Silence and Stone by Kathleen Duey Page B

truth. This chamber was real, not her dreams.
    She slid out from beneath her blanket and went to peek through the crack in the stone wall. Seeing the meadow far below soothed her heart, but it made her sad, too.

    Standing in the exact center of the little chamber, below the dirty window, she moved her wings as fast as she could.
    She stood on the tips of her toes.
    But she could not rise into the air now.
    Not even a little.
    She folded her wings and went to sit on the edge of her bed to wait for the footsteps.
    Every day, in the middle of the afternoon, someone brought her food.
    There was a slot in the thick ironclad door.
    Beneath the slot was a shelf.
    Every day someone removed the empty tray from the day before and pushed another one through the slot.
    Every day, careful not to touch the iron cladding on the door, Alida slid the tray off the shelf.
    Then she sat on her bed to eat.
    Alida always ate everything on the tray, because she was hungry. But the food was awful.
    It was terrible.
    Coarse bread and thin soup, clumped oatmeal and meat.
    Human
food.
    When she was finished, she pushed the tray back through the slot as far as she could.
    There was a hinged iron cover over the slot.
    It swung both ways.
    Alida had tried to see through it a thousand times.
    It was impossible.
    It swung closed too quickly.
    Iron was poisonous to faeries, so she had to be very careful. She had no stick, no broom handle; there was nothing in the chamber that would let her lift the iron cover without touching it. She could not see the humans who brought the trays. But she could hear them.
    Some of the tray carriers had been slow, their feet dragging a little as they walked.
    Others had louder, faster footsteps.
    But they were always heavy footfalls, clomping on the stone floor—always human. Sometimes she heard the tray carrier breathing hard. The stairs that spiraled up the stone tower were long and steep.
    At first she had said hello, very quietly.
    Then, for a whole year, she had said it louder and louder.
    No one had answered her whispers. No one answered her shouts.
    She had tried being polite. She said, “Good day!” or “How are you?” but it didn’t help. No one ever said anything back.
    For a long time, it had made her angry.
    Now it only made her sad.
    She was lonely. And there was nothing she could do about it. Once there had been a spiderweb on thewindow above her head. She had loved watching the spider weave its silk. But it was gone. And another one had never come.
    Alida stood up and went back to the crack in the stone wall.
    She breathed in the smell of sun and wind and rain.
    She listened for birdsong and the quick tapping of woodpeckers.
    Then she sat on her bed again.
    When the footsteps finally came, Alida turned to stare at the locked door. For the first time since she had been here, the footsteps weren’t clomping on the stone floor. They weren’t heavy.
    They were light, graceful.
    Not as graceful as a faerie, but almost.
    A human
child
?
    Alida held her breath.
    The footsteps stopped just outside the door, as always.
    She watched the empty tray disappear through the slot. Then the iron cover swung back as a new tray slid through.
    What happened next astonished Alida. There were no footsteps. There was silence.
    Instead of leaving, the food bringer was still standing on the other side of the door.
    Alida could hear breathing.
    The food bringers had never waited, not even an instant. They always pushed the tray through, then clomped right back downstairs.
    â€œHello?” she whispered.
    There was no answer.
    She listened as hard as she could, hoping for a voice, a word or two.
    It was silent for so long that she was sure the tray bearer had tiptoed away. But then she heard footsteps, light, graceful footsteps moving away from the door. The sound faded, getting quieter and quieter as the tray carrier went back down the steep stairs.
    Alida listened until every tiny sound was gone, her