Realms of Valor - James Lowder [110]
his shoulder and continued to squeak. Its small face turned from side to side as if it were imitating Galvin. “I'm looking at things from a child's-eye-view,” the druid told Elias, pushing the weasel out of the way. “That's smart of you,” Drollo gasped, nearly out of breath from the effort of climbing. “I hadn't thought of that.” Without a word, Galvin rose and padded toward a door off the landing. It was partially blocked by a stand filled with intricately carved staves inlaid with silver and gold, but there was just enough space in the doorway for a child to squeeze through. Galvin moved the staves, though he nearly dropped the entire stand when one staff began to twinkle and twitch. As he'd suspected, the ever-present spiderwebs had recently been disturbed around the door. Keeping an eye on the magical staff, he reached for the latch. He stopped, spying small smudges on the knob-traces of Isabelle. “I'm not such a bad detective after all,” he noted reassuringly to Drollo, then turned the handle and went inside. The druid had to shield his eyes, for the room beyond was as bright as a sunny day. The source of the light was a glowing yellow globe dangling low, just inside the doorway. The ceiling, as cracked as the earth in a dry riverbed, was painted a warm and inviting shade of rose. The color of the walls was a darker shade of rose, though much of it was hidden behind Drollo's myriad possessions. “Isabelle,” Galvin called. “I'm a friend. I'm here with your grandfather. Please come out.” He glided farther into the room and was overwhelmed by a smell that was at once acrid and fruity-no doubt the remains of a meal lost amidst the junk. “Isabelle?” He spied movement near the windowsill. Striding forward, the druid brushed aside a thin curtain of webs. By the window sat a small oak table, in the center of which danced an ivory mermaid, no bigger than Calvin's hand. The exquisitely carved figurine rose and fell, spinning on a carved walnut wave. And all along the dusty outer edge of the tabletop ran a smudged path of handprints. Elias skittered up Calvin's leg and leaped onto the table. The weasel chittered excitedly. “Isabelle was here,” Galvin replied. “She tried to reach for the mermaid.” “Isabelle?” Drollo called, padding into the room. The druid gathered up Elias and faced the old man. “She was here. Perhaps she still is. The handprints are fresh enough that they're free of dust.” The old man's eyes sparkled. “Bless you, Galvin.” The druid's cautious stare told Drollo not to get too excited. “I knew I did the right thing by sending Elias after you. I couldn't thuuVof anyone better for finding my Isabelle. You know, people around here consider you a hero, Galvin. And just think of the-” “Quiet!” the druid hissed. He cocked his head from side to side. “What's the matter?” Galvin glared at the old man, then quickly softened his expression. “I heard something.” He cocked his head again and called, “Isabelle?”
An odd scratching noise was the only reply. Calvin's senses were more acute than most men's, but the unnatural clutter and congestion inside the tower hampered them. Out of his element, it took him more time and effort to pinpoint the source of the noise, but locate it he did. Putting Elias down, he moved warily toward a shadowy recess hidden partially by a large crate. Skritch. Skritch. Skritch. Galvin could tell it was the sound of metal upon stone, but as he neared the crate the noise stopped. Elias, hugging his ankles, bared its teeth and hissed. It took all of the druid's strength to tug the crate forward, leaving just enough space for him