Guardians of the Keep: Book Two of the Bridge of D'Arnath by Carol Berg

purpose.
    No spyholes opened into my bedchamber, thank goodness, nor into the little study I’d made from the
    adjoining room in the north wing, but one of them overlooked the passage outside my door. The passage
    joined the north wing to the northwest tower stair, and the spyhole was concealed in a stepped molding
    that matched the rectangular wing to the circular tower. To look through the hole, one had only to lie flat
    on the first landing of the tower stair and peer through a slot in the dusty wooden floor.
    On a day when I had the clear impression that my shadow was with me, I dug about in a cluttered
    storeroom until I found an old metal box that had a hasp, a working lock, and a key. I set the box in the
    passage outside my bedchamber door in clear sight of the spyhole. Over the next few days I found
    occasion to place several wrapped bundles in the box, making sure to lock it carefully after each entry.
    Having installed no telltales, I had no idea if the box had been moved or examined, but I didn’t believe
    my spy could get into it.
    On a crisp autumn morning, I inserted a last bundle into the box and carried it up the tower stair. Only
    because I knew to expect them did I notice the disturbed dust on the floor beside the lumpy shape of a
    moth-eaten rug, crumpled in the corner of the landing. I climbed slowly past the hidden spy.
    The narrow triangles of the tower steps spiraled about the walls, expanding into a landing as they
    penetrated each of four levels. Tall arrowslits laid a barred pattern of light on the worn steps. A keen
    observer might note that the walls narrowed near the top, the spiral of the stair closing just a bit tighter
    than it should have. No more stairs existed beyond the fourth landing. Were an invading enemy to harry
    him so far, a besieged warrior could make his last stand there with no escape but his blade. The enemy
    could not know that the lady or the heir of the house had preceded this last defender into a secret place.
    Pausing at the eighth stair past the third landing, and making a great show of sneaking, I twisted the
    head of a stone gargoyle and pressed hard on the blank stone beneath the ugly carving. Though I worried
    briefly that my scheme might be foiled by time and neglect, the stone slab soon swung away from me,
    revealing a steep narrow stair between the inner and outer wall of the tower. Narrow shafts in the outer
    stonework, invisible from below, supplied light and air.
    Carefully I slipped through the opening and pushed the door closed, but not quite enough to let the
    gargoyle slip back into position. I ran up the steps to the tiny room at the top of the tower, the secret
    room where the lady and the heir could huddle terrified until their champions repelled the invaders, or
    where they would die by their own hands if all hope was lost.
    The wind gusted through a small door to the outside. Past the door, five more steps led up to an open
    stone platform, centered by a firepit. This platform, hidden behind the crown of the tower, was the
    highest point in all of Comigor Castle, commanding a view that stretched to the horizon in every direction.
    The vast forest of Tennebar made a dark line in the west, while the snowcapped peaks of the Dorian
    Wall were just visible far to the southwest.
    I smiled as the door from the inner stair creaked slightly, and I counted the steps it would take him to
    see where I had gone. . . . Six, seven paces across the room and peer out the door. . . . Four, five
    steps. Now peek around the low wall that faces the platform and open your mouth in
    astonishment .
    “In this place only a bird can look down on you,” I said. I was perched on the parapet between two
    merlons, eating an apple, my feet dangling over the wide world. “To my mind it’s quite the most
    spectacular view in all of Leire.”
    As I had thought it might, the wonder of the place stole away the boy’s determination to remain apart.
    He was soon leaning over the wall