Harry was like a boy on a school trip, his face shining with excitement

Jim looked at Marita. “The rooms aren’t identical, then?” he asked. His good spirits had returned; his wife was busy examining the ice lilies. Marita smiled appreciatively, evidently pleased that this question had been asked. “The rooms are unique. You will see in what way shortly. Now, shall we continue?” Behind the fountain, a low ice table and chairs stood around casually like a group of old friends. Marita motioned to the chairs but, although reindeer skins covered the seats, no one seemed prepared to sit down.

There was a single object on the table: an ice vase with ice roses, some in bloom, others in bud. Snow, pressed on to the ice, frosted the roses like sugared fruit.

“Now it’s time to visit the bar,” she said. Harry, who’d been stroking the reindeer skins, perked up. “Excellent. May we have a drink now?”

“If you must,” Marita said brusquely, “but we are not staying there long.”

She turned sharp right. We bustled after her through a bottle-shaped entrance into a high-vaulted room.

Fooled

The bar was open for business. The guests stood at tall ice tables, drinking from chunky-looking glasses. Low tables and reindeer-covered chairs like those in the foyer were dotted around the room.

A mock fireplace, complete with mantelpiece, fender, and leaping flames was set into the wall. Behind the icy flames, a flickering reddish-orange light was designed to give the impression the fire was lit.

Although it was impossible to be fooled, the flames threw their false warmth at us, lifting the room’s chill.

“Tomorrow, your first night at the Icehotel, the management will be holding a reception here. Karin and I are the hosts. We will be giving you a Purple Kiss.”

“A kiss?” Mike flashed Marita a smile that showed his even white teeth. “I’ll be first in the queue.”

She eyed him coldly. “Purple Kiss is a cocktail. You would know that if you had read your dossier.”

A faint titter ran through the group.

I whispered into Liz’s ear, “There’s always one.” She pretended she hadn’t heard and smiled prettily at Mike, keen to show she’d appreciated his remark. “You’re such a tart, Liz,” I murmured, smiling. Back in the foyer, Marita ran a hand across one of the red velvet curtains hanging against the walls. “These lead to the sleeping areas.” She pushed the curtain aside and disappeared.

We followed, nearly running to keep up. After the vaulted spaces of the bar and foyer, the ceiling seemed too low.

And it was darker here. Marita stopped abruptly, causing a minor pile-up.

She motioned to a ceramic plaque embedded in the wall. “Please look closely. This is the room number.”

Harry, a giant baby in his powder-blue suit, brought up the rear. I hung back to walk with him, slipping a hand through his arm.

He was like a boy on a school trip, his face shining with excitement.

“I love her to bits, don’t you, Maggie? When she’s not a tour guide she must be a Rhine maiden. Do you think she sings Wagner?”

He put on his glasses and peered at the nearest wall plaque. “This might be my corridor. Yes, I’m in room 15, further along.”

“Then it’s my corridor too. I’m in room 16.” I tugged at his arm. “Come on, or we’ll get lost.”

Marita had stopped outside room 20. “We have time to see only two or three rooms, but this is one of the more interesting.

“We call it the Chess Room.” She drew back the curtain.

Reassurances

Behind it was an arch-shaped entrance. It was Robyn who voiced my thoughts. “But there’s no door,” she said shrilly. “It’s just a curtain.”

Marita was ready with the reassurances. “Please don’t be alarmed. Your valuables will be safe in the lockers.”

She stepped into the room and, holding back the curtain, ushered us through.

Robyn had opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. She followed the others inside, looking prim.

Harry held back, signalling to me to stop. “I bet she and her husband were planning a night of passion,” he whispered. “But not now they know anyone could burst in on them.”

I tried to picture the Ellises writhing under the reindeer skins, and failed.

Harry, shaking with laughter, took my elbow and guided me into the now-crowded Chess Room.

Miniature lights hung high across the walls, winking rhythmically and throwing faint splashes of colour on to the ice.

In the centre of the room lay the double bed, a block of ice buried under reindeer skins.

I fingered them carefully, remembering Jim’s doubts, and wondered how effective skins were as insulation.

It was then that I saw the ice statues: huge chess pieces, a king, queen and knight standing proudly around the room.

Carved into the pressed snow on the wall behind them was a chessboard. The Danes crowded in front of it, arguing loudly.

Marita was watching, curiosity in her eyes. “Can you see who will win? And in how many moves? Each day we carve a different puzzle on to the wall and invite our guests to solve it.” She paused. “It is black’s turn.”

The Danes moved away, still arguing. I studied the board, biting my lip in concentration. It was an unusual play but, after a minute, I had it.

“It’s now impossible for white to win. Black will win in three moves, but only if he sacrifices his queen.” I moved my finger to show Marita.

“But if black keeps the queen, he’ll take a minimum of two – no, three – further moves to win.”

She gawped. “That is absolutely correct.”

Puzzled

A murmur ran through the group. Mike was smiling, clapping his hands soundlessly; Jane, beaming, gave me a thumbs-up.

“You solved it very quickly,” Marita said.

I shrugged, puzzled by her remark. “It was obvious.”

“I didn’t know you played chess, Mags,” Liz said. “My father taught me when I was a child.” I grinned. “I used to bunk off sports to play in the chess club. I was school champion. Don’t you remember?”

“You bunked off sports?” Mike said, in amazement. “To play chess?”

“We have a chess set in the Excelsior,” Marita was saying, “although we find that our guests prefer outside activities.”

She turned to the group.

“There is time to visit one more corridor. Please stay close or we will become separated.”

We filed out through the curtain and followed her back the way we’d come. Jim Ellis mouthed a hurried, “Well done”, as he overtook me to join his wife.

More tomorrow.