The Window and the Mirror

by Henry Thomas

  Rhael tried to access it but he was met with failure. No, he thought, I haven’t time to fail! I must succeed in this, I must destroy my captors and burn them, burn them all to a fiery writhing death of pain and screaming. His world had dimmed. He was losing his consciousness and fading into sleep. No, no, no, Rhael repeated to himself beneath the oppressive weight of sleep that was being lowered onto him, he must not give up on his efforts, he was too close to victory. Overwhelming feelings of frustration and hate coursed through him, and he was screaming at the world and everyone and everything in it. He would see it all burn and wither, and he would watch it all turn to ash, laughing.

  His heart raced. Rhael felt a surge of energy pulse through him. A loud cracking sound ripped through the chamber and he was dimly aware of a spider’s web of cracks spiraling out from the center of the stone slab that made the door of his prison. He reached out again but the energy was gone and he was falling again, slowly and softly into a sleep that he railed against, but he was satisfied. He had reached it, and he could do it again. He had broken through at last. As he let himself fall into the pull of the bitter sleep milk’s power, as his consciousness faded, he imagined Iztklish and Krilshk dancing in fire and screaming. For the first time in many months, Rhael fell to sleep with a smile on his lips.

  Fourteen

  The airship captain had assembled them all on deck. The crew had donned their fur coats and hoods. The captain had given both Joth and Eilyth fur cloaks, for it was cold above decks and below. It was late in the afternoon and they had flown all through the morning above the cloud canopy in the cold bright blue sky, flying and sailing the winds eastward. Joth had no idea how far they had come or where they were exactly, but the ship’s captain had a device she looked through and navigated the ship by, and from time to time she would move the lever on the post at the helm and the ship would descend through the clouds and she would check their positioning above the land by way of landmarks on the horizon. When they would descend beneath the canopy of clouds, he and Eilyth would stare out of the porthole and study the earth below them, looking intently at the rivers and forests and towns, castles and fields. How everything seemed to move so slowly below them, as though they were barely moving at all, yet Borsford was far behind them now and nowhere to be seen in any direction, and the land had changed from flat plains to rolling hills laced with rivers and streams, and north of them, far in the distance, Joth could see mountains rising out of the earth into the heights. It was something that Eilyth never seemed to tire of, and together they would study the world below them and point out things to each other, traveling around the hold and looking out of the various portholes at the sights. The mood was relaxed below decks with Eilyth, but above on the deck of the airship it was tense and dark. The crew was deeply angered and upset by the death of their fellow, and Joth knew that they blamed him and Eilyth for the accident. Elmund gave him dark looks exclusively, and the others would avert their eyes from him and mutter curses when he made an appearance. It was uncomfortable for Joth, firstly, because he felt as though at any moment he might be swept off the deck and fall to his death as the airship soared up and down in the skies, pitching forward and dipping whenever a gust of wind took the sails, and secondly, because he felt the men’s eyes on him whenever he was not looking at them.

  Now they all stood on the deck before the tall and slender airship captain in her elaborate feathered hat and her silks, slashed and cut to show the many layers that she wore. He had never seen a woman in hosen before. They all dressed like this, it seemed—man or woman. He had never met an airship’s crew before, but they wore outrageous clothing to mark them out. They were commoners, but the nobility allowed them their eccentricities because of the danger involved in their profession, as many airship crewmen were daring and led short lives due to the dangers of sailing the skies, especially in foul weather. Elmund and the other crewmen stood a pace apart from he and Eilyth, standing on the deck free of any handhold as though they were standing on solid ground at their ease. Joth was gripping a handrail and Eilyth held on to his arm firmly.

  He did not feel easy on the deck at all, painfully aware of the long open distance below the airship and the real possib-ility of falling to his death every time the airship caught a rise in the wind or dipped suddenly, and he felt his stomach lurch in an unsettling way. They had wrapped Dathe’s body, tied it in burlap, and laid it to rest beside the forecastle. Joth could still see the bloodstain on the deck where the man had taken the quarrel and died just after he and Elmund had saved the man from falling to his death. “We begin preparations to set down for the evening. We stop early today so we can lay our brother Dathe to rest in the earth.”

