~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tapestry - Chapter 3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mmmm ... it smelled like .. roses.
It was that moment before I'm fully awake - the one where I lay there and realize I really don't want to wake up after all, but my body isn't going to let me sleep any more. My eyes were closed out of habit, though - I always checked out my situation with every other sense before owning up to the fact that I was awake. Things were much safer all around; and in my current profession, it only made sense.
I knew I was lying in a bed, at least, because I felt as though every part of my body was pressing against something soft and comfortable. Plus - I was warm, covered with something that was both soft and insulating. It must have been sometime during the day, as well; I was sure the sun was shining right in my face, stronger on the left side.
So comfortable ... really, much too relaxed and comfortable to get up. I can hear the birds, now, isn't that funny? I haven't heard birdsong in ... ages ...
I strained to catch any other sound other than the birds - namely movement, quiet breathing, at least something that said other people were in the room - but there was nothing. Which meant that I wasn't with my people anymore ...
... so where was I?
Slitting my eyes so it still looked as though I was asleep, I turned my head slightly - just slightly - and was rewarded by a jolt of hot, searing pain that ran from the top of my head, fanned through all the muscles in my face and stopped with a dull, throbbing ache in my jaw.
Tears leaked out of the corner of my eyes as I sucked my breath between my teeth, just to keep from making any sound. I immediately recognized that pain. Stitches - gads, there were stitches in my head. Where else was I hurt?
Now my muscles seemed to have a life of their own; some of them started twitching spasmodically, especially the ones in my back. About the only thing I could do for relief was try to unobtrusively wiggle and stretch; and for that, I was rewarded with another sharp pain in my side, along with some cramping and aching in my legs. Great. It wasn't anything that I couldn't handle, but it was something else that I'd have to watch - apparently, I also had a few broken ribs.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes. Ah ... I was right about one thing, at least. Sunlight shone though an attractive set of French windows at the far side of what looked like the most elegant room I'd ever seen in my life. It was large, but not ostentatiously so; the decor was tastefully done in various shades of ivory, offset by furniture and woodwork with rich, dark grains. Graceful, sheer curtains billowed softly in a slight breeze; the faint sound of rustling leaves carried into the room, but that was all.
... billowing curtains...?
"...no way...," I murmured to myself. "They left the window open?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, it hurt - but I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Almost immediately, the dull ache in my head became a pointed, sharp pain, centered on the right side of my head, behind my eyes. Not only that, but I lost that wonderfully warm feeling - the sheets fell into my lap as I soon as I sat up. Immediately, several things became quite clear -
- first, someone had taped me tightly around my ribs and under my breasts, which confirmed my suspicions. Broken ribs. Also, it felt as though there was a large bandage on my left thigh. Without a doubt, someone with some medical expertise dressed my wounds. That was comforting, in a small way.
Second, the window in the room was open and unlocked. If I was a prisoner – which I assumed I was, considering the last thing I remembered was lying on the floor of the shuttle after it was shot out of the sky, unable to move – this surely was a peculiar way to imprison me. No shackles, no restraints - and they left me in a room with an open window? I'm hurt, certainly, but not totally incapacitated. This was NOT standard procedure for the OZ I knew. Usually, those humorless drones tied their military prisoners to whatever they had handy and kept at least three of their people on watch.
But the last part was really the strangest. As I pushed myself up from the bed, I looked down at my body - trying to do a visual inspection - and absolutely could not believe what I saw. Someone had dressed me in a nightgown, which, all things considered, was rather nice - but really ... I picked at the elaborate embroidery at the wrists, wondering at the beautiful workmanship. It was gorgeous - a delicate, feminine creation in ivory with intricate needlework around the neckline, down the sleeves, and around the wrists - and not my usual style at all.
Someone had an evil sense of humor.
The bodice was low cut, dipping across my breasts, and the material was so diaphanous I could plainly see the small freckles on my left arm. This garment was obviously designed to display my body rather than cover it. That became completely apparent when the breeze from the window whispered against my cheek and the rest of my upper body; as soon as I saw the goosebumps pop up on my arms, I looked down. And I was right - that bodice did nothing to cover me or protect me from the cold - in fact, now it was possible to see just how cold I was.
