Chapter One.

2. I remember very well the day that everything changed. That morning the sun had
risen just as it always had in the past: behind a thick screen of clouds. It began its slow decent
towards the horizon in the opposite direction behind that same screen. Snow continued to fall
and the world continued to freeze, but my attention was turned to my activities within the tower.
I hadn’t slept much the night before, choosing instead to finish an epic about a brave
knight on his quest to save his kingdom from famine and marry the most beautiful girl in the
land. Once it was over, I managed to wedge it into one of the overflowing bookshelves. Instead
of grabbing the sequel I sat down at my writing desk.

3. As time ticked slowly by, I worked diligently on the next chapter of my story.
My hero, Rudolph, was just setting eyes on his beloved Anne for the first time in
several months and I felt a tingle of excitement as I described their reunion.
I wrote ardently, filling up page after page and watching the stack of finished
sections resting at my feet grow slowly but surely. As the afternoon wore steadily on, I remained
completely absorbed in the world that I was creating to the absolute exclusion of my own.

4. I don’t know for how long I wrote, but it was rather late by the time I had run out
of ideas and taken to staring off into space.
As I watched through the small window, swirling snowflakes danced around the sky
as they floated to the ground. I imagined that they were people and the frosty evening air was
their ballroom. As the ice crystals maneuvered gracefully around one another, I envisioned a
stately set of dancers, kings and knights and the like, all gathering to celebrate a recent
conquest. The room was decorated splendidly and the orchestra was just beginning to play.
Ladies curtseyed demurely as their gentlemanly partners bowed…
It was then that I noticed the silhouetted figure on the horizon.

5. Abandoning my wandering thoughts, I pressed myself between the window and my
writing table in order to get a better look. The figure was coming over a small hill in the
distance, battling against the wind and, from the looks of it, losing.
The shape stumbled frequently, disappearing into large snow banks and reemerging
seconds later, brushing clumps of snow from its shoulders.

6. I ran downstairs to the only window that opened and unbolted the shutters. A cold
blast of air struck me, but I was too excited to care.
I squinted hard against the setting sun and could barely make out the figure
trudging slowly through the snow, slightly favoring her left side.
I recognized Mother’s uneven gait instantly for I had known it my whole life. I
didn’t bother to question for even a second why she had been walking instead of performing her
usual trick of appearing directly under the tower and shouting for me to let my hair down.

7. Mother had been to see me only three days prior so I should have known that the
person growing ever closer could not have been her. But my blissful state of ignorance clouded
my judgment and I ran from the window to throw another log on the fire. I stoked the blaze
higher (Mother liked it warm) and lamented over the fact that I had let it die down so much over
the course of the afternoon.

8. Scurrying around the tower, I removed dirty dishes from the table and stacked them
next to the wash basin so they were out of the way. The books strewn about the room were
relocated and the crumbs from my last meal were swept away. I ran all about, only pausing once
to tuck a few stray hairs back into my braid.
What can I say? Back then I was eager to please.

9. Mother was taking longer than usual. Waiting for her to arrive, I had begun to
worry and I imagined all sorts of harms that could have befallen her. The world was a dangerous
place, after all, and she was risking a great deal coming out to see me.
I went to the window and leaned out as far as I dared and call her name. It was, as
of yet, that I had felt the snowflakes on my skin but they didn’t faze me at all. I was too focused
on the sudden sense of dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

10. With an audible gasp, I retreated back into the tower and pressed myself up against
the window frame. My mind whirled with the realization that the person approaching was most
certainly not my dear Mother Gothel.
In fact, it was pretty much her exact opposite.
A young man stumbled towards my defenseless tower.

11. Unwilling to be seen again, I left the shutters open and bolted back up the stairs on
shaky limbs. I sank to the ground, cowering against the banister and praying to God that he
hadn’t actually noticed me.
“Let him think this tower is abandoned,” I willed silently even though I knew there
was no way for it to be true. I had dangled out the window like a fool. He had to have seen, or at
least heard, me.

12. Without moving from my spot, I was able to stretch my arm far enough to reach a
book. I had read it before, recently, in fact, but at that moment I would have done anything that
allowed me to pretend there wasn’t a potentially hostile man advancing on me as I sat defenseless
in a tower with no way out.
I was distracted for a bit, but as soon as the man reached the base of the tower, there
was nothing I could do to stop my panicking.

