Mirror Magic

by Claire Fayers

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ Matthew offered.

  ‘We can see you’re busy,’ one of the ladies said. ‘We won’t keep you. If you need anything, please, um . . .’

  Please don’t ask us, she meant, Ava thought. She scrambled down the tree, catching her skirt on a branch and displaying her legs right up to the knees.

  The lady started to steer her children away. ‘Welcome to Wyse. It’s nice to see that you are well.’

  ‘Come again soon,’ Ava called after them, making them walk faster.

  She waited until they were out of sight, then she rounded on Matthew. ‘It’s like they think there’s something wrong with me.’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong with you,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Those people obviously think there is.’ She watched the retreating neighbours. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll just keep asking. Charles Brunel said I almost died of the measles.’

  ‘The boy from the church? When were you talking to him?’

  ‘In the baker’s shop. Is it true?’

  Matthew sighed. ‘I don’t know. You were very sick. But I was, what, ten years old? No one told me anything.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘You got better, which is all that matters.’

  ‘But?’ Ava persisted. ‘Matthew, come on! Tell me.’

  He scuffed a foot on the ground. ‘You know what people are like for gossiping, and Father was a conjuror, after all. Some people started saying he’d used magic to cure you. Especially as you were left with that mark on your face. You know what people are like with nonsense about fairy marks.’

  ‘I thought fairy magic was only illusion. It can’t cure people – and it can’t leave marks behind.’

  ‘It can’t – but that doesn’t stop people talking.’ He pushed his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. ‘I think that’s one of the reasons Father decided to leave Wyse: he was sick of the gossip.’

  ‘And what were the other reasons he decided to leave?’ Ava asked.

  Matthew sighed. ‘Weren’t we going to make tea?’

  Fine, don’t tell me then. Ava stamped into the house. A crumpled piece of paper on the kitchen table caught her attention – the Freedom for Fair Folk leaflet that Charles Brunel had given her. Ava straightened it out and read:

  Who do you think the Fair Folk are?

  Some say they are merely illusions or reflections, living inside the magic mirrors, waiting to do our bidding. What do you think?

  CHAPTER 5

  Being a magic book of prophecy is fun sometimes, especially when you get to eavesdrop on conversations.

  This one is happening right now:

  ‘You have the girl, I hear.’

  ‘Yes, I have her. You are not to touch her – she’s mine.’

  ‘You don’t even know what she can do. For all you know, she’s entirely ordinary.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because you want me to give up. You’re too late: I’ve got her. Now, tell me about the boy.’

  Interesting, isn’t it?

  The Book

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ Matthew asked, pausing outside the Footers’ house.

  Ava shaded her eyes, gazing up at the high roof. The whole house shone in various jewel-like colours and the roof was pure gold. The colours blurred as she stared, merging into one another in a dizzying fashion. She couldn’t make out the door for a moment, then she spotted it, half hidden in a tangle of red roses that shimmered and vanished as she put her hand on the gate.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. She didn’t want to be escorted to her first job like a child.

  She waited to make sure Matthew was really going before she opened the gate. And then she waited a moment more because her heart was suddenly beating much too fast. It would be fine, she reminded herself firmly. Whatever their family history, the Footers were still family, and they’d offered her a job, hadn’t they? They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t want her.

  She walked up the path and rang the brass bell that hung beside the door. For a few seconds nothing happened, then the door jerked open so fast Ava almost fell inside.

  Lily Footer scowled out at her. ‘You’re early.’ Her gaze fixed on the crescent on Ava’s cheek, then she seemed to realize she was staring rudely and she turned away. ‘Come on in, then.’

  Ava stepped inside. The hallway was wide, the walls enchanted to look like gold leaf. She hadn’t expected to recognize anything about the house, but even so she was disappointed to find it so unfamiliar.

  ‘Good morning, Aunt Lily,’ she said. The words felt strange – strange to think she had an aunt here at all. ‘Matthew sends his greetings. He would have come, but he’s due at Waning Crescent.’

