The Mirrors of Elangir, chapter 2

I finished the second draft of my new novel earlier this week, so by way of celebration, here's a peek at the second chapter. The first chapter is here.

“Goddess-damned idiot,” Uncle growled, moving towards me. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the floor — a priceless object, ruined by my carelessness. From the corner of my eye, I saw him bend to pick it up. He gasped.

“Look at this,” he said, taking the mirror to Yindrath. It still glowed with a white light, stronger than the light from the fire.

Yindrath gasped and muttered what sounded like, “Mazor guard us.” I hadn’t marked him as the religious type. He motioned me to join them.

Curiosity overcoming shame and fear, I came over to them. Now it was my turn to gasp. The mirror no longer showed a reflection. What I’d thought was a simple white glow was a picture — a landscape, but none like I’d ever seen. The ground was a sweeping white plain, with jagged hills to the left, also white. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue. On the right, cut off by the edge of the mirror, was a grey walled city, broad and squat.

“Whoever painted this was good,” said Uncle, “though I don’t think much of his choice of subject.”

“It’s not a painting,” said Yindrath. “Somewhere, there’s another mirror just like this one, and what we’re seeing is what that mirror is looking at.”

“Ridiculous,” Uncle snorted. “Where would you find somewhere with white ground and white hills?”

“Far to the south,” said Yindrath, “or farther to the north. That white stuff is called ‘snow.’ It falls out of the sky instead of rain in very cold places.”

“And how would you know? You told me you’d never been further than Seltrakht.”

“Do you believe in the existence of dragons?”

“Of course,” said Uncle.

“Even though you’ve never seen one?”

I could see where this was heading, and grinned.

“Yes...” said Uncle.

“Then is it so hard to believe in the existence of something you’ve seen only in a magic mirror?”

Uncle scratched his beard. “I suppose not.”

“So,” I said, shifting from one foot to the other, “if we can see whatever that other mirror is looking at, does that mean that someone who looks into the other mirror can see us?”

“Yes,” said Yindrath. “At least, according to the legends.”

“How do we stop it, then?”

“The same way you started it.”

I took the mirror from Uncle. I’d expected it to be warm from his hands, but it still produced no sensation in my fingers, other than its weight. I touched the rubies in the same sequence I’d used to bring forth the picture, and it vanished as suddenly as if someone had slammed a door on it. I gazed again on my own reflection.

Uncle rubbed his chin and stared into the distance. I knew that look well — he was planning something. I just hoped this scheme wouldn’t end with us in court. “How much do I owe you?” he asked Yindrath.

“Five svara.”

“Five?!”

“If you can find another antiquary who even knows what that thing is, I’ll refund my fee,” Yindrath said.

Muttering, Uncle reached into his purse and handed over the coins.

When we got home, Mara, our maid, came out of the front door to greet us, worry creasing her face.

“Something wrong?” Uncle asked.

She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced over her shoulder. “Shanu is here.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth as my stomach flipped. I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to be having dinner with Shanu and her family today.

Uncle gave a wry grin as Mara stood aside to let me enter the porch. “Good luck,” he said.

Shanu was waiting in the visiting room. Uncle used to tell me that was how we knew we were well-to-do, that we had a room specifically for receiving guests, not used for anything else. Except that now it was being used to store all the stuff we’d salvaged from Dyareg’s house — all the stuff we hadn’t thrown out immediately, anyway. Shanu sat on the edge of the couch, prim and upright, partly because she was a young lady and that’s how young ladies sat, but mostly because the rest of the couch was occupied by a stack of dented saucepans, a parasol stand, and a stuffed bear’s head. She gave me a smile that could’ve drawn blood.

“Raltarn. How delightful to see you. I’m so glad you found room for me in your busy social calendar.”

I held up my hands. “Shanu, I’m sorry, I got caught up in something and —”

She cut me off with, “Rather like I found room for myself in here amid all the clutter.” She stood and hitched up her skirt. I averted my eyes from her ankles and put the mirror where she’d been sitting. She went to the door, picking her way like a sandpiper over and among the obstacles Uncle had strewn in her path. Hand on the doorknob, she turned and asked, “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m sorry, I thought —”

“Well don’t think. Not as much, anyway.” She held out her other hand. I took it — that I didn’t have to think about. My stomach flipped again, but in a good way this time.

In the hall, we manoeuvred around Uncle and Mara, Shanu and Uncle exchanging pleasant greetings.

Outside, Shanu said with a little sigh, “You have a lot to recommend you, sweetness. I just wish I didn’t have to run after you all the time.”

“I said I was sorry,” I said.

“Well don’t. A gentleman never apologises.”

