Mirror Sight

“That should do it,” he said, patting her knee, then taking to a rocking chair nearby.

  “Cade,” she said, watching through the window as a man rowed by with a spotted dog at the prow of his boat, “what was it you were going to tell Luke?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Just before he left. You seemed to have more you wanted to say.”

  “Oh, well, I’m just worried, after what he said about spies yesterday, and then the odd change-about by the Inspectors at the city gates today. But Luke knows how to be careful.”

  “Yes, the Inspectors’ behavior troubled me, too.”

  They stared at one another for a moment, then Cade shrugged. “It could be the Inspectors are truly suspicious of anyone out of Mill City, or . . .”

  “Or?”

  Cade’s expression darkened. “Or, we’ve been found out.”

  That had been Karigan’s line of thought too, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  “What do we do?”

  The floorboards groaned as Cade slowly rocked back and forth. He rubbed his chin as though deep in thought. “I don’t know,” he said. “They haven’t come and arrested us—not yet, anyway. I suppose we just keep going forward.”

  Karigan did not like it, going blindly forward, but hadn’t that been her whole experience in this world, thus far? She did not know its ways or even its geography. The professor and Cade had been her guides, but now the professor was gone, and Cade was as much in a different world as she.

  She stood, stretched, and started pacing across the uneven floor. Cade sank into his own thoughts, his eyes half closed, his chair rocking back and forth in a slow, rhythmic pace. Having no plan was no plan at all, but what could she do? She could head out, get a feel for Gossham, or at least get a look at the palace’s exterior. She could watch and listen, same as Luke. He’d told them to stay put, and she could see the wisdom in that. If she got caught, it was all over. And her chances of getting caught? Well, if there were spies keeping watch on their little group, chances were pretty good. They’d wonder why Stanton Mayforte’s sick servant was up and about prowling the streets.

  “Damnation,” she muttered.

  “What’s wrong?” Cade asked.

  “I am tired of hiding. I want my sword. We might as well go up to the front door of the palace and knock on it for all the good this waiting around is doing us.”

  “That would be one approach,” Cade said, “but I don’t think it would accomplish what you hope.”

  “I know, I know.” Karigan flung her arm out in frustration. “I feel like I want to do something.”

  Cade raised his eyebrows and looked like he had a suggestion, then clamped his mouth shut. Instead, he rose and strode over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. “Let’s see what news Luke brings back.”

  She was too wound up to feel comforted, but said, “All right, all right. I just hope he returns soon.”

  A couple hours passed, and just as their supper was being delivered to their doorstep, Luke grabbed the tray from the startled servant, stepped inside, and booted the door shut behind him. After he set the tray on the table in their sitting room, he lifted the lid off the pot of the main course and an offensive odor wafted out. “Oh, my favorite,” he said. “Boiled dinner.”

  Karigan groaned.

  “How was the city?” Cade asked.

  Luke straightened. “Very interesting as a matter of fact. I have some unexpected news. The city is abuzz with rumor.”

  Karigan and Cade glanced at one another.

  “Well?” Cade asked.

  “From what I was able to pick up,” Luke replied, “the emperor has awakened early.”

  A WAKING DREAM

  “The emperor has awakened?” Cade demanded, aghast. “Early?”

  Luke nodded and began to dish himself some boiled dinner. “That’s the rumor going around. Or it may be he hasn’t awakened quite yet, but the palace is making ready.”

  The professor had told Karigan that the emperor—Amberhill—slept at intervals of ten years. He had not known the reasons for such extraordinary sleep periods, but he’d told her that the emperor’s wakeful periods were to be feared. Even so, she was just as glad. Trying to get answers out of a sleeping Amberhill would not have yielded much satisfaction.

  “But rumors,” Cade said.

  Luke dropped into a chair at the table, ready to dig into his meal. “Rumors with an element of truth. Certain foods known to be the emperor’s favorites have been ordered into the palace kitchens, there’s been extra activity in the emperor’s quarters, extra attention paid to his horses, and certain officials have attempted to flee the city . . . There are enough servants, and others who work in the palace, to note changes in its daily routines, and of course they mix with people in the city and the word spreads.” He took a bite of corned beef. “Mmm. Just like my wife’s.”

  In that moment, he looked forlorn and suddenly much older. He must miss her very much, Karigan thought. He had spoken little of his family on their journey, but perhaps it was his way of coping with the separation.

  Karigan and Cade joined him at the table, Karigan picking at potatoes and trying not to be repulsed by the cabbage. Luke told them of his outing, of having sent his letter off to Webster Silk, and then of lingering in an open air market and a tavern to hear the news of the city.

  “It sounds as if the Eletian is definitely at the palace,” he told them. “People described a closed circus wagon with lions painted on it, making its way through the city and to the palace just a couple of days ago.”

  Karigan nodded. “He was kept in one like that at Dr. Silk’s party.”

  “Yes, well, there was much speculation over what was to be done with the Eletian. One gent referred to him as ‘a priceless treasure.’”

  Karigan hoped that Cade was right about Dr. Silk’s being a collector. It might prevent harm from coming to Lhean, at least for a while.