  The crew nodded and muttered their agreement. The captain turned to Joth and Eilyth. “Now you can tell us who you are and why the bloody Borsford guard is after you, and you had better tell us the truth. You dress strangely, but so do we, so let’s speak plainly here.” The captain smirked, but Elmund and the others were staring hard at them both.

  “You have my writ. That explains everything.” Joth felt Eilyth tighten her grip on his arm.

  “It doesn’t explain why my man was shot through with a quarrel and killed.”

  Joth looked to Eilyth. “We were chased out of an inn.”

  “What did you steal?”

  “We are not thieves. We were only after having our breakfast. They refused us because my lady is one of the People.”

  “The People? What bloody people?”

  “She is Dawn Tribe. That’s why we are dressed this way.”

  They just looked and stared at them for a long beat before the crew erupted into spitting and swearing and hands moving toward their hilts.

  “Bloody Dawn Tribe? That’s what you are?” Elmund roared. “I thought you said they were Magistry!” he said accusingly at the captain.

  Joth pushed Eilyth behind him protectively. He had left the sword he had taken from the guardsman below decks. Now he felt naked and vulnerable as the captain and crew fixed their gaze on him and Eilyth, but the captain was looking more contemplative than outraged.

  “Stand down!” she said, moving before the three men and holding her arms out. “There’ll be no rowdiness, Elmund.”

  “Aye, lady, aye.”

  “Nor from you, Galt.”

  “Aye, lady,” grumbled Galt. He was short and dark.

  The third man was fair-haired and lean. He had braids in his beard down each side of his mouth and his beard was quite long. It was flapping in the wind like a banneret now, Joth thought. “I won’t give you no trouble either, lady,” the bearded man offered up.

  “The skies love a volunteer, Kipren.”

  As angry as they were, they broke for a moment and all of them but Elmund had a bit of a laugh together.

  “Am I the only fool who sees it?” Elmund roared incredu-lously. “These two come aboard and Dathe gets murdered, and now we’re having a laugh?”

  “Easy, man. Stand down.”

  “Aye lady, but—”

  “I’m very interested in your opinion Elmund, but I’ve given you an order to stand down.”

  Elmund clenched his jaw and nodded. The captain had diffused the mood, Joth realized. The crewmen were less confrontational now and more curious, all of them, perhaps except for Elmund.

  “It is a shame that we lost Dathe. He was a good hand, and a good mate.”

  “Aye, lady,” they all put in.

  “We shall put down outside of Grannock within the hour. We can give him our respects there and find an inn to bed down in. There’s a good hill for dragging nearby. We’ve used it before and you know it, so stand by, all hands.” She turned away from the men and addressed Joth and Eilyth. “You should have said that there was trouble following you, you could have warned us. To be honest, I knew you were in trouble the moment I saw you, and I don’t even know if knowing anything could have prev
ented one of my crewmen dying anyhow, since you presented me with a writ and by the law I have to give priority to Magistry officers and Magistry correspondence. I went against my gut instinct and I took you aboard to avoid trouble with the law, and then one of my men is killed by the town guard, so you can perhaps sense the frustration I feel.”

  “It was the Innkeeper,” Eilyth said.

  “Who?” The captain switched her focus from Joth to Eilyth.

  “It was the innkeeper who killed your man, not the town guard.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Joth offered. “He called the guard down on us while we had our breakfast.”

  Elmund, Galt, and Kipren were all ears.

  “We tried to get to our horses and they made to hold us, so we fought our way out. That’s when the bloody fool set out for his arbalest.”

  “Fought your way out, did you?”

  “Yes, the last of the guardsmen and the Innkeeper ran inside the inn.” Joth did not like the way she kept on with all of her questions.

  The captain nodded. “What inn was it, did you say?”

  “The Cloth of Gold.”

  “Are you lying to me? Because I don’t know that inn.”

