The House of Yeel - By Michael McCloskey Page 0,3
room. Seven enormous columns rose from the floor to support a high ceiling. A circular portal in the center of the ceiling allowed the light of day to pour down into the room.
The fountain itself was massive. Carvings depicted humanoids with scales and fins around its perimeter. Tier over tier rose above Jymoor’s head, each catching the water in large pools and allowing it to swirl down in a constant rush.
Jymoor took a few steps around the fountain and saw something else truly singular. An archway beckoned between the next two smooth pillars. The opening was filled with a translucent curtain of orange light, wavering gently as if in a breeze. Jymoor’s mouth dropped open and she stared at the magical doorway, completely awed by its silent beauty.
“My lord?” Jymoor said absentmindedly, stepping toward the curtain. As she watched the curtain, dim washed-out scenes of faraway lands rotated behind the shimmering light. Jymoor saw vistas of purple mountains edged with snow, wide rolling plains, and thick, dark forests. She realized that perhaps the Great Yeel had traveled to one of these far off places and left his house unoccupied for the time being. How long might the lord of this place be gone?
She shook her head and continued around the fountain. A hallway connected to the fountain room between the next pair of columns, and Jymoor walked through the arched doorway and into another elegant white passage.
She strode down the hallway and noticed movement on her left. A deep brown hardwood picture frame held a mirror of superb quality, and Jymoor caught her reflection in it. When she realized this, she exhaled in relief, until she noticed the details in the mirror. A small squeal escaped her. She stepped back. Her reflection in the mirror was that of a beautiful queen, bedecked in the most regal finery imaginable. She wore a long red dress and a sparkling jeweled crown. Her walking stick had transformed into a royal scepter.
Jymoor looked away from the mirror and examined herself. She appeared as normal. She still wore her simple, dusty travel clothes and her hair felt disheveled. She checked her reflection again. It still showed her dressed as royalty.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Jymoor called out. “I lost the dress I was to wear…it got wet in a storm and then mildew ruined the fine cloth. I’m sorry I don’t appear as I should. The journey was long.”
Only silence answered her. She looked back at her reflection and gasped. It now showed her in a suit of heavy mail, holding a longsword inverted by the hilt, blade resting against the floor. She shook her head.
“What an amazing place!” she whispered, and moved on.
The next doorway brought Jymoor into an elaborate kitchen. Racks of cooking pots and utensils lined a stone wall next to three large fire pits. In the center of the room a heavy table sat with a large cutting board in the center. A collection of blue ovoid shapes were placed on the board, next to a large knife. Some of the spheres were already diced, revealing a mottled blue and orange interior.
Jymoor couldn’t guess what type of food sat before her. She walked around the massive cutting board and shrugged. Doubtless the master of the house enjoyed delicacies beyond Jymoor’s ken. Hope arose in the traveler when she realized that the food in midpreparation must mean that someone currently inhabited the dwelling. With this thought, she resumed her search of the house.
A tall tunnel led from the other end of the kitchen. It angled slightly downward with flawless smooth white walls.
“Lord Yeel? I beg forgiveness, but I seek an audience with you,” Jymoor called out. No answer returned to her ears.
Jymoor walked into the passage. It wound around and around, sloping gently and leading down into another level of the house. She wondered if perhaps she had taken a poor route; still she continued on to see where the twisting corridor would take her.
The passage ended in a tall, narrow door that opened up into a square room filled with shelves full of books. Two archways led out of the room beside the tunnel from which she had emerged. Jymoor goggled at the huge collection of tomes, walking up to take a close look. Many of the books had writing on the spines, but Jymoor couldn’t read any of it. She had some ability to read and write, as her older sister had served as a scribe to a wealthy merchant