Iron Chamber of Memory by John C. Wright

Author:John C. Wright [Wright, John C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary Fiction
Amazon: B01D06KSVQ
Publisher: Castalia House
Published: 2016-03-13T23:00:00+00:00

8. Trapped Within the Inner World

Sunday

He woke to the wonderful sound of the bells ringing in the eight-sided bell tower in the South Wing. He saw Manfred and Laureline, the few servants and gardeners from the house, and a surprising number of folk from the village and the south part of the island streaming into the chapel. Since there was a church in the middle of the island at a more convenient spot, he assumed Manfred had invited them there for some reason, perhaps to make an announcement.

An hour later the small throng streamed out, chatting, and entered the forest path to find their way downhill to the less strange parts of the island. Henry sat with his cheek on the windowsill, sighing, feeling like a boy playing hooky.

The time walked by with leaden steps. He wished now he had brought his books and the rough draft of his dissertation paper. There was nothing to do, and only one or two thoughts to think about. Henry was not a man well equipped for idle solitude.

There was one wine bottle left, which he nursed carefully. There was also water in the bottom of the bucket, which would last him a day or two at most.

Once or twice he heard a servant, Mr. Nodenson the Butler, or the Cook’s daughter Brigit, walking through the pentagonal corridor that ran past the head of the stairs, and he called up from the foot. At other times, from the eastern windows, he saw workingmen moving crates through corridors of the gallery, and he waved or shouted.

No one was able to hear him. He screamed bloody murder, whistled, and hollered. It was as if everyone in earshot were deaf.

Once he leaned out too far, and forgot where he was or what had happened—hadn’t he just been touring the house with Laurel?—But when the top half of his body was inside the Rose Crystal Chamber again, he recalled.

In the afternoon, he saw Laureline and Manfred walking in the tiny garden nestled between the gallery and the Square Tower and the Main Hall. He was showing her the stone quern. Their voices were clear, and Henry could hear each word. It was all love-talk, impish and saccharine, and it made him sick, because he knew that the false Laurel doing the talking was lying, playing a role, and the true Laureline buried inside her was drifting farther away. Whatever doubts Manfred had entertained seemed gone now.

As Henry watched, Manfred sat on the stone quern and pulled the dark-haired beauty, pretending to protest, into his lap. He nuzzled and caressed her, fondling the gorgeous girl, Henry’s girl, who blushed prettily, pretended to be scandalized, and asked what the servants would say. When she jumped to her feet, Manfred gave her a playful swat on the rear, and the girl took her skirts in her hands and ran away at a fair clip, while Manfred after a moment of gawping in surprise, gave a jovial laugh and set off in pursuit.

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