It was Nell who first noticed that the window had changed.
She was sitting in the upstairs room at the White Heron, where the afternoon light fell across the floorboards and the old curtains stirred whenever the wind came from the river.
She had been drawing.
The window looked out over the village roofs, the orchard beyond them, and the hills in the distance. She knew the view well. She had drawn it several times, though never quite to her satisfaction.
But today, beyond the hills, there was something else.
A line of trees stood where she remembered open fields. Behind them rose a pale building with a long roof and a small tower.
Nell put down her pencil.
She looked again.
The building was still there.
She called Elian.
Elian came upstairs, carrying a cup of tea.
"What is it?"
"Look."
Elian stood beside her.
For a while neither spoke.
"Do you know that place?" Nell asked.
"I don't think so."
"Have you seen it before?"
Elian considered the question.
"Perhaps."
Nell waited.
"Sometimes," Elian said, "I have the feeling that I have seen a place before I have been there."
"How can that happen?"
"I don't know."
Elian took a sip of tea.
"Perhaps the place has seen you."
Nell looked at her.
"That doesn't make sense."
"No," said Elian. "Not entirely."
They watched the distant building.
By the time Rowan arrived, it had disappeared.
He looked out of the window.
"Fields," he said.
"There was a building," Nell insisted.
"Then perhaps it has gone."
"It was there a moment ago."
Rowan examined the window frame.
"Does it open?"
Nell frowned.
"Of course it opens."
"Good. I was beginning to think we might need to dismantle the wall."
He pushed the window outward.
The air came in, carrying the smell of leaves and something unfamiliar—perhaps rain, though the sky was clear.
Rowan leaned out.
"Well, I can't see a building."
"That's because it's gone."
"Then I suppose there's nothing to be done."
He sat down and accepted the tea Elian offered him.
Nell returned to her drawing.
She drew the hills, the trees, and the place where the building had been.
Then she drew the building itself.
She did not erase it.
That evening, the innkeeper came upstairs.
He found Nell sitting beside the open window, looking out into the darkening valley.
"Still drawing?"
"Yes."
She showed him the page.
He studied it carefully.
"Where did you see this?"
"Beyond the hills."
He looked towards the window.
For a moment, his expression changed.
"Ah," he said.
"You know it?"
He sat beside her.
"I have seen something like it."
"When?"
"Long ago. Or perhaps not so long ago."
Nell waited.
The innkeeper looked at the drawing.
"It may be a house. It may be a hall. It may be something that has not yet decided what it is."
"Can we go there?"
"Perhaps."
"When?"
He smiled.
"When the road is ready."
Nell looked out again.
The hills were dark now. The village lights had appeared one by one, and the orchard was only a deeper shadow against the sky.
"Is there a world beyond the hills?" she asked.
The innkeeper did not answer immediately.
"There are many worlds beyond the hills," he said at last. "Some are far away. Some are very near."
"How do we find them?"
"Sometimes by travelling. Sometimes by staying where we are."
Nell thought about this.
"And sometimes by looking out of a window?"
The innkeeper smiled.
"Especially then."
Downstairs, someone laughed. A chair scraped across the floor. Mara called for Rowan, who was apparently required to mend something that had been working perfectly well until someone touched it.
The innkeeper stood.
"Come down when you're ready."
Nell remained by the window.
She looked at her drawing once more.
Then she turned the page and began another.
This time she drew the White Heron.
She drew the courtyard, the pear tree, the garden, the meadow beyond the wall, and the road leading towards the hills.
She drew the innkeeper's room, the kitchen, and the little passage behind the pantry.
Then, in the corner of the page, she drew a window.
It was open.
Beyond it, she drew a world she had not yet seen.
She left most of it blank.
There was room enough.
When she finally went downstairs, the inn was full of voices and lamplight. Rowan had repaired the troublesome chair. Mara was serving supper. The innkeeper was pouring wine for a traveller who had arrived just before dusk.
Nell found a place at the table.
Outside, the night had settled over the valley.
The window upstairs remained open.
And beyond it, whether near or far, the other world went on.
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