Mirror Sight

  She hurried along the palace corridors, weaving among the shadows. Fortunately all was still very quiet. She halted when she neared Lorine’s door and hid behind a column, wondering how she was going to get past the two guards. She smiled at the irony—they were guarding the door to prevent her escape, not her re-entry.

  As she stood there in indecision, she sensed another walking down the corridor. To her surprise, it was the forbidding red-armored guard of Amberhill’s who had struck her so hard the previous day. In her grayed vision, the red of his armor looked like dried blood. She licked her lips and remained as still as possible.

  He stopped. He came to a halt abreast of her. Karigan held her breath. He did not move, only his cloak rustling as it settled around him. The apparatus on his back emitted a rhythmic hiss-sigh. Hiss-sigh. Even the two guards at the door watched him apprehensively.

  What had Dr. Silk called this man? The Eternal Guardian? Did that mean he’d live endlessly like Amberhill? It was difficult to get a sense of anything about the man with the helm and visor hiding his face. Was he even a man? What else could he be? A mechanical?

  His head slowly rotated in her direction, then stopped short of looking straight at her. He remained in that position for what felt like forever.

  Hiss-sigh. Hiss-sigh.

  With a suddenness that almost made her gasp, he strode forward once again. Karigan felt as if released from a spell, and took another deep breath, then watched with surprise as he halted in front of the guards, who looked ready to melt into their boots. If the Eternal Guardian spoke, she could not hear him, but he made a beckoning gesture and the guards replied, “Yes, sir,” in unison. To her happy disbelief, they followed the Eternal Guardian and left the door unguarded.

  Karigan did not pause to analyze her good fortune. She was not going to ask questions. Instead, she hurried across the corridor and, ensuring no one was around to observe her, she opened the door and entered. Once on the other side, she leaned her back against the door and released the fading.

  Lorine had left a single lamp at low glow. If there were watchers, she hoped they had not observed her coming and going. If so, she was sure to find out about it. She made her way to the sofa and lay down. It was not the most comfortable of beds, but she was exhausted, and it wasn’t long before she slept.

  • • •

  “What is she doing here?”

  The child’s voice blared at Karigan like a trumpet. She groaned. Hadn’t she just closed her eyes? She covered her face with her hands, smacking her chin with the forgotten manacles. While she tried to regain her bearings, there was surprising silence from Arhys. Then: “Why are you wearing those?”

  Through bleary eyes, she saw Arhys pointing at the manacles.

  “Arhys,” Lorine said sharply. “Come to breakfast. Do not bother Miss Goodgrave.”

  Arhys looked more curious than petulant, and when she turned to obey Lorine, she asked, “But why is she here?”

  “Hush now. You have lessons in one hour, so you’d best attend to your breakfast.”

  Karigan tried to shake the cobwebs out of her head. She felt like she had a hangover, but it was from using her ability, not from drink. How unfair to suffer without even the enjoyment of a good bitter ale as its cause. She sat there dazed and unmoving until Lorine brought her a blessed cup of tea and pressed it into her hands.

  “You slept as one dead,” Lorine said, concern in her eyes. “Even the arrival of breakfast didn’t wake you. Can I bring you anything?”

  “Give me a few minutes,” Karigan replied.

  Lorine left her alone while she sipped her tea and came slowly back to life. At least, she thought, Cade would have been pleased she hadn’t vomited. In the background, Arhys complained about her eggs and toast, and chattered on about which dress she should wear that day. When Karigan finished her cup of tea, she joined Lorine and Arhys at the table.

  “What are you doing here?” Arhys demanded. “And why are you dressed so funny?”

  Karigan glanced down at her bedraggled clothes, the cast-offs of Luke’s son. She thought about the various answers she could give the girl, but decided there was no point in hiding the truth.

  “I am a prisoner of Dr. Silk’s. So is Mr. Harlowe, and whether you realize it or not, so are you and Lorine.”

  “Am not,” Arhys replied. “Dr. Silk is nice. He gives me pretty dresses—prettier than the ones the professor gave me.”

