For a little while, I did nothing but lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
The room was quiet. Somewhere beyond the walls, I could hear the faint movement of people going about their work, the occasional creak of timber, and distant footsteps that faded before I could determine where they had come from. The sounds were ordinary enough, yet I found myself listening to each one as though it might warn me of something.
Old habits, perhaps.
Or perhaps I simply hadn't been here long enough to stop expecting the next misfortune.
I closed my eyes.
The mattress beneath me was firmer than I would have preferred, and the blanket smelled faintly of soap and dried linen. It was a considerable improvement over cold cobblestones, a locked cell, and the wooden floor of a carriage. I had a bed. A roof. A door that appeared to lead to an actual bedroom rather than a place where someone intended to keep me until I could be sold.
By the standards of the last few days, I was practically living in luxury.
That thought should have been comforting.
Instead, I found myself wondering how long it would last.
I still didn't know why I had been purchased, what my duties would involve, or what would happen if I failed to meet someone's expectations. Master Vale had spoken of work and discipline as though he were explaining the terms of an ordinary employment arrangement. Perhaps, to him, it was exactly that.
But I had not been given a choice.
The distinction mattered to me, even if it didn't seem to matter to anyone else.
I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket closer.
My body was tired enough to sleep, but my mind refused to cooperate. Every time I began to drift, another thought surfaced. The baker's face. The auctioneer's cheerful voice. The crowd watching me stand on a platform while strangers decided how much I was worth.
And then there was the question I had been avoiding.
What was I supposed to do now?
I had no money, no family, no documents, and no knowledge of the world beyond the few streets I had wandered through before being taken. I couldn't even give someone a name that would make sense here without risking questions I had no answers for.
I was trapped in the body of a child, dependent on people whose intentions I could only guess at.
I had spent my previous life worrying about graduation, employment, and the uncertain shape of my future. Those concerns had seemed enormous at the time. Now, I would have gladly returned to them.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Almost.
A soft sound came from the other side of the door.
I opened my eyes.
There was a brief pause, followed by a gentle knock.
"Are you awake?"
Mara.
I hesitated before answering. "Yes."
The door opened, and she stepped inside carrying a small candle in one hand. She had changed out of the clothes I had seen her wearing earlier, though her dress was still simple and practical. Her sleeves were rolled down now, and her hair, which had been tied back during her work, hung loosely around her shoulders.
She looked tired.
Not exhausted, exactly, but tired in the way of someone who had spent the better part of the day attending to other people's needs and had only just found a moment for herself.
"Good. I was hoping you hadn't fallen asleep yet."
I pushed myself into a sitting position.
"Did something happen?"
Mara blinked, then shook her head.
"No. Nothing happened." She glanced at the bed, apparently noticing how rigidly I had straightened. "I only came to explain a few things before you get yourself into trouble tomorrow."
"Trouble?"
"Not necessarily." She closed the door behind her and placed the candle on the little table beside the bed. "But it would be a shame if you accidentally offended someone important because nobody bothered to tell you how things are done here."
That sounded reasonable.
It also sounded like the sort of thing I should have learned before being dropped into a noble household.
I waited for her to continue.
Mara pulled a wooden stool closer to the bed and sat down. For a moment, she seemed to consider how best to begin.
"First, you should understand that this is not an ordinary household. Master Vale manages the estate, but he does not own it. The family does. That means there are certain expectations about how servants behave around them."
I nodded.
"Tomorrow, you'll probably see some of the family members passing through the main corridors. If you do, stop what you're doing, lower your head respectfully, and wait for them to pass."
"Lower my head?"
"Yes. You don't need to bow so deeply that you fall over." She gave me a faintly amused look. "Just enough to show that you recognize their position."
I tried to imagine myself doing that without looking ridiculous.
It was difficult to reconcile the idea with the memories in my head. In my previous life, I had bowed to nobody outside the occasional joke or formal occasion. I had shaken hands with professors, spoken casually with strangers, and addressed people by their names without having to consider whether their ancestors had owned half the surrounding countryside.
Now, I was expected to lower my head simply because someone had been born into the right family.
I kept the observation to myself.
"And if one of them speaks to you," Mara continued, "you answer politely. Otherwise, you don't speak to them unless they speak to you first."
"Not even to ask a question?"
"Especially not to ask a question at an inconvenient moment."
She said it gently, but there was no mistaking the seriousness behind it.
"Some people don't mind a servant speaking freely. Others consider it disrespectful. You won't know which kind you're dealing with until you've spent some time here, so it's safer to wait."