Gods, how embarrassing.
A matching robe, neatly folded, lay across the bottom of the bed. I snatched it up, dipped my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it, feeling my cheeks burn. I still couldn't believe it. Even though the robe was made from the same material, it just about covered my chest. At least having a double layer of fabric between me and the world gave me some small promise of modesty.
I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and felt my feet brush something soft. Looking down, I saw a pair of stylized, fancy ivory slippers.
Lovely. I was to walk around in a nightgown and slippers. I felt a slow glimmer of anger as I slid the slippers over my feet. Fine, then - I'll wear the nightgown and slippers - but I'm going to find out what else is around here, as well. And I'm going to get out of here, too. I had been captured by OZ and escaped before, and I definitely was expecting to do the same thing now.
Looking around the room, the first thing I saw was a large, walk-in closet with mahogany doors. I pursed my lips - well, you never know - something could be in there, something that would help me get out of this ... place. I padded over to the doors, slipped my hands over the knobs and gently pulled. The doors opened easily, yielding a closet with - nothing. There were no hangers, no clothing, no toiletries; only a large, permanently mounted pole, several empty shelves and several empty drawers.
It figures. I couldn't even budge the pole.
Pulling open the drawers in various pieces of furniture around the room gave the same results – there was nothing extra here, absolutely nothing. Other than what I was wearing, there were no clothes in this room. Not even a hat.
And now I was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable. A tingly feeling stretched through my stomach and down my spine as I considered how someone had deliberately cleared every piece of clothing out of this room, but left me in night clothes that fit perfectly …
Pushing my feelings of unease aside - no, I'm not thinking about that now - I padded over to the window at the far end of the room and stretched, just to see what I needed to do to get out of there.
The view was enough to make me gasp and stare in shock.
Magnificent, manicured property stretched for as far as the eye could see, ending at a forest at the edge of the horizon. It looked as though there were hedge fences on the right hand side of the building, and something that could have been a stable - but to the left, there was nothing but acres and acres of perfectly tended land.
And rose bushes. Thousands and thousands of rose bushes.
There were literally hundreds of rows of different blossoms; some appeared to be displayed in formal gardens, others in sculpted mazes, but all covered an enormous amount of property around the building. A light, wafting fragrance drifted in the air - the delicate scent of roses in full bloom.
I moved closer to the window, peered over the ledge - and groaned. The reason why someone felt secure in leaving me unrestrained in a room with an open window was now crystal clear.
This room was on the second story of the house, which by itself, wasn't insurmountable – I'd jumped from greater heights, and been perfectly fine. To make my job even easier, there were vines and creepers on the side of the building; they might not have been well anchored, but they would at least have given me a little stability.
The difficulty was with the landing. There was a large, wide hedge of thorny rosebushes planted at the foot of the building. The hedge itself was thick with age, clearly well-tended, and was so wide that simply jumping clear of it was impossible - I would have landed square in the middle of it, no matter how I leaped.
Besides that - even if I did opt to jump - this nightgown offered no protection against the thorns at all. And thorns that I could see from this height had to be at least one inch long, if not longer. They would do considerably more damage than just little scratches here and there - I would be lucky if I didn't sever an artery from the force of the fall and the impact. All in all, it was an annoying, frustrating situation - to be so close to freedom, yet not be able to grasp it ...
And exactly how far would I get, running across the property half naked? I'll just have to find another way.... That unsettled feeling came back, though, as I realized how much thought had gone into this; much more than I thought at the beginning. This room wasn't a cell in a conventional prison, but it was just as effective in keeping me captive.
Frankly, that was discouraging; on the other hand, I still had places left to hunt in and ferret out, so I left the window and walked over to the bathroom. Everything else appeared to be consistent with OZ regulations concerning high security risk prisoners; only soap and bubble bath in the bathroom, no razors or tweezers or scissors in sight. Nothing that could remotely be used as a weapon was within my reach.
