She remembered every doorway.
The Door She Remembered
Elara could tell Tessa where every door in the palace had stood.
“The tall one opened into the hall,” she said. “The smaller one was on the right. Beyond it, there were twelve steps down to the library.”
Tessa looked across the ruins.
A broken column lay where the hall might once have been. Ivy covered a low wall, and a heap of pale stone filled the space beyond it.
“On the right of the tall door?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where was the tall door?”
Elara rose from the fallen capital where she had been sitting. Her crown caught on a strand of ivy, and she gently freed it.
“It was here.”
She walked several paces, then stopped.
“Or perhaps a little farther on.”
Tessa followed with a satchel of brushes and cloth. She had come to help recover the books kept beneath the palace before the next rain reached them.
“The floor may give us a clue,” she said.
Elara looked down. Grass grew between the marble slabs, but a few remained in a straight line.
“That was the hall,” she said. “I used to slide along it in my best shoes.”
“Did anyone stop you?”
“My father tried. He found me very difficult to catch.”
A Hall Without Walls
They followed the line of slabs towards the fallen wall. Elara described a long table that had stood near the entrance, with blue cloth draped behind it. On winter evenings, lamps had hung from the columns.
Tessa listened while she cleared a little dust from the nearest stone.
“Can you see where the table was?” Elara asked.
“I can see where a column was.”
“That doesn’t help much.”
“It tells us we’re still in the hall.”
Elara moved around the column. “The small door was beyond this one. I remember because my father kept a chair beside it.”
“What sort of chair?”
“A rather uncomfortable one. He said it encouraged visitors to be brief.”
Tessa looked at the rubble. There was no chair, and no wall in which a door might have stood.
Elara pressed her hand against a piece of marble.
“I remember the blue cloth. I remember the chair. I even remember a crack in the third step.” She looked towards the scattered stones. “But I can’t show you the way.”
Tessa waited.
“The door itself may be gone,” she said. “Was there anything around it made of stone?”
Elara thought of the frame, the floor, and the steps beneath it.
“The threshold,” she said. “It was higher than the others.”
The High Threshold
Elara had caught her foot on that threshold when she was a child. Afterwards, she had asked for its edge to be painted gold.
“Was it?” Tessa asked.
“For a week. Then my father decided he preferred it white.”
“Did the gold come off?”
“Not from my shoes.”
They began examining the stones near the fallen column. Tessa brushed soil from a carved edge while Elara lifted ivy away from a second block.
On its side was a shallow line of leaves cut into the marble.
“That was beside the door,” Elara said.
Tessa brushed farther along the block. A thick stone lay beneath it, its upper edge higher than the surrounding floor.
“The threshold?”
Elara knelt and placed her hand on it. The gold paint was gone, but she recognised the worn corner.
“Yes.”
Behind the stone was a narrow opening. Tessa lifted her lamp and looked through.
“I can see the steps.”
Elara bent beside her. Three were visible, the lowest partly covered by rubble.
“Can we get through?” she asked.
“Not safely from here. But if this is the stairway, it may open on the other side of the wall.”
They walked around the fallen stones and found a wider gap where part of the ceiling still rested on two strong columns. Tessa examined it before they went in.
The lower steps were dusty, but they held.
A Mark on the Page
At the foot of the stairs, several wooden chests stood against the wall. One had broken open, and a few books lay beneath it.
Tessa picked up the nearest volume. Its cover was damp at one corner.
“We should take these out before it rains again.”
They carried the books closest to the entrance into the daylight. Elara opened one with a green cover and found a dark blot on the first page.
She smiled.
“I know this mark.”
“What happened?”
“I knocked over an ink bottle.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I blamed the cat.”
Tessa examined the blot. “Did the cat defend itself?”
“It left the room without making a statement.”
They set the rescued books on a dry cloth. There were more chests below, some hidden behind fallen stone. Tessa would need help and proper supports before she could reach them.
Elara closed the green book carefully.
“Will the others be all right?”
“I can’t promise that,” Tessa said. “But we know where to begin.”
They carried the books past the fallen column. Elara paused beside the high threshold and brushed a little dust from its edge.
“This was the door to the library,” she said.
Tessa looked at the carved leaves and the worn corner.
“I can see it now.”
Elara picked up the green book. Together, they took it out of the hall and into the last light of the afternoon.
Livora Gracely ♥
Leave a Reply