13. When I heard his footsteps crunching in the snow, my hands began to shake and I
dropped the book, crumpling the pages and bending the cover. My heart beat rapidly and I
moved to the staircase. I was close to tears as I pressed my back to the stones, hoping in
desperation that he would just go away.
No such luck.
I heard him staggering around the tower and his voice rose easily on the wind,
carrying it directly to my ears. “Hello!” I winced and took a few steps back. “I am fortunate to
have found you – can you please let me in? It’s freezing out here!” His words were slurred
together and occasionally drowned out by his chattering teeth. I didn’t answer. He persisted.

14. “I know you’re there; I saw you waving.”
I wound my way down the stairs with caution. He didn’t sound dangerous, but I had
to see him with my own two eyes. As I tip-toed closer, he continued, “You left the window open
and I see smoke coming from the chimney. I’m cold, not blind.” I moved soundlessly and peered
over the sill. My breath caught when I saw him standing ankle-deep in the snow, shivering and
blowing on his hands in an effort to keep them warm. “Please,” he begged.
His desperate tone won out over my apprehension and I couldn’t bring myself to
leave him standing there. My voice shaky with apprehension, I managed to call out “hello” before
my nerves got the better of me. I only hoped that mother had been mistaken. Perhaps not all the
people outside the tower were bad.

15. He snapped his head up and our eyes met. Even from my height I could see that his
nose was a dangerous shade of blue and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
Hope flickered in his eyes and he spoke with renewed vigor. “Oh, thank God! I am in
desperate need of shelter. Please let me in.”
Mother’s constant warnings about the dangers of the outside world echoed in my
head as I debated whether to let him up. I had to consider the distinct possibility of the stranger
being a liar, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn my back on him.
With an anxious heart, I wound my braid around its hook and tossed the rest of it
out the window with simple instructions, “Climb.”

16. I braced myself against the wall and felt him tug twice on my braid. He apparently
deemed it safe as I soon felt his full weight suspended in air as he climbed. Peculiarly, he was
lighter than mother.
After what seemed like ages, his head finally appeared over the ledge and the
pressure on my head ceased when he shifted his weight from my hair to the wood.

17. I admit that I stared rather shamelessly when he entered fully into the tower. I
watched as he quickly drew up my braid and looped it into a coil that he tossed underneath the
window.
When he thanked me, I went red in the face and I stammered a meek “You’re
welcome.” Not only was he the first man I had ever seen, he was the first person, other than
Mother, that I had ever spoken to.
And I found him fascinating.

18. He went straight for the fireplace and stuck his hands close to the flames. Shifting
his weight back and forth between his feet, his shoes squished small puddles onto the floor. I
guessed he was too happy to have his toes unthawing to notice.

19. I hung back by the stairs, ready to dash up them at a moment’s notice. At first,
neither one of us spoke. He cut an interesting figure hovering close to the fireplace and I studied
him intently. His dark hair caught the light of the flames and his green eyes were concentrated.
He was tall and lean with an unexaggerated strength. Though he limped, he bore no visible
injuries and he seemed to be in fair health.
I thought of the soldiers I had read about in my books and the description seemed
to fit him. Mother had said that the world was full of them, some good but most bad, and I
wondered which side he fell on. Did he fight to restore order to the kingdom or was he a
merciless brigand? He seemed harmless enough so I ventured a simple question. “For whom do
you fight?”

20. I should have known by the look that he gave me that something was amiss. Still
heating his hands over the fire, he glanced over his shoulder as if I were crazy. “I don’t fight for
anything.”
I blushed and tried to clarify. “But aren’t you a soldier? Were you injured in battle? I
assumed that is why you are limping…”
My rambling only earned my another odd look. “I’m not a soldier and I have never
fought in any battle. I am a printer by trade and my limp comes from the fact that I twisted my
ankle earlier this afternoon when I was set upon by renegades.”

21. Immediately my opinion of him worsened. ‘So he was one of those people,’ I
thought. Mother had told me all about them: people so set against the war they refused to be
involved on either side. Often they took the opportunity to enrich their own lives either through
war profiteering or raiding vulnerable villages.
I crossed my arms, glared, and sniffed in contempt.

22. He paid no need to my disdain so I sniffed again in the hopes that it would compel
him to offer an explanation for his cowardice. When that didn’t work, I cleared my throat but he
still didn’t turn around. He probably just thought I was suffering from a cold.
I was about to just ask him outright for his justification when I noticed his fingers
tugging at the strings of his soggy tunic. With stiff, half-frozen movements, he unknotted the
strings and pulled them loose.