I sighed and walked into the bedroom again, glacing out the window. When I started poking around, the sun was high in the sky - but now it was lower and sinking fast, meaning that dusk was following quickly on its heels. I could see the first shadows of evening creeping across the fields, creating deep pockets of shade, perfect for screening.
If I wanted to escape, I'd better do it now, before anyone realized I'm awake. I just need to get out there, and I'd be able to get away. Hide in the shadows and make for the forest. I can live there ... I did it before, I can do it again.
But how? The only other way that appeared to be feasible, other than using the open window, was walking through the wide wooden doors leading into the hallway.
No ... something was wrong. I didn't like it. I didn't like feeling as if I'd been pushed to do this ... that I'm not controlling where I go. But there was no other choice ... and no telling when I'd get the chance again ...
I decided, and put my thoughts to action.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I moved next to the door, put my hand on the knob and pulled; it swung open the barest fraction of an inch, teasing me with a glimpse of the hallway. I waited to see if anyone was going to jump on it, my body tense and poised, my hands slightly clammy with anticipation – but nothing happened.
Well. I had expected some kind of alarm system, at the very least, something to show I was up and poking around. Nothing happened - at least, nothing I could see. Now I had a clear view down the hallway, straight down to the head of a staircase - which was the ONLY way someone could go, in fact. There were no other hallways or staircases, so ...
Good. Time to go.
I took a deep breath and slipped out, leaving the door slightly open. Glancing from side to side, I moved toward the closed end of the corridor and tried to quietly open several of the doors –
– but found they were locked. Odd, that - so I decided to systematically try the doors near my room until I found one that was open. I tried to open every door I could, first by moving down the corridor and then back toward the stairs.
Every door was locked.
Which brought me back to the staircase at the end of the hallway. Now I knew I was being directed - "herded" - in that direction.
This, however, did nothing except make me angry. Someone was playing with me - first by sticking me in this ridiculous nightgown, and now by trying to drive me like some kind of herd animal wherever they wanted. I didn't like it at all. Silently, I made my way to the head of the staircase and glared down to the floor below.
Warm light – the kind of light I remembered flickering on the wall across from my bedroom when I was child –illuminated the staircase as it turned toward the right. The familiar smell of a fire and the soft rustling of a small blaze came from somewhere close to the bottom of the steps. I couldn't see anything else, though, other than an oriental rug lying across a rich wooden floor.
Closer - I must get closer. There could be something I could use as a weapon ...
Willing myself to be completely silent, I looked furtively down the hallway before tiptoeing down the stairs. The staircase ended in a large, empty hall, one that was as richly decorated as the upstairs hallway; fine wood graced its walls, and the overall feeling was refined, warm and inviting. Several rooms opened into the area, but it was the room at the bottom of the stairs, its doors flung open, that made me shrink together and tread noiselessly against the wall, my nightgown and robe clutched in one hand.
An unmistakable crackle, the sound of a robust fire, drifted toward me. It looked like a small library – rows and rows and rows of books, many leather bound, their spines bathed in soft firelight. A high backed leather chair faced the hearth; it was a perfect compliment to the ambiance of the room, its rich dark leather reflecting and absorbing the fire's glow.
I held my breath for a moment before slowly exhaling, staring into the room. I wasn't alone any more.
Someone was sitting in that chair, reading a book. It was someone with long hands and long fingers, someone who reached for a wineglass with one elegant, masculine hand. I breathed a sigh of thanks that this person wasn't facing the stairs. It was a small advantage – but really, I needed every advantage I could possibly get.
I reached the bottom of the stairway and paused before I tried to slip past the open door. There was a small closet at the end of the hall; I focused on that. It could have coats in it, or coveralls, or maybe a hunting knife or rifle, or –
A cultured baritone broke into my train of thought. "At least do take a seat, Ms. Po, if you feel the need to be out of your room."
I froze in mid stride, and slowly turned toward the figure in the leather chair. Completely shocked doesn't do justice to what I was feeling; if you mix in terror, surprise and fear in equal doses, you'd be closer. I straightened my back, clenched my teeth together, and prayed that I didn't look the same way I felt.
The voice was unmistakable. It was Treize Khushrenada, the leader of OZ.