Because he never does anything he has to apologise for. My old schoolmaster’s words echoed in my head. I guessed that meant I wasn’t a gentleman.

I looked around for a taxi, not seeing one. Shanu tugged gently on my hand, leading me along the footpath.

“Do you want to walk?” I said.

“Don’t sound so surprised. It’s only ten minutes. Quicker than waiting for a taxi at this time of day.” Walking between our houses was quicker than a taxi at just about any time of day, but that wasn’t the point.

“How late am I?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“About a quarter of an hour.”

That wasn’t as bad as I feared, but still half an hour later than I’d have liked to be. At the junction of Coopers’ Street and Vintners’ Street, we had to wait while a column of soldiers marched across our route. They looked to be raw recruits, some of them younger than me. Many hadn’t quite got the hang of keeping step with their comrades, and kept bumping into the man behind or in front of them.

One soldier, older and with a more certain pace than most, grinned and waved at Shanu. “I’ll kill a dragon for you, Miss!”

I gripped her hand tighter and forced myself not to scowl. How dare he be so familiar with a lady he didn’t know?

She returned a little smile and wave. “I very much doubt that,” she murmured when the column had passed.

“They’ll be doing well if they manage to kill one dragon between them,” I said.

She nodded sadly. “They joined of their own free will, of course, but it can’t be right that we send them with swords and spears to fight men who ride dragons.”

“If it wasn’t for them and men like them, the dragons would’ve been here a long time ago.”

“I know.” She sighed. “My cousin sold his horse to the Army the other day.”

“But it was on its last legs,” I said.

“She, not it. They didn’t seem to care, and they gave him a third more than the knackers were offering.”

“No wonder you have to wait so long for a taxi these days.”

As we turned the corner of the street where Shanu lived, I slipped my hand out of hers — it wouldn’t do to be so affectionate where her parents might see us. Their house stood at the end of the street, a quiet cul-de-sac. It stood on about an eighth of an acre, most of which was at the front, the better to impress the neighbours. The house was larger than ours — Uncle could probably have told you by how many square feet. When he’d first met her parents, he’d offered to redecorate their visitors’ room, which had gone down about as well as a dancing troupe at a Mazorean vigil. In spite of that, they’d agreed to our engagement, though they didn’t invite Uncle to dine with them any more than protocol deemed necessary.

“Relax,” whispered Shanu as she pushed open the gate.

I noticed my fists were clenched, and swallowed to moisten my throat. This never got any easier.

We walked up the path. It took a broad arc rather than going straight. That was a trick to make the garden seem bigger, Uncle had told me, by making you take longer to traverse it than if it was straight. They still had their shrubs and flower beds. Most of the people of Symeera had switched to growing vegetables, but Shanu’s parents were rich enough not to need to bother. I sometimes wondered if they’d noticed there was a war going on.

Shanu put her hand on the lock of the front door and whispered the spell to open it. A tingly warmth passed over me, almost like when we held hands. I loved seeing her do magic. Inside the porch, I cast a light spell while she locked the door. That was one concession to the war — since tallow had become more expensive, her family had stopped leaving lanterns burning in unoccupied rooms. I moved the light over my head to let her lead the way to the dining room at the back of the house. I held my breath as she opened its door.

Her parents sat at the far side of the dining table, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun that streamed in over the river and the west side of the city. Every time I ate dinner here, I wondered why they chose to turn their backs on this view — a thousand years of history spread before them.

“Sir, Lady,” I said, “I must apologise for our lateness. It was my fault —”

Shanu’s father cut me off with a shake of his head. He wasn’t interested in excuses. A gentleman never apologises. With a barely perceptible wave of his hand, he indicated that we should sit. We stood next to our chairs as the butler drew them out for us. As we sat, Father nodded to the butler, who pulled a rope hanging in the corner. Somewhere in the depths of the house, a bell rang.

Sweat trickled down my back as we waited. The door opened, and the butler — I’d never learned his name, in all the time I’d been calling here — distributed the first course — lark tongue soup. I ate, barely tasting it. We didn’t speak during the meal — that, I’d learned early on, was another distinction between rich people and the rest of us. They could afford to concentrate on doing one thing at a time.

The meal went on long enough that by the time the butler was serving the dessert, he had to cast a light spell to see what he was doing. Rich people didn’t perform magic, as a rule — they had servants to do it for them. The dessert was something cold and crunchy that tasted faintly of lemons. I would’ve preferred to skip it, as it made my teeth hurt, but that would’ve been even ruder than arriving late.

Finally, the butler brought in a bottle of sweet wine and poured us all a glass — Father got more than the rest, I couldn’t help noticing. The butler placed the bottle at Father’s elbow, then lit a candle in the middle of the table and left the room.