I thought about that.
"So I should remain silent unless spoken to."
"Not all the time," she said quickly. "You're allowed to speak to the other servants. And if there's an emergency, you shouldn't stand around waiting for permission to explain it. But when it comes to the family, be careful."
"Understood."
Mara tilted her head.
"You speak rather formally."
I went still.
It was a small remark, delivered without accusation, but it caught me off guard.
"Do I?"
"A little." She shrugged. "Perhaps you've had strict teachers."
I lowered my gaze, hoping the dim light would conceal my expression.
"Something like that."
It wasn't entirely a lie. My previous life had given me years of practice speaking to people in ways that made me sound composed even when I wasn't. But I had no intention of explaining that to her.
Fortunately, Mara didn't pursue the matter.
"Now, about addressing the family."
She counted the names off on her fingers.
"The head of the family is addressed as my lord. His wife is my lady. Their son is young master."
I repeated them silently.
My lord. My lady. Young master.
Simple enough.
"And if the young master asks you to do something?"
"I should do it?"
"Provided it's something you're supposed to do and it doesn't put you in danger." Mara paused. "Though I doubt you'll be given anything complicated at first. You're still very young, and Mistress Halen won't expect you to know everything on your first day."
That was reassuring, at least.
"Who is Mistress Halen?"
"The head housekeeper. She oversees the domestic staff and makes certain everything in the house is done properly. If Master Vale manages the estate's affairs, Mistress Halen manages the household itself."
I remembered the woman from earlier. Her posture had been straight, her expression composed, and her instructions had left little room for argument.
She had not been unkind.
She had not been especially warm, either.
"Should I call her my lady?"
Mara shook her head.
"No. She's not a member of the family. Mistress Halen is fine. Master Vale is Master Vale. You'll learn the proper forms of address for the other staff as you get to know them."
I nodded again.
"Good." She leaned back slightly. "There's one more thing you need to know about the family."
I waited.
"Some parts of the estate are off-limits to servants unless they've been given permission to enter."
"Which parts?"
"The family apartments, for one. You shouldn't wander into their private rooms or the corridors that lead directly to them. The west wing also has several rooms that are kept locked. You're not to enter them, even if a door happens to be open."
I paid closer attention.
"Why?"
"Because you're not permitted to enter them."
It was a simple answer, but I could hear the warning beneath it.
Mara softened her tone.
"I don't know what's kept in every room, and you don't need to know. Just remember that a locked door isn't an invitation to investigate."
"I wasn't planning to investigate anything."
The words escaped me a little too quickly.
Mara gave me a look.
"Of course not."
There was a hint of amusement in her voice, but I couldn't tell whether she believed me.
I decided it was best not to elaborate.
She continued explaining the layout of the household. The servants' quarters were separate from the family's private rooms, and certain corridors were reserved for people carrying out particular duties. I was to remain within the areas assigned to me unless Mistress Halen or another authorized servant instructed me otherwise.
The gardens were generally accessible during permitted hours, but I wasn't to leave the estate grounds without permission.
That last rule seemed obvious enough.
Still, I made a mental note of it.
The more I learned about this place, the more I understood that survival would depend on noticing small details. A careless question, a wrong turn, or an unfamiliar form of address could draw attention I couldn't afford.
For now, I had no intention of becoming memorable.
I wanted to understand the household, learn what was expected of me, and discover whether there was any path toward a life that belonged to me.
Preferably without getting thrown into another locked room.
"Do you have any questions?" Mara asked.
I considered asking a dozen things.
Who exactly was the lord of the estate? What kind of man was he? What was his wife like? How old was their son? Why had Master Vale purchased me at the auction, and what would happen if the family decided I wasn't worth the trouble of keeping?
But those questions were unlikely to receive useful answers.
And asking too many questions might make me seem suspicious.
"Not at the moment."
"All right. You can ask me later if something confuses you." She stood and picked up the candle. "There's still one important rule I haven't explained."
I looked at her.
"The bells."
I had heard them earlier that day, though I hadn't paid much attention at the time.
The sound had carried across the estate in long, measured tones, distant enough that I hadn't been certain where it came from. I had assumed the bells belonged to a nearby church or perhaps a town somewhere beyond the grounds.
Apparently, they were more important than that.
"There are eight bells throughout the day," Mara explained. "You'll hear them from the estate grounds, and sometimes even from inside the house, depending on where you are."
"Eight separate bells?"
"Eight times when the bell rings. You'll learn the pattern soon enough."
She seemed to realize that her explanation might be more confusing than helpful.
