Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [33]
“Do they mean anything?” the young lass had asked, tracing the raw new markings with a finger.
“It’s a story,” Hans Peter had told her as he mixed some oil to rub into the wood.
“What story?”
“A wonderful story,” he had said, his voice grim. “A wonderful story about a princess in a palace who is more beautiful than the dawn and longs for a handsome young man to love her.”
“It sounds silly,” the lass had said. She had been at the age when she scorned anything remotely girlish.
“It’s actually a horrible story,” Hans Peter had told her, his voice darker than ever. “Because it is all a lie.” And then he would speak no more of the carvings or the strange story.
“I bet I can piece it together,” the lass said now, frowning at the marks and moving to the far left of the mantel. “Love.” She traced a familiar mark with her finger. “Liar, man, sorrow, alone, tower.” She frowned harder, and then on a hunch, she walked to the right side of the fireplace. “The symbols run backward,” she said with satisfaction, upon seeing the marks for “long ago,” “princess,” and “beautiful.” “It’s a language, a backward language. And I can read it!” She slapped her hands on the ice in triumph. Then another thought came to her, and her hands fell to her sides like weights.
I can read this because Hans Peter taught me how. He can read this language. He knows this story. He has been here.
Chapter 12
Once she interpreted the story on the mantel, the strange language began to open up for the lass. Some of the nuances were lost on her, and she didn’t know all the words, but she could get the gist of the stories. She read two of the pillars and the elaborate bands of carving over the golden door. There were a great many mentions of the beautiful princess, and her endless search for love, but the tales seemed to be more menacing than romantic. To the lass, it looked as though the princess was ordering every man she came upon to love her. It was time for supper when she turned around to see Erasmus and Rollo standing behind her, looking quizzical.
“Hello,” she said, dropping her hands self-consciously. She had been running her fingers over one of the doorposts.
“What are you doing?” Rollo cocked his head to one side. “You missed luncheon and tea.” There was no greater sin than missing a meal, in the wolf’s mind.
“Well, then, you should have come to find me,” she told him.
“The fireplace was too warm,” he said, and then stretched languidly. “And when Erasmus came to take away the uneaten tea tray, I thought I’d better follow him to the kitchen, and see if you were still down there. But you weren’t, so we came to look for you here.”
“I was worried that you were still, er, shocked from this afternoon,” Erasmus said, blushing. “But then Rollo assured me that you would be fine, since he was fine, and convinced the salamanders to give him cake.” His blush faded and he smiled at this.
“Yes, I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” the lass apologized. “For all the inconvenience I’ve caused.” Now that Rollo had mentioned the missed meals and the uneaten trays, her stomach growled loudly. “Pardon me!”
“You must be starving,” the faun said with a laugh. “Dinner is ready, if you are.”
“Yes, please!” She gestured for Erasmus to lead the way to the dining room. “I’m so thirsty I could lick the walls!”
“The walls taste terrible,” Rollo told her. “I tried it on our first day here. The ice tastes like rancid meat.” He shuddered and then shook out his pelt with a look of distaste.
“What?” The lass stopped in her tracks, putting out a hand to touch the nearest pillar. “It does?” She almost licked the pillar, then and there, to see if Rollo was right. Ice that didn’t melt and wasn’t cold obviously wasn’t regular ice, but why would it taste like rancid meat?
“Please, my lady, dinner is getting cold,