The Spriggan Mirror

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gresh arrived at the tower door while the sky was still gray. The dawn was not yet broken. He knocked gently; no one answered. Presumably they were all still asleep. While Tobas had said “first thing,” Gresh knew he had probably not expected anyone to take it quite so literally. Gresh had kept a book at the top of his bottomless bag for such an eventuality; he lit the lamp above the stair, settled himself on the staircase, and began reading.

He had not yet finished the second page when Esmera appeared below him, at the curve of the stair; she still wore the same red dress, and it occurred to him that she probably had no other clothes—Karanissa had provided her with combs and hairpins, but so far as he knew, nothing more than that. She certainly had no luggage with her beyond a small purse on her belt.

Her hair was still up, as she had arranged it the night before—tied into a long braid and coiled on the back of her head. He did not think it an especially flattering style, but it did distinguish her from Karanissa, and apparently it was easy to maintain—it either hadn’t come undone overnight, or she had been able to restore it unaided. He wondered which it was—wouldn’t it have been uncomfortable to sleep on it like that? Perhaps if her bed had been soft enough that wasn’t an issue; he wondered what accommodations the chamberlain had been able to provide. Gresh had not accompanied her while those arrangements were made. He had been busy double-checking on the spriggans and the magic mirror, using up the remaining supply of Javan’s Geas to order the spriggans never to move the mirror, and re-packing his bottomless bag, and making sure that the packet of Lord Peren’s hair was secure.

He hoped that Javan’s Geas worked on spriggans; he was not at all sure of it. He had tried it anyway, but there was no obvious way to test it.

The mirror was no longer his responsibility, though. He had delivered it as agreed. Now all he had to do was get home and collect his fee—and perhaps help Esmera find a home.

She was looking hesitantly up the stair at him. Gresh closed the book and smiled at her. “Good morning,” he said. “I see you rose early, as well.”

“I didn’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

“That doesn’t appear to be a problem,” he replied. “No one answered my knock.”

“So I see. May I join you?”

“Of course.” He moved over on the step, making room for her, and pushed his bag further back, out of the way.

She climbed the stair and seated herself beside him, tucking her skirt carefully. “Thank you,” she said.

He nodded, and said, “It occurs to me that this must seem very unfair to you.”

She looked up at him, startled. “Oh?”

“Well, yes. After all, you remember being Tobas’s wife, you must surely think of yourself as the woman he married six years ago, and now he says you aren’t. You remember owning an entire wardrobe and all you have now is this one dress, which still has dirt from the cave on it and snagged threads where thorns or spriggans caught at it, while the other pretty clothes all belong to the other Karanissa. That can hardly seem just.”

“But I’m not Karanissa,” Esmera replied. “I know that. I’m an exact copy—and I wasn’t even that until you cast Lirrim’s Rectification on me. You and the enchanted mirror created me; Karanissa didn’t, so why should she have to give up any of her belongings, or share her husband with me?”

“But don’t you think of yourself as her, still?”

“Sometimes. I know I’m not, though, however much I might feel otherwise. What I try to do is think of it as if I was her, but now I’m someone else. I’m trying to think of it as an adventure, starting a new life on my own.”

“That’s probably a wise attitude.” Gresh considered her for a moment, and then said, “I suppose I did more or less create you, didn’t I?”

“Not deliberately.”

Gresh grimaced. “And how many children are created without that being their parents’ intent? That doesn’t reduce the parents’ responsibility, and I don’t see why it should reduce mine.”

“But you didn’t know the mirror could produce something like me.”

“Well, that’s true, and perhaps that does lessen my burden somewhat, but all the same, now that you’ve pointed your parentage out to me, I feel I must assume some of the responsibility for your well-being. I have already spoken to Tobas, and we’ve agreed that I should provide you with funds until you can make a place for yourself, in Ethshar or elsewhere. This money should be considered part of my expenses in obtaining the spriggan mirror—after all, I would not have figured out how it worked if you hadn’t climbed out of it. But beyond that, I think I should also offer you the hospitality of my home, such as it is, and perhaps one of my sisters can see to your education and find you employment. One of them, Tira of Eastgate, is a witch—she ought to be able to provide some guidance. Ekava the Seamstress may be able to help with clothes.”

“Thank you,” Esmera said, lowering her eyes.

“You’re quite welcome—and I would like to make something clear; I’m doing this not as a father, but as a friend who feels responsible for your situation. I am not your father; we share no blood.” He was fairly certain that as a witch, able to sense his emotions, Esmera would know exactly why he was making this point. She had Karanissa’s memories; she would recall his reaction to that white dress she had worn a few days ago. And Esmera, unlike Karanissa, was not married.