"The first bell marks the beginning of the day. The others help keep everyone on schedule. Servants don't all begin and end their duties at precisely the same moment, of course, but the bells give us something everyone can follow."
I tried to picture the arrangement.
A bell tower, perhaps, with someone ringing a large bell at set intervals. Or a clock mechanism of some kind. I had no idea how sophisticated the technology in this world was, and I wasn't going to assume that everything worked exactly as it had in my previous life.
"What does the seventh bell mean?"
"That the working day is over. At least for most of the household staff. There may be people who still have duties to attend to, especially if something unexpected happens, but you won't be expected to work late without a reason."
"And the eighth?"
"By the eighth bell, you must be in your room and settled for the night."
"Settled?"
"In bed, or preparing to sleep. You don't have to be asleep the instant the bell rings." She smiled a little. "We're not monsters."
I wasn't sure whether to laugh.
"You're allowed to read or sit quietly for a little while, provided you're in your room and aren't disturbing anyone. But don't make a habit of wandering the corridors after the eighth bell. The household expects everyone to respect the nighttime curfew."
That seemed reasonable enough.
A strict schedule was hardly unusual in a place where dozens of people depended on one another to keep an estate running. If anything, I was relieved to know that there was a clear time when I could stop working.
Provided, of course, that I actually survived long enough to reach the end of the day.
"And if I don't hear the bell?"
"You will. It's rather difficult to miss."
"What if I'm somewhere far from the main building?"
"Then you should pay attention to the time and make certain you're where you're supposed to be. The bell is a reminder, not an excuse to ignore your responsibilities."
I nodded.
Mara watched me for a moment, perhaps checking whether I had understood everything.
"Don't worry too much about memorizing every detail tonight. Tomorrow, you'll be shown where you're supposed to work. After that, most of these things will become routine."
Routine.
The word seemed strangely comforting.
For the first time since waking in this world, someone was describing a future that extended beyond the next immediate danger. Not a grand future, certainly. No promises of freedom or happiness. Just another day, followed by another, with tasks I could learn and rules I could follow.
It was not the life I would have chosen.
But it was something I might be able to manage.
"Thank you for explaining everything," I said.
Mara looked briefly surprised, then smiled.
"You're welcome."
She set the candle down again and glanced toward the door.
"I should probably get some rest myself. Tomorrow will be busy."
I watched her move toward the table, expecting her to collect the candle and leave.
Instead, she paused.
"Actually, there's something else I wanted to ask you."
I stiffened before I could stop myself.
"What is it?"
"Would you like me to read you a story?"
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
"A story?"
"Yes. A little tale. Something to help you fall asleep, perhaps."
She said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
I stared at her.
Then, very slowly, I became aware of the absurdity of my situation.
I had been a university graduate. I had worried about my future, argued with friends, sat through lectures, and spent hours trying to decide what I wanted from my life.
Now, I was lying in a strange bed in a fantasy world, and a teenage maid was offering to read me a bedtime story.
If my former classmates could see me, I doubted they would ever let me live it down.
"No, thank you," I almost said.
The refusal was ready on my tongue. It would have been easy to reject the offer, turn toward the wall, and pretend I was already tired enough to sleep. This chapter was taken from NovelPing without permission.
I didn't need to be read to.
I wasn't a baby.
I could take care of myself.
Except that the last few days had done a remarkably thorough job of proving otherwise.
I was physically a child. I couldn't run very far without tiring, couldn't overpower an adult, and had no idea how to navigate this world beyond the handful of streets I had seen. My previous life had given me knowledge, experience, and a way of thinking that I still relied upon, but none of those things could make my body stronger.
And I was alone.
The realization settled over me with uncomfortable weight.
Mara was not my family. She was not my friend, not yet. I had known her for less than a day, and I had no reason to trust her completely.
But she had offered me food, shown me where I would sleep, explained the rules I needed to know, and now wanted to share a story.
None of those things guaranteed that she was a good person. The baker had taught me how little appearances could mean.
Still, there was a difference between being cautious and refusing every kindness simply because it might someday be used against me.
I didn't know whether Mara expected anything in return.
Perhaps she simply liked stories.
Perhaps she felt sorry for me.
Perhaps she was being kind because she remembered what it was like to be young and frightened.
I couldn't know.
But I could listen.
And if the story contained anything useful about this world, that would be another reason to accept.
"What kind of story?" I asked.
Mara's face brightened.
"One of my favorites. It's about a traveler who became lost between a forest and a mountain."
That sounded promising.
"Does he find his way home?"
