[Thin Ice V2] Chapter 5
The library was gigantic.
Like a behemoth, it rose above him. A twist to reality that he couldn’t quite comprehend, an impossibility that made his head hurt. Spanning two floors with rows upon rows of bookcases forming a complicated maze, and a massive wooden table in the middle of it on the bottom floor; it was nigh on unbelievable that it could be a library the Frosthaze family had put together themselves.
Walking along the staircase up to the next floor, his fingers trailing along the handrail, he gulped as he looked over the edge down at the table. A gorgeous chandelier hung from the ceiling of the second floor and lit up everything but the shadowed corners. It stole his breath, this view. Everything here smelled like old books and ink—it seemed like a dream.
But he had no time to marvel at the beauty of it.
His hands gripped the railing tightly, squeezing until his fingers whitened. He bit down on his bottom lip, worrying it as he shook his head slightly and began to continue up the stairs to the second floor. There were three days until the tutor would arrive. He needed to have at least a working knowledge of the fundamentals by then. This was not made easier just because he had read the book.
In the book, magic came from three parts. The body, the mind and the soul. Calla had lost two of those. Who was to say that he could even use magic now? While the body should have retained its innate ability to channel ice magic, it was a different soul that occupied it, along with a different mind. Cale might as well have tried to learn to swim by watching movies. Put simply, it was not a good idea.
But it was all he had to go on.
Pure magical power came from the soul. Shaped into a particular element by the body, the mind was what determined how it was used. Technically, Cale had the same body so his magic element should be the same. And theoretically, learning how to shape it could be done by way of a lot of reading, meditation, and feigning having a horrible memory to his tutor.
It was the soul that was the problem. From the books, by all accounts but control, Calla had been fairly powerful.
But for all Cale knew, he had less magic than a wasp.
He collected as may books dedicated to magic as he could carry on the way over to a table wedged in between two bookcases. He was alone in the library, which meant that he didn’t have to worry about anyway wondering why he was reading a children’s book about the nation’s history.
Collapsing on a seat, he spread out the books, pulled the notebooks, candlelight and pen closer to himself, and began.
His eyes were beginning to slip closed when he heard footsteps approaching. Cale started, sitting up straighter in his book and quickly closing his notebook, shoving a pile of other books onto it. He’d just managed to hide, and was in the process of wondering why he’d hidden it, when a servant crossed the last bend around the bookcases.
It was the same servant that had cleaned his room, that had called for breakfast for him. She looked scarier in the library’s darkness, the bookcases casting long shadows over her. The candlelight placed on the tray she was holding merely exacerbated the effect.
”Young Master,” she said, her voice low yet it carried through the row effortlessly. She smiled at him, dimples beaming. Her eyes were wide, no hint of tiredness clinging to her. In comparison to Cale, who was blinking rapidly so as to not fall over, she seemed frighteningly awake. ”I have snacks for you,” she said as she stepped up next to him. Her neck craned to see the mess on the table and she furrowed her heavy brows.
Before she could ask about it, Cale cut in, ”Thank you.”
”It was no problem,” she smiled at him and balanced the tray on one hand, using the other to gently nudge the books until there was a clear space for her to put the tray. Dusting off her hands, she scooted the tray a little closer to him and smiled again.
Cale eyed it. It seemed like the same thing he’d had for breakfast; bread and jam and—not milk this time, but tea, maybe? It looked like it, the colored water steaming slightly. ”Tea?” he asked, to be certain, picking up the cup and sniffing discreetly at it. He scrunched up his nose a little at the smell, but still took a small sip.
”Yes,” she said, her eyes gentle. Her hands twitched and she took a step toward the table before she stopped. Shaking her head somewhat, she refocused on him and asked, ”Is there anything more you need?”
Cale swallowed the warm tea-water and said, ”Ink? I think the pen is running out.”
She nodded, ”I’ll refill it.”
Cale took another sip of the tea, lowering his gaze back to the pile of books covering his notebook. The tea’s flavor was odd, a bit like vanilla and a bit like lavender, but it wasn’t an altogether horrible taste. He watched passively as the woman grabbed his pen and walked over to the box in the middle of the table that he’d been ignoring. She opened it, procuring a bottle of ink. Unscrewing the top of the pen, she pulled the lidd off and turned the pen upside down.
A narrow tube fell out. There was a tiny lidd on the top that she unscrewed and then he poured dark blue ink from the bottle into the tube, using a nozzle she’d screwed onto the bottle. The whole operation only took a handful of minutes.
