This scene was cut in my very first
round of revisions with my editor at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, Pam
Gruber. We replaced it in favor of a more serious scene (and one that
absolutely fits the story better) but this scene still makes me laugh. It’s
Elizabeth’s first attempt at escaping Nicholas Perevil’s house, shortly after
she wakes up and finds herself held captive there. It’s also her first close
encounter with John, and the first hint George gets that Elizabeth may not be
what she seems.
Finally, I’m alone. I rush to the
window, fling the curtains aside and grab the handle, giving it a turn and a
push. Nothing. I try again, using all my strength. It still won’t budge. I’m
tempted to throw the chair through it, but that’ll bring George—and everyone
else too—in a second. It’s probably magicked shut.
I look around. Ceiling, floor,
walls. There’s got to be a way out. The fireplace! That’s it. The fire is still
burning low, so I grab George’s blanket off the chair and throw it over the
flames, putting them out. While I wait for the smoke to clear I rush across the
room to the wardrobe. Inside, just as George said, there’s an assortment of
clean but ugly dresses.
I grab the smallest one, a brown,
drab-looking thing and put it on over my shift. It hangs on me like an empty
grain sack, the bottom trailing several inches behind me. There’s nothing for
it, unless . . . I grab another dress and rip the skirt off, tearing it into
strips. I tie one around my waist like a belt, another in my hair to keep it
off my face. But I still have no shoes. I have to do something about that. I
can’t run away barefoot.
There’s a knock on the door.
“You all right in there?” George
asks. I see the doorknob turning.
“Don’t come in! I’m naked!” I yell.
I find a horrid pair of boots, far too big, and bind them around my feet with
another strip of skirt.
The doorknob stops turning.
“What’s taking so long?”
“These dresses, none of them fit.
I’m doing the best I can!” Done. I run back to the fireplace and stick my head
in the chimney. Feel the walls. The fire’s been burning all night, so they’re
still hot. Very. But I can manage a few burns. Thanks to the healer’s potions
I’m strong enough that they should heal quickly. It’s still smoky inside but I
can’t wait any longer.
“I’m almost ready,” I call to
George. Then I climb into the fireplace.
The chimney is about four feet wide
and fashioned from jagged stones that make good hand and footholds. Even with
my too-big boots, I’m easily able to climb. But the smoke is a problem. It’s
hard to breathe and I can’t see more than a foot above me. I have to rely on my
other senses.
I whistle a few times to try and get
a sense of how high this chimney goes. It doesn’t echo too much, I’ve maybe got
twenty meters to climb. But on my next step, my shoulder smashes into stone.
The opening has gotten smaller, maybe two feet across now. That’s really
narrow, even for me. But I’m determined to get out of here.
I dig my toe into a hold, take a
huge step and cram myself through. I’m in up to my waist, my hands pinned to my
sides, when I hear noises below. A door slamming open, a voice calling my name.
George. It won’t be long before he thinks to look for me here. I’ve got to get
out of reach. My foot scrabbles for another hold—got it. But as soon as I put
my weight on the stone, it breaks free, clattering down and landing with a
thump on the ground.
“She’s in here!” I hear George’s
voice echoing up the chimney.
Damnation! I wrench my hands free
and reach up for a hold. But as soon as I find one, I feel a hand grab my
ankle. I try and kick it free but it holds fast.
“Let go of me!” I shriek, still
kicking.
“Elizabeth—ow! Would you stop—dammit
. . . ow!” It’s the healer, John.
He grasps my other ankle and pulls.
He’s strong. But I’m stronger. However, the stone isn’t. My hold breaks free
and I fall, down through the chimney, crashing on top of him. We go tumbling
out of the fireplace, tangled together in a heap of soot and ash. I start to
wriggle free but he grabs my wrists, rolls me over and pins me to the ground.
“What the hell are you
doing?” His face is inches from mine. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Get off,” I mutter, trying to break
free from his grasp. But he’s holding me tight. I could easily kick him off,
but I probably shouldn’t do that. This escape attempt is going to make them
suspicious enough. I don’t need to add getting caught to the list. I stop
struggling, but John still holds me tight.
“John, don’t let her up. Not until
she tells where she was going.” George kneels down next to me, his eyes boring
into mine. “Go on. Talk.”
I glare at him and say nothing.
“I’ll just get Nicholas then,” he
says, rolling back on his heels to stand.
“I was going home!” I blurt. “I have
to go home. I can’t stay here. I have to leave!” It’s the truest thing I’ve
said since I got here.
“Why?” John demands. “Why do you
want to leave?” Half of his dark hair is colored white with ash.
The truth, it just keeps on coming.
“Because! Because you’re a wizard —” John opens his mouth to object. “Fine. Healer.
That’s just as bad. And you—” I turn to George. “You’re a spy. You’re both
Reformers. Traitors. And now you want to take me to some seer, and I don’t want
to get mixed up in that. I’m in enough trouble as it is. And Nicholas! Don’t
get me started with him. He’s the most wanted criminal in Anglia, and—what?”
George and John exchange a look.
John gets to his feet and offers his hand down to me. I ignore it.
“That’s not exactly true,” George
says.
“What?”
“You said Nicholas was the most
wanted criminal in the kingdom. Well, that’s not exactly the case any more.”
They both stand there, looking at me so oddly. “Someone else has been awarded
that dubious honor.”
“So?” I snap. “It hardly matters,
because—”
“Oh, it matters,” George says.
“Because the most wanted criminal in Anglia is now you.”