"Eventually."
"Eventually?"
She laughed softly.
"You'll have to listen to find out."
I hesitated for another moment.
Then I shifted on the bed and pulled the blanket over my lap.
"All right."
Mara smiled as though I had given her a gift.
"Good. Let me fetch the book."
She slipped out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I stared at the closed door.
Accepting the offer hadn't made me feel any less awkward. If anything, I felt slightly ridiculous.
But beneath the embarrassment was something else.
Relief, perhaps.
For once, I had accepted something without needing to calculate how quickly I might have to escape.
I wasn't sure whether that was wise.
For tonight, though, I decided I could live with the uncertainty.
Mara returned a few minutes later carrying a thick, leather-bound book.
Its cover was worn at the corners, and the leather had faded to a deep brown. A simple design had been pressed into the front, though the years had softened its edges until I couldn't make out every detail.
She settled back onto the stool and opened the book carefully.
"I haven't read this one in a long time," she said. "My grandmother used to tell it to me when I was little. I remember most of it, but some parts may be different from the version written here."
"Different how?"
"She always insisted that the traveler was a fool."
"Was he?"
"Oh, certainly." Mara looked down at the page, smiling to herself. "But he was a very fortunate fool, which is almost as good."
I found myself smiling faintly.
It was the first time since arriving at the estate that I had felt any inclination to do so.
Mara adjusted the candle until the light fell across the page.
"Now, then. The tale of the traveler, the forest, and the mountain."
She began to read.
"Long ago, when the roads were fewer and the kingdoms of men were young, there lived a traveler who believed himself wiser than most.
"He had crossed rivers, climbed hills, and walked through towns whose names he could scarcely pronounce. He had slept beneath the stars and eaten at the tables of strangers. Wherever he went, he gathered stories, and wherever he gathered stories, he found someone willing to pay for them.
"Because of this, the traveler came to believe that there was no place in the world he could not enter, and no people he could not persuade to welcome him.
"One autumn, he set out toward the eastern mountains, hoping to find a forgotten road that would lead him to a wealthy city beyond them. He had heard that merchants there paid generously for rare tales, and he imagined himself returning home with a purse heavy enough to buy a house of his own.
"But the road he followed was old, and the signs that marked it had long since fallen into disrepair. When the weather turned, the clouds swallowed the mountain peaks, and rain covered the tracks beneath his feet.
"By evening, the traveler had lost his way.
"He found himself at the edge of a forest so ancient that its trees seemed to hold the sky upon their branches. Their trunks were broad as towers, their roots twisted through the earth like the fingers of sleeping giants, and their leaves whispered even when the wind was still.
"The traveler had heard stories about that forest.
"He had heard that its paths changed when strangers walked them. He had heard that lights appeared between the trees, leading careless wanderers deeper into the woods until they could no longer remember the way out. Most of all, he had heard that the elves lived there, hidden from the eyes of men.
"Some said the elves were beautiful beyond anything a human could imagine. Others said they were cold and proud, with little patience for the troubles of shorter-lived peoples. There were stories of lost children being guided home by unseen hands, and stories of hunters who returned from the forest unable to remember their own names.
"The traveler considered these tales foolishness.
"'If the elves truly wished to remain hidden,' he said, 'they would have chosen a place where travelers could not find them.'
"And so he entered the forest.
"At first, the path was easy to follow. Moss covered the stones, but the trees stood far enough apart that he could see the grey sky overhead. He walked for an hour, then another, until the light began to fade.
"Only then did he realize that he had heard no birds.
"He stopped.
"The forest was silent around him. The rain had ceased, yet not a drop fell from the leaves. Even the sound of his own footsteps seemed strangely distant.
"Then, between two trees, he saw a light.
"It was pale and silver, like the moon reflected upon water. It appeared for only a moment before vanishing behind the trunk of an enormous oak.
"The traveler hurried toward it.
"'Good evening!' he called. 'I have lost my way. If anyone is there, I would be grateful for directions.'
"No one answered.
"He walked farther into the trees and saw the light again, this time much farther away. He followed it, calling out whenever he thought he saw movement.
"At last, he reached a clearing.
"An old tree stood at its center, its branches reaching outward like the arms of a great crown. Beneath it rested a stone covered in markings the traveler could not read.
"Beside the stone stood a figure.
"The traveler knew at once that he was looking upon an elf.
"The stranger was tall and slender, dressed in a cloak the color of the forest at dusk. Their hair shone pale beneath the branches, and their face was so still that the traveler could not tell whether they were young or old.
