Read From a High Tower for Free Online

something to do with it. Mother was no help there, except to call them
elber,
sort of generally. Some of them looked like very tiny sylphs, some like fantastic winged creatures that were part insect, part human, and part plant. They all liked to play in her hair when she unbound it; she let them, because they untangled it as they went.
    The rate at which it grew varied. It could grow as much as a foot in a week, though only rarely. It generally grew about a foot a month, which meant she had to unbraid it, comb it out, and rebraid it at least once a week. Washing it took almost half a day.
    Mother used to joke that she should just let it keep growing and never cut it, saying
then you could let yourself down out of the window by your own hair.
As a child that had always made her giggle.
    As usual, as soon as she took her hair down and began to unbraid it, the little Air creatures turned up, showing none of Linnet’s listlessness. She was very glad for their help, because when it got to its current length, it was practically impossible to comb and braid without their help. Today they made a game out of it, as if her locks were the ribbons of a Maypole, and did most of the work for her.
    They had gone, and she was pinning up the coiled braids on the top of her head, when she heard a melodious whistle that sounded nothing like a bird just outside the west window.
    Hastily she stabbed the last hairpin in place and practically flew to the opening, and laughed with delight to see Johann Schmidt standing there below. He looked even handsomer in the sunlight, and his eyes were, as she had suspected, a vivid blue.
    He swept off his hat to her as he had last night, and now she could see he was dressed in hunting gear of loden green wool, just like the men of the Bruderschaft wore. She wondered for a moment if he might be one of their number—
    But he wasn’t wearing the silver Saint Hubert badge they all wore on their hats. Instead, it was a fanned cluster of pheasant feathers in a silver holder.
    â€œGood morning, fair maiden!” he said, cheerfully.
    â€œIt’s nearly afternoon,” she corrected, perhaps more sharply than she had intended, but she was vexed with him. Hadn’t he promised to be here? And how long had she waited for him? Hours and hours!
    â€œSo it is. I don’t suppose you could spare a bite to eat?” he replied, without seeming to take any notice of her temper. “I looked about, but there doesn’t seem to be a friendly inn hereabouts.”
    She relented immediately. “We’ve plenty to spare,” she said truthfully. “I shall bring you something.”
    He was still calling his thanks as she turned and made for the stairs.
    When she came back up, she had a small basket with a sausage, some cheese, an onion, and a couple of boiled eggs in it. Bread was something they
didn’t
have a lot to spare of, since flour was one of those things that Mother had to go a long way to get. And she wasn’t certain how to get milk down to him; they had cups and pitchers of course, but she was going to have to lower the basket down to him from the window, and she was afraid that the cord she had would break, or the milk would spill.
    But he didn’t seem to be discontented with her offerings; he took them out of the basket and placed them on his handkerchief, which he spread out on the grass, then sat down and took a flask out of his pocket. She pulled up the basket as he waved at her.
    â€œShall you dine in your window while I dine below, fair one?” he asked, taking a swig. Since that seemed like a good enough idea to her, she got milk and bread and butter and ate that while he cut off chunks of sausage, cheese and onion and washed them down with whatever was in his flask. As he ate, he regaled her with tales of his hunting, and she listened raptly. The men of the Bruderschaft who had visited had never talked about hunting ordinary creatures, only things like