  Lily Footer looked her up and down. ‘You can call me Mrs Footer.’ She didn’t speak; she barked. ‘I prefer not to become over-familiar with my staff. We took you on because Lord Skinner asked and my son didn’t have the wit to refuse. Don’t think because we are related you can walk in as if you own the place.’

  Ava stood, staring at her in shock, all her rehearsed conversation dying on her tongue. ‘I didn’t, I—’

  Mrs Footer cut her off. ‘I hope you learn quickly.’

  She strode off down the hallway. Ava hurried to follow. So much for thinking everything would be fine here.

  Mrs Footer opened a door and ushered Ava into the kitchen. ‘You’ll be responsible for keeping all the downstairs rooms clean and tidy.’ She snatched at cupboard doors as she spoke, allowing Ava brief glimpses of cloths, towels and brushes. Everything she did was in a hurry, as if she was afraid of wasting a single second. ‘The cook comes in mid-morning. You’re to stay out of her way unless she needs you for anything, in which case she’ll tell you. Mondays are laundry days. I have a girl who comes in just for that and you’ll assist her.’ She opened a door at the far end of the kitchen. ‘You can leave your things in here. Be quick.’

  The room appeared to be a combination of a laundry room and a pantry, with jars of flour and sugar on the shelves and baskets of crumpled linen on the floor. Ava put her bonnet on the only chair and shrugged her coat off, shivering at the cold thread of air that came through the gap under the window. She’d chosen a plain grey dress to wear. She should still be in mourning, but her heavy black clothes hadn’t felt appropriate for work.

  ‘You’ll need an apron,’ Mrs Footer said. ‘And you should cover your head. I don’t want your hairs all over my house.’

  As if she was planning to leave hair and mess in every room! Ava scraped her hair back with her fingers. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll bring an apron and headscarf tomorrow.’

  ‘You make sure you do. Come along.’

  She led the way back through the house, opening doors on to rooms and snapping instructions. A dining room contained a table that must be polished every day and never scratched. A sitting room and a small parlour had fires that must be tended and Ava must never allow a speck of soot to escape on to the rugs.

  There was no sign of Father’s magic mirror, though. Ava wondered where Mr Footer kept it.

  Mrs Footer paused in the hallway outside the final door. ‘This room is the most important one,’ she said.

  Ava’s heart skipped. ‘Is it the conjuring room?’

  Mrs Footer scowled at her. ‘Don’t be silly, girl. Mr Footer’s audience room is upstairs and it is private. This is my parlour where I entertain friends. I expect it to remain perfect. You will clean it every day.’

  She opened the door. Ava lifted her skirt and stepped carefully, in case she accidentally dirtied anything just by being there.

  The room was bigger than all the others and the morning sunshine streamed through the front windows. A marble fireplace took up most of one wall, and sofas and chairs stood around it. But Ava’s gaze was drawn to the mirror that hung on the wall between the two windows, tall and narrow in an ornate silver frame.

  It looked like it could be a magic mirror, though surely the Footers wouldn’t leave
one hanging on the wall in full view?

  ‘Lord Skinner gave us that mirror,’ Mrs Footer said. ‘It came from Waning Crescent.’ She paused, and even smiled thinly, waiting for Ava to be impressed.

  Ava remembered seeing the patch of rearranged mirrors on the wall at Waning Crescent. No wonder this one looked like a magic mirror – once upon a time it had been. And now it was just for show, like all the fairy enchantments around the town. Mrs Footer wanted people to ask about it so she could boast about Lord Skinner giving them gifts.

  ‘It’s, um, very nice,’ Ava said. ‘Very reflecting.’

  Mrs Footer’s lips tightened back into a scowl. ‘You need to get to work. Your hours will be eight in the morning until six in the evening. The cook will provide you with lunch, which you will eat in the kitchen once everyone else has eaten. You will have Sundays off, and Wednesday afternoons. I expect you to be on time, to work hard and to stay out of the way. Mr Footer is a very important man and you are not to disturb him.’

  Stay out of the way, don’t ask questions, never forget you aren’t wanted here. Ava went back to the kitchen and found a bucket and cloth. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mrs Footer finally stopped watching her and walked away.