  “No, I’m telling you the truth. It’s there in Borsford, it’s called ‘The Cloth of Gold.’ The bloody Innkeeper’s a fool.”

  The captain nodded. “You’ll tell your superiors about this and you’ll see to it that I’m compensated and that justice is served.” She leveled a finger at him, “and I’ll have it in a writ before I lose sight of you, understand?”

  “I understand, but I can’t just make you promises.”

  “I know I’m not allowed to ask what it is you’re doing or carrying with you, but you have to tell me if being near you is putting the lives of my crew in jeopardy, right? That’s the letter of the law, as they say?”

  “I don’t know the law, I’m just a soldier.”

  “Well, I’m telling you that it is, and I’m also telling you that you need to tell me right now if having you aboard runs a risk of more people dying, because if it does then you are on your own once we touch down at Grannock, once I have my writ.”

  Joth blinked once.

  “Understood?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Aye, lady,” she said instructively.

  “Aye, lady,” Joth replied.

  “So tell me then, are more people after you? Is the town guard at Grannock looking for you?”

  “I’ve never been to Grannock,” Joth said.

  “Of course you haven’t. You’d know there’s no town to guard.”

  The men laughed at their captain’s jest. She had charisma, and her men listened to her.

  “You’ll stick close to us when we get there, and remember I have your writ, so don’t try anything if you want it back someday.” Her eyes lingered on Eilyth for a moment, then she turned and barked an order to Elmund and he scurried up the rigging.

  They could only hope that the people of Grannock would be more accepting than those of Borsford, or that he could find some clothing for them that attracted less attention. Part of him felt disdain for being forced to conform, Joth realized. He wanted to be accepted as he was, at his word, and he wanted that acceptance for Eilyth. But he knew as well that his people were not easy with accepting the unfamiliar, and he and Eilyth looked like what they regarded as savages. Many of them had never seen nor would ever see in the course of their normal lives a member of the Dawn Tribe, and the prospect of seeing one sent fear through most Oestermen. Savages, they thought them; but Joth knew how wrong they were. Unfortunately, men like the innkeeper in Borsford seem to make up the mindset of the majority. They were quick to judge and take rash action because they believed in the myth of Dawn Tribe savagery. He had thought the same about the People, much to his own shame. It struck Joth as a bit odd that one could dress as outlandishly as the airship’s crew did and flit here and there without incident, and he and Eilyth could not even enjoy their breakfast without a chase through town and a man dead. He was thinking about that when he looked at the ship’s crew and an idea struck him. He turned to Eilyth as she watched the ship’s captain.

  “How do you feel about trying on some Oestern garments?”

  Fifteen

  Rhael stared with vehemence behind his placid eyes, but it was satisfaction he felt and a lust for more power coursing through him again. His captors were discussing the shattered cell door and the various possible causes of its present state. Iztklish was insisting that the earth had shifted and Krilshk was blaming it on a fault in the stone itself. Fools, thought Rhael, I broke it with my mind in the same way that I shall soon break you. The power he wielded! The cell door had been a slab of solid granite near to half an ell in thickness and it had shattered like glass at his whim. How he wished that he could push through the door at that very moment and bathe his captors in fire, but the door remained closed without some form of elixir allowing him access. The Kuilbolts fussed and quibbled about the cell door and examined it for a long while; Rhael was not interested in their theories, he just wanted the milk. The tedium of waiting for it was threatening to crack through his façade, but Rhael sat there looking complacent and obedient. He wished that they would stop their inane chattering and administer the medicine; he would grasp again at the door in his mind and fry them to ash. This time he would not allow them to give him the full measure, he would take only enough to lubricate his mind, only enough to break through the barrier between this world and the world of power. Then he could fight off the compulsion to sleep and escape this place in which he found himself incarcerated. His heart raced and his mind danced with glee at the thought of his plan succeeding. He wondered what the Kuilbolt’s faces would look like, would they register—surprise or shock? He wondered if he could recognize the sweet moment when shock and surprise would give way to base primal mortal fear, the fear all creatures knew at the moment before their own impending doom. He hoped beyond all else that he would indeed recognize the look.

