The Spriggan Mirror

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kaligir stood in the doorway, looking around distastefully. He wore the same red-and-black formal robes and black cap he had worn for his first visit, a couple of sixnights earlier.

Tobas was already on his feet, saying, “Welcome, Guildmaster,” when Esmera, Gresh, and Twilfa emerged into the room bearing food and beer. Gresh set the tray of bread and cheese on a table, while Esmera opened the jar of fruit, and Twilfa distributed beer.

“A pleasure to see you, Guildmaster,” Gresh said, wiping his hands on his breeches.

“I’ll go get more beer,” Twilfa said. She had brought only three mugs.

“Don’t hurry,” Kaligir said.

Twilfa glanced at Gresh, who nodded; they both understood that Kaligir did not want a mere supplier’s assistant listening to Wizards’ Guild business.

“Shall I give her a hand?” Esmera asked.

“I think we want you here,” Gresh said, before either of the other men could respond. “Here, take my beer; I’ll wait for another.” He took a mug from Twilfa and handed it to Esmera.

Twilfa had already provided Kaligir and Tobas with their drinks; thus unencumbered, she hurried away.

The others watched her go; then Gresh, Tobas, and Esmera turned expectantly to Kaligir and waited for him to speak.

The Guildmaster did not waste time on pleasantries. “I understand from my communications with Tobas that you have found and obtained the magic mirror, but have not destroyed it,” Kaligir said, looking directly at Gresh.

“I was not engaged to destroy it,” Gresh replied mildly. “I delivered it to Tobas, as our agreement specified.”

“Don’t play the fool with me, Gresh. You know what the Guild wanted.”

“You said that you wanted to ensure the mirror would stop producing spriggans. It has stopped producing spriggans, and it’s safely in Tobas’s possession. That was the full extent of my agreement; I never promised to do anything more than deliver it, and I’ve done that. If you aren’t happy that he isn’t delivering it to you immediately, well, yes, in order to obtain it without undue difficulty I placed Javan’s Geas on Tobas, ensuring that he will never give the mirror to anyone else. But the Guild can take it from him, should you choose. There’s nothing to prevent it, whatever the spriggans may think.”

“Nothing to prevent it? So anyone can take it? And what if the spriggans take it from him?”

“I don’t mean it’s unguarded; I mean that Tobas can make it possible for the Guild to take it, should you want to. As for the spriggans, they have agreed not to retrieve it—and even if they do, it’s no longer generating spriggans. It’s harmless, regardless of who has it.”

Kaligir glanced at Tobas, who gulped beer; then he turned his attention back to Gresh. “The spriggans have agreed to this? And you believe them?”

“I do,” Gresh said quietly. “Seriously, have you ever known a spriggan to break a promise?”

“I have never been in a position to hear one of the little pests make a promise!”

Gresh turned up a palm. “Well, there you are, then,” he said. “That’s why you couldn’t find the mirror, and I could. Because I thought to ask the spriggans where it was. Because I took the time to talk to them and made an effort to understand them, instead of simply chasing them away. I negotiated terms with them, as one speaking creature to another. I treated them, annoying as they are, with a trace of respect.”

Kaligir blinked at him. “Is that how you found it? You asked them?”

“Well, that, and some careful questioning, and a little sorcery.”

“So you talked to spriggans who led you to the mirror and who promised not to take it back—but what makes you think they spoke for all the half-million of the creatures who are roaming the World? Why shouldn’t some other bunch of spriggans snatch the mirror away?”

“I have reason to believe the ones I spoke to represent the majority and that many of the others don’t concern themselves with the mirror at all.”

Kaligir frowned. Gresh met his gaze calmly.

“I promised only to deliver the mirror,” Gresh said. “Holding on to it is not my problem. I would have thought that the Wizards’ Guild could manage that without my assistance.”

Kaligir said nothing more for a long moment, but finally demanded, “And once you had the mirror, why did you and Tobas not see to its destruction? You say that it’s no longer producing spriggans, but destroying it would seem a far more certain way to ensure that no more spriggans would be produced than whatever you did do.”

“Well, Tobas cannot destroy it—I placed a geas on him to that effect.”

“Why did you do that? Having done it, why did you not destroy it yourself? Tobas could not destroy it or give it back to you, but surely you, more than anyone else, could just take it. Why didn’t you?”

“There are three reasons, each of them sufficient,” Gresh said. He raised a finger. “First: We conducted a test where we broke the mirror into four pieces and discovered that this resulted in multiplying that half-million spriggans to two million. Using Javan’s Restorative to repair the mirror reduced that number back to the original. This leads me to suspect that destroying the mirror may have unanticipated and unfortunate results, and until we know much more about it, it would be unwise to risk doing anything that might multiply the number of spriggans, rather than reducing it.”

