The Crystal Heart Read Online Free

know what it’s like.’
    â€˜Sure, friend,’ said an unsuspecting Franz, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘Rather you than me.’
    Lew certainly kept me busy. I washed dishes till my hands were wrinkled, and swept till my arms ached. After I had finished all my work, I slipped into the cellar when Lew and Flamel weren’t looking. I could hear them toasting each other and talking for what seemed like hours. Before long, I heard the scrape of chairs as they got up, blew out all the lamps and noisily clumped off to their beds.
    At last, I was alone.

Izolda
    That morning I’d woken reluctantly, emerging from a wonderful dream. I’d had a few of those recently. In the dream I was flying high above the earth. Everything looked so beautiful – the pattern of field and forest, town and river, the sparkle of the sea, the tall peaks of mountains, the folds of hill and valley. I was dressed all in white like an angel, only I wasn’t an angel – I was just me.
    But I wasn’t alone in the dream. Someone flew with me – a young man. I couldn’t see him properly. I only had the merest sense of him, just a flash of colour: hair black as coal, skin pale as snow, lips red as blood. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t know who he was. Yet I knew, like you do in dreams, that he was important to me. I had no idea why, and it didn’t seem to matter. We swooped and flew, swooped and flew, and all the while joy filled me. I was free – we were free. And I knew I’d never be alone again.
    The dream always ended there. I would wake, filled with hope, and find myself once again in this place.Yet, somehow, the power of the dream lingered, giving me renewed strength. This time the dream had been different. It hadn’t ended on us swooping and flying. This time I’d heard a voice singing. His voice. I knew it was his voice, though I’d never heard it before. A voice deep and soft. And I’d heard the words of his song so clearly that I was able to write it down word for word:
    If only I’d listened,
    if only I’d cared,
    if only I’d spoken,
    if only I’d dared.
    Then things would be different,
    and all would be fine.
    If only I’d done it,
    what joy would be mine!
    There was so much sadness in his voice. In the dream I had wanted to speak, to say, No, no, don’t be like that. There is so much hope. We are free, don’t you see? We can go where we like, do what we want …
    And then I awoke. To those walls and the knowledge that had sat like a stone in my heart ever since they told me what would happen when this day had ended. No, I would not waste the day thinking about it. I had to remember who I was. But what a hollow thing to say! Memory weakens in this place that hollows you out, though it is hard to forget completely. I could remember the halls of my people. The black ships and the grim-faced warriors. My hand closing over the crystal heart …
    It lay in my palm, the crystal cool against my skin. Once it had belonged to my mother. It was the only thingI had that belonged to her. So many times I’d look into its flashing depths and see what I’d want to see: escape, hope, home. Love. In the dream it was there, too, resting against my skin, under the white dress. Remembering this, I looked into the crystal. I saw nothing but my face, reflected in miniature a dozen times. There was no hope. No escape.
    I heard his voice again. Their voices. So calm, despite their words. To them I was a prize, a pawn. And more than that now, it seemed.
    Slipping the crystal heart back on its silver chain around my neck, I studied the room that had been my prison for ten long years. My eyes swept across the bed, the desk, the chair, the carpet, the small closet that was my washroom. I knew every bit of that place – every thread of the carpet, every scratch in the steel wall, every crack in the stone floor. I had memorised each brushstroke of