Princess Awakening: Tower of Sand

Mother of All

Aurelie scrambled back, trying to rise but catching her foot in her long skirt and falling. She heaved with her arms, tearing fabric and pushing back until she felt the heat of the fire behind her. She stopped, gasping for breath.

Sera sat still in the center of the room.

Aurelie glanced at the closed door to her left, then back at her companion, sitting still as a stone and holding the hairpin—a sharp, spiked object that could impale flesh. The yellowing shaft of the bone pin looked a little longer than a handbreadth, and its ruby cross sparkled in the light of the stained-glass window. Aurelie moaned.

Sera touched the pointy end of the pin to her own, pale finger, then gave a slight press. "A single drop of blood should be enough," she said. "This is a spell, not butchery."

Aurelie's head spun, and she gasped, trying to get more air.

"There's only one problem," Sera said, looking up. "This isn't really a spindle, is it?" She laughed, a light, warm sound, and she made as if to toss the thing away. Then she stopped herself. "But we could change that easily enough." She carefully pressed the pin through the fabric of her dress, across the heart. "All we have to do is make it spin thread. Then, of course, it will become a spindle—your spindle."

"No, no, no," Aurelie moaned, trying to stand up in the cumbersome dress but collapsing again.

"The mechanism of a spinning wheel is simple," Sera said. "Every part and piece works together to power the spindle, which spins and spins, causing the thread to wind into a tighter and tighter cord. Then, when the weaver sees that the thread is ready, she allows the spindle to swallow it up, wrapping the thread around and around the shaft of the spindle till it's gone, and she has to begin again. It's a wonderful design, really. Perfect dispersal of effort."

"I don't understand," Aurelie said, shaking her head. She gathered her skirt up in her hands. "You must put down that hairpin immediately, mon amie. We must leave the tower at once. And then we can get you anything you want for any purpose."

"I think you understand perfectly," Sera said. "But, just in case there is still some doubt, I will show you." Sera rose, and with her movement, Aurelie found the strength to surge to her feet. She stood, clutching her skirt, ready to spring away. Sera only walked over to the window and picked up the food platter. Aurelie countered her movement, edging along the wall toward the door. Sera took a large bite of mulberry pie, munching slowly and licking each finger, stained black with the berry juice. Then she tipped the platter, dumping the rest of the food onto the floor. "The wheel," she said, holding up the round platter. "The wheel is what spins the spindle."

"Please, stop this!" Aurelie said, her voice rising. "The stress has gotten to you, mon amie. You need to rest. Lie down. I'll go get you some water. You must be thirsty. I'm thirsty."

Sera took off her girdle of woven rope, tied it into a wide loop, then wrapped the loop around the edge of the thick platter. "A continuous cord binds the wheel to the spindle," she said, "and the spinning of the wheel causes the spindle to turn." She let the wheel dangle inside the girdle, turning it carefully in her hands.

Aurelie felt the handle of the door and pulled. It did not budge, of course. Sera had locked it. Both keys were in her apron pocket. Aurelie glanced around the room, seeing coins that could buy her nothing, crushed chess pieces that could never win her another game and fallen books that gave her no information about what she was now facing. Everything around her looked like a pathetic, woeful miscalculation of her real need. She wished now that she had simply eaten some food and asked someone to bring her some water. But it was too late. Now the only resource she had left was herself.