The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) (9 page)

I lay there, staring up into its golden eyes. It stared back at me, pink tongue lolling from its mouth. I wanted to shut my own eyes, since I knew what was about to come next, and yet somehow I couldn’t. They remained wide open, making it seem as if I was slowly falling into the wolf’s baleful golden glare.

Don’t,
I thought in my dream.
Please.

For the longest moment, we both remained like that, frozen in place. The other two wolves had gone very still, and sat off to one side, watching us. And then the wolf lunged, and I screamed, screams that tore my throat even as his teeth sank into my neck, drawing out my life blood —

Those screams seemed to bounce off the walls of my room. I sat up in bed, blinking at my surroundings. One hand touched the leather binding of the book I had dropped, and I let out a small whimper. I was safe. Yes, the wind still howled outside quite as fiercely as those dream-wolves had, but I knew I had nothing to fear from it. Nothing could hurt me in here.

No one came to see what I had been screaming about. I reflected that I seemed to be the only person occupying a room on this floor, and so there was no one around who could have possibly heard my cries. Just as well; I wouldn’t have liked to explain why a dream had affected me so badly that I’d awoken screaming as if someone had attacked me in my bed.

Which, I realized then, wasn’t entirely outside the bounds of possibility. Yes, I locked the door behind me each night, but locks weren’t infallible. What if the scar-faced man-at-arms got it into his head to come creeping up here one night, to take advantage of my isolation and force himself on me?

No, that would never happen. Surely no man would risk his position in Lord Greymount’s guard for a few stolen moments with a woman. But then I remembered the way the man-at-arms had leered at me, and fingers of ice dragged their way down my back.

Wincing at the cold, I pushed the covers off and went to the door, then tested the lock. It was made of black iron, and seemed quite sturdy. Even so, I could not find myself terribly reassured. Perhaps it was only the dregs of the nightmare lingering in my mind, but I felt that lock was not nearly protection enough.

Glancing around, I noted the chair at the dressing table. It was carved from dark oak, and seemed to be the best solution. I went and fetched it, then shoved it up under the door handle. It might not hold if enough force was brought to bear, but at the very least it would make quite the racket when pushed out of the way, and that should be enough to warn me. Then I might have time to run to the hearth and snatch up the fireplace poker. Or perhaps I should bring the poker to the bed with me. No, that would require far too many explanations, if I should be caught that way.

Speaking of which, the fire had guttered out to almost nothing. No wonder the room was so cold. I’d quite forgotten to bank it down before climbing into bed, and I chided myself for my absent-mindedness.

I had no dressing gown, so I pulled the coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around myself before going to the hearth and plucking several logs from the basket which sat next to it. My supply was getting rather low, but I knew that it would be replenished in the morning, and I should be able to make do with what was here now.

The embers were still warm, and flared into life when I prodded them with the fireplace poker. Once I’d set the fresh logs on the grate, they caught soon enough, sending a welcome wave of warmth into the room. Would it be enough, though? What if the cold kept increasing until even a fire was not sufficient to keep away the bitter chill?

And what if those giants of legend came storming down from the north and battered down the castle’s gates with their great clubs?
I asked myself with some scorn.
I daresay that is equally as likely. In the meantime, you should calm yourself and go back to bed. One nightmare is not enough to completely shatter your common sense, is it?

Perhaps not. Yet it was such a terrible dream…and so very real. In most cases, when I dreamed, I remembered very little of what had passed through my mind. Or if I did recall what I had been dreaming, it made little sense, people coming and going in no logical order, saying things that made no sense. But in this instance, the events of my dream made all too much sense. Getting attacked by wolves was not such an out of the ordinary occurrence, although we rarely saw those predators in the forest of Sarisfell; it was too well hunted, and the wolves preferred to go someplace where they were the hunters, not the prey. It was only because our goat Sissi had broken out of her pen that she’d been caught, and slaughtered. If she had stayed close to the cottage, she would have been safe.

