magic, though most of those were so small she couldn’t tell what they were. Rings, possibly, or pendants. One of the crowns was magic, and the turnip that spun without stopping—she could have guessed that—and a scarf and the cherry wood armoire, which surprised her since it wasn’t a Thing.

  The quester wandered along the narrow aisles between Things, still whistling. He had short blond hair and wore ankle boots and hose and a particolored tunic with long, baggy sleeves. He was armed with a short sword and a knife and moved as if he knew how to use them. He never looked up. Ailanthe looked at Coren and saw his mouth was set in a grim line, which she guessed meant trouble. He beckoned her far away from the windows and whispered, “He’s Galendish.”

  “I don’t know what that means. I mean, yes, I understand he’s from Galendan, but why is that bad?”

  “Spirit of the Castle,” the quester called out, startling her. “I come to you—but my words are strange in my ears! Truly, a most wondrous thing.” He cleared his throat loudly. “Spirit of the Castle, I come to you as a supplicant, seeking my future. Guide m
y hand and the glory of my deeds will be entirely yours.”

  “That’s what’s bad,” Coren said. “The Galendish have strange ideas about how the Castle works, and they have a tendency to wander. It might be most of the day before he leaves.”

  Ailanthe looked back toward the Honor Hall. “Is he dangerous?”

  “Not really. Not the way that Agranite was. But it means we can’t move freely until he’s gone.”

  “Then I don’t see why we can’t approach him.” Ailanthe started toward the stairs and was pulled up short by Coren grasping her upper arm.

  “There’s no point in approaching him,” he said. “The door still won’t open.”

  “I just won my first battle with the Castle. I want to see if that changes things.”

  “Ailanthe—”

  “You don’t have to come.”

  He made an exasperated grunt and released her. “As if I’d let you go alone.”

  They went down the stairs and around the stone passage toward the Honor Hall. The Things were still present and the Galendishman was still wandering around, looking at them. Ailanthe trotted across the passageway and called out, “Hello there!” Behind her, she heard Coren make another exasperated noise and hurry to catch up.

  The man’s head snapped up, and he gaped at Ailanthe for a moment before coming up the stairs to meet her. He was almost absurdly handsome, with a strong chin and firm lips and warm hazel eyes that looked as if they smiled a lot. “Spirits of the Castle!” he exclaimed, going down on one knee before Ailanthe. “I am blessed indeed by your presence. Tell me, spirit, which of these many items should I choose?”

  “We’re not spirits, we’re people,” Ailanthe said. “I’m Ailanthe and this is Coren, and the Castle won’t let us out.”

  The man raised his head, glanced once at Coren, then focused on Ailanthe. “Surely such loveliness is not condemned to stay within the Castle’s bounds?” he said, rising to his feet. Ailanthe thought he might be even taller than Coren, who wasn’t short. He put his hand on the pommel of his sword and said, “Tell me, fair lady, what I may do to release you?”

  Ailanthe didn’t dare look to see Coren’s reaction to this. “You can try to help me open the door,” she said. “But you’ll need to choose a Thing first. It won’t let you go until you do.”

  The man looked back over his shoulder. “By my faith, where did they all vanish to?” he exclaimed. “I have not yet made my choice.”

  Ailanthe said, “That’s perfectly normal. Go back down and they will appear again.” She wondered why Coren wasn’t saying anything, but still didn’t dare to look at him for fear she might laugh. The quester’s enthusiasm was almost comical.

  “Then come with me, my lady, and let your fair hand guide my choice.” The man held out his hand to her. Ailanthe shook her head.

  “They won’t appear while I’m there,” she said, “and the choice is supposed to be your own. Just…take whatever draws your eye most.”

  The man bowed over his extended hand, then bounded back down the stairs. Coren said, “I hate the Galendish. Overly dramatic and foppish, every one.”

  “He seems perfectly nice, if a bit…all right, ‘dramatic’ is a good word. Why did he ignore you? For that matter, why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You were handling the conversation just fine. And he ignored me because any Galendish male would far rather speak to a beautiful woman than a man who might be a threat.”

  For a moment, Ailanthe couldn’t speak. He thought— “So he might challenge you to a fight?” she said once she’d regained her composure.

  “If he thought I was a danger to you, probably. Or if I got in his way. Better all around if you do the talking for both of us.”

  The Things vanished. The Galendishman bounded up the steps and approached them, holding out a palm-sized mirror. “Is this, then, my destiny?”

  “Probably,” Ailanthe said, not sure if that was a lie or not. “Can I show you the door now? And with luck, you’ll be able to open it for us.”