Tapestry - Chapter 3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mmmm ... it smelled like .. roses.
It was that moment before I'm fully awake - the one where I lay there and realize I really don't want to wake up after all, but my body isn't going to let me sleep any more. My eyes were closed out of habit, though - I always checked out my situation with every other sense before owning up to the fact that I was awake. Things were much safer all around; and in my current profession, it only made sense.
I knew I was lying in a bed, at least, because I felt as though every part of my body was pressing against something soft and comfortable. Plus - I was warm, covered with something that was both soft and insulating. It must have been sometime during the day, as well; I was sure the sun was shining right in my face, stronger on the left side.
So comfortable ... really, much too relaxed and comfortable to get up. I can hear the birds, now, isn't that funny? I haven't heard birdsong in ... ages ...
I strained to catch any other sound other than the birds - namely movement, quiet breathing, at least something that said other people were in the room - but there was nothing. Which meant that I wasn't with my people anymore ...
... so where was I?
Slitting my eyes so it still looked as though I was asleep, I turned my head slightly - just slightly - and was rewarded by a jolt of hot, searing pain that ran from the top of my head, fanned through all the muscles in my face and stopped with a dull, throbbing ache in my jaw.
Tears leaked out of the corner of my eyes as I sucked my breath between my teeth, just to keep from making any sound. I immediately recognized that pain. Stitches - gads, there were stitches in my head. Where else was I hurt?
Now my muscles seemed to have a life of their own; some of them started twitching spasmodically, especially the ones in my back. About the only thing I could do for relief was try to unobtrusively wiggle and stretch; and for that, I was rewarded with another sharp pain in my side, along with some cramping and aching in my legs. Great. It wasn't anything that I couldn't handle, but it was something else that I'd have to watch - apparently, I also had a few broken ribs.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes. Ah ... I was right about one thing, at least. Sunlight shone though an attractive set of French windows at the far side of what looked like the most elegant room I'd ever seen in my life. It was large, but not ostentatiously so; the decor was tastefully done in various shades of ivory, offset by furniture and woodwork with rich, dark grains. Graceful, sheer curtains billowed softly in a slight breeze; the faint sound of rustling leaves carried into the room, but that was all.
... billowing curtains...?
"...no way...," I murmured to myself. "They left the window open?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, it hurt - but I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Almost immediately, the dull ache in my head became a pointed, sharp pain, centered on the right side of my head, behind my eyes. Not only that, but I lost that wonderfully warm feeling - the sheets fell into my lap as I soon as I sat up. Immediately, several things became quite clear -
- first, someone had taped me tightly around my ribs and under my breasts, which confirmed my suspicions. Broken ribs. Also, it felt as though there was a large bandage on my left thigh. Without a doubt, someone with some medical expertise dressed my wounds. That was comforting, in a small way.
Second, the window in the room was open and unlocked. If I was a prisoner – which I assumed I was, considering the last thing I remembered was lying on the floor of the shuttle after it was shot out of the sky, unable to move – this surely was a peculiar way to imprison me. No shackles, no restraints - and they left me in a room with an open window? I'm hurt, certainly, but not totally incapacitated. This was NOT standard procedure for the OZ I knew. Usually, those humorless drones tied their military prisoners to whatever they had handy and kept at least three of their people on watch.
But the last part was really the strangest. As I pushed myself up from the bed, I looked down at my body - trying to do a visual inspection - and absolutely could not believe what I saw. Someone had dressed me in a nightgown, which, all things considered, was rather nice - but really ... I picked at the elaborate embroidery at the wrists, wondering at the beautiful workmanship. It was gorgeous - a delicate, feminine creation in ivory with intricate needlework around the neckline, down the sleeves, and around the wrists - and not my usual style at all.
Someone had an evil sense of humor.
The bodice was low cut, dipping across my breasts, and the material was so diaphanous I could plainly see the small freckles on my left arm. This garment was obviously designed to display my body rather than cover it. That became completely apparent when the breeze from the window whispered against my cheek and the rest of my upper body; as soon as I saw the goosebumps pop up on my arms, I looked down. And I was right - that bodice did nothing to cover me or protect me from the cold - in fact, now it was possible to see just how cold I was.
