Ilga started away from me, drawing a deep breath as for some release. I groped my way to the window. The shutters opened outwards, and I pushed against them. They were held close and fast.
A wooden settle stood against the wall just beneath the window, and I knelt on it and drove at the shutters with my shoulder. They gave a little at first, and I heard a whispered call for help. The pressure from without was redoubled; I was forced back; a bar fell across them outside and was fitted into a socket. Thrust as I might I could not break it; the window was securely barricadoed.
Meanwhile Ilga had not spoken. "Ilga!" I called.
She did not answer me, nor in the blackness of the pavilion could I discover where she stood.
"Ilga!"
The same empty silence. I could not even hear her breathing, and yet she was in the pavilion, within a few feet of me. There was something horrible in her quietude, and a great fear of I knew not what caught at my heart and turned my blood cold.
"This is the priest's doing," I cried, and I drew my sword and made towards the door.
A startled cry burst from the gloom behind me.
"Stop! If you open it, you will be killed."
I stopped as she bade me, body and brain numbed in a common inaction. I could hear her breathing now plainly enough.