  Karigan restrained an impulse to reach across the table and slap the girl, but she was, after all, a child, who could not possibly understand all the machinations going on around her. And there was something else. As unpleasant as it was to contemplate, Arhys was, in a sense, and in this time and place, Karigan’s sovereign, and not only would it be treasonous to harm her royal person, but it would be against everything Karigan believed and stood for. Not that she would tell Arhys any of this, of course.

  “The professor is dead because of Dr. Silk,” Karigan said. “Did you know that? And Luke, too.”

  Lorine gave her a warning look.

  “No! Nonono!” Arhys got up from her chair and stamped. “Dr. Silk is nice.” And she ran off to her room and slammed the door behind her.

  “Was that necessary?” Lorine asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Karigan admitted. Having grown up without any siblings, and with few friends at school, she found children perplexing and did not know exactly how to talk to them. She did know it rubbed her the wrong way to have Arhys dismiss two good men who had tried to protect her and died for it. It was not an auspicious start for a queen who might one day have the power of life and death over thousands. “I don’t know,” Karigan said again. “But I don’t think it helps anything, hiding what her new champion, Dr. Silk, is capable of. As much as she has gained from his benevolence, she has lost far more.”

  Lorine gave Karigan a sidelong look, perhaps guessing that there was more to Arhys than having been the professor’s favorite. “You may not see it, but she mourns the professor every day. Dr. Silk has been trying to take his place, but he hasn’t the warmth. His smiles are not real, and I think Arhys sees that. I should go check on her.”

  She watched after Lorine as she went to Arhys’ room. The last thing Karigan had wanted to do was alienate an ally. She would try to be more delicate with Arhys next time, but her patience was in short supply at the moment. She shrugged and helped herself to some eggs and toast.

  A few minutes later, a knock came on the door, and two guards entered, one bearing a couple of boxes.

  “You,” the first guard said, pointing at Karigan. “Come here.”

  She chafed at being ordered about, but she set her fork down and obeyed.

  “Hands out,” the guard said when she reached him.

  To her surprise, he took out a key and unlocked her manacles. Grateful, she rubbed her wrists. Meanwhile, the second guard set the boxes down on the sofa.

  “Dr. Silk says you are to wear what is in the boxes,” the guard said. “We will be back for you in an hour.” With that, they left, and she looked down at the boxes, speculatively.

  “What is it?” Lorine asked, poking her head out from Arhys’ room.

  Karigan lifted the lid off the top box, and smiled.

  THE MANY FAILURES OF CADE

  After seeing the witch, Cade had been taken up a couple floors in the lift and placed in a box of a cell with a solid steel door and no way to look out at anything. There was a metal bench affixed to the wall, no mattress, blankets, or pillow. Bright light poured down on him from a fixture in the ceiling secured behind a grill.

  “Remember what you saw,” Starling said before leaving, “and how it could become the fate of your lady.”

  They’d unshackled his wrists, but Starling was gone before Cade could attempt to leap past the guards and throttle him. He paced in the tiny chamber, imagining how he’d bash S
tarling’s head to a pulp against the stone wall if ever given half a chance. That image alternated with that of the tortured witch wearing Karigan’s face.

  He paced until exhaustion forced him to sink onto the bench. Though his wounds had been healed, his body had undergone great trauma, and he felt it. His shoulder throbbed, and he gingerly touched the place the bullet had entered, the cloth around it stiffened by dry blood. He did not know how many meals he had missed, but his mouth was dry and his lips chapped. With no natural light to inform him, he’d lost track of time. No one extinguished the light above.

  Everything had gone wrong. He’d been a fool to think they could enter the heart of the empire—the emperor’s palace itself—and not get caught. It did not matter what happened to him, but now Karigan would pay the price for his idiocy, as likely would Arhys and Lorine. He’d failed as a Weapon, a rebel, and a man. He had failed in every way, and it was the worst, most helpless feeling.

  He covered his face with his hands, continuing to blame himself, when a voice, remembered or actual, once more spoke into his mind: Patience.