He also thought she would be tactful enough not to say anything about it directly.

She raised her gaze and smiled up at him. “I’m glad of that,” she said. Then she turned and looked at the door. “Karanissa is awake,” she said. “I can sense it. She slept better than I did—her bed was familiar, and her hair didn’t get in the way.”

“Ah,” Gresh said. “Shall I knock?”

“She’s on her way,” Esmera replied.

Indeed, a moment later the door opened without further action on Gresh’s part.

Half an hour later the flying carpet rose from the platform, bearing Tobas, Gresh, and Esmera, as well as Gresh’s bottomless bag and a small chest holding a few of Tobas’s things. It sailed upward, circled the castle towers once, and then headed westward, gathering speed as it went.

They once again ate lunch at the Dragon’s Tail, in Ethshar of the Spices, but since they had so little baggage they rolled up the carpet and took it inside with them, rather than leaving it hovering.

They reached Ethshar of the Sands while the sun was still a hand’s breadth above the western horizon and spent the night in Tobas’s little house near Grandgate. All three slept in the upstairs rear; no mention was made of the tapestry hidden behind the draperies just the other side of the stairs.

While they ate a simple breakfast the next morning, Tobas reported that he had dreamed a reply—his own message about having the mirror secure in Dwomor had been received, and they were to proceed onward to Ethshar of the Rocks without talking to Telurinon. Kaligir would be meeting them at Gresh’s shop to discuss the matter.

“Why did they send a new dream?” Gresh asked. “Didn’t you talk it out in the one you sent?”

“No,” Tobas said. “I used the Lesser Spell of Invaded Dreams, which only sends. It doesn’t receive.”

Gresh blinked. “Why?”

“Because that’s how the spell works.”

“No, I know how it works. I mean why didn’t you use the Greater Spell of Invaded Dreams?”

“To save time and because I didn’t have all the ingredients for the Greater,” Tobas said defensively.

Gresh started to argue further, intending to point out that the only additional ingredients the more powerful spell required were blood and silver. Tobas had certainly had blood available if he bothered to prick his finger, and he ought to have access to a silver bit or two given he was the court wizard and the castle presumably had a treasury or at least a petty cash fund somewhere, but then he caught himself.

It didn’t really matter why; it was over and done. Tobas was right that the Greater Spell took about half an hour longer to prepare than the Lesser, and if he chose to devote that saved half-hour to getting more sleep or saying goodbye to his wives, that was his business. If he didn’t want to cut anyone for a few drops of blood, nor borrow a coin, that was his prerogative, as well.

If the real reason was that he hadn’t felt comfortable using a fourth-order spell when a second-order one would serve, as Gresh suspected, there was nothing to be gained by forcing him to admit it.

They finished breakfast in silence and were soon on their way west and north, toward Ethshar of the Rocks.

It was very nearly noon when the carpet soared between the towers of Eastgate and descended toward Gresh’s shop. The trip had been far more comfortable than the eastward journey, owing to the lack of crowding, greater familiarity with the hazards of flight, and the absence of a baby, but there had still been relatively little conversation, and Gresh was very glad to stretch his legs after sitting for so long.

Twilfa was standing in the open door of the shop, waiting for them. She waved and called a greeting as the three of them climbed off the carpet onto the street.

“Did you find the mirror?” she called as they approached.

“We did,” Gresh replied. “Have you heard from Kaligir?”

“No; should I have?”

“Not necessarily, but it seemed likely, since you seemed to be expecting us.”

“Oh, Dina told me you’d be home about now. I suppose she heard from Kaligir. So you really found the mirror? May I see it?”

“It’s safe in Dwomor; we didn’t bring it with us.”

“You didn’t? But why?..”

“I’ll be happy to explain everything once we’ve had some food, rest, and beer,” Gresh told her.

“Oh!” Twilfa realized she was blocking the doorway and stepped aside. Gresh and Esmera moved past her into the shop; Tobas was rolling up the carpet. Twilfa looked at him, then at the pair inside, and asked, “Where’s the other one, and the baby?”

“I left my wives in Dwomor,” Tobas said, as he hoisted the carpet on one shoulder, picked up his case, and strode to the door. “Both of them.”

“But that’s...” Twilfa turned.

“That’s Karanissa’s sister,” Gresh told her. “Esmera. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

“Sister?” Twilfa stared.

“I’m told the resemblance is strong,” Esmera said, smiling.

“Esme, I have eleven sisters, and no two of them come close to that strong a resemblance!” Twilfa said. “Are you twins?”

