Princess Academy By Shannon Hale

Chapter 6

Whiskers taut, front teeth bared Shaking breath, round eyes scared

  Winter kept falling from the sky, building up under the windowsills, and crawling with frost over the panes. When clouds kept the sun from burning the frost away, Miri could see the outside world only as a grayish blur. So much time indoors, so much time with no one to talk to, was making her feel wretched. Her body ached, her skin itched as though she were wrapped tight in wool and could not stretch.

  The next time Olana dismissed the girls outside, Esa turned to Miri before leaving the classroom and gestured that she should follow. Miri sighed with anticipation. If Esa forgave her, perhaps the others would as well. Her determination to be just fine alone melted under the bright hope of making everything all right.

  She had one small task first. After waiting until all the girls left the classroom, Miri crept to the book shelf for a chance to return the volume of tales. She was standing on her tiptoes, inching the book back into place, when a sound at the door startled her. She jumped and dropped the book.

"What are you doing?" asked Olana.

"Sorry," said Miri, picking up the fallen book and dusting it off. "I was just . . ."

"Just dropping my books on the floor? You weren't planning on stealing one, were you? Of course you were. I would have allowed you to borrow a book, Miri, but I won't tolerate stealing. In the closet with you."

"The closet?" said Miri. "But I wasn't . . ."

"Go," said Olana, herding Miri like a sulky goat.

  Miri knew the place, though she had never been in it. She looked back before stepping inside.

"For how long?"

  Olana shut the door on Miri and clicked the lock. The sudden lack of light was terrifying. Miri had never been any place so dark. In winter Marda, Pa, and Miri slept by the kitchen fire, and in summer they slept under the stars.

  She lay on the floor and peered under the door into the thin band of gray light. All she could see were the bulges the door into the thin band of gray light. All she could see were the bulges of floorstones. Faint shouts and happy screeches drifted in from the girls playing in the snow. Esa would think Miri had ignored the invitation, that she did not care to be her friend. Miri inhaled sharply, then coughed on the dust.

  A sound of scurrying brought her upright. She heard it again, a noise like fingernails tickling a smooth surface. Miri held herself tight to the wall. Again. Some small animal must be in the dark with her. It might be just a mouse, but not knowing made the thing strange and unnerving. She tried to see past the shadows. Her eyes adjusted, bringing some definition to the darker shapes, but there was not enough light.

  When the scurrying stopped, Miri stayed standing until her back ached and her head felt heavy. She was tired of staring at the dark, imagining she saw faces staring back or tiny forms darting in the corners. Boredom made her sleepy. At last she lay down, resting her head on her arms, and watched the slit under the door for a sign of Olana coming to free her. The cold of the stones soaked through her wool shirt and raised bumps on her skin, making her shiver and sigh at once. She fell asleep without resting.

  Miri woke to a tug and a horrible feeling. Was someone in the room trying to wake her? The light bleeding through the door was even dimmer, and the throbbing in her body told her it was hours later. She felt it again, a tugging on her scalp. Something was caught in her braid. She wanted to scream, but terror clamped down on her breath. Every spot of her skin ached with the dread of what might be touching her. It felt strong, too big to be a mouse.

The tip of a tail licked her cheek. A rat.

  Miri sobbed breathlessly, remembering the rat bite that had killed a village baby some years before. She did not dare to call out for fear of spooking the beast. The tugging stopped, and Miri waited, is it free? Is it gone? Then the thing thrashed harder. Close to her ear Miri heard a dry squeal.

  She could not move, she could not speak. How long would she have to lie there until someone came for her? Her thoughts lunged and rolled, seeking some way out, some comfort.

"'Plumb line is swinging, spring hawk is winging, Eskel is singing.'" She whispered as quietly as a slow-moving stream.

  It was a song of celebration, of springtime, using a weighted cord to square a stone, looking up to a hawk gliding, feeling that the work was good and the whole world just right. As she sang, she tapped a linder floorstone with the pads of her right. As she sang, she tapped a linder floorstone with the pads of her fingers, as though she were working in the quarry and using quarry-speech to a friend nearby.

"Mount Eskel is singing," she whispered, and began to change the words, "but Miri is crying. A rat she is fighting." She almost made herself laugh, but the sound of another snarl tore it from her throat.

  Afraid now even to whisper, she sang in her head, still tapping her fingers in time and with her silent song pleading with the darkness for someone to remember her. The door opened, and candlelight pierced her eyes.

"A rat!" Olana had her walking stick in hand and used it to prod at Miri's hair.

"Hurry, hurry," Miri said, shutting her eyes.

  She heard a squeal, a scamper, and she jumped to her feet and embraced Olana. She was trembling too hard to stay upright on her own.

"Yes, all right, that's enough," said Olana, prying Miri's arms from around her.

  The cold and her fright made Miri feel half-dead. She hugged herself against a chill that threatened to shake her like a wind-stirred seedpod.

"I've been locked up for hours," she said, her voice croaking. "You forgot about me."

"I suppose I did," said Olana without apology, though deeper lines in her brow spoke that she was disturbed by the sight of the rat. "It's well that Gerti remembered you, or I might not have come until morning. Now get on to bed."

  Miri now saw Gerti, her eyes as wide as a mink's as she stared at the gaping darkness of the closet. Olana took her candle and left them in shadows, so Miri and Gerti hurried back to their bedchamber.

"That was a rat," said Gerti, sounding haunted.

"Yes." Miri was still trembling as though she were frozen cold. "Thanks for remembering me, Gerti. My heart would've stopped if I'd been in there another moment."

"It was strange how I thought of you, actually," said Gerti. "When we came back from break this afternoon, you were just gone. Olana never said anything, and I was afraid to ask. Then when we were getting ready for bed, I had this horrible memory of when I was locked up, and I'd heard scratching noises in there, and I was so sure you were locked up in the closet, and I . . . I don't know, but I knew there was a rat. It was almost like . . . Oh, never mind."

"Like what?"

"I'm sure I guessed you were in the closet because, where else would you be? And I thought I heard a rat when I was in there, too, so that's how I knew. But the way my vision kind of shivered when I thought about it, the way the idea of you and the rat was so clear, it reminded me of quarry- speech."

Miri felt new chills. "Quarry-speech? But—"

"I know that's silly. It couldn't have been quarry-speech, because we're not in the quarry. I'm just glad we didn't get into trouble. When I went to Tutor Olana's bedchamber and begged her to come get you, she threatened all kinds of punishment."

  Miri did not say anything else. New possibilities were painting themselves before her in the dark.