We sipped at our wine, and then Father said, “So, young Sir, it’s nearly a year since you first proposed marriage to our daughter.”

My head swam, as if I’d downed the entire glass. “Yes, Sir — a fortnight tomorrow. I was thinking perhaps a little celebration — with your permission of course — perhaps a boating trip on the lake —?”

“Before Shanu, the longest engagement in our family was ten months.”

Oh. I tried not to bite my lip.

“We were curious to know how much longer you intend to keep our daughter waiting.”

I glanced at Shanu, who appeared to be clenching her teeth. “I, I realise, Sir, it is inappropriate to, to test a lady’s patience, but I wish to ensure that I can provide Shanu with the type of living she is — to which she is accustomed.”

Father leaned back and drank some more of his wine. “Very wise, young Sir. But surely you recall that you said almost exactly the same words to me when you first requested my leave to promise yourself to her?”

I sipped at my own wine, willing my hand not to tremble as I put the glass back down. “I did, Sir.”

“And what progress have you made towards that end in the eleven and a half months since?”

“I’ve accumulated about four hundred svara from investments and working in my uncle’s business.” To be honest, it was mostly from investments: Uncle got away with paying me a lot less than he would’ve anyone else, because he let me live rent-free and paid for most of what we ate.

Mother tittered. “Do you think you’ll be living in a stable in Darmath?”

Father gave her a brief scowl. “I would have hoped to hear two or three times that sum. I cannot help but wonder whether your intentions towards our daughter are entirely serious — that is to say, whether you’ve been wasting our time.” He lifted his glass.

I gulped. “Quite serious, Sir. I — I love Shanu with all my heart. I would —”

He set his glass down with a loud clink. “Love, young Sir, is a luxury you cannot afford. I want you to double your fortune in the next three months, or we will cancel the engagement.”

I felt as though I was falling, and grabbed the edge of the table. I let go before I pulled the cloth off.

“Father, please,” said Shanu.

“You’ve had more than enough time already, young Sir. I’m only giving you fair warning.”

“He’s a good man, Father,” said Shanu. “I don’t mind living somewhere... smaller and more remote.” She glanced at me, as though hopeful she wouldn’t have to make good on the promise.

“Three months,” said Father. “No more.” He stood, signalling that the conversation was over, and left the room, Mother following him. The butler spent a minute or two clearing the table. I handed my glass to him, still half-full of wine. That was rude, but I had no stomach for the stuff now.

Once the butler had gone, Shanu moved her chair closer and laid her hand on mine. My breath caught in my throat at the thought someone might come in and see us.

“I’m sorry, sweetness,” she whispered. Her eyes glistened. Evidently it was all right for a lady to apologise — even for things that weren’t her fault.

For a moment, I pressed my lips together to stop them trembling. “Did you know?”

With the tiniest shake of her head, she replied, “He told me this morning. It was horrible of him to put you down like that in front of Mother and me.” She sniffed. “I’ll try to persuade him to give you more time —”

I cut her off with, “Do you think I won’t manage it?” and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Shanu withdrew her hand and looked down, blinking. “If — if it was my decision alone — if it was just a matter of love...”

But it wasn’t, and it wasn’t. “The other day, my uncle said with summer nearly over, the action at the front should be picking up again soon. He was talking about buying a stake in some supply contracts for the army.”

Her body stiffened, and she stared at me. “Don’t say that to Father if he asks about your plans.”

I stared back. “Why not?”

“He’s just lost a lot of money on one of those contracts.”

“How?” I’d thought they were as certain as anything could be in these uncertain times.

“The White Dragons ambushed the wagon train.”

“Those traitors?” I said. “Why hasn’t the army hung them yet?”

A corner of her mouth lifted. “I suppose they have to catch them first. But they’re getting bolder. The train was only two days out of the city.”

I shuddered. That might mean an attack on Symeera itself was imminent — though I’d never heard of the White Dragons striking at settlements. Weak and cowardly, they’d stuck to stealing and destroying supplies that were en route to the front line.

“The insurance should cover his losses, though?” I said.

She sighed. “He expects so, but it could be months before they pay. And that’s not really the point, is it? These attacks could cost us the war.”

We talked of inconsequential things after that. Soon it was time for me to leave, to be sure of reaching home before curfew. We stood, sharing a brief, delicate embrace, and kissed one another on the cheeks.

“Sometimes I wish we didn’t have to be quite so well-mannered,” she whispered as she let go of me. “You look as though you need a bigger hug than it would be polite to give you.”

My eyes stung. “I’ll be fine,” I said, though I could’ve done with a hug like that. I bade her farewell and left the building.