“No, Karanissa is older,” Esmera replied, her smile widening. “Quite a bit older, actually.”

“About that food?” Gresh asked.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Twilfa hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them in the shop’s front room. Tobas looked around for a convenient spot to put down the rolled-up carpet. Gresh closed the front door.

That gave the three of them a little privacy. “It occurs to me—do you want your origins kept secret, or would you just as soon let everyone know you’re only a few days old?” Gresh asked Esmera, as she headed toward the chairs in the corner.

“I think I’d prefer to keep it to myself,” she answered.

“We’ll probably have to tell Kaligir,” Tobas remarked, as he thumped the rug down in front of a large brass-bound chest.

“If you must,” Esmera replied. She sat down in one of the velvet chairs and began undoing her braid.

“What are you doing?” Tobas protested.

“I’m letting my hair down, now that I won’t be flying anywhere, and I don’t need to worry about you confusing me with Karanissa.” She had the braid uncoiled and was untying the ribbons that held it together.

“But I’m still... I mean, people will think you’re her!”

“Tobas, I am not going to keep my hair up forever; I’ve braided it for traveling often enough, but I’ve never worn it coiled up that way before, not in four... I mean, Karanissa never wore it that way, in four hundred years, and I don’t like it any better than she did. I’m done traveling, so I don’t need the braid, either.”

“But everyone...”

“Tobas.” She stopped unraveling the braid and put a hand on his. “I am going to be living here, in this city. People are going to see my face, sooner or later, and whether my hair is up or down, they’ll notice the resemblance to your wife. There’s no point in trying to hide it, or pretending I don’t look exactly like her—of course I do, because I’m her reflection made flesh. You know that, I know that, and Gresh knows that. I’ll be happy to use the twin-sister excuse instead of the truth, just to save a lot of tedious explanation, but I’m not going to ignore the fact that I’m physically identical to her. It would be silly to try. I will try to hide that I have all her memories, to save on explanation, but even that is my business, not yours. Now, calm down, sit down, and wait for Kaligir.”

Tobas looked down, remembered that she was not who she appeared to be, and snatched his hand away. Then, reluctantly, he settled onto the other velvet chair.

Gresh hesitated; he wanted to give Twilfa some help in the kitchen and start getting caught up on business matters, but he had promised Tobas he would never leave him alone with Esmera.

“Will you two be all right here if I go give Twilfa a hand?” he asked.

Tobas threw Esmera a quick glance, then said, “I would really prefer...”

“Could I come with you?” Esmera interrupted. “I’d like to meet all your sisters and get to know them, if I’m going to be staying around here.”

Tobas looked relieved. “I’ll stay here, to let Kaligir in,” he said.

That was not exactly what Gresh had wanted, but it was close enough—and it really would be a good idea for Esmera to get to know Twilfa. “As you please,” he said.

Together, Gresh and Esmera made their way down the passage to the kitchen, where Twilfa was filling beer mugs from the keg in the pantry. A tray of black bread and hard cheese stood ready on the table.

“I thought you’d want something simple and filling,” Twilfa explained, with an uncertain glance at Esmera.

“Excellent,” Gresh said, not mentioning how similar it was to the breakfast they had eaten in Ethshar of the Sands. “Esme, could you fetch that big jar of apricots?” He pointed, and then picked up the prepared tray.

As Esmera lifted the heavy jar down from the shelf, Twilfa leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure she isn’t Karanissa?”

“Quite sure.”

“But she isn’t really a sister, is she? Isn’t Karanissa four hundred years old?”

“Yes.”

“So she’s, what, a homunculus of some sort? A shapeshifter?”

“More of a magical accident—and a witch, just like the original, so she can hear everything we’re saying.”

Twilfa threw her a quick, guilty look. “Oh.”

“That’s all right,” Esmera said, as she turned, holding the jar. “Of course you’re curious; anyone would be. As Gresh says, I’m an accident—remember, he went to find a magical mirror? Well, he found it, and it is a mirror, as well as the source of the spriggans. I’m a reflection turned human.”

“Oh.” Twilfa’s voice was noncommittal, but her expression was frankly baffled.

“But I really am human now and would prefer to be treated as such.” There was a faint tone of warning in Esmera’s voice.

Twilfa did not miss it. “Oh, of course,” she said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You weren’t,” Esmera assured her, relaxing again. “And as a guest here, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s nothing...”

Just then the doorbell jingled.

“That will be Kaligir,” Esmera said. “Shall we go?” She hoisted the jar of pickled apricots and led the way back to the front room.