”Here,” she said and held the pen out to him.
Cale took it, fiddling a little with the pen. He flipped it between his fingers and said, ”Thank you…” furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to remember if her name had ever been revealed in the books. He didn’t think so; from what he recalled, the servants had never played a big part.
”Ginny, Young Master,” the woman said. She frowned at him, ”I’m Ginny. Do you need me to get your doctor?”
”No.” Cale shook his head. He picked up the bread and took a bite, swallowing it quickly before he said, ”It’s just a small headache, nothing to worry about.”
”You have been in here for a long time…” Ginny mused. She frowned, her lips bending downwards as she looked him over. ”You look tired, Young Master,” she abruptly said. ”I hope you’ll go to bed before your health gets worse.”
Cale tilted. He leaned back somewhat and took another bite of the bread. ”I will,” he mumbled once he had swallowed it. She didn’t look like she believed him, her eyebrows still furrowed and her gaze searching. But he didn’t have any other answer for her. He didn’t want to get sick, obviously, so he would sleep when this body told him to. But until then, he had work to do.
The hallway leading to the manor’s dining hall was full of knickknacks. There were multiple drawers and tables lining the hall, the tops covered by vases and candelabras. The blooming flowers were colorful and he stopped on the way to the stare at them. When he glanced up, he saw the many paintings sitting on the bird-patterned walls.
The floor was hardwood, the center covered by a long rug. The ceiling was high—every ceiling he’d seen so far was higher than he was used, the top of every door a round arch. As Cale got closer to the dining hall, he could faintly hear voices speaking.
He gulped.
Correcting his vest again, he fiddled with he buttons and tried to make certain he’d gotten everything right. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and straightened his back. With his head held high, he walked through the door to the dining hall. He didn’t stop to stare the way he’d done the whole way here, but hurried over to the chair across from Mariana. Sitting down on it, he brushed his bangs behind his ears and looked ahead.
”Hello, son,” Mariana said, her voice soft. She smiled at him, her painted lips bending and making her eyes glow from within. Leaning toward him, she asked, ”I hear you’ve been studying most ardently lately. Is everything alright?”
A server came over and began to place plates of steaming food in front of them. Cale wearily watched them, waiting until they stepped back before he said, ”I’m fine. I just… want to graduate this year.”
She frowned. ”If you don’t want to go back to school, you don’t have to. We can have you homeschooled and you can take the exam whenever you want.”
”I—” Cale bit down on his words. He couldn’t explain the paranoia that if he didn’t leave this house, they’d discover he was essentially a ghost possessing their son. If he could at least get to a place where less people knew Calla, or didn’t know him as well… ”I just want to get it over with. One more year, and then I won’t have to think about it again,” Cale muttered.
He picked up a fork (it only had three spikes, was that the norm here?) and speared his meal onto it. Mariana sighed softly, picking up her own cutlery and beginning to eat. ”You can change your mind at any time,” she said between bites, dabbing her mouth delicately with a handkerchief and continuing, ”We promise that we won’t be upset.”
”I know,” Cale agreed, looking down at his glass. He swirled around the clear liquid inside, sniffing it calmly before he took a small sip. The taste was okay, and so he continued to drink it in-between small bites of his food.
The conversation stalled after that, the only sound in the wide dining hall cutlery clinking as they continued to eat in silence. Cale glanced at Mariana from time to time, but she was only eating. Sometimes she made a small smile, just a faint curve of her lips like she was particularly pleased with the taste of this one bite, but for the most part nothing special happened.
While he ate, he surreptitiously studied the dining hall, trying to commit it to memory.
It was wide, the windows high. Sunlight steadily streamed in through the windows, the long curtains reaching all the way to the floor. They were tied back from the windows with thick rope, the bottom dancing over the dark floorboards. A servant stood at the farthest corner, placidly looking over them. They didn’t react to Cale’s searching gaze.
Ducking his head lower, Cale continued to eat until the plate was clear of food. Whatever was happening to him, whatever he needed to do to ensure survival, eating was the bare minimum. If he didn’t eat, he would have nothing left.
”The tutor will be arriving shortly,” said Magdalena when she was done with her food. She slumped a little against her chair, her hands settling on her stomach as she looked at him and smiled. He nodded, and she grinned at him, ”Don’t worry, he knows your condition. He’ll work at a pace comfortable for you,” she reassured him, her voice soothing.
Cale nodded again. He tried to smile, forced his lips to move and felt his cheeks twitch in response.