"'Ah!' cried the traveler. 'At last, someone who can help me.'
"The elf looked at him without speaking.
"'I am a traveler,' he continued. 'I have lost the road to the eastern mountains. If you would kindly direct me toward it, I would be most grateful.'
"'You have left the road,' said the elf.
"'Yes, I am aware of that.'
"'Then return to it.'
"The traveler frowned.
"'If I knew where it was, I would not be asking.'
"The elf regarded him for a long moment.
"'You ask many questions for someone who has wandered into a place he does not understand.'
"'And you offer very little help for someone who clearly knows the way.'
"The elf's expression did not change.
"'The forest does not belong to you, traveler. Its paths are not yours to command, and its doors are not yours to open.'
"The traveler, who had never been particularly good at recognizing when he had offended someone, folded his arms.
"'I seek only a road. Surely a road is no great secret.'
"'Not every road is meant for every traveler.'
"With that, the elf turned away.
"The traveler called after them, demanding an explanation, but the figure had already disappeared among the trees.
"He stood alone in the clearing, furious at having been dismissed.
"'Proud creatures,' he muttered. 'If this is how they treat guests, I cannot imagine why anyone speaks well of them.'
"He might have remained there until morning, but a sound came from the forest behind him.
"Something large was moving between the trees.
"The traveler turned.
"He saw no beast, only a dark shape passing between the trunks. Then came another sound, closer this time, like the snapping of branches beneath heavy feet.
"He ran.
"He ran without knowing where he was going, stumbling over roots and slipping upon wet stones. The trees seemed to close around him, and the darkness beneath their branches grew deeper with every step.
"At last, he saw the silver light again.
"It shone between two trees at the edge of a narrow path. The traveler did not stop to question it. He hurried toward the light, and though he heard the heavy footsteps behind him, he did not look back.
"The path led him out of the thickest part of the forest and onto a slope of bare earth.
"There, at the edge of the trees, he found a road.
"He fell to his knees, breathing hard, and looked back.
"The forest stood silent.
"Far between the trees, a pale figure watched him.
"The traveler raised a hand in thanks.
"The figure turned away.
"And the forest swallowed it.
"The traveler never learned what had followed him that night. He did not know whether it had been a beast, a spirit, or merely the product of his own frightened imagination. Nor did he learn whether the elf had led him to safety or simply guided him away from a place where he was no longer welcome.
"But from that night onward, he told everyone he met that the elves had saved his life.
"Some believed him. Others laughed.
"And the traveler, who had never been fond of admitting his ignorance, allowed them to believe whatever they wished."
Mara paused and turned a page.
I found myself looking at the candle rather than at her.
The story had the shape of a familiar fairy tale, but there was something unsettling about it. The elf had not been cruel, exactly. They had simply refused to explain themselves to someone who had wandered into their home without understanding where he was.
And yet the traveler had escaped.
Had the elf helped him?
Perhaps.
Had they merely decided that whatever lurked in the forest was not their concern?
That seemed equally possible.
I wondered how much of the story reflected the beliefs of the people who told it, and how much might have been based on something that had actually happened.
If elves existed in this world, I had no reason to assume that they resembled the creatures from the books and games I remembered. Those had been fictional creations, shaped by authors and artists.
These elves, if they were anything like the tale described, were real people with their own reasons for keeping their distance.
I had learned very little about them.
But I had learned something about how humans saw them.
Mara glanced at me.
"Still listening?"
"Yes."
"Good. The mountain comes next."
She turned another page and continued.
"After leaving the forest, the traveler found himself upon a road that wound toward the mountains. He was tired, hungry, and thoroughly ashamed of having run from a danger he could not name.
"Yet he was also relieved.
"'There,' he said to himself, 'is the road I wanted. I shall reach the eastern city after all, and when I do, I will tell the merchants that I passed through the forest of the elves and survived.'
"He imagined the gold he would earn from such a tale.
"Then he looked toward the mountains.
"They rose above the hills like a wall built by giants. Their peaks were hidden behind clouds, and their slopes were broken by cliffs, ravines, and fields of stone. Here and there, he saw dark openings in the rock, though he could not tell whether they were caves or entrances to some forgotten mine.
"The traveler knew the stories of the dwarves as well.
"Unlike the elves, the dwarves were said to welcome trade. Their halls lay beneath the mountains, where they mined ore, worked metal, and shaped stone with a skill that no human craftsman could equal.
"Merchants spoke of their tools, weapons, and finely made ornaments. Some claimed that dwarven work could last for centuries without losing its edge or beauty. Others said the dwarves valued gold above friendship and measured every favor as carefully as they measured every bar of iron.