23. My jaw dropped and I stumbled backwards onto the stairs. Instantly, a book I had
read a few months ago, The Villain in the Dungeon, came to mind. In it, the dastardly count had
taken advantage of several young ladies before he was most satisfactorily defeated by the hero.
Each time he cornered one of them in an empty room, his evil seduction always began with the
removal of several layers of clothing. Even though I ha d never been out of the tower, my books
had shown me plenty of the world’s vices and I wasn’t as innocent as one may have assumed.
“Hold it right there! What do you think you’re doing?”

24. Hearing the alarm in my voice, he dropped his laces and turned around to look me in
the eye for the first time. “I’m soaked through,” he said, pinching the fabric of his tunic and
letting a few drips fall to the floor. “I’m just going to hang it up so it can dry.” He hesitated,
shifting his weight nervously between his feet as if waiting for permission.

25. Still uneasy, I averted my eyes and allowed him to go about his business.
As I stood there I listened to the sounds and pictured his movements in my mind.
The soggy slap of the waterlogged tunic as it smacked against the fireplace. The steady drip of
the water onto the floor as it competed to be heard over the crackle of the flames. The soft swish
of my skirts against the stone steps as I brushed my foot back and forth. The shuffle of his feet
as he left his place at the hearth and came towards me.

26. I startled at his proximity and my stomach clenched in sudden nervousness. Doubt
creeped into my mind and I couldn’t help but think of Mother’s certain disappointment when
she found out that I let a stranger in. “When will you be leaving?” I asked.
“First thing in the morning. I promise.”
At that point I stepped back another stair. The thought of him staying overnight
was not appealing.

27. “Please,” he said sympathetically, “I do not wish to frighten you, miss. My name is
Gustaf Schreiber – I’m a printer from a small village called Kirschblüte – and I just need shelter
for one night. That’s all I ask.”
I wavered on the stairs, torn between letting him stay and making him go. He was a
total stranger, but I did recognize the name of the town he was from. Mother lived there too.

28. He reached out for my hand which I reluctantly gave. “Come sit down with me and I
will explain everything.”
I hesitated for a second, pulling back in an attempt to wrestle free of his grip, but he
wouldn’t let go. Something in his steady gaze that struck me as trustworthy “My name is
.
Rapunzel and this is my tower” I said as I gave in to his lead.
“Pleased to meet you.”

29. He steered me towards the benches and took his seat as I took mine. “So tell me why
you are here,” I insisted.
Gustaf stretched his feet towards the fireplace as he spoke, still thawing his frozen
toes. “I left Kirschblüte early this morning, intending to head directly over the mountains and into
the city. I had an appointment with a man concerning a piece of property I wish to purchase. I
am looking to open up a new print shop, you see, but I never made it there. About six hours into
my trip, I was held up by a group of-”
“Oh! Did you come across a group of soldiers? Were they doing battle?” In my
innocence, the whole situation seemed a like another one of my novels and my mind jumped
ahead, trying to fill in the gaps with my assumptions.

30. For a second, Gustaf sat at a loss of words. Finally he shrugged and raised his brow
in confusion, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“Never mind,” I said, a bit disappointed. “Please continue.”
“Well, as I was saying, I was making my way across the mountains and I was just
about to cross the border out when a group of guards spotted me. As you can probably guess,
they were less than satisfied with my traveling papers and I was put in a holding cell to await
transport back to the village. I was to be brought before the Bürgermeister for sentencing but I
knew it would only end in disaster, what with my forged documents and the closed-gate policy
held against me.”

31. Mother hardly ever talked politics with me, but to my understanding he had
committed a grave offence. The ruler of the village, the Dame, had sealed the gates years ago in
order to keep the citizens safe and to guard against invaders. The kingdom as a whole, comprised
of dozens of self-governing cities and villages, was still a dangerous place and it would not do
for outsiders to wander in of their own volition. People could still travel, of course, but they had
to apply for and be granted the proper documents well in advance.
“Somehow I convinced myself that escaping my cell and trying to make it to the
city before nightfall was my best course of action. Apparently I was mistaken. I wandered for
hours in the wrong direction and was beginning to feel resigned to my fate when I saw the
smoke coming from the chimney. I thought I was going to die out there in the snow, Rapunzel,
but you saved me and for that I am truly grateful.”