I shook my head at myself, then went back to the bed and slipped under the sheets and blankets, settling the coverlet over all the other layers. Already I could feel the room growing warmer, but somewhere deep within me was a core of ice that didn’t want to thaw.

And when I closed my eyes, I felt the bite of the wolf’s jaws once again.

I
awoke
to a pounding on the door and Master Merryk’s voice calling, “Mistress Sendris? Is everything well with you?”

Opening a bleary eye, I required a moment or two to gather my wits. Falling asleep again had been difficult, but somewhere in the depths of the night, I had finally succumbed, dropping into a black, dreamless slumber. Because I had been so restless before that, I must have slept far later than usual.

The reason for the steward’s consternation became clear enough as I focused on the door and saw that the chair I had placed there the night before was still firmly lodged under the handle. No wonder he was upset, for he must have tried the handle and realized the door was blocked somehow.

“One moment!” I scrambled out of bed, pulling the coverlet around me once more. I hurried over and removed the chair, then opened the door. “I am so very sorry.”

Master Merryk stared down at me, iron-grey brows knitted together, his blue-grey eyes both worried and puzzled. “Did something happen last night?” he asked.

“N-no,” I managed, stepping out of the way so he might go to the dressing table and set the tray he carried down upon its surface. “That is — oh, it sounds foolish now, but I had a very terrible dream, and when I awoke, I did not feel quite — quite safe. So I put the chair there. I did sleep very well after that, but I am sorry if it gave you a start.”

He did not answer at first, but went and fetched the chair and put it in its proper place in front of the table. When he turned around, his frown had not yet gone. “Do you not feel safe here, Mistress Sendris?”

What a question! If he had asked me such a thing even a day earlier, I might not have hesitated. But my dream had not faded, was somehow as strong now in the cold, grey light of a snowy morning as it had been in the depths of the black night before. Which I knew was foolish. Dreams were not real, and no wolf could harm me here in this mighty castle, with its high walls and gates of steel.

“Of course I feel safe,” I said stoutly, even as I held a private reservation in my heart. “You have all taken very good care of me. It is only that I felt so very unsettled after experiencing that dream, and I suppose I was still half asleep and not thinking clearly.”

In that moment, his eyes appeared far too keen, too searching. “And what was this dream which terrified you so, Mistress Sendris?”

“Oh,” I began, then waved a dismissive hand. Something within me was whispering not to tell him of what I had seen in that dream, and so I went on, tone too light, “You know how it is with dreams. They can seem so real, and so terrifying, at the time, and yet when you awake, they are gone as quickly as mist dissolving in sunlight. I cannot say — something about running, being pursued, but I don’t remember anything more than that.”

“Well, those sorts of dreams can be frightening, to be sure,” the steward said. His gaze flicked toward the rumpled bed, and where the history book still lay discarded within the folds of the blankets. “Perhaps it is better not to be reading such things immediately before you go to sleep.”

“I suppose you are right about that. Next time I will try something rather more innocuous — a book of herb lore, perhaps.”

“A very good idea.” He went to move toward the door, then paused. “Enjoy your breakfast, Mistress Sendris.”

“Thank you, Master Merryk. I will.”

He left and shut the door. I stood in the middle of the chamber, irresolute, then strode to the doorway and turned the lock. It was possible that he heard it, or perhaps he was already far enough away that he would not be able to detect the slight click as the tumblers fell into place.

But as I went back toward the table and my neglected breakfast, my eyebrows pulled together in their own frown. Always before Master Merryk had knocked at the door and waited for me to open it, but it seemed clear enough to me that today he had tried lifting the handle and found it locked, and only then began calling out to me. Had he knocked before that? I supposed it was possible I had been so deeply asleep that I hadn’t heard him, although such behavior was very unlike me.

Still, I couldn’t help but be disturbed that he would attempt to come in while I was still asleep. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for his behavior, although I did not know if I would have the courage to ask him why he had attempted to enter my room without my permission.

I glanced at the door one last time, then told myself it was daytime and the entire castle awake by now. Whatever Master Merryk’s motivations, I should be perfectly safe now.