“Ah,” Kaligir said, stroking his beard with one hand, while the other still held his untasted beer. “Is that what that was about? We did notice a very brief increase in the number of spriggans.”

“Yes. Shattering it is a very bad idea. I doubt other obvious methods would be better.”

“I see your point. Go on.”

Gresh raised another finger. “Second: I gave my word to the spriggans who had possession of the mirror, and who allowed us to take it, that neither I nor Tobas would attempt to destroy the mirror. We did not say anything to bind the Guild, but I did give my word about my own actions and Tobas’s. My word is good.”

“Fair enough, if somewhat inconvenient,” Kaligir agreed. He looked down, as if just now noticing he held a mug, and took a sip.

“And finally,” Gresh said, holding up three fingers. “I refuse to participate in the murder of half a million speaking beings. Aren’t we taught that what made humans more than mere animals was that the gods taught us to speak? Well, spriggans can speak, too. They can make and keep promises. They can understand far more than you might think. They were bright enough to figure out things about the mirror that we might never have guessed. If they hadn’t told me what they knew, I might not have guessed as much of the mirror’s true nature as I have. I don’t say they’re human—they’re stupid and annoying and troublesome, and I don’t want them in my house—but they are thinking, speaking creatures, and killing them indiscriminately is wrong. I won’t be a part of it. Destroying the mirror might kill them—so I won’t do that. I know better than to think I can stop the Wizards’ Guild from doing whatever it pleases, but I will do what I can to keep you from exterminating the spriggans. I’m sure you can find ways to kill individuals who are especially troublesome or dangerous, if you must—I could even suggest a few spells that might help. I’ll do nothing to stop that, any more than I’ll stop a magistrate from hanging a murderer. But I won’t help you to wipe them all out, guilty and innocent alike.”

Kaligir took a long, thoughtful swig of beer before replying, “It seems to me that your first and third reasons contradict each other. Destroying the mirror cannot both multiply and exterminate the little pests.”

“There’s a contradiction, yes. That’s because I don’t know which is true. Destroying the mirror might kill them, or it might multiply them infinitely. I don’t know. And neither do you.”

“Not yet,” Kaligir admitted.

Gresh nodded. “Well, then—I’ve explained my position. I delivered the mirror. I ensured it would not produce more spriggans. I have fulfilled my end of our contract; I expect the Guild to honor its end. I trust my shop will be permitted to resume normal business operations immediately? And my fee will be paid promptly? And that my bill for expenses will be honored, when I have prepared it?”

“The shop can re-open, of course, and your expenses will be paid. We will expect the return of all remaining powders and potions. When we have verified that the mirror is truly in Tobas’s possession, and that it really is the correct mirror, Enral’s Eternal Youth will be cast on you.”

Gresh smiled. Returning the powders and potions was not ideal, but otherwise he appeared to have won on all points. “Excellent!” he said. “Thank you!” He lifted a hand in salute, regretting that he had given Esmera his mug.

Tobas, Esmera, and Kaligir all drank in response. Kaligir wiped foam from his beard and said, “I do have a few questions, though. You said you have ensured the mirror would not produce any more spriggans. How did you do that?”

“That’s a long story.”

“And Tobas, you said in your message that you were not bringing your wives—it’s of no consequence, but in that case, why is Karanissa here?”

Tobas had been caught with his mug to his lips; he spluttered. “That’s not Karanissa,” he said.

“It’s not?” He turned to Esmera.

“My name is Esmera,” she said, and curtsied.

Kaligir stared at her for a moment. Then he looked at Gresh. “Is she part of your long story?”

“Yes, she is,” Gresh said.

“Then I think I would like to hear the tale now.”

“Of course; if you would join me?” He gestured at the velvet chairs.

There were not enough seats for all four of them. Esmera said, “Shall I go help Twilfa?”

“If you would,” Gresh agreed.

Then he sat down with the two wizards and began explaining everything that had happened over the past several days.

By the time he finished, all three of them had consumed a mug or two of beer, as well as a modest amount of the bread, cheese, and fruit the two women had delivered. From what Gresh saw of them, Twilfa and Esmera appeared to be becoming fast friends—they were laughing happily at each other’s jokes as they brought out the food and drink.

He also noticed that a spriggan had slipped into the shop and was listening from a nearby shelf.

“So you believe that there is a corresponding mirror in another reality,” Kaligir said thoughtfully. “And you’ve convinced the inhabitants to seal it away in a box.”

“Yes.”

“And what happens if it is taken out of that box?”

“Then we would once again have reflected spriggans emerging into the World,” Gresh said. “Which is why I did not leave the mirror in the spriggans’ possession—I wanted it somewhere we could keep a watch on it.”

Kaligir nodded. “You would send messages by writing them on spriggans, and using the Spell of Reversal, reflect those into the spriggans’ realm.”