32. I blushed at his sincerity. “It was nothing. I was glad to do it.”
“I was rather surprised to find you here in the middle of nowhere, I must say. At
first I thought I was hallucinating; you’re so very far from any civilization.”
“Yes, well, nobody is supposed to come this far into the mountains. Mother built out
tower here so we can be safe.”
“Oh, you live with your mother?” he asked, looking around for somebody to step out
of the shadows. “Is she here?”

33. “N-no,” I stammered, “She’s from your village, actually, and, um, she’s there right
now.” Immediately I regretted telling him that I was alone. My pulse began to race; a thousand
terrifying scenarios bombarded my imagination.
But, to my relief, he did not pull out a knife or launch himself upon me. All he did
was offer a confused look and scratch behind his left ear. “So, your mother lives in town but you
live all the way out here? Have you been cut off by the snow or something?”
I knew what he was getting at, but I had no desire to offer an explanation. Mother
traveled back and forth between the tower and the village, bringing me supplies to last weeks at
a time. She never missed a visit and I never went without. “She and I have a sort of
arrangement.”

34. “Does it involve numerous trips through the window?” he asked with a chuckle. “I
had been expecting stairs.”
I turned from his gaze. I suppose it was meant to be funny, but it sounded to me like
reproach. I had never been blind to my unique living situation, but this was the first time that an
outsider had seen it; and criticized it. Embarrassment was a new feeling for me. The conversation
stalled when I didn’t respond. I fiddled with my braid. He picked at a loose string on his cuff.
“You, uh, have nice hair,” he said at last. “Longest I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you…Um, would you care for something to eat?” I stood up before he
answered.

35. His stomach growled and he tried to pass it off with a laugh. “Yes please; I’m
starving. Of course, only if it’s no trouble, that is.”
“None at all,” I assured, excusing myself and heading straight for the pantry. I was
quite relieved to move from his proximity.
I dug through the cupboards, pushing aside plates and cups in search of some
leftover rolls and roast beef. Mother had brought some last time she was here and I thought it
still might be good. As I rummaged, I was keenly aware of Gustaf ’s movements around the
room.

36. I heard the sound of his wet shoes slapping against the stone floor. He hovered
around the mantle for a few seconds before moving on to the table to its left and then finally over
to the stand by the window with my bible on it. He fingered the pages, turning them and
inspecting the colors. “Remarkable work,” he said.

37. I shut the cupboard door quickly and turned to face him, my cheeks flushed and my
heart beating rapidly. “What are you doing? Please don’t touch that; it’s very fragile and dear to
me.”

38. He jumped back from the table. “Sorry, I didn’t know! Is it a family heirloom?”
I scoffed. “Not even. You should know how hard books this nice are to come by these
days! Mother went to great trouble to bring it back here for me. I should hate it if I were to lose
it. She taught me to read with it, you see, and if word ever got out that we owned something like
this I just know we would have all sorts of ruffians trying to scramble up the tower to lay their
hands on it. So I would appreciate it if you would keep quiet about it when you leave and-” I
tailed off into silence, cowed by his puzzled expression.

39. “All your concern over a bible?” he scoffed. “I said it was nice work, but it’s not that
nice. I could print once just like it in my shop if I wanted to.”
“Not possible! Books, bibles especially, are incredibly hard to come by! Mother said
so. One like this would fetch a fortune!”
He scoffed once again. “Your mother told you that, did she?”
“Yes!” I was growing incredibly frustrated.

40. “And you believed her?”
“Of course I did,” I shouted, stamping my foot. “It’s true!”
“I don’t know what your deal is, lady, but I feel like I should show you something.
Come over here…”

41. Fuming, I followed him to the fireplace. My anger urged me to banish him from the
tower and forget the whole situation had ever happened but the small amount of curiosity deep
within my heart compelled me to stand silent and watch as he dug through the pockets of his
coat.

42. With a gentle, but slightly uneasy, smile, he pulled forth a miniature book; the
smallest I had ever seen. It was bound in red leather and the spine looked well-worn. Small
scratches and water spots were spread across the cover.
Balancing it on his palm, he opened it to the last page and began thumbing through,
backwards, at a rapid pace. As the pages flew by, my eyes caught underlined passages and notes
scrambled into the margins, but I could not make out what they said.

43. He stopped abruptly on the front page where in dark printed letters was written the
words “Holy Bible.” I blinked rapidly is surprise.
“It was my father’s before me. My family alone owns dozens of copies. See here,” he
flipped back a page revealing an inked tower climbing up out of a shield with the letter S
stamped in the middle, “this is the mark of my father’s printing business. Many years ago he
made it himself and now I make dozens of them a week. They’re my shop’s most popular item.”