  The witch, he was sure of it. Did this mean all was not lost, that his plight was not as hopeless as it seemed? Or was he just deluding himself?

  Cade curled up on the icy steel bunk, recriminations and hope cycling through his thoughts, his eyes closed against the light, though it was so bright it leaked through his eyelids. He did not expect to sleep in such uncomfortable circumstances, but so fatigued by his ordeal was he, that he began to drift off.

  An explosive noise made him leap from a dead sleep to standing in a mere moment, his heart raging against his ribcage. He had no idea what the sound was or where it had come from, but he guessed it was for one purpose only: to torment him, to deny him even the escape of sleep. Without it, he’d be ever more likely to falter and give them the information they wanted. It would weaken him.

  He sat once more on the bench and tried to relax. Every time his eyelids drooped, he shook himself awake, his mind and body now anticipating the shocking noise at any moment. When once he drifted off, it did come again, closer, louder. His reaction this time included a shout that was one part shock and one part frustration. He kicked the wall and yelled, then stumbled back to his bench.

  He tried to figure out how they spied on him. He scanned the walls, ceiling, and even the floor for a peephole, but saw nothing. This was Gossham, he remembered, the emperor’s palace, where they did not need peepholes. Magic would allow them to view him.

  Cade rubbed his eyes and settled in for the duration. Only now, the noise came at unexpected intervals, even when he hadn’t fallen asleep. Otherwise, his existence in his small cell passed like a lifetime. It could have been a matter of a few hours, or an entire night, or more. He had no idea. He was almost grateful when Starling returned.

  The door to the cell creaked open and a guard brought in a table and chair, wiping them down while a second guard stood watch over Cade with his hand on his holstered gun. The first guard left, while the second remained.

  When Starling entered, he filled much of the room with his buoyant presence as much as with his stout figure. “Well, well, Mr. Harlowe. How are we doing?”

  Cade noted he had not made mention of the time of day or night. His answer to the question was, Miserably, which he of course did not speak aloud. A headache from lack of sleep and food plagued him, and his entire body ached. But he would admit none of it.

  Starling made a great show of seating himself, then unpacking a basket of food. There was cold chicken and biscuits, and pungent sharp cheese, a plump peach, and a slab of butter cream pie, with a mug of ale to wash it all down. Cade’s stomach grumbled, and he salivated. He tried not to look as Starling worked his way through his food, but the aromas were too pronounced. This was a different sort of torture.

  “My wife,” Starling said between mouthfuls, “does not think they feed me adequately here at the palace. She packs me a basket every day so I may keep up my strength. She is a very good cook.”

  He made it all the worse by smacking his lips and licking the tips of his fingers. Cade’s stomach growled loudly.

  Starling patted his lips with a napkin and said, “I trust you had some time to consider our previous conversation, as well as our visit with the witch.”

  Cade said nothing.

  “Still silent, eh?” He took an object out of his pocket. It dangled at the end of a long chain and flickered in the light. “I was wondering if perhaps you recognized this object.”

  Cade recoiled—Mirriam’s monocle, or one like it. The lens was cracked. He’d expected Starling to begin baiting him by using Karigan in some way, not Mirriam. He’d tried to steel himself against any threats to Karigan, but this he had not been prepared for.

  “I see by your reaction,” Starling said, “that you do, or think you do. This was taken from your old professor’s housekeeper, who we know to be a member of your band opposing the emperor. She and others, of course, have been questioned by my fellow Inquisitors. Your conspirators are a tough lot, I hear. Quite surprising for a domestic, a carpenter, and assorted mill workers. I’d be quite interested to know the names of others, especially those of higher classes who might have been involved.”

  Cade couldn’t have cared less about men like Mr. Greeling, the mill owner who had refused to help the cause, but what he hated more was telling Starling anything at all. He could only guess what Mirriam and the others had suffered at the hands of Starling’s colleagues.

  “One thing you will learn about me, Mr. Harlowe, is that I am extremely patient. So what was Professor Josston’s interest in the little girl, Arhys?”