  For the first time, the man looked at Coren, and a brief frown crossed his face. “With a surety, my lady, I will be happy to help you and your…friend.” He extended his hand to take hers again, and to Ailanthe’s surprise brought it to his lips and grazed her knuckles with a kiss. She felt her face go red and could almost hear Coren bristle. The man dropped her hand and said, “My name is Tristram, my lady, and now I hope I may free you from your captivity.”

  Ailanthe led the way down the blue hall to the kitchen annex, Tristram following her closely and Coren bringing up the rear. She was certain Coren was poised to attack the man if he so much as stepped wrong around her, and the thought made her heart beat faster. He thinks I’m beautiful. She opened the inner door and gestured for Tristram to precede her. “Just—it’s just an ordinary latch,” she said. He looked at her quizzically, then set his hand to the latch. It didn’t move.

  “Let me help,” she said, and laid her hand atop Tristram’s.

  “My lady, surely you have not the strength,” Tristram said.

  “Just let me try.” She couldn’t think how to explain her magic quickly to this Galendishman when she was so impatient to see the door open. She let the memory of clutching the book to her chest well up inside her, tried to feel again the vibration and let that feeling travel down her arm into her hand. It didn’t work. The latch was as solid and unmoving as ever. Ailanthe clenched her jaw to keep from crying. It had been a foolish hope, anyway.

  “Will it not open?” Tristram asked. He didn’t seem frightened by the idea that he might be stuck in the Castle with them.

  Ailanthe shook her head. “It will open after we leave,” she said. “Count to five after I close this inner door. And good luck to you.”

  Coren was leaning against the wall opposite the inner door when she emerged and closed it behind her. “You may be the most optimistic person I’ve ever met,” he said. “And almost as stubborn as I am.”

  Ailanthe smiled and followed him around the corner to the blue hall. “I think I’ve given up on asking the questers for help. If the door is going to open, it will either be because I’ve grown strong enough to make it open or the Castle gets tired of keeping us here.”

  Coren nodded, then cleared his throat. “Ailanthe,” he began, and Tristram came around the corner behind them. His smile was white and perfect, and his hazel eyes twinkled at Ailanthe.

  “I find I cannot bear to leave you in such distress, my lady,” he said. “I looked out upon my destiny and realized there can be no greater quest than to free you from your peril. Therefore, I refuse to leave until you are able to walk out by my side.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ailanthe gaped at him. Coren said, “The door opened for you, and you didn’t leave?”

  “Even so, good sir.” Tristram swept them both a bow.

  “You—really, you ought to leave,” Ailanthe said, her voice trembling. “There’s no sense you being trapped here with us.”

  “Nevertheless, I choose to stay.” Tristram smiled another of those dazzling smiles. “There must be another way out of this place, and I will not rest until I find it.”

  “You’re going to go a long time without rest,” Coren muttered under his breath.

  “No, Tristram, I’ve already looked—”

  “What can it hurt, having another pair of eyes? My lady, do not deny me my opportunity to serve you.”

  “I—” She looked at Coren, who’d gone impassive. “I suppose I can’t stop you.”

  “Excellent decision, my lady!” Tristram captured her hand and once again brought it to his lips. “I shall begin immediately. Will you join me?”

  “Ah…perhaps I should show you through the Castle first. You’ll need a place to sleep, if you insist on staying here. And there are things you ought to know about the Castle itself.” Ailanthe glanced at Coren again, who remained silent, but the closed-off look on his face told her everything he wasn’t saying.

  They
ascended the stairs slowly, Ailanthe explaining about the Castle reclaiming things at midnight and how the windows looked out on different places. “I’ve tried breaking the windows, and climbing down from the tower, and of course going out with one of the questers, but none of that worked,” she said.

  “Then we shall simply try harder,” Tristram said. “I have never yet failed at a challenge, my lady.”

  Coren muttered something Ailanthe couldn’t make out. “And there’s the bathrooms,” she said quickly. “Do you have bathrooms where you come from?”

  She had to demonstrate the fixtures because Coren remained silent and somewhat menacing in the bathroom door. Tristram was even more vocally impressed than she had been, working all the faucets three times and pulling the chain on the cistern even more. She left him to actually use the facilities and leaned against the wall next to Coren. “You could make an effort to be polite,” she said.

  “He’s the one not being polite. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s dismissed everything we’ve tried as evidence that we’re not trying hard enough?”

  “He’s a little too certain of himself, yes, but he’s enthusiastic and I don’t see a way of getting rid of him.”

  “I could knock him unconscious and lock him in the Vestibule. He’d eventually give up.”

  “You’re the master of stubbornness; don’t you know a fellow practitioner when you see one?” Ailanthe let out a breath. “You don’t have to stay if he bothers you so much.”

  Coren glared at her. “I’m not leaving you alone with him. For all you know, the only reason he hasn’t attacked you yet is my presence.”

  “You don’t actually think he’d attack me, do you?”

  Coren looked away. “No.”