  They were approaching him then. He shivered involuntarily as the fear stench invaded his nostrils, but he composed himself quickly. He had almost gotten over that compulsion completely.

  “What a good forest child. Look how it waits even while the door lies shattered.”

  Krilshk was reaching for the funnel at his belt.

  “Yess. It waits. That is good.” Iztklish was readying the rat hide wineskin that held the milk.

  Krilshk reached down and tilted Rhael’s head back and waited for him to open his mouth, holding the bronze funnel at the ready. Rhael could feel the strength in the cold lifeless grip, but Krilshk was holding him lightly because of his compliance. Good, Rhael thought, keep your trust in me for just a moment more.

  He held open his mouth and watched as Krilshk’s forked tongue darted and he put the funnel into Rhael’s mouth. Just a moment more, thought Rhael again.

  Iztklish was hoisting the bag up and placing the bone spout into the top of the funnel, and a moment later Rhael tasted the bitter sleep milk begin to pour down his throat. They were looking at the liquid in the funnel, filling the thing to a specific level and measuring out the draught when Rhael seized his moment and threw his head as hard as he could to the side. The bronze funnel went flying, spewing the grayish liquid everywhere in the cell. The Kuilbolts hissed and cursed, and Rhael felt his head being jerked painfully back by his hair.

  “What has it done now?” Krilshk screamed. He pushed and let go of Rhael’s head, flinging him to the ground. The Kuilbolts were small compared to him, but they were not to be underest-imated for their physical strength, especially not Krilshk. The spilled contents of the funnel and the dripping wineskin ran down the smooth walls and puddled on the floor in several places.

  “This forest child is not as good as you believed, Krilshk.” Iztklish stepped over Rhael and
hauled him to his feet.

  Rhael hardly noticed; he was concentrating on finding the door in his mind. He knew the path, he knew it like the back of his hand and the door no longer eluded him. He strode right to it and seized at the handle, but the door was still half formed and non-corporeal. No, thought Rhael, not now! Now you must obey me!

  I shall have mine and I shall have it now! How he raged and raged in his own head, struggling and fighting toward the door in his mind even as he was being pushed through the shattered doorway in his cell by Iztklish and Krilshk. He stumbled into a large vaulted tunnel lit by the strange blue lanterns where ladders led up to cells placed higher up on the walls and more Kuilbolts hurried about in teams tending to other prisoners.

  “Another hold for it?” Krilshk asked.

  “No, we harvest this one now,” Iztklish said resolutely.

  Rhael felt a slight tingling in his limbs as the diminished dose of the sleep draught began to course through his body, making him feel drowsy and light-headed. He was vaguely aware of a Kuilbolt on a raised platform at the end of the gallery pulling levers at a great contraption, and the high-pitched scratching noises that rang out from within the cells and without as Kuilbolts set about entering and exiting the prisons, some with prisoners in tow and some just feeding or administering medicine. But Rhael’s mind was occupied elsewhere, deep within himself. He sought for it ravenously, and he knew that he would not stop until he felt the power coursing through his body once again. There was nothing that he wanted more. Iztklish and Krilshk led him through the long gallery and out through a small dark tunnel where he was forced to crouch down and duck to avoid scraping his head until at last they emerged from the tunnel and entered a gloriously bright and beautiful chamber, almost a palace to Rhael’s eyes, situated in the center of a large cavern. On a raised alabaster platform in the center of the chamber there rose a sort of tower with large panels extending high into the ceiling, and there was a radiant golden light emanating from behind the panels and flooding the chamber with a yellow light. The panels were oscillating slightly, gently, as though the structure were somehow alive and breathing. The light in the chamber brightened and faded with the phantom breaths. There was also a noise, a low throbbing hum that vibrated the chamber and caused the hairs on the back of Rhael’s neck to stand on end. He was feeling so sleepy and the sound made him wish to close his eyes and drift along…