  She hoped Matthew was having a better day than her.

  ‘It was ghastly,’ Matthew said.

  He slumped in a chair in front of the fire. ‘First of all, Lord Skinner didn’t seem to know what to do with me, and then he told me I should catalogue all the books in his office. I spent the whole afternoon climbing up and down ladders, dragging books off shelves, writing down their titles and putting them back. My legs have never ached so badly. And you know the worst thing? It’s completely pointless. When I was looking for a book to write in, I found an index of everything in the office. It was only made last year.’

  ‘Did you tell Lord Skinner?’ Ava asked.

  ‘I did, and he said he wanted a new index – “in case anything has changed.” ’ Matthew heaved a sigh. ‘Also, the place is freezing, and there’s not another soul working there that I can see. I spent the whole day shivering in my coat on my own. I hope Lord Skinner finds some real work for me soon because at the moment I’m wondering why he wanted me at all.’ He groaned and stretched. ‘At least he gave me a decent lunch – steak pie. He’s invited us both to dinner with him again tomorrow evening, by the way.’

  Again? ‘Maybe he’s fattening us up to eat us,’ Ava said. ‘You’ve seen the size of him.’

  ‘Ava!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Ava rubbed her palm over her sore knuckles, still red from doing the laundry. ‘The Footers don’t want me, either. Aunt Lily won’t even admit that she’s my aunt and I didn’t see Edmund all day. Mrs Footer told me they only agreed to take me on because Lord Skinner asked them. I really don’t know why he bothered.’

  ‘Maybe he acted out of kindness. He seems very pleasant.’

  Seems. Ava slapped the arm of her chair, raising a cloud of dust. ‘Everything seems in this town. Why can’t things just be the way they’re supposed to be?’

  ‘This is how things are,’ Mathew said. ‘It might not be what we want, but we’re stuck with it for now. I’m sure things will get better in time.’

  How much time? Ava wondered. A month? A year? She was pretty sure Mrs Footer was never going to like her and, as for this town with its gossip and secrets, Ava was beginning to think she’d rather be back in Cambridge and homeless.

  CHAPTER 6

  The covenant says magic mirrors are doors between the two worlds. Not literal doors, of course. Doors require no special magic to use them. When you look into a magic mirror, your reflection appears in its partner mirror. Then you simply put yourself into your reflection and step out. It takes a touch of magic to achieve, which is why few humans can do it, and you must be invited by someone on the other side because we can’t have people wandering between worlds willy-nilly. That would cause all sorts of trouble – though no worse than the trouble that’s coming.

  The Book

  Five days had passed since Mr Bones first came into the House of Forgotten Mirrors. He’d been back twice since, once to check if Howell had seen any sign of the pink-haired lady, and another time because he said he just happened to be passing. And today . . .

  ‘No, I still haven’t seen the anti-humanist lady,’ Howell said. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve looked for her every time I’ve gone outside.’

  Mr Bones frowned and stared at him hard, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. ‘Keep looking,’ he said finally. ‘If she’s still in Unwyse, you’ll run into her.’

  He seemed very sure of that. Howell wondered why. He opened his mouth to ask, but Mr Bones picked Howell’s coat off the stand and tossed it to him.

  ‘I thought you might like to visit the Mirror Station today,’ he said casually.

  Howell missed his coat and it slid to the floor. ‘What, now?’

  ‘Why not? Your master won’t be back until evening, and your fellow apprentice . . .’

  Was upstairs sleeping off lunch. How did Mr Bones know where everyone was? Howell picked up his coat off the floor. He could shut the gallery for an hour; nobody would know.

  His heart raced as he followed Mr Bones outside. The afternoon was bright with folds of yellow and orange mist trailing along the ground. Fist-sized pieces of it broke off as Mr Bones walked through it and attached to his coat, hanging there like baubles. Howell watched it in fascination. He’d never seen mist behave like this before. The stories he’d heard about Mr Bones creating skeleton servants out of mist seemed even more believable, and he felt a shiver go through him.