"One tale told of a king who had offered a dwarven lord a chest of jewels in exchange for a sword. The lord had refused the jewels, saying that the king had failed to offer a fair price for the labor required. Another told of a merchant who had tried to cheat a dwarven trader and had been refused business by every dwarven settlement he visited thereafter.
"The traveler considered these stories less foolish than those told about the elves.
"'At least the dwarves understand the value of a bargain,' he said. 'They may be stubborn, but stubbornness can be overcome with the right price.'
"He followed the mountain road until he came to a great gate set into the side of a cliff.
"It was built from dark stone, its surface carved with lines and patterns that seemed to follow the shape of the mountain itself. Two pillars stood on either side, each marked with symbols he could not read. Above the gate, ironwork formed the likeness of a hammer resting upon an anvil.
"The traveler approached and struck the gate with the brass knocker.
"The sound echoed into the mountain.
"He waited.
"At length, a narrow opening appeared in the gate, and a pair of eyes regarded him from the darkness beyond.
"'State your business,' said a voice.
"'I am a traveler seeking passage through the mountains. I have heard of the skill and hospitality of the dwarves, and I hope to find shelter for the night.'
"'Hospitality,' the voice repeated.
"'Yes.'
"'And what do you offer in exchange?'
"The traveler smiled.
"'I have stories.'
"The eyes remained fixed upon him.
"'Can your stories mend a broken wheel? Can they fill a storehouse? Can they pay for the firewood you will burn while sitting beneath our roof?'
"The traveler's smile faded.
"'I could pay a little coin.'
"'How much?'
"He named a sum.
"The gate remained silent for a moment.
"'That will buy you a meal and a place by the common hearth,' the voice said. 'If you wish to sleep in a private room, the price is higher.'
"'You would charge a guest for shelter?'
"'You are not a guest,' the voice replied. 'You are a stranger who has asked to enter our home.'
"The opening closed.
"The traveler stood in disbelief.
"He had expected the dwarves to be proud, perhaps even difficult, but he had not expected them to be so blunt.
"He knocked again.
"'Wait! I have not yet finished speaking.'
"The gate opened a second time.
"'Then speak quickly.'
"The traveler drew himself up.
"'I have traveled far. I have faced dangers in the forest and endured hardship upon the road. Surely you can spare a little kindness for someone in need.'
"The voice behind the gate was silent for a long moment.
"'You have faced dangers because you entered a forest you did not understand. You have endured hardship because you failed to prepare for your journey. And now you ask us to pay for the consequences of your choices.'
"The traveler opened his mouth, then closed it.
"'If you have coin, you may enter,' the voice continued. 'If you have no coin, you may offer labor. We have work for those willing to do it. But we will not pretend that your troubles are ours simply because you have brought them to our door.'
"The traveler was furious.
"'You are a cold and uncharitable people!'
"'Perhaps,' the voice replied. 'But our roofs do not leak, our storehouses are full, and our gates remain standing.'
"The opening closed once more.
"For a while, the traveler stood before the gate, muttering insults beneath his breath. Then he looked at the road behind him and at the mountains ahead.
"He was tired. He was hungry. And he had no desire to spend another night beneath the open sky.
"At last, he knocked a third time.
"When the opening appeared, he bowed his head.
"'I have a little coin,' he said. 'And I can work, if you need an extra pair of hands.'
"The gate opened.
"Two dwarves stood beyond it, broad-shouldered and dressed in sturdy clothes marked with dust and soot. One carried a hammer at his belt. The other held a ledger.
"The one with the ledger examined the traveler from head to foot.
"'Can you carry a sack?'
"'Yes.'
"'Can you follow instructions?'
"The traveler hesitated.
"'I believe so.'
"'Then you may begin by carrying sacks.'
"And so the traveler entered the mountain.
"He worked for his supper, carried supplies through the lower halls, and slept upon a narrow bed in a room shared with several other strangers. The dwarves did not ask him to recount his troubles, nor did they offer words of sympathy when he complained of sore hands and aching shoulders.
"They gave him work, food, and shelter, and expected him to fulfill his end of the bargain.
"By the time he departed, the traveler had developed a different opinion of the dwarves.
"He still thought them stubborn. He still thought them proud. But he had come to understand that their hospitality was not an open door through which anyone could wander without consequence.
"They had welcomed him when he agreed to their terms.
"And they had treated him fairly, even when he had been foolish enough to mistake fairness for unkindness.