  “There was nothing about Arhys and Lorine?” Cade asked.

  Luke shook his head. “They would seem to be inconsequential in comparison.”

  “That’s good,” Cade said. “It means they’ve not discovered Arhys’ secret.”

  “Overall, I’d say the mood of the city is edgy,” Luke continued. “People are trying to go about their daily routines, but it’s as if they know a storm is brewing.”

  “To be expected if the emperor is indeed awakening.” Cade shook his head. “And why early?”

  As the two men mused over the possibilities, Karigan investigated the contents of a crock that had arrived with the boiled dinner, to see if it was anything more palatable. It was a steaming blueberry crumble and now it was her turn to think of home. Her Aunt Stace made wonderful crumbles during summer when the low lying bushes around the G’ladheon estate were filled with tiny blueberries. Picking the wild ones had been a nuisance until Aunt Stace acquired a hand rake like those used by growers out on the cultivated barrens. Not to mention, more blueberries usually ended up in Karigan’s mouth than in her bucket when she “helped.”

  Hastily she scooped a heaping mound of the crumble into a bowl and drowned it in the heavy cream that came with it.

  “Hey!” Cade said. “You hardly left any for us.”

  “You can have my share of the boiled dinner.”

  Luke chuckled, and Cade glowered.

  While the crumble was wonderful, it could never be as good as Aunt Stace’s, but at least it was made in Corsa, even if Corsa was now called Gossham.

  “Yes, I thought it was peculiar, too,” Luke was saying when Cade brought up the Inspectors at the gates. “Word must have passed from checkpoint to checkpoint that a wine merchant from Mill City, named Mayforte, was headed for Gossham.”

  “But why would that make them decide not to search the wagon?” Cade asked.

  Luke shrugged an
d poured himself tea. “I haven’t the faintest. It could be a trap, as you proposed, but like you also said, why not just arrest us? This has been a dangerous endeavor from the outset, and almost anything could go wrong. That forged letter of introduction from Mill City’s master? It’s well done, but what if they detect it’s a forgery? We are done for.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I do not think there is much else we can do, but keep playing the game. If Webster Silk invites us to the palace, we go and have a look around. If he does not invite us, we find another way.”

  Later, after Luke retired for the night to his comparatively spacious bedroom, Karigan sat once more on the window seat watching moonlight glimmer on the canal. They had gotten nowhere with the planning. It was all or nothing, and Cade had agreed that if invited into the palace, they would use it for scouting purposes, no more. It was not at all satisfying.

  She could not see the moon itself from where she was, but it was nearing full. Thinking of the moon reminded her of the first phrase in the Captain’s riddle: The scything moon is held captive in the prison of forgotten days. Karigan felt imprisoned like the scything moon.

  “Should we get invited into the palace,” Karigan said, “I want to make sure my ability is still working.”

  “Are you going to do that fading thing?” There was an apprehensive edge to Cade’s voice.

  She nodded. “First I need to check something else.” She peeled back her jacket and revealed her Rider brooch. To her, it looked the same as always, but could Cade still see it? “Is my brooch still there?” she asked him.

  He squinted, moved closer. “No. It’s gone. What happened to it?”

  She grinned. “Oh, it’s there.”

  “Then why can’t I see it?”

  She explained the spell that concealed it, and how long ago the brooches had been saved by being hidden in plain sight.

  “Remarkable,” Cade said. “So it’s the etherea of Gossham at work.”

  “Yes. And, by way of testing it further . . .” She took the moonstone from her pocket, and the room flooded with liquid silver light. She extinguished it quickly.

  “I have never . . .” Cade said, blinking. “So much brighter than phosphorene. It’s truly a silver moonbeam?”

  Karigan nodded. It had emitted a much stronger glow than in the morning, and yet . . . It appeared to her as . . . muddy compared to what she remembered it being like back home, where it had been almost painfully clear and crystalline.

  “Now to try my ability. Let’s turn down the lamps.” When Cade cast her a querying glance, she explained, “My fading is more complete in dim light.”

  When the light was lowered, Cade asked, “You aren’t going to vomit again, are you?”

  “Hope not. If I do, I’ll try not to do it on you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yep.”

  “Thank you.”

  Karigan, standing where moonlight puddled on the floor through the window, took a deep breath, then reached for her brooch. When she touched it, she knew she’d faded because her vision turned gray, and even the glow of the lamps became cold. And then, of course, there was Cade’s expression indicating her success, one of awe maybe mixed with a little fear. Fear for her? Fear of her ability? Fear of her?

  “I can see through you,” Cade said. “You are like a ghost.”

  Which she had used to great effect in the past. She stepped out of the moonlight and into the shadows, and his hiss of surprise told her she had faded completely from sight.

  “Karigan?” he asked. “Are you still there?”

  She walked toward him as quietly as she could and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. He jumped back, startled.

  She released the fading, and that was when the headache struck. It was not, perhaps, as fierce as the last time, but it staggered her, and she had to fight with her rebellious stomach to retain its contents. After all, she’d made Cade a promise . . .