44. I pulled my eyes from the page. “This has no relevance for me. For all I know you
could be lying. I’ve only known you for an hour and for all I know you could be one of them; one
of the villains.”
Gustaf tucked the precious, soggy bible into his pocket of his vest and said with an
incredulous laugh, “I’m not lying! I don’t know what your, um, theories are about how the world
works outside of this tower, but I can tell that there’s something you’ve missed.”

45. My throat prickled with the tears I was holding back. I felt in over my head and my
most desperate wish was that mother was by my side. She would have launched Gustaf from the
tower in a heartbeat. Instead I had to stand by, at a complete loss of what to do while he went to
the bookcase and pulled a book from atop a stack, reading the title aloud, “These Fifty Years: A
Brief History of the Ongoing War from its Inception to the Present.”
“That one mother brought me a few months ago. She said she saved up for a long
time to be able to buy it new.” He cracked the spine and I cringed. “Please put it back.”

46. He flipped through the first few pages, “Don’t worry; I’m just looking.” He turned to
the end of the book and then back to the beginning. A slow smile spread across his face. “See
here,” he pointed to a blank page in the front. “This is where the mark of the printer who made
the book should be stamped. But the page is blank. Therefore it couldn’t have been made by a
legitimate business. And it’s just as well. The author tries to pass it off as non-fiction when it’s
clearly fiction. The war they’re talking about ended almost twenty years ago.”

47. “I don’t believe you!” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Hurt and confused, I
was suddenly aware of the fact that, while most of my books had printers’ marks such as the one
he had showed me, a significant amount of the books in my possession did not. “It cannot matter
that a silly picture is missing. Some books just don’t have them, I guess.”
“Not possible. That’s against guild regulations. Either somebody sat there and put
this thing together by hand, or it was conjured by magic.”

48. “Stop it! Just stop it!” I had never yelled at anybody before. My hands shook and
blood rushed in my ears. “Put it back!” I ripped the book from his hands and tossed it onto the
stack. “My mother would never lie to me.”
“And what reason would I have to lie? In fact, what I’m saying goes directly against
my interests.” Realizing what he said, his shoulders fell. “Angering you is the quickest way to get
me thrown out of the tower. Maybe I should stop now…”

49. I was past anger now. All I wanted was to escape. The tears I had been fighting to
hold back spilled forth and I turned to flee up the stairs. He started to follow, but one look from
me stopped him in his tracks. He hung back, shuffling his feet in discomfort. “I’m sorry for
upsetting you…”

50. I flung myself on my bed, pushing aside the books that were littered there. The
sight of them made me sick. Angry thoughts buzzed around in my head. Mother would not,
could not, lie to me. She had saved me! Taken me in, given me safety, and raised me when my own
parents were too greedy to do it themselves.
Gustaf was the liar. It was he who spun falsehoods…but then…No! I clenched my
hands into fists and pummeled the feather mattress. I would not be swayed.
From down below, I heard Gustaf pace around a bit and then shut the window. I
didn’t know why; it wasn’t cold in the tower. Then I thought – hoped – that he had left. But then
I heard him close the pantry and stretch out on the floor in front of the fire. I didn’t care if he
had taken food. I didn’t care if he stayed. I didn’t care if I ever saw him again.

51. The sun finally slipped below the horizon. The snow continued to fly. I barely
noticed. I don’t know how many hours I stayed there, unmoving. My head spun in every
direction and I cycled through a broad range of emotions – anger, loyalty, betrayal, doubt, envy,
more anger – until my heart finally settled on dull, aching curiosity.

52. Finally I relaxed my muscles and stretched my stiff joints. I rose and peeked over
the bannister. Gustaf was there, lying out on the rug in front of the fireplace and breathing
deeply. I envied his peaceful sleep. I had lain awake for what seemed like days; never before had
the hours moved by so slowly.
If only he hadn’t said such things. Such lies.
But were they lies? Somewhere between betrayal and doubt I had decided I needed
to find out for myself.

53. I had hundreds of books to choose from. My hand shot out and picked one at
random. I vaguely recognized the spine as belonging to a trilogy I had devoured only a few days
ago. Oh, how quickly life can change.
I hesitated before sliding it slowly off the shelf. I had to see how many were missing
printers’ marks, but what would I do with the information? What could I do with the
information?