"Before he left, the dwarf who had kept the ledger handed him a small loaf of bread for the road.
"'For the journey,' the dwarf said.
"The traveler accepted it.
"'You are kinder than you pretend.'
"The dwarf frowned.
"'And you are more foolish than you pretend. Perhaps we are both learning something.'
"The traveler laughed, and the dwarf almost smiled.
"When the traveler finally reached the eastern city, he told the merchants about his journey. He spoke of the forest where the paths changed and the elves who appeared between the trees. He spoke of the mountain gate and the dwarves who charged him for every meal and made him work for his bed.
"Some listeners declared that the elves were mysterious and the dwarves were miserly.
"Others said that the elves had protected their home and the dwarves had protected theirs.
"The traveler himself never decided which opinion was correct.
"He only knew that the forest had shown him a kindness he could not explain, while the mountain had offered him a fairness he had not expected.
"And after many years of traveling, he learned that the world was full of people who did not owe him anything.
"Some would offer help without asking for payment.
"Some would ask for payment before offering help.
"And some would close their doors entirely.
"The traveler continued to wander, but he never again assumed that every road was meant for him, or that every stranger was obliged to welcome him.
"For he had learned that a traveler who wished to survive the world must first learn that the world does not exist for his convenience."
Mara closed the book.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
I stared at the worn cover resting in her lap, thinking about the story.
It was a simple tale, one that could probably be told to children in any number of variations. The traveler was foolish, the elves were mysterious, and the dwarves were stubborn. The moral was straightforward enough: don't assume the world owes you anything.
Yet I found myself dwelling on the differences between the two encounters.
The elf had offered no explanation and perhaps no help at all. The traveler had survived, but he had never learned whether his escape was a gift or a coincidence.
The dwarves, on the other hand, had made their expectations perfectly clear. They had demanded payment and labor, but they had kept their word.
Neither race had behaved according to the traveler's expectations.
And perhaps that was the point.
I had arrived in this world with a thousand assumptions of my own. I had expected certain things to be familiar, certain rules to remain consistent, and certain kinds of behavior to mean what they had meant in my former life.
Those assumptions had not lasted long.
The baker had offered food and shelter, then sold me to settle a debt. Master Vale had purchased me at an auction, yet he had provided a bed and given me a chance to begin working within his household. Mara had offered me kindness, and I still didn't know what to make of it.
The world had already shown me that people could be difficult to understand.
Perhaps that was true of entire races as well.
"Mara?"
She looked up from the book.
"Yes?"
"Do elves really live in forests like that?"
She considered the question.
"That's what the stories say."
"But have you ever met one?"
"No." She shook her head. "I've never met anyone who has, either. Not anyone I know personally, at least. Some travelers claim to have seen them, but travelers tell all kinds of stories."
"So nobody knows whether the tale is true?"
"I wouldn't say that." She ran a finger along the book's worn spine. "There are forests where people are warned not to go. There are places where travelers have disappeared, and places where the roads seem to lead nowhere. Whether those things have anything to do with the elves, I couldn't tell you."
I absorbed that.
"And the dwarves?"
"Those are easier to believe in. Their goods are traded in some of the larger markets. I've seen dwarven-made tools myself, though I've never met the people who made them."
"What are they like?"
Mara smiled.
"Stubborn, according to the stories. Proud. Very particular about their work and their bargains."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe that people who tell stories enjoy making other people sound simple." She tilted her head. "Perhaps dwarves are stubborn. Perhaps humans are just impatient when someone refuses to do things their way."
That was a surprisingly thoughtful answer.
"Do you think the stories are wrong?"
"Not entirely. Stories usually begin somewhere. But by the time they've passed through a hundred people, I doubt they're exactly the same as when they began."
I looked down at my hands.
That made sense.
A tale might preserve a fragment of something real, then wrap it in exaggeration, fear, and imagination until nobody could distinguish one from the other. A traveler might meet an unfriendly stranger and decide an entire people were cruel. Someone else might hear the story, change a detail, and pass it on until the original event became something almost unrecognizable.
It was hardly unique to this world.
"Do you think there are other races besides humans, elves, and dwarves?" I asked.
Mara's eyebrows rose.
"Of course there are stories about other peoples. Though I wouldn't claim to know which ones are true."
She seemed to consider saying more, but then glanced at the hourglass-shaped candle stub on the table.
"It's getting late. If I keep telling stories, neither of us will be ready for tomorrow."
I realized how much time had passed.
