Read Online Snow-Walker by Catherine Fisher - Free Book Online Page B

he said. “Are we prisoners here? Can we go anywhere we want to?”
    Brochael gave a gruff laugh. “We’re all prisoners, lad, but I’m not your keeper, if that’s what you mean. But there’s not much to see here. Empty rooms and snow.”
    He watched them for a moment, and they waited for some word of Kari, some warning of one door not to be opened, one corridor not to be explored. But all he said was “This was a palace once, centuries ago. They say a troll king built it of unhewn stone, and the great road that led up here too. Perhaps the world was warmer in those days.”
    He turned and began banking up the fire. Jessa couldn’t wait any longer. “What about Kari?”
    â€œKari’s here,” he said, without turning. “But you won’t see him.”
    Afterward they put on coats and went outside. The sky was iron gray; a stiff wind cut into them down the side of the fell. On the white slope they could see the frozen tracks of Helgi’s horses, climbing up into the fringe of trees. And all around, like a white jagged crown, were the mountains.
    One courtyard at the back of the building had been swept clear of snow; in the center was a deep well, with faint steam rising from it. As they gazed down they felt warmth on their faces. Thorkil dropped a stone in. “A hot spring. Now that’s useful.”
    They tugged open doors and gazed into stables and barns and byres. Everything was held in a web of ice, glistening with a faint film of soot, as if the entire hold had once had its roofs burned. There were no animals, not even a trace of them, but in one storehouse they found a few casks of dried apples and nuts, some cheese, and two hares hanging next to a row of smoked fish. Thorkil looked up at them.
    â€œFish! But where’s the lake? Where are the fruit trees? Under the snow? I tell you what, Jessa, they should have starved here a long time ago. That’s why she sent them here. And yet somehow they’re getting this food.” He put a finger inside the silver ring on his wrist and eased it around. “Someone must be bringing it.”
    Then they went into the hold itself, down a long corridor paved with stone and frost. Icicles hung from every lintel and sill. There were stairs leading up; they led to more corridors and passages, and empty rooms where the wind blew in through the bare windows.
    Passing one room, Jessa stopped. This one was very small and dark, with a narrow window opposite the door, through which the gray daylight fell like a wand on the floor.
    Something about the window puzzled her. Thorkil was far ahead, rummaging in an old rotting chest, so she stepped in and crossed the floor. Then she put her hand up to the window and touched it.
    Glass!
    She had only seen it before in tiny pieces, polished, in jewelry; never like this in a thick slab. Brushing the frost from it, she took her glove off and felt the surface, saw the trapped bubbles of air deep inside.
    â€œJessa?” Thorkil called.
    â€œI’m in here.”
    She put her eye to the glass and looked through it. There was a courtyard below her, with trampled snow. A movement caught her eye; someone was walking through the clutter of buildings. Someone smaller than Brochael. As she tried to see, the shape warped and bent in the thick glass, slid into queer contortions. She stepped back suddenly. Had that been Kari?
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” Thorkil was at her elbow.
    â€œQuick! There’s something out there!”
    He looked out, blocking the light with his hands.
    â€œCan you see him?” Jessa asked impatiently.
    He shrugged. “Maybe. For a second I thought there was something. Just a flicker.” He looked at her. “Was it Kari?”
    â€œI don’t know. Someone small … it was all bent and twisted.”
    They were silent. Then Thorkil said bleakly, “I think I’d rather know than wonder like this.”
    That