Gods, how embarrassing.
A matching robe, neatly folded, lay across the bottom of the bed. I snatched it up, dipped my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it, feeling my cheeks burn. I still couldn't believe it. Even though the robe was made from the same material, it just about covered my chest. At least having a double layer of fabric between me and the world gave me some small promise of modesty.
I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and felt my feet brush something soft. Looking down, I saw a pair of stylized, fancy ivory slippers.
Lovely. I was to walk around in a nightgown and slippers. I felt a slow glimmer of anger as I slid the slippers over my feet. Fine, then - I'll wear the nightgown and slippers - but I'm going to find out what else is around here, as well. And I'm going to get out of here, too. I had been captured by OZ and escaped before, and I definitely was expecting to do the same thing now.
Looking around the room, the first thing I saw was a large, walk-in closet with mahogany doors. I pursed my lips - well, you never know - something could be in there, something that would help me get out of this ... place. I padded over to the doors, slipped my hands over the knobs and gently pulled. The doors opened easily, yielding a closet with - nothing. There were no hangers, no clothing, no toiletries; only a large, permanently mounted pole, several empty shelves and several empty drawers.
It figures. I couldn't even budge the pole.
Pulling open the drawers in various pieces of furniture around the room gave the same results – there was nothing extra here, absolutely nothing. Other than what I was wearing, there were no clothes in this room. Not even a hat.
And now I was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable. A tingly feeling stretched through my stomach and down my spine as I considered how someone had deliberately cleared every piece of clothing out of this room, but left me in night clothes that fit perfectly …
Pushing my feelings of unease aside - no, I'm not thinking about that now - I padded over to the window at the far end of the room and stretched, just to see what I needed to do to get out of there.
The view was enough to make me gasp and stare in shock.
Magnificent, manicured property stretched for as far as the eye could see, ending at a forest at the edge of the horizon. It looked as though there were hedge fences on the right hand side of the building, and something that could have been a stable - but to the left, there was nothing but acres and acres of perfectly tended land.
And rose bushes. Thousands and thousands of rose bushes.
There were literally hundreds of rows of different blossoms; some appeared to be displayed in formal gardens, others in sculpted mazes, but all covered an enormous amount of property around the building. A light, wafting fragrance drifted in the air - the delicate scent of roses in full bloom.
I moved closer to the window, peered over the ledge - and groaned. The reason why someone felt secure in leaving me unrestrained in a room with an open window was now crystal clear.
This room was on the second story of the house, which by itself, wasn't insurmountable – I'd jumped from greater heights, and been perfectly fine. To make my job even easier, there were vines and creepers on the side of the building; they might not have been well anchored, but they would at least have given me a little stability.
The difficulty was with the landing. There was a large, wide hedge of thorny rosebushes planted at the foot of the building. The hedge itself was thick with age, clearly well-tended, and was so wide that simply jumping clear of it was impossible - I would have landed square in the middle of it, no matter how I leaped.
Besides that - even if I did opt to jump - this nightgown offered no protection against the thorns at all. And thorns that I could see from this height had to be at least one inch long, if not longer. They would do considerably more damage than just little scratches here and there - I would be lucky if I didn't sever an artery from the force of the fall and the impact. All in all, it was an annoying, frustrating situation - to be so close to freedom, yet not be able to grasp it ...
And exactly how far would I get, running across the property half naked? I'll just have to find another way.... That unsettled feeling came back, though, as I realized how much thought had gone into this; much more than I thought at the beginning. This room wasn't a cell in a conventional prison, but it was just as effective in keeping me captive.
Frankly, that was discouraging; on the other hand, I still had places left to hunt in and ferret out, so I left the window and walked over to the bathroom. Everything else appeared to be consistent with OZ regulations concerning high security risk prisoners; only soap and bubble bath in the bathroom, no razors or tweezers or scissors in sight. Nothing that could remotely be used as a weapon was within my reach.
