around for questions she couldn't
answer.
The man groaned behind her. She quickened her pace. The teenager
frowned, then set the tray down and ran to the man.
Alexa slipped out the door and into the cloister walk. Silver rain
fell tinkling around her, then sputtered into droplets and subsided into a soft
patter.
Once back in her room, after showering—another pain, since some of
the jerir penetrated her scratches instead of sliding from her body—Alexa was
restless. She went to the windows to look out, and saw blackness over the
fields. Her tower was one of the four large round Towers of the Castle Keep,
but no one lived there except herself.
She dressed in leggings, a shirt and a long tunic, then she paced.
Though the weather had cleared and brilliant stars shone in the
night sky, there was only the faintest luminescence where she knew the Town
should be. No use going to the Town, since she wasn't even familiar with the
Castle. The thought of walking alone down the hill to the Town daunted her. She
shivered as the memory of the night hike she'd taken in Colorado flickered in
her mind's eye. She'd been crazy, spellbound, grief-stricken—maybe all three.
She noticed the swaying white branches of the beautiful large tree
in the garden below. Concentrating hard, she heard the soft murmuring of the
tree's Song, which spoke of contentment and spring and growing and destiny. The
strains came too quietly to grasp and the melody was such that she wanted to
listen to the whole of it. Or maybe she just had cabin fever and
wanted out. She drew her heavy, warm purple cloak around her, then slipped from
her room and down the stairs.
Everything was quiet.
Hesitating, she cocked her head to get the tree's direction. With
slow steps she followed the tune and found herself before a small door that
would let her out of the Keep and near the garden. She opened it, and air laden
with humidity and the rich secrets of night-growing plants wafted to her. As
she inhaled, more notes joined the rich orchestral symphony. She exited, and a
few strides later faced the tall hedge maze. Perfectly groomed, it stood a good
fifteen feet high, dense and dark and green-black.
Still the tree Sang, and it Sang to her. She could almost
hear it Sing her name. She pulled her cloak close and the cowl low and threaded
her way through the maze by sound instead of sight. Low bird chirps accompanied
the soft tread of her own footsteps.
A few minutes later she exited the maze at a right angle from
where she had entered. There was a small lawn, then an old, low wall of stone
with a little door that looked to be just her size. She smiled and walked to
it, put her hand on the cold handle, pressed the latch and pulled, expecting an
awful creak. The door swung silently and easily open.
The moon had risen while she'd been in the maze and now painted
the garden in silver light. A profusion of bushes with stark branches of
various shades of gray and black were all tangled together as though the garden
wasn't well tended. Most of the Lladranans would have to stoop through the
door.
But the white tree lifting graceful branches into the sky was the
only life taller than the wall.
A bench circled the tree, and she picked her way through dead
leaves along an overgrown path toward it. For a moment she hesitated, then slid
her hands up and down the trunk, feeling the bark, smooth in some spots, rough in others. Tree-song enveloped
her and she sat on the bench, leaning against the trunk.
She didn't know how long she rested there, her busy mind quiet,
experiencing the tree's melody, imbued with serenity. It lilted of sap rising
through it slowly, slowly, of the anticipation of each bud pushing through bark
and unfurling tiny leaves, of the reaching of its branches and how it danced
with the wind and the sky and the Song.
There you are! Sinafin said, the hint of a
scold in her voice.
She was still the purple bat. In the recesses of her mind, Alexa
knew she should be upset
answer.
The man groaned behind her. She quickened her pace. The teenager
frowned, then set the tray down and ran to the man.
Alexa slipped out the door and into the cloister walk. Silver rain
fell tinkling around her, then sputtered into droplets and subsided into a soft
patter.
Once back in her room, after showering—another pain, since some of
the jerir penetrated her scratches instead of sliding from her body—Alexa was
restless. She went to the windows to look out, and saw blackness over the
fields. Her tower was one of the four large round Towers of the Castle Keep,
but no one lived there except herself.
She dressed in leggings, a shirt and a long tunic, then she paced.
Though the weather had cleared and brilliant stars shone in the
night sky, there was only the faintest luminescence where she knew the Town
should be. No use going to the Town, since she wasn't even familiar with the
Castle. The thought of walking alone down the hill to the Town daunted her. She
shivered as the memory of the night hike she'd taken in Colorado flickered in
her mind's eye. She'd been crazy, spellbound, grief-stricken—maybe all three.
She noticed the swaying white branches of the beautiful large tree
in the garden below. Concentrating hard, she heard the soft murmuring of the
tree's Song, which spoke of contentment and spring and growing and destiny. The
strains came too quietly to grasp and the melody was such that she wanted to
listen to the whole of it. Or maybe she just had cabin fever and
wanted out. She drew her heavy, warm purple cloak around her, then slipped from
her room and down the stairs.
Everything was quiet.
Hesitating, she cocked her head to get the tree's direction. With
slow steps she followed the tune and found herself before a small door that
would let her out of the Keep and near the garden. She opened it, and air laden
with humidity and the rich secrets of night-growing plants wafted to her. As
she inhaled, more notes joined the rich orchestral symphony. She exited, and a
few strides later faced the tall hedge maze. Perfectly groomed, it stood a good
fifteen feet high, dense and dark and green-black.
Still the tree Sang, and it Sang to her. She could almost
hear it Sing her name. She pulled her cloak close and the cowl low and threaded
her way through the maze by sound instead of sight. Low bird chirps accompanied
the soft tread of her own footsteps.
A few minutes later she exited the maze at a right angle from
where she had entered. There was a small lawn, then an old, low wall of stone
with a little door that looked to be just her size. She smiled and walked to
it, put her hand on the cold handle, pressed the latch and pulled, expecting an
awful creak. The door swung silently and easily open.
The moon had risen while she'd been in the maze and now painted
the garden in silver light. A profusion of bushes with stark branches of
various shades of gray and black were all tangled together as though the garden
wasn't well tended. Most of the Lladranans would have to stoop through the
door.
But the white tree lifting graceful branches into the sky was the
only life taller than the wall.
A bench circled the tree, and she picked her way through dead
leaves along an overgrown path toward it. For a moment she hesitated, then slid
her hands up and down the trunk, feeling the bark, smooth in some spots, rough in others. Tree-song enveloped
her and she sat on the bench, leaning against the trunk.
She didn't know how long she rested there, her busy mind quiet,
experiencing the tree's melody, imbued with serenity. It lilted of sap rising
through it slowly, slowly, of the anticipation of each bud pushing through bark
and unfurling tiny leaves, of the reaching of its branches and how it danced
with the wind and the sky and the Song.
There you are! Sinafin said, the hint of a
scold in her voice.
She was still the purple bat. In the recesses of her mind, Alexa
knew she should be upset
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