54. I still hadn’t opened the cover when a tap on my shoulder made me jump.
Gustaf reddened and took a few steps back. “I’m sorry – I really didn’t mean to
startle you. I thought you heard me come up.”
“It’s fine,” I said, gripping the book to my chest. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Oh, I heard you moving around. Your braid sounds an awful like snakes slithering
across the floor,” he chuckled. I kept my face stony; I didn’t find his jokes funny. “Um, are you
doing alright?” he asked with real concern in his voice. “I heard you crying but after a while I
thought you fell asleep…”

55. “No, I couldn’t.”
His eyes lit up when he caught notice of what I was holding. “Hey, I recognize that
one! May I?” Timidly, I held it out and he took it.
My heartbeat quickened as his fingers cracked open the spine. The scent of ink and
parchment wafted into the air; such a familiar smell. I guess I was going to find out if this book
had been guild-made whether I was ready to or not.
My face flushed when I saw the picture of the tower and shield stamped the full
length of a page. He just smiled. “Just as I thought; it’s my printer’s mark. See here? The “S” is
for “Schreiber Printing.” I printed one of these for my mother as a present last month.”

56. “You mother reads “Sir Edwin’s Quest”?” I asked with mild enthusiasm. “It’s one of
my favorites.”
“Hers, too,” he said, smiling.
He handed the book back and I wedged back onto the shelf. One down, a thousand
more to go. He motioned to the rug, inviting me to sit with him. Awkwardly, I nudged a few
scattered novels aside and joined him.
“You read a lot,” he said, pulling a book from behind the pillow he was leaning on
and glancing at the cover.

57. “Not much else to do in case you haven’t noticed.” I took it from and laid it, along
with four others, out in front of me. One at a time, I flipped them open. Three had printers’
marks. Two did not. And they both were about recent developments in the war. I had been using
them as research for my own writing.
Gustaf saw the same pattern I did. “The world isn’t all bad, you know. Sure, at times
one struggles and it can seem like no matter how hard you try, there’s just no winning, but there
are a few honest people out there. Even if your mother isn’t one of them, I’m sure she had the
best of intentions at heart.”

58. I flinched at the mention of my mother. Tears pricked my eyes. “Please don’t start again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said and then went quiet. He played with his sleeves, staring at the ground.
It was I who broke the silence. “Tell me about the village.”

59. He lifted his head and leaned his arms on his crossed legs. A smile came across his
face. “It’s beautiful this time of year, Rapunzel. My shop faces the market square which is lined
with dozens of cherry trees. Down there it’s spring by now and the trees are all in full bloom.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said wistfully.
“Oh, it is! You should be there: pink petals float on the breeze, the sun is warm on
the cobblestones, the snow is finally melted, and in a couple of days all that is left of us will
come together to celebrate the Spring Festival, the Frühlingsfest.”

60. I smiled along with him, picturing the village in my mind. I’d never experienced
anything other than snow and cold; never felt the sun on my skin or felt it warm the ground
beneath my feet. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was missing something.
We sat in silence for a few seconds before he spoke up, “You know…you could always
come with me.”

61. My head snapped up and a current of fear passed through my body. “Are you
crazy?!”
“No! Just listen for a minute. Leave with me tomorrow morning; come with me
when I leave and I’ll show you what you have been missing. I will show you that you don’t have
to be afraid. There’s more to life than this tower and your books.”
“I cannot possibly…I mean…what if mother comes for a visit and finds me
missing?”

62. “It doesn’t have to be long! I can have you right back in this spot in three days. My
first attempt to cross the mountains failed so I have to go back for supplies and a new set of
papers before I can go again. I’ll grab a map and I can find my way back here no problem. After
that, I’ll be on my way.”
“I don’t know…my mother…”
“I’m not asking you to choose between me and your mother. I’m asking you to take a
chance and see the world for yourself; make your own decision.”

63. The word “yes” was on the tip of my tongue but I hesitated. I had said I wanted to
find the truth for myself. But could I really betray her like that? Well, it would be only three days
– Mother wouldn’t be back for at least three times that length of time – and she would never
have to know…
While I still had the nerve, I took a deep breath and let out all at once, “Alright, I
will go so long as you swear to keep me safe and bring me right back here by sunset on the third
day.” Blood pounded in my head and my fingers tingled. What had I done?
“I swear!” he said in all seriousness.
There was no going back now.