I sighed and walked into the bedroom again, glacing out the window. When I started poking around, the sun was high in the sky - but now it was lower and sinking fast, meaning that dusk was following quickly on its heels. I could see the first shadows of evening creeping across the fields, creating deep pockets of shade, perfect for screening.
If I wanted to escape, I'd better do it now, before anyone realized I'm awake. I just need to get out there, and I'd be able to get away. Hide in the shadows and make for the forest. I can live there ... I did it before, I can do it again.
But how? The only other way that appeared to be feasible, other than using the open window, was walking through the wide wooden doors leading into the hallway.
No ... something was wrong. I didn't like it. I didn't like feeling as if I'd been pushed to do this ... that I'm not controlling where I go. But there was no other choice ... and no telling when I'd get the chance again ...
I decided, and put my thoughts to action.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I moved next to the door, put my hand on the knob and pulled; it swung open the barest fraction of an inch, teasing me with a glimpse of the hallway. I waited to see if anyone was going to jump on it, my body tense and poised, my hands slightly clammy with anticipation – but nothing happened.
Well. I had expected some kind of alarm system, at the very least, something to show I was up and poking around. Nothing happened - at least, nothing I could see. Now I had a clear view down the hallway, straight down to the head of a staircase - which was the ONLY way someone could go, in fact. There were no other hallways or staircases, so ...
Good. Time to go.
I took a deep breath and slipped out, leaving the door slightly open. Glancing from side to side, I moved toward the closed end of the corridor and tried to quietly open several of the doors –
– but found they were locked. Odd, that - so I decided to systematically try the doors near my room until I found one that was open. I tried to open every door I could, first by moving down the corridor and then back toward the stairs.
Every door was locked.
Which brought me back to the staircase at the end of the hallway. Now I knew I was being directed - "herded" - in that direction.
This, however, did nothing except make me angry. Someone was playing with me - first by sticking me in this ridiculous nightgown, and now by trying to drive me like some kind of herd animal wherever they wanted. I didn't like it at all. Silently, I made my way to the head of the staircase and glared down to the floor below.
Warm light – the kind of light I remembered flickering on the wall across from my bedroom when I was child –illuminated the staircase as it turned toward the right. The familiar smell of a fire and the soft rustling of a small blaze came from somewhere close to the bottom of the steps. I couldn't see anything else, though, other than an oriental rug lying across a rich wooden floor.
Closer - I must get closer. There could be something I could use as a weapon ...
Willing myself to be completely silent, I looked furtively down the hallway before tiptoeing down the stairs. The staircase ended in a large, empty hall, one that was as richly decorated as the upstairs hallway; fine wood graced its walls, and the overall feeling was refined, warm and inviting. Several rooms opened into the area, but it was the room at the bottom of the stairs, its doors flung open, that made me shrink together and tread noiselessly against the wall, my nightgown and robe clutched in one hand.
An unmistakable crackle, the sound of a robust fire, drifted toward me. It looked like a small library – rows and rows and rows of books, many leather bound, their spines bathed in soft firelight. A high backed leather chair faced the hearth; it was a perfect compliment to the ambiance of the room, its rich dark leather reflecting and absorbing the fire's glow.
I held my breath for a moment before slowly exhaling, staring into the room. I wasn't alone any more.
Someone was sitting in that chair, reading a book. It was someone with long hands and long fingers, someone who reached for a wineglass with one elegant, masculine hand. I breathed a sigh of thanks that this person wasn't facing the stairs. It was a small advantage – but really, I needed every advantage I could possibly get.
I reached the bottom of the stairway and paused before I tried to slip past the open door. There was a small closet at the end of the hall; I focused on that. It could have coats in it, or coveralls, or maybe a hunting knife or rifle, or –
A cultured baritone broke into my train of thought. "At least do take a seat, Ms. Po, if you feel the need to be out of your room."
I froze in mid stride, and slowly turned toward the figure in the leather chair. Completely shocked doesn't do justice to what I was feeling; if you mix in terror, surprise and fear in equal doses, you'd be closer. I straightened my back, clenched my teeth together, and prayed that I didn't look the same way I felt.
The voice was unmistakable. It was Treize Khushrenada, the leader of OZ.