Ice - Anna Kavan [17]
He lifted her head with one hand, looked into her face for a moment, let the head fall back on the pillow; it lay as it fell. He stood up, moved away from the bed; his foot caught in the fold of a blanket, he kicked it back and went on to the door. He had not spoken a single word since he entered the room, and he left it without a sound, apart from the faint click of the closing door. To her, this silence was one of the most terrifying things about him, in some way associated with his power over her.
I wondered where I was being taken. The place was colossal, the passages wound on and on. We passed the trap doors of oubliettes, cells hacked out of the rock. The walls of these hutches were running with water, with some noisome exudation. Perilous steps led down to still deeper dungeons. We went through several pairs of huge doors, which the guards in front unlocked and the others slammed shut behind us.
The warden received me in a civilized room. It was spacious and well-proportioned, the wood floor reflecting dim old chandeliers. The windows faced away from the town, over parklike grounds, sloping down to the distant fjord. His perfectly-fitting black tunic was of superb material, his high boots shone like mirrors. He was wearing the coloured ribbon of some order I did not know. This time my impression was more favourable; the arrogant look I disliked was less in evidence although it was clear that he was a born ruler, a law unto himself, not to be judged by the usual standards. 'What can I do for you?' He greeted me with formal politeness, his blue eyes looked me straight in the face. I told him the story I had prepared. He agreed at once to have the necessary permits made out and signed, I would get them tomorrow. On his own initiative he suggested adding a note to the effect that I was to be given help in my investigations. To me it seemed superfluous. He said: 'You don't know these people. They are naturally lawless and have an innate dislike of strangers, their ways are violent and archaic. I've tried hard to introduce more modern attitudes. But it's useless, they're embedded in the past like Lot's wife in her pillar of salt; you can't detach them from it.' I thanked him; at the same time I was thinking about the guards, who hardly seemed to fit in with his enlightened outlook.
He remarked that I had chosen a strange time for my visit I asked why. 'The ice will be here very soon. The harbour will freeze, we shall be cut off.' He flashed a blue glance at me. Something had not been said. He had a trick of blinking his very bright eyes, which then seemed to emit blue flames. He went on: 'You may be stranded here longer than you bargained for.' Again the sharp look, as if something more were implied. I told him: 'I'm only staying for a week or so. I don't expect to find anything new. It's more a matter of getting the atmosphere.' In spite of my original aversion, I suddenly had a curious sense of contact with him, almost as though some personal link existed between us. The feeling was so unexpected, unaccountable and confusing that I added, 'Please don't misunderstand me,' without knowing quite what I meant. He seemed gratified, smiled, and at once became more friendly. 'So we speak the same language. Good. I'm glad you've come. We need closer contact in this country with the sophisticated nations. This is a beginning.' Still somewhat hazy as to what we were talking about, I stood up to go, thanking him again. He shook my hand. 'You must come and dine one evening. Let me know in the meantime if I can be of any further service to you.'
I was jubilant. My luck was holding. I seemed almost to have attained my object already, I was sure of a chance of seeing the girl. If the dinner invitation failed to materialize, I could always fall back on his final offer.
FOUR
The signed permits