So I sat down and attended to my morning meal, which was not quite as lavish as the previous ones, consisting as it did of porridge and dried currants, and a small pot of tea. But at least it was warm and filling, and made me a little more sanguine about facing the day ahead.

After I had washed my face and brushed my hair, and attended to other needs before putting on another of those lovely borrowed dresses, I could not help experiencing a pang at the thought of yet another empty day stretching ahead of me. Some might have said that I should be used to my confinement after nearly a week of it, but my small expedition with Lord Greymount had left me craving his company, certain that nothing else but the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, could possibly serve to occupy my time.

Which I knew was unreasonable, and silly. I had no doubt that his lordship had many things to do, all of which were probably far more important than entertaining his unexpected and unwelcome guest. He had provided books for me to read, and that would have to be enough to fill the hours.

But still….

Once again I went to the window and looked outside. What I had expected to see, I did not know, for yet again there were those interminable veils of white, moving in their own lovely and mysterious patterns. The snow was beautiful, true, but its force had begun to frighten me, and not for myself any longer. I was, as I had told Master Merryk, quite safe here in this fortress of stone and steel. But what of my grandmother, in our small cottage with its walls of daub and thatched roof? Yes, we had replaced that roof recently, but even a new roof might not be able to hold up under the weight of so much snow.

I had to close my eyes against a sudden vision of that roof collapsed, and my grandmother buried beneath it. But no, I would not allow myself to believe she had suffered such a calamity. My grandmother was a wise woman, and if the cottage began to show signs of weakening, she would have taken the cat and gone into Kerolton, where I knew Amery Willar would have offered her shelter. His house was made of stone, and had a stout roof of tin. I had no doubt it would be able to withstand even a storm such as this.

Besides, the forest itself would have offered some shelter, the trees providing something of a barrier to the relentless wind and driving snow. Kerolton would enjoy far more protection than Harrow Hall, which stood on the edge of a moor, where the winds could come howling directly from the north with no trees or any other structures to provide some protection. Yes, its position offered a commanding view of the countryside around it — or at least it would in clear weather — but sheltered it most definitely was not.

I went to the stack of books on the little side table where I had left them and began studying their spines. More histories, and one on the trees and plants of North Eredor. Those I felt intimately acquainted with, since I had spent so much time studying their various components, and how they might be used to tint wool brown, or green, or even orange or grey or red. Still, it seemed a safer choice, judging by my reaction to reading the geography and history books the night before.

After tending the fire, and using up the last of my firewood — I had to hope someone would be by with a fresh bundle — I settled myself down in the chair and picked up the book I had selected. The drawings it contained were quite lovely, intricate and detailed, and yet I found my attention wandering.

Would the lack of firewood be enough of an excuse to send me out into the castle in search of some more? I had not fared so well when I’d ventured forth alone before, but at least now I knew something of what to expect. It would not be so very difficult to avoid the main hall altogether, but instead stay to the upper floors, in the hope that I might encounter Master Merryk and ask for more firewood.

Oh, do not fool yourself,
I thought then.
If you went wandering those corridors, it is not Master Merryk you would wish to meet.

Very well, that was true enough. I had no idea how much time Lord Greymount spent in his own suite, or whether he had enough business in the castle to keep him occupied elsewhere, but I did know one thing for certain — if I stayed in here like a meek little mouse, then I would certainly have no chance at all of meeting up with him. After he had taken his leave of me the day before, it had seemed clear enough that he had no intention of coming to see me again any time soon.

I set the book aside and rose from my chair. As I did so, I heard a knock at the door. At first, my heart leapt — but then I realized it must be the steward, returning to bring me some much-needed firewood. And if he did that, I would have no reason at all for venturing forth from my room, at least no reason that didn’t sound very self-serving.

My grandmother had always made sure I did not curse. Nevertheless, several select words I’d heard the village men utter when they didn’t think any women were around entered my thoughts. I pulled in a breath, however, then squared my shoulders and went to answer the door.

