19. Chapter Nineteen #2
Hundreds and hundreds of variations of one source material, so that any man from any place of origin and any point in time might get a chance to read this text. How long would I have to scour these shelves before I fall upon a copy that I myself could read?
I step backward in the vain hope of perhaps catching sight of a red book that happens to have some words or anything to suggest that I might be able to understand its contents. The floor groans beneath my feet, like a door rusted in its hinges and opened for the first time in centuries.
There is a rug covering where I stand, a rectangle blue expanse of fabric that lines almost the whole floor, but upon scanning the room I find that the exposed border of the ground is set with heavy terracotta tiling. And tiles don’t groan underfoot.
I discard the red books in my hand, and crouch down to pull aside the carpet, revealing a wooden trap door beneath, one with a very large, engraved lock. The keyhole is long and slim, coming to a teardrop shape at the bottom half.
Trapdoors and secret passageways are not an uncommon thing within royal households, for the wealthy can afford to alter their homes for their entertainment, usually creating doorways from bedchamber to bedchamber for discretion, or openings in the floor for somewhere to hide if alerted of an enemy intruder.
Somehow, I find this trapdoor incredibly curious.
With no handle or lever it seems almost impossible to open outwards, even with the key, like it was designed with the intention of being open upwards only, from below.
It is more of an entrance to the library than an exit from, per say.
Perhaps what sits below is something one should only be able to access with the knowledge of where to find it, and this is the only way to leave such a place unnoticed.
Or perhaps there is a method to opening it into this room that only the keeper of the key knows.
But who is most likely to possess such a thing?
Calli does seem like the type to enjoy fun and entertaining ways to move throughout the manor, but she is not a creature of secrecy, she is as open as a doorway without a door, and it is difficult to imagine her withholding any sort of information or goods.
Her being the keeper of the trapdoor key is a ridiculous sentiment, and I am even more foolish to consider it, especially when I know myself who is the obvious answer here.
A part of me was perhaps hopeful it would be Calli, knowing how easily I could approach her in regards to my findings. But it is, of course, Eliaz.
A king holds all his cards close to his chest, and his treasures in the floor of his library, it is a commonly known fact of course.
The sound of clanging metal that he used to subsequent, when he appeared to me on my initiation day should’ve been my first clue, that he has secrets he will not divulge willingly.
Whatever currently lies beneath me is important enough that he does not go anywhere without the key to unlock it.
Approaching footsteps drag me from my thoughts, and I scramble to replace the rug how I find it.
The second I spring to my feet with the emerald book in hand, the same severe chambermaid that had brought me a washbasin on my first day here appears at the door, her face dashed with ash and displeasure.
‘What might you be doing in here, little Reyheni rodent?’ Her eyes flicker from me, to the book I’m clutching so tight my fingers are white, then, infuriatingly to the edge of the rug that I had apparently failed to flatten properly.
I kick the curled edge with a breathy, nervous giggle, feeling like an infant scalded by governess for misbehaviour.
‘I awoke early and I thought I might find something to keep me occupied until the others wake.’
This does not seem to satisfy her, she tuts, her harsh disposition wrinkling further as she turns my answer over between her teeth.
‘If you believe I will be wasting any wood starting a fire in here for you, then I am afraid you are sorely mistaken.’ Her eyes narrow on me. ‘You are not worth the kindling.’
I tighten my jaw, trying to think of a delicate response that would not sour her already dismal impression of me.
‘I would not wish to inconvenience you so.’ I smile. ‘Well, I have found what entertainment I came in here for, so I shall be on my way. And out of your hair.’
I do not even get halfway through the doorway before she clamps her cold, dirty fingers around my wrist. ‘You’d best watch your attitude, Rodent. Especially towards the one who so kindly makes up a special gruel to keep you from starving.’
I peer over my shoulder at her, her teeth yellowed and congealed with old spit, her lips wrinkled and primed for a snarl. This woman makes the slop I’ve eaten here. Oh gods above, I fear I may not have long left if she’s responsible for any food that’s intended for me.
‘You made that—’ I catch myself before I say the word shit. ‘—stuff? Isn’t that the job of the cook? Hardly the area of expertise of a chambermaid.’
The woman’s expression twists, and the snarl is made manifest. ‘I am not just a common chambermaid. I am cook, I am lady’s maid, and I am the great-granddaughter of the former governess to both our royal highnesses. It is my duty to tend to them in whatever way I can.’
Her full title takes me aback. I knew that cut backs would have had to have been made in order to keep things running here, but this poor woman is doing it all on her own? No wonder half the rooms here are in a state of ruin.
‘You must have an awful lot on your plate, you’re truly the only member of staff here? I had just assumed I hadn’t crossed paths with the others yet.’
‘We all had to make sacrifices after the Divide went up. King Eliaz included. In fact, he insisted. He ordered that Daegon Manor survive on the same rations as the rest of Umbra. For we are all united in what grieves us.’
I smile at her, despite the way her features twist with disgust. ‘I hope you know that I am trying my best to right the wrongs of Reyhen’s past. I can’t take back any of the damage already done, but with Eliaz’s help, we can build upon our kingdoms together.
For we are all united in what grieves us. ’
Her lips twitch with the temptation of a smile, and she makes a soft grunt as if to indicate her surprise at my words. I take this as an opportunity to further our relationship, from hatred to tolerance.
‘I’m Eira. Would you do me the honour of imparting your name?’
‘Odette,’ she imparts, as though it’s the most obvious answer in the world and I am a fool to not have known it.
‘It’s very nice to have made your acquaintance, Odette.’ I offer her my hand. She regards it with a laugh and a shake of the head, turning from me without accepting my offer of turning over a new leaf.
As she disappears from the doorway, she chuckles again. ‘Just don’t do anything to piss me off any further.’
A breathy laugh falls from me, a little surprised.
‘I make no promises, Odette!’ I shout after her.
Because only the gods know what I am truly capable of.