The room felt different now. The candlelight seemed warmer, and the silence beyond the door no longer felt quite so oppressive. The estate was still unfamiliar, and the people within it were still strangers, but for a little while I had been able to think about something other than my own predicament.
I hadn't expected a children's tale to be so useful.
Nor had I expected to enjoy listening to one.
"Thank you," I said.
Mara's expression softened.
"You're welcome."
She placed the book on the table beside the candle.
"Did you like it?"
I could have given her a practical answer. I could have said that the story contained useful information about the world's folklore, or that it offered an interesting glimpse into how people viewed elves and dwarves.
Instead, I said, "Yes. I did."
The admission felt strangely vulnerable.
Mara didn't tease me for it.
"I'm glad."
She rose from the stool and stretched her arms above her head, suppressing a yawn.
"Now, you really should get some rest. Mistress Halen will have plenty for you to do tomorrow."
I pulled the blanket back and settled against the pillow.
"I'll try."
"Good night, then."
"Good night."
She picked up the candle and moved toward the door, leaving the book behind on the table.
For a moment, I thought she had forgotten it.
Then she paused with her hand on the handle.
"Oh, there's one more thing."
I looked at her.
"What is it?"
Mara glanced back at me, her expression more serious than before.
"We should find you a name."
I went still.
"A name?"
"Yes." She frowned slightly, as though she had only just realized how strange the situation was. "I know you haven't told anyone what it is, and perhaps you have your reasons. But you can't go on being called 'the girl' forever."
I looked down at the blanket.
There it was again.
The question I had been avoiding.
I had been thinking of myself as Alex since the moment I woke in this world. It was the name I remembered, the name attached to my former life, the name that belonged to the person I had been before the crash.
But nobody here knew that.
To everyone in this estate, I was simply a nameless child who had been purchased at an auction.
I could continue calling myself Alex in my own thoughts. Nothing could take that away from me.
But sooner or later, I would need something I could answer to when someone called across a room. Something that would allow me to exist in this world without having to explain why I had no name at all.
Mara waited for my response.
"I suppose you're right," I said at last.
"I thought so." She seemed relieved that I hadn't objected. "There's a library in the estate. It's not enormous, but there are books with lists of names, old family histories, and all sorts of things. I can take you there tomorrow after the working day ends, provided Mistress Halen doesn't give us too much to do."
"You can do that?"
"Of course. I know where the books are kept, and I can help you look."
She spoke with such simple confidence that I didn't know what to say.
It was a small offer. A practical one, even. She wasn't promising to find my family or discover where I had come from. She wasn't pretending that a name would solve the problems I faced.
She was simply offering to help me choose one.
And somehow, that made it more meaningful.
"Thank you, Mara."
She smiled.
"You're welcome. Now, go to sleep. We'll look tomorrow."
She left the room, closing the door gently behind her.
I listened to her footsteps recede down the corridor until the sound faded into the quiet of the estate.
Then I turned toward the table.
The old book rested beside the candle, its worn cover catching the last of the light. I wondered how many children had listened to that story before me, and how many had fallen asleep imagining distant forests and mountains inhabited by people they would never meet.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I had something to look forward to that wasn't simply the absence of danger.
Tomorrow, I would learn how to perform my duties. I would have to remember the rules, avoid the restricted corridors, and address the noble family properly. I would need to watch the other servants and learn how they behaved, what they expected, and whom I could safely approach.
There would be work to do, and I had no illusions that it would be easy.
But after the seventh bell, if everything went according to plan, Mara would take me to the library.
And there, among the books and unfamiliar words, I would choose a name.
I wasn't sure what that name would be.
I wasn't even sure what it would mean to me.
Part of me wanted to hold on to the name I had carried through my former life. Another part wondered whether I needed something new, something that belonged to the person I was becoming rather than the person I had lost.
I didn't have an answer.
For now, I decided that I didn't need one.
I turned onto my side, pulled the blanket over my shoulder, and closed my eyes.
Beyond the walls, the estate continued its quiet nighttime routine. Somewhere in the distance, a door shut. Footsteps passed, then faded. The old stones held the day's warmth, and the bed beneath me was soft enough that my aching body finally began to relax.
I remained cautious.
I still didn't know whether I could trust Mara, Master Vale, or anyone else in this household. I still had no idea what awaited me beyond the estate walls, or whether the life I was beginning to build would ever become my own.
But tonight, I had listened to a story.
Tomorrow, I would learn a little more about the world.
And perhaps, if I was fortunate, I would finally have a name to call myself.
For the moment, that was enough.
I let my thoughts grow quiet, and this time, when sleep came, I didn't fight it.