  He steadied her and led her to a chair—not the rocking chair, thankfully, which would have only aggravated the nausea. She massaged her temples.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t use your ability if it makes you ill,” Cade said.

  “The headache will go away. Always get it.” But not usually this bad. In addition to the headache, she felt raw, like her heart had pumped sand instead of blood through her arteries.

  Back in her own time there were Eletians who believed the D’Yer Wall should fall so that the etherea trapped in Blackveil could replenish the lands. If this was what it was like, she was pretty sure the Eletians would be sorry, unless they were better able to endure the taint. They were beings of magic, and she could not believe Blackveil’s influence on them would have a positive outcome. Would they listen to her if she told them? It was difficult to say.

  When she saw the worry on Cade’s face, she straightened and smiled, though the movement jarred the hammering in her head anew. “It works,” she said, “and I can use it if need be. If there are enough shadows, anyway.”

  Cade shook his head. He had seen her ability and could not argue about its usefulness. Nor would she allow his concern to override her decision to use it, should the necessity arise. When Karigan announced she was ready to retire for the night, Cade claimed weariness and suggested they actually try to just sleep so they were able to face whatever the following day would bring. She did not believe him for an instant, guessing that he had perceived her own weariness and was making an excuse to ensure she got some sleep. She was grateful. Just that small use of her ability had tired her out.

  They did not exactly sleep apart, however. When she dropped into one of the narrow beds in the servants room, Cade pushed the other beside hers, and in this way they were together, but with a comfortable space around them for sleeping. Before Cade even got into bed, she’d drifted off into a deep sleep.

  At some point during the night she had one of those dreams where it was hard to tell if she was really awake or just dreaming. In it, she was sitting up against the headboard, soft moonlight working patterns across the floor. Cade was buried beneath his blanket beside her. Across her lap lay a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It was a well done rendering of the inside of a building, or at least a section of a building. She knew, without knowing how she knew, that this was the interior of the palace.

  The drawing appeared to be of some great hall with a fountain in its center featuring a winged dragon rearing back, water flowing forth from its mouth. To either side of the fountain were colonnaded corridors.

  Cade rustled beside her and sat up, but it was not Cade. Yates, his ghost, sat beside her. An otherworldly cold drafted off him and against her skin. It was as though he were an open door through the veil of death.

  Yates. She mouthed his name, not sure if she mumbled it into her pillow, or if she was actually sitting up speaking it, or if she had uttered it at all.

  His translucent hand hovered over the paper. He had finally revealed one of his drawings to her. He pointed at the corridor to the left of the fountain, and once again, with unfounded assurance, she knew it led to the prison of forgotten days.

  • • •

  In the morning, Karigan arose foggy and out of sorts, like she’d been at the Cock and Hen all night imbibing too much. Unfortunately, when she shook off the initial layer of fog, she remembered she hadn’t been anywhere, or anywhen, near the Cock and Hen. She dressed and found Cade and Luke already at breakfast.

  “Started without me?”

  Cade glanced over his shoulder at her. “We couldn’t let the flatcakes get cold. Besides, you were restless last night. I thought it better to let you sleep.”

  She dropped into a chair beside him, and he passed her a cup of hot tea and a blueberry muffin. The muffin brightened her mood.

  “I think I dreamed a lot,” she said. She grasped at fleeting images as she tried to reme
mber the dreams. Had Yates been in one of them?

  “I never remember mine,” Cade said.

  “Well,” Luke told Karigan as he buttered a muffin, “while you were dreaming the morning away, Cade and I have been discussing possible strategies should we hear back from the palace.”

  Karigan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” She wondered if Cade had told Luke what he had witnessed of her ability.

  “Luke thinks you should remain behind,” Cade said, “so that if things go wrong, at least one of us can try to flee.”

  “And what did you say to that?” she asked him.

  Cade smiled. “I told him that he’d better give you a good dose of morphia if he expects you to stay put.”

  Karigan conjured up the sweetest smile she could summon. “And the one who came anywhere near me with a dose of morphia would find himself—”

  She was interrupted by a knock on the door. At first they just looked at one another, then she scrambled out of the sitting room and back to the bedroom to hide, half eaten muffin in hand. She left the door open just a crack so she could see and hear.

  Luke opened the front door. The person on the other side did not step in, so she could not see him, but he said, “Mr. Mayforte? I am a courier from the palace. The Honorable Webster Silk extends his welcome to you on your visit to Gossham, and he has sent you this message.”

  Luke received an envelope, and closed the door after the courier.

  “Well?” Cade asked.

  Karigan slipped out of the bedroom as Luke opened the letter and briefly read the contents. “We’ve been invited to the palace,” he said. “We are to arrive at four hour.”

  GATES AND WALLS

  It took a moment to sink in: they’d been invited to the palace.

  “That was quick,” Cade said.

  “Yes,” Luke replied, still staring at the paper in his hands. “I had heard Webster Silk wasn’t one to waste time, but I didn’t think . . . not so soon.” He handed the message to Cade, who in turn passed it to Karigan. It was brief: Mr. Mayforte, four hour. At the bottom was the official seal of Webster Silk, Adherent Minister of the Interior.