To my utter astonishment, it was Lord Greymount who stood there. He smiled, but I thought I detected a slight strain in his dark eyes, as if he had something else occupying his thoughts but wished to appear pleasant. “Good morning, Mistress Sendris.”

“L-lord Greymount,” I stammered, my composure deserting me at this apparition.

“I realized that our tour of the castle stopped rather abruptly when we came to the library,” he said, apparently affecting not to notice my discomfiture. “I thought perhaps we could continue?”

“Of course,” I replied at once. At least I had enough wits about me to know how I should answer him.

“It is quite chilly, however. I believe there is a woolen mantle in amongst the other items of clothing in that wardrobe. You may wish to put it on before you venture forth.”

To be sure, I had noticed that mantle, but had pushed it aside when in search of a gown to wear, since I had not thought I would require it, confined within the castle’s walls as I was. But I nodded and went to fetch it. For a moment, as I reached into the wardrobe to pull out the garment, I had the oddest fancy that my reaching fingers would instead find a cloak of white fur.

Of course they did not. I grasped the mantle of heavy dark blue wool and settled it about my shoulders. That did help somewhat, for even with the last of the fire I had lit earlier warming the room, it still seemed chillier today than it yet had during my tenure at the castle. That reminded me of the firewood, which most definitely needed replenishing.

“I need to let Master Merryk know that I have quite gone through my supply of wood — ”

“It is no matter,” Lord Greymount said. “When I inquired after you this morning, he told me that he would be bringing up some more very shortly. Now we can be out and away while he manages that task.”

I was not sure why I did not quite like the idea of Master Merryk going into my room when I was not there. Indeed, it was not even my room, not really. Only a place I was borrowing for a time until I could return to the cottage I shared with my grandmother. And the truth was, I needed someone to bring up that firewood. I could only imagine his lordship’s reaction if I offered to do it myself.

“That is very kind of both of you,” I said politely as I shut the wardrobe and moved toward the door.

Master Merryk left my thoughts as I grew closer to Lord Greymount. Today he wore a doublet of warm wine-colored wool, and over that a long black cloak. I had thought him handsome before, but something in that color combination brought out the breadth of his shoulders, the warm undertones to his complexion and hair. My breath caught when he drew near, but then he stepped out of the way so I might move past him and out into the corridor.

He had been correct about the cold; I saw my breath mist into the air as soon as I left the warmer confines of my room, and I pulled the heavy mantle closer about me. “Does the castle usually get this chilly?”

“Not like this.” For a second, he glanced upward, as if trying to divine what the weather might do next. “But it is still far better than being outside.”

Of that I had no doubt. The wind was howling just as loudly this morning as it had been the night before. No human being could survive for long in those kinds of conditions, no matter how warmly they might be dressed.

“Well, I suppose if we walk briskly enough, we shan’t notice,” I said, hoping I sounded unconcerned by the prospect of taking a tour in the castle’s unheated hallways. After glancing around and seeing that he was completely alone, I asked, “But where are your dogs? I would have thought they would enjoy this sort of exercise.”

“In general yes, but they were rather wearied from their constitutional this morning in the courtyard, and are sleeping by the fire in my suite. It is not possible to strap snowshoes on a dog, after all.”

His eyes twinkled as he said this, and I smiled up at him at the notion. Yes, I supposed it would be difficult for the dogs to manage in this weather, even great beasts such as Doxen and Linsi. “Well, then we shall just have to do without them.”

“That was my plan, yes.” A pause, and then he offered me his arm. “So let us go forth, Mistress Sendris.”

Once again I found my breath catching, but for an entirely different reason. Had he completely forgotten what had happened the last time we touched? I sent an uncertain glance up toward him, but I could see nothing in his expression save a mild interest.

Well, if he was willing to take the risk again —

I looped my arm in his, holding my breath the entire time. But nothing at all happened. Very well, something happened. A small, warm thrill passed through my body at standing so close to him, of having our arms linked, but it was nothing like the shock I had experienced when our bare fingers had touched on that first occasion.