  ‘Does it always do that?’ he asked, edging away.

  Mr Bones shook his coat, dislodging bits of clinging orange. ‘Sometimes. Don’t dawdle, boy.’

  He walked through the crowds outside the Mirror Station as if they weren’t there, and, somehow, they weren’t. People scrambled to get out of his way, touching their hats respectfully or even bowing. A few people bumped into Howell, too busy staring after Mr Bones to notice he was there, but Howell didn’t care. He was here with Mr Bones, he thought, and for a moment a swell of pride chased all other thoughts out of his head.

  Mr Bones, ruler of Unwyse. When the mirrors were failing all over the Unworld, he’d set up the Mirror Station and brought the last few working mirrors here, and somehow – Howell didn’t quite know how – he’d kept them working. He’d set up Waxing Gibbous to supply enchantments to the humans and kept things running ever since. And now he was thinking of offering Howell a job.

  Seconds later, they were walking into the Station itself where porters in red uniforms were checking labels on boxes. Everyone stood up straight when they saw Mr Bones.

  ‘Continue as you were,’ Mr Bones said. ‘Master Fletcher, this way.’

  Then he paused, frowning as if he’d just noticed something. ‘I must attend to an urgent matter,’ he said. He caught hold of a nearby guard. ‘Show this boy around the station. Let him watch the mirrors for a while. We will speak again later, Master Fletcher.’ He strode away and ducked through a door, seeming to vanish a second before the door closed.

  The guard turned to Howell. ‘He does this all the time,’ he said. ‘He’s probably been called to the factory – he has a direct access hatch for emergencies.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A magical shortcut. I think – I’ve never actually seen it myself.’ He smiled thinly. ‘I’m Luel. Come on. I’ll show you the mirrors.’

  Howell had spent the past three months surrounded by mirrors, but he’d never seen a working one before. The six mirrors stood in a line, with silver curtains dividing them. The six mirror operators sat in a row in front, some reading, others knitting or sewing.

  ‘Impressed?’ Luel asked.

  Howell nodded because Luel seemed to expect it. In fact, he was thinking how ordinary it all looked.

  Then one of the mirrors turned misty and Howell stopped thinking altogether. The operator sat up straig
ht, shoving her knitting under her stool. Luel pulled Howell back as the glass cleared to show, not the operator’s reflection, but a human man – young and plump with hair like dried grass and a thick brown moustache.

  ‘Stay at the side where he can’t see you,’ Luel whispered. ‘The humans like to think they’re getting personal service. If they knew there were loads of us here it’d spoil the magic for them.’

  ‘The magic?’ Howell queried.

  ‘Of course. We need to make it look good. Most of what we send them is all about appearance.’

  The operator took out a silver notebook. ‘Greetings from the Unworld, Mr Footer. We await your orders.’

  The human opened up a notebook of his own. ‘One hundred enchanted roses,’ he read. ‘Sixteen full tea sets. Twenty gowns to make the wearer appear more beautiful.’ He sounded bored.

  The operator scribbled furiously as the human read through the list. ‘To be delivered on Monday morning,’ he said. ‘That is all.’

  The mirror clouded, then cleared to show the operator’s own reflection again. She sighed, tore the page out of the notebook and dropped it into a basket.

  ‘Is that it?’ Howell asked.

  Luel was already turning away. ‘Pretty much. Someone will gather up the orders later and send them through to Waxing Gibbous. They’ll box the goods up and bring them here to be delivered through the mirror on Monday. Sometimes the humans will ask for something we haven’t got at the factory and we’ll have to order it in from the town, and sometimes they ask us questions. As if we know the answers to anything about their world! Mostly it’s just orders, though. The main part of my job, besides guard duty, is making sure goods are sent through the correct mirror.’

  ‘Have you ever been through a mirror?’ Howell asked. ‘All the way into the human world, I mean?’

  Luel laughed and shook his head. ‘That would be something, wouldn’t it? But I don’t remember the last time anyone went through. Humans are happy enough taking our enchantments, less happy with letting us into their world.’