“That’s one approach,” Gresh said. “After seeing what happened to Esmera, though, I can suggest another—cast Lirrim’s Rectification on a spriggan, and it should become a part of its original in that other realm, providing a direct and more efficient means of communication. This would also, incidentally, render the spriggan vulnerable to ordinary weapons and magic; it might be a suitable punishment for troublemakers.” He looked up at the spriggan on the shelf. “You might want to spread the word about that.”

The spriggan squealed and ducked out of sight behind a stuffed owl.

“That’s a very interesting possibility,” Kaligir remarked, as he glanced at the now-empty bit of shelf.

“There are a good many other possibilities here, as well,” Gresh said. “It seems to me that it should be possible to put the spriggans to use—yes, they’re stupid and clumsy and absent-minded, but they can be made to cooperate. I think they might be very handy as messengers, for example.”

“Or spies,” Kaligir murmured thoughtfully.

Gresh did not comment on that; he had thought of it himself, but had doubts about how well it would work.

“Then the outcome is satisfactory?” Tobas asked. “Even though there are still half a million spriggans in the World?”

“We’ve survived them this long,” Kaligir said. “Now that we know more of their true nature—assuming that Gresh is correct—I think we ought to be able to manage them.”

“Then might I ask about my fee, for services rendered? The tapestry?”

Kaligir blinked. “Oh, that’s between you and Telurinon. I don’t see any reason that it shouldn’t be started, though.”

“Oh.” Tobas looked annoyed, but said nothing more.

“And Esmera?” Gresh asked. “Does the Guild have any interest in her?”

“The reflection of Tobas’s wife? No—as far as I can see, she’s just another animation, like Lady Nuvielle’s miniature dragon, or those teapots so many people like. She’s none of the Guild’s concern unless she starts casting spells herself.”

“She’s a witch,” Gresh pointed out. “She does cast spells.”

“But not wizardry. Witchcraft is the Sisterhood’s problem, not the Guild’s.” He stood and held out a hand. “I believe we’re done here, then.”

Gresh rose, as well, and took the wizard’s hand.

“Thank you for your services,” Kaligir said. “Send me the bill for expenses at your earliest convenience, and I’ll see that it’s paid. Give me the unused powders and potions; I’ll take those with me. Then I’ll see about having Enral’s Eternal Youth cast.”

Gresh nodded. He crossed to the bottomless bag to retrieve the rather battered box that held the remaining jars.

Five minutes later the doorbell jingled as Kaligir departed, box in hand.

“That went more smoothly than I feared it might,” Gresh remarked.

“Yes, it did,” Tobas agreed, picking up the flying carpet. “I suspect that there’s been discussion within the Guild we weren’t privy to, and that worked out in our favor. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to go now and see if I can get back to Ethshar of the Sands before dark. I want to get that tapestry started!”

“Of course,” Gresh said. “Shall I call Esmera, so you can say goodbye?”

Tobas glanced uneasily at the passage to the kitchen; soft feminine laughter could be heard from it.

“No,” he said, grabbing the handle of his case. “She’s not my wife, after all—just someone I met a few days ago.”

“As you please,” Gresh said. He did not offer to shake hands; Tobas’s hands were full. He did hold the door for the wizard, though, and watch as he unrolled the carpet and set his chest and himself securely aboard it.

Gresh waved a farewell as the carpet rose. Tobas waved back as it glided away with a faint whoosh, rising as it went.

Gresh stood in the familiar street for a moment, watching as the people of Ethshar went about their everyday business. Then he turned and walked back into his shop. He paused there, as well, taking in the tidy but heavily laden shelves, the locked cabinets, the vault door, the velvet chairs, and all the rest of it.

This comfortable and familiar shop was his and would be his as long as it lasted. He had just earned himself a way out of aging and eventual inevitable death. Oh, he could still die, certainly, but it was no longer guaranteed.

That was a very pleasant thought.

And all in all, the errand had not been so very difficult or time-consuming.

And there might be other benefits, besides his official pay. He ambled down the passage to the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are!” Twilfa said, looking up at his entrance. “We were just discussing where Esmera would sleep.”

“Anywhere she likes, I suppose,” Gresh said. He smiled. “She’s certainly welcome in my bed!”

Twilfa made a disgusted noise, but before she could say anything more, Esmera said, “Then I won’t be needing that cot made up after all.”

Twilfa stopped and stared at her, then turned her astonished gaze on Gresh.

He was struggling to hide his own pleased surprise. He hadn’t expected it to be quite that easy. He turned up an empty palm.

Twilfa’s astonishment turned to disgust. “Oh, you two are just hopeless,” she said, as she stamped away.

Esmera and Gresh looked at one another, smiling.

Then they were in each other’s arms and using their mouths for something a little more intimate than smiling.