A Mischief in the Woodwork - By Harper Alexander Page 0,51

as I fussed with it, until it stretched and popped free into my grasp, and I found myself in possession of a single, wholly functional stocking. Shaking off some additional dust, I peeked around for the matching article. It was in the hollow next to where the first had been, intact as well.

A refreshing bout of luck, I thought as I stowed the pair of stockings for later. One never knew what he would find out here.

It was only another few meters to the top. Feeling optimistic, I pressed on. Foot- and handholds accommodated me like stairs now. I was almost there.

At the crest, I pulled myself cautiously aloft. My gaze flitted past a quick flank of rubble and then was flung wide over the top, where the world opened up into a new arrangement.

That's when I saw him. He was across the depression that lay on this other side, poking about the base of an erupting tower.

The tower was like blackened, coppery bark and splashes of glowing, worn mahogany, serrated with texture and burnt with age, but polished by sun. It rose like a beast, and stood like an enduring tree next to its felled kin. It was miraculously unbroken. It's time had not yet come. But of course, it would.

I made myself comfortable, settling in to watch what this fool young man did with his time there. After some more poking about, he did something I had not expected at all.

He began to climb.

Scaling the bluff of a crude heap of rubble was one thing, but Tanen had seemingly now moved onto a much greater challenge.

What on earth does he think he's doing? I shifted to get more comfortable without noticing, my brow creased in wonder. This was going to be a very interesting show.

After a few initial, failed attempts, Tanen found purchase. Painstakingly, he ascended past the first window. Respect pricked me like an annoying needle, but I still felt most comfortably warranted to label him a fool for the stunt.

He seemed to get bottled up at one point, simply staying in one spot for a time, looking helpless. Only after a good few minutes of procrastination did he cast himself back down, resolving to start over.

I found a place for my feet to stand, so that I was pressed in a fairly natural upright position against the bluff, where I could rest my forearms on the uneven ledge and prop my chin on my hands. It would have been an amusing position, I decided, if anyone had occupied the distance behind me: someone standing on the side of a cliff and peering over as casually and intently as a child peering over a countertop.

Tanen made it a little farther the next time, and once he reached the second line of windows, their sills gave quite a boost and doubled his progress.

I began a grueling guessing game, trying to dream up his possible goal. For the life of me, I couldn't imagine. Perhaps men simply got something out of climbing a tower with their bare hands. I had heard similar things. But surely this could not be that pointless.

If he could climb a tower, he had better be matching the effort in the interests of Manor Dorn, and his new benefactors.

My eyes swept up the tower, a wondering survey. Walls. Windows. Craftsmanship. Ledges. Gargoyles. A roof.

Back down again.

A roof. Gargoyles. Ledges. Windows. Walls.

I was beginning to grow antsy, but this mystery wouldn't let my curiosity rest. I saw nothing of interest, but I couldn't believe that Tanen had been coming out here for three days simply to climb the thing, disappearing like some secretive gentleman on shady business just for a thrill that looked more miserable than anything.

It was only after the fourth or fifth survey of the place that I saw it: something I wouldn't even have noticed if not for a terribly grasping sense of frustration and the tiny inkling of reference that remained lodged in my mind like one dusty piece of glass.

On the shoulder of one gargoyle, between the snarling head and its erect wing, was a small disfigurement that didn't match the profile of the others. I could not see it for what it was, but a wayward string of logic clamored together a possible image:

A nest.

No.

It couldn't be.

Sense stuttered into dead beetles in my mind.

Yet... I didn't know Tanen, so it very well could be, if possibility was truly weighed.

That's when I allowed the first trickle of a very important thought