  Cade started, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic, and silently cursed himself for reacting. If he’d had a proper sleep, he’d have guarded himself better. This was, of course, the sort of thing Starling wanted.

  “She is here in the palace,” Starling said, “but of course you know that. It is one of the reasons you are here, isn’t it? What is so important about one little girl that you endangered yourself so extravagantly to come here and attempt her rescue?”

  Starling kept on in this manner for some time. No attempt was made to physically torture Cade. He kept his lips clamped shut and continued to resist answering any questions. Starling’s equanimity did not falter, and Cade guessed the two of them followed some time-proven pattern familiar to the Inquisitor, who would eventually wear Cade down no matter what the technique used. He certainly lacked no confidence that this would be the case.

  “Well, this has been quite a diversion,” Starling said. He made a production out of repacking his basket and offering the guard an uneaten muffin. Cade was offered nothing.

  The guard opened the door for Starling, but he paused. “By the way, Mr. Harlowe, I understand your lady is being taken to the emperor shortly. As I noted before, she has a most fascinating background. I should like to know Dr. Silk’s method for having made her so forthcoming so quickly, or perhaps she is simply weaker than I thought.”

  Cade fought outrage to retain calm. So, Starling had finally “attacked.” Cade would not give him the satisfaction of a response.

  “You do not fool me, Mr. Harlowe,” Starling said in a low, studied voice. “I know how to read a person. I must, in this line of work. You’ve stiffened all up, your chin squared. The rage floods your eyes, reddens your face.”

  The more Cade tried to relax, the more he tensed.

  “Yes,” Starling said, “you want to know what the emperor wants with your lady, don’t you, but you are trying very hard not to speak.”

  Cade also wanted to break all the teeth in Starling’s grinning face.

  “Believe me, I understand your concern,” Starling continued. “If our positions were reversed, and it was my dear wife going to the emperor? I would want to know why, too.” He shook his head and proceeded once more toward the door.

 
Cade thought he’d explode. He fought with himself, but lost. “Wait.”

  Starling halted and turned. “Yes?”

  Cade hated himself for breaking his silence, but he had to know. “What—what does the emperor want with her?”

  Starling smiled slowly. “So now you speak. I thought perhaps you had lost your tongue.”

  “What does the emperor want with her?”

  “You expect me to answer your questions when you have answered none of mine?” Starling clucked his tongue. “I am sorry, Mr. Harlowe, but it does not work that way.” He turned to leave, then paused once more. “Just hope that while your lady is in the presence of His Eminence, that he is in one of his better moods. He does often become quite . . . volatile. In the meantime, if you should like to talk and answer some of my questions, just let your guards know, and they will send for me.” His eyes glinted with amusement as he turned away.

  Then he was gone, and the guard slammed the cell door shut. The lock was secured with a series of clicks, and Cade was left to himself. He lunged about the cell in frustration. What had Silk done to get information out of Karigan? She was not weak-minded. What would happen when she went before the emperor? What would happen to her?

  Me. They have used me, Cade thought. They had gotten her to talk using his own welfare as leverage. He was sure of it. Why else was he still in one piece, much less alive?

  His guilt renewed, he sank back onto his bench, shaking his head. Starling had won this encounter. He had baited Cade and gotten him to speak. Cade added it to the litany of failures he repeated in his mind.

  DRAGON TIME

  Karigan pulled the supple boot on. It was close in make to her Rider boots, but the leather was too glossy and lacked wear. The stitching of the sole and seams were too perfect, and she supposed if the mechanicals of this time could weave cloth, they could also make boots.

  The empire may have made the boots, but the uniform was hers, meticulously cleaned and mended. If one did not look closely, it appeared as whole as if it had not seen duty in Blackveil Forest and then been brought forward a couple of centuries into the future. Unfortunately, Dr. Silk had not seen fit to return to her the bonewood, the feather of the winter owl, the mirror shard, or most important, her moonstone. She could only guess they were locked away for further study.