Part eighteen of Misplaced Fire
It was five hours before Jason and Isabelle started to wake up. The first sight they saw was heavy black curtains draped around them on a frame like a tent. They were lying on a mattress covered in dark blue silk. Neither of their heads especially hurt, apart from the usual addledness that accompanies the transition from sleeping to waking.
Dinah flung the curtain open at the foot of the bed. Jason crawled around Isabelle to the head. Dinah restrained herself from giving chase.
“Last thing you remember, what is it?”
Isabelle was holding her head in her hands. “Standing on our mountain with Ceylan.”
Nesrin stuck her head around the bed frame. “It was not your mountain.”
Isabelle shook her head. “Right, right. I can’t believe we did that.”
Ceylan entered their line of vision. “Well it’s undone now. Your best course of action is to come eat something while we discuss the path forward.”
The bed was centered against the back wall. The walls were light brick and the floor was cobblestone. The high vaulted ceilings were made of the same material as the walls. Across the room from the bed, an arch in the wall opened to grant a view of a calm gulf. The waters flowed into a half-circle beach in the floor that came to about the middle of the room. One could swim or lay in the water without living the room. To the right of the arch the walls were lined with bookcases, wardrobes, dressers, and curio cabinets. To the left was a long, elegantly simple redwood dining table set for a meal of roasted corn and carrots, creamy potato soup, chocolate fondue with fruit, and bread.
Isabelle and Jason eased their way toward the end of the bed. Neither dared step down.
Jason gulped. “We’re dead; Ceylan killed us.”
“They haven’t adjusted out of the mortal mindset,” Dinah laughed. “You’ve only come to my jungle, the part of it I live in.”
They cautiously touched one foot to the floor, then the other, and pushed themselves off the bed.
Dinah led them to the table. “You’ll be staying here for a while, at least until you finish your rehab.”
Jason picked up a strawberry. “What about our real world college classes?”
Isabelle was still dipping her toes in the water. “Que va, Mi Hermano, how can you think of school in a place like this?”
Continued next week
Link to previous installments: https://anindeterminatenumberofnights.blog/category/misplaced-fire/