running the length of another, much larger room beneath it. It must be built into the side of an unsuspected hillside, or perhaps the room had been excavated like a root cellar.
The floor below was laid with a black and grey checkerboard of tiles and swam before her eyes.
The silent woman gave Rhea a sharp nod, and another beckoning gesture, then turned on her heel. Rhea scurried after her. The floor was carpeted with thick red rugs, and their feet made a soft sloughing sound: uff chuff uff chuff uff chuff…
She’s taking me to Lord Crevan.
Oh lord, she didn’t know if she could deal with Crevan. She was exhausted and, she suddenly realized, ravenously hungry. The hedgehog was probably hungry too. Of course, it would want slugs, and Lord Crevan’s pantry was unlikely to have those, although if he was a sorcerer, maybe he did. Sorcerers had lots of nasty things lying around, didn’t they? Slugs and bugs and worms and dragon blood and…
uff chuff uff chuff uff chuff
The woman turned down a hallway that led off the balcony.
I’m going to see him and I’m going to babble like an idiot, or scream or cry or something horrible. I know I am.
The silent woman stopped before a door and pulled it open. Rhea braced herself.
The room was a tiny chamber, perhaps six feet on a side, with a bed, a basin, and a small wooden chest. The woman pointed to Rhea, then to the bed, and turned to leave.
Relief struck her so strongly that she felt weak in the knees. She didn’t have to face Crevan tonight. She could rest.
She was so overcome that the door had almost closed before she called “Wait! Hang on—wait!” She pulled it open again.
The silent woman gave a tiny sigh and gazed upwards, much like Rhea’s mother did when praying for strength.
“I’m really hungry,” said Rhea apologetically. “I didn’t eat—I mean, dinner was—ah—”
The woman looked at her and shook her head—not a negative shake but a how are you so stupid shake—and then turned and walked back the way they had come. Rhea hurried after her.
They went through another door, then another, and down a flight of stairs, and then they were crossing the enormous hall. The giant tiles were hard underfoot, and Rhea could feel the cold through the soles of her boots. The woman was moving hurriedly now, almost running, and Rhea could barely keep up.
And then there was a noise.
It sounded like the end of the world, like the great church bell being crushed by the millstone, a noise of screaming metal and grinding gears. It was the loudest sound Rhea had ever heard. She let out a shriek and almost fell.
The silent woman halted in her tracks, reached out, and grabbed Rhea by the scruff of the neck as if she were a kitten.
Rhea started to squirm, but the woman hauled back on her collar and dragged her close.
Then the floor fell away.
Rhea watched the stone tiles drop out of sight. They fell away into nothingness, into some dark abyss, first a few, then more and more, while that horrible grinding clangor came again and again until her head rang with it.
The silent woman stood behind her, holding Rhea up by the back of her shirt, a far more solid presence than the floor. The tile they stood on was one of only a handful remaining, seemingly suspended over nothing. The walls led straight down into an enormous chasm, wallpaper and baseboards hovering absurdly over sheer stone cliffs.
“What—how—oh god—what—” Rhea could hear herself babbling between those terrible sounds, and then she couldn’t even babble anymore and could only pant like a frightened animal.
In her pocket, the hedgehog was curled into an agonizingly tight ball.
A long time later, the noise stopped.
What was that? How is this happening? Is this sorcery?
What is holding us up?
And far more importantly How do we get down!?
It was a very large tile, but it seemed very small with two people (and one hedgehog) standing on it. The other tiles hanging
The floor below was laid with a black and grey checkerboard of tiles and swam before her eyes.
The silent woman gave Rhea a sharp nod, and another beckoning gesture, then turned on her heel. Rhea scurried after her. The floor was carpeted with thick red rugs, and their feet made a soft sloughing sound: uff chuff uff chuff uff chuff…
She’s taking me to Lord Crevan.
Oh lord, she didn’t know if she could deal with Crevan. She was exhausted and, she suddenly realized, ravenously hungry. The hedgehog was probably hungry too. Of course, it would want slugs, and Lord Crevan’s pantry was unlikely to have those, although if he was a sorcerer, maybe he did. Sorcerers had lots of nasty things lying around, didn’t they? Slugs and bugs and worms and dragon blood and…
uff chuff uff chuff uff chuff
The woman turned down a hallway that led off the balcony.
I’m going to see him and I’m going to babble like an idiot, or scream or cry or something horrible. I know I am.
The silent woman stopped before a door and pulled it open. Rhea braced herself.
The room was a tiny chamber, perhaps six feet on a side, with a bed, a basin, and a small wooden chest. The woman pointed to Rhea, then to the bed, and turned to leave.
Relief struck her so strongly that she felt weak in the knees. She didn’t have to face Crevan tonight. She could rest.
She was so overcome that the door had almost closed before she called “Wait! Hang on—wait!” She pulled it open again.
The silent woman gave a tiny sigh and gazed upwards, much like Rhea’s mother did when praying for strength.
“I’m really hungry,” said Rhea apologetically. “I didn’t eat—I mean, dinner was—ah—”
The woman looked at her and shook her head—not a negative shake but a how are you so stupid shake—and then turned and walked back the way they had come. Rhea hurried after her.
They went through another door, then another, and down a flight of stairs, and then they were crossing the enormous hall. The giant tiles were hard underfoot, and Rhea could feel the cold through the soles of her boots. The woman was moving hurriedly now, almost running, and Rhea could barely keep up.
And then there was a noise.
It sounded like the end of the world, like the great church bell being crushed by the millstone, a noise of screaming metal and grinding gears. It was the loudest sound Rhea had ever heard. She let out a shriek and almost fell.
The silent woman halted in her tracks, reached out, and grabbed Rhea by the scruff of the neck as if she were a kitten.
Rhea started to squirm, but the woman hauled back on her collar and dragged her close.
Then the floor fell away.
Rhea watched the stone tiles drop out of sight. They fell away into nothingness, into some dark abyss, first a few, then more and more, while that horrible grinding clangor came again and again until her head rang with it.
The silent woman stood behind her, holding Rhea up by the back of her shirt, a far more solid presence than the floor. The tile they stood on was one of only a handful remaining, seemingly suspended over nothing. The walls led straight down into an enormous chasm, wallpaper and baseboards hovering absurdly over sheer stone cliffs.
“What—how—oh god—what—” Rhea could hear herself babbling between those terrible sounds, and then she couldn’t even babble anymore and could only pant like a frightened animal.
In her pocket, the hedgehog was curled into an agonizingly tight ball.
A long time later, the noise stopped.
What was that? How is this happening? Is this sorcery?
What is holding us up?
And far more importantly How do we get down!?
It was a very large tile, but it seemed very small with two people (and one hedgehog) standing on it. The other tiles hanging
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