Skraelings so greatly. With its covering of calfskin, she thought they would have thought it a
tasty, tasty, not a nasty, nasty.
Hereward sat there until she felt her back and legs start to cramp. She was very cold, still
in deep shock, and could not understand why the Skraelings did not come back for her.
Were they waiting outside? Were they tormenting her?
Why this delay in death?
Should she go find them, offer herself to them?
Or should she try to live instead?
In the end Hereward shoved the book to one side and, with great effort, managed to get to
her feet. She stood for a few minutes, swaying slightly, then took a step or two toward the door at
the far end of the cabin.
Then she stopped, looked behind her, and stepped back to pick up the book.
She almost dropped the thing, it was so heavy, then she steadied it in her arms and began
the gruesome walk to the door, stepping over the body parts as she went and taking care not to
slip in the pools of blood.
It was night outside, and a gentle breeze blew in from the east. Hereward stood on the
slanting deck, hugging the book to her chest, looking about.
Everything looked so calm, so peaceful.
There was a band of Skraelings some fifty or sixty paces away on the east bank, outlined
in the moonlight. They were moving slowly, their snouts snuffling along the ground.
One of them looked up and saw her, then they all raised their heads, stared, and as one
moved off further to the east.
“What are you?” Hereward whispered to the book. She thought about opening it—there
was a lamp still burning on the prow of the boat and she could easily read by its light—but for
the moment all Hereward wanted to do was to strip off her blood-soaked clothes. She put the
book carefully down on the deck, then looked around.
The river was useless. As far as she could see, it was nothing but green glass.
The same color as DarkGlass Mountain.
Hereward had heard rumors about the evil nature of the pyramid all her life, and had
loathed it intuitively.
Now that same intuition told her that the pyramid, or whatever inhabited it, was
responsible for this.
Hereward sighed. She could not bathe in the river, but there was a barrel of rainwater
wedged against one of the boat”s railings, and so she stripped away her blood-stiffened clothes
and washed herself down, scrubbing at her long dark hair to get the blood out, and not caring
about the sting of the cuts in her scalp.
She also did not worry about the Skraelings. Surely, if she was fated to die, then the
Skraelings would have taken her before this.
There was a chest tied in close against the cabin, and from it Hereward retrieved a linen
robe—it was Odella”s, and a little too big for Hereward”s slim body, but she belted it in tightly.
At least her sandals could be washed clean of the blood and slipped back on.
Hereward knew she had to make a decision about what to do, but delayed it by deciding
to examine the book.
She hefted it, wandered over to the lamp burning in the prow, and sat down with a thump
on the deck.
Another band of Skraelings drifted past on the river, but they gave the boat a wide berth.
Hereward opened the cover to a blank, creamy page. She turned it over and came to what
was obviously a table of contents.
She frowned at it—the writing was unfamiliar, foreign, and she couldn”t—
The writing shimmered, and suddenly both script and language were familiar, and she
could read.
The page listed in order a series of stories…save that all the stories were the same.
One: The story of the woman Hereward who waited on the riverbank with the book.
Two: The story of the woman Hereward who waited on the riverbank with the book.
Three: The story of the woman Hereward…
And so on for thirty stories.
“Wait,” Hereward muttered. “On the riverbank.”
Far to the south, the One raised his head from the kitten in his hands and looked
northward.
“What is this that rises?” he whispered. “What ghost from the past be this?”
The book stank of Boaz, and the One instinctively hated it.
CHAPTER SIX
The Sky Peaks Pass
Can you show me the Twisted Tower, Maxel?”
“You want to see the Twisted Tower?”
“Will you trust me that far?”
Maximilian breathed in deeply. Distrust and uncertainty had been the twin pillars of their
relationship before even they”d met. But now that that relationship had been utterly torn apart, it
appeared to be progressing in leaps and bounds.
Now that it had been fractured… Ishbel”s mouth moved in the hint of a smile.
“If you wish, then certainly.” Maximilian fell silent, thinking. “But for this first time, I
will need to touch you. It is the only way.”
“I don”t mind, Maxel.”
Nonetheless, Ishbel took a big breath as Maximilian pulled his chair close, hesitated, then
lifted his hands and slid his right about the back of her neck, cradling her head, and lay the other
against her cheek.
“Now it is you who will need to trust me,” Maximilian said softly. “I need to take your
consciousness and turn it in a slightly different direction. You can stop anytime you want.”
“I trust you, Maxel.”
“Close your eyes.”
She did so.
“Relax your neck and shoulders. Let me cradle your head.”
She did this, too, though with some effort, as the intimacy reminded her so much of their
brief period of almost happiness.
How long had that lasted? A week? Two? But even that brief time had been founded on
lies and had collapsed at the first test.
“Ishbel, trust me.”
Trust me.
Ishbel”s mouth opened on a small, silent gasp. It felt as if Maximilian”s fingers had
suddenly intruded right into her mind and were gently twisting it, just a little, very quietly,
almost tenderly.
“Do you feel what I am doing with your consciousness, Ishbel? Do you think you could
turn your mind so, on your own, later?”
His fingers were still so gently turning her mind. Their pressure felt very curious, but not
uncomfortable or unsettling, and Ishbel could understand what he was doing.
He was turning her consciousness so that it altered her perception of her surroundings
and of the world she inhabited.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She felt him smile, felt the alteration in the warmth that radiated out from his face.
“Good. Right about now, Ishbel, you should see a path before you. Do you see it? Do you
feel it, beneath your feet?”
“Yes. Yes!”
And Ishbel did. She stood with Maximilian on a paved pathway that wound through a
garden of low flowers and shrubs toward the most extraordinary structure she had ever seen. A
tower rose before her, twisting in a corkscrew manner so high into the blue sky that she had to
crane her head to look at it.
“Ninety levels,” said Maximilian. “One chamber per level, and one window only, at the
highest level.” He smiled. “I have never seen this garden on either side of the pathway, Ishbel,
nor have I seen the sky so blue. You brought that with you.”
She looked at him. He was smiling, and she thought he looked very relaxed.
“Now look to the pathway,” said Maximilian. “There are eighty-six steps to reach the
door. You always need to take eighty-six steps, and you must learn to count them as you
approach. Soon the eighty-six will become second nature.”
“Why eighty-six?”
“The tower is a thing of order. It is also a thing of immense memory…ordered memory.
If you approach it in a disordered manner, then that disorder will reverberate throughout the
entire tower. Come. Let us begin these eighty-six steps.”
He took her hand, and led her toward the tower. They stopped before the door, and
Maximilian paused in the act of reaching out to grasp the doorknob.
“You open it,” he said. “Only someone of Persimius blood can open it.”
“Are you testing me?”
“No. I”m allowing you to do some of the work for a change.”
Ishbel bit back a smile, and laid her hand on the round brass knob.
Hello, Ishbel Persimius. Never before have I had a queen of the blood visit.
Ishbel”s fingers trembled a little, then they firmed and she twisted her hand so that the
door clicked open.
She stopped, one foot inside the door, astounded at the clutter and crowd of objects in the
room.
Maximilian put a warm hand in the center of her back, gently encouraging her inside a
step or two.
“Welcome to the Twisted Tower, Ishbel Persimius.”
Maximilian led Ishbel through the lower chambers of the Twisted Tower. He showed her
a few objects, and watched her face as she picked them up.