Mirror Magic

by Claire Fayers

  On Sunday morning, the mist drifted in clouds, smelling of apples. Howell went out to buy breakfast earlier than usual, hoping to avoid Mr Bones if he came looking for him, but he’d barely left the House of Forgotten Mirrors when he saw the tall figure striding towards him.

  ‘Good morning, Master Fletcher. I trust you enjoyed your visit to the Mirror Station yesterday.’

  Howell almost stumbled in relief. Mr Bones didn’t know about Ava. He’d have mentioned it straight away if he did. Probably. Unless he was trying to trap him.

  ‘It was very good, thank you,’ Howell said. His head was beginning to ache, trying to keep his thoughts straight.

  ‘Good. I’m sorry I had to leave you. Unexpected business.’ Mr Bones fell into step beside him. ‘I have a question.’

  Howell tensed. But instead of asking about mirrors or pink-haired anti-humanists, Mr Bones waved away a patch of mist and said, ‘Tell me, what do you make of the covenant?’

  Howell stumbled again, this time in surprise. ‘The covenant? It’s . . . it’s just there, isn’t it? Master Tudur says it’s a necessary nuisance. I know the anti-humanists would like to break it.’

  ‘But what do you think?’ Mr Bones said. ‘Can you see the covenant ever changing?’

  Howell had to concentrate on picking his feet up as he walked. ‘I suppose if all the mirrors stop working, the covenant will end,’ he said. He risked a glance at the tall figure beside him. ‘Is it true that the Unworld would end with it?’

  Mr Bones paused, yellow mist swirling about him. ‘We made our world a mirror image of theirs,’ he said. ‘Can a reflection exist on its own?’

  ‘But we exist on our own,’ Howell protested. ‘Just because the Unworld is a copy of the human world, it doesn’t mean it’s not real.’

  ‘Yet, what is the Unworld?’ Mr Bones said. ‘A world made of magic and dreams. If the covenant ends, our magic will vanish and we will be left only with dreams.’ He waved away a clump of mist. ‘However, I didn’t ask about the covenant ending. I asked about it changing.’

  Howell gave a strangled laugh. ‘You might as well try to change the worlds.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Mr Bones leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘What if we could remake the worlds – not just our own, but the human world too? What would you change?’

  A patch of strawberry-pink mist drifted by, reminding Howell of the woman with the pink hair, and he felt a shiver of unease all the way down his back.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said carefully, noticing how closely Mr Bones was watching him. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

  Mr Bones shook his head, his thin face creasing with . . . what? Disappointment? Annoyance?

  ‘It always pays to think about things,’ he said. The mist around him turned into skull shapes before dispersing.

  Howell swallowed. Mr Bones was clearly not happy with him this morning. He rattled the coins in his pocket. ‘I have to go to the bakery. Master Tudur said no dawdling.’

  ‘Did he?’ Mist curled between them. Mr Bones raised a disbelieving eyebrow and then he inclined his head. ‘Off you run, then.’

  For a second, Howell’s feet felt as if they were glued to the road, then he was running.

  The covenant? Why would Mr Bones suddenly start asking him about the covenant?

  CHAPTER 9

  Have you ever wondered where the term ‘Fair Folk’ came from? I bet you haven’t. Or, if you have, you think it’s because they are all fair in the Unworld. Not true. The term comes from the old word ‘fere’, which means ‘servant’. So there.

  The Book

  It was Monday morning and Ava stood peering through a crack in Edmund Footer’s door. She couldn’t see much, but she could hear her cousin’s voice droning on to a family of holidaymakers about how fairies lived in the backs of magic mirrors and were summoned into being when the conjuror uttered the magical incantations.

  ‘But why do magic mirrors only work in Wyse?’ the father of the group asked.

  ‘Because Wyse is set on exactly the border of England and Wales,’ Edmund Footer replied. ‘It straddles two worlds, you see.’

  Rubbish, Ava thought. If that was true, any town on a border would have magic mirrors. She leaned a little closer to the door as her cousin continued.

  ‘I will now say the incantation of conjuration. You will see the mirror turn to mist and then the fairy will appear. I will place your orders just as if we’re in a shop. It is quite safe.’

  He raised his arms dramatically and began chanting. Ava caught a few words of Latin, but mostly it sounded made up.

  A door creaked downstairs: Mrs Footer was home. Ava crept quietly back to the stairs and began sweeping them. She couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her cousin – he had Mrs Footer for a mother, after all – but, as she’d said to Howell, he really didn’t understand much about fairy magic.

  Probably just as well he didn’t, or he might work out that the mirror hanging downstairs in the parlour was not only magic, but active again.

  ‘Leave those stairs alone,’ Mrs Footer said. ‘I don’t want you disturbing Mr Footer’s guests.’

  Guests? Customers, more like it. Once you took away the nonsense Latin and the talk about magic, Mr Footer was just selling things. Ava stood up and wiped her hands on her apron.

  ‘Aunt Lily, may I ask you a question?’

  Mrs Footer stiffened. Ava knew she didn’t like to be called ‘Aunt’ but Ava wanted to remind her they were family. ‘Everyone says fairy magic only affects appearances,’ she said. ‘Is that true?’

  Mrs Footer frowned. ‘You’d do well to keep your questions to housekeeping matters. Your father gave up all claim to his magic mirror when he sold it to my son.’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ Ava took a breath. ‘Matthew said I almost died of measles when I was two, and some people seem to think my father cured me with magic, but that’s not possible, is it?’

  Mrs Footer’s gaze flicked to the mark on Ava’s cheek. ‘No, it’s not possible. Fairy magic is a wonderful thing, but it cannot change what’s real. For example,’ she added pointedly, ‘fairy magic could make this house appear clean, but it won’t really be clean unless you do your work. You can polish the candlesticks next.’

  Sighing, Ava fetched a cloth. At least Mrs Footer had spoken to her, though. Maybe with time – another year or two – she might actually speak without snapping. Or maybe that was as impossible as magic changing reality.

  Finally, the clock’s hands crept round to five o’clock. Ava waited anxiously, wondering whether Howell would appear at all and when the mirror clouded she laughed in relief.

  She’d thought Howell would be happy to see her, but he looked nervous, stepping close to the mirror and glancing around every few seconds.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just . . .’ Howell ran a hand through his hair. ‘This whole thing is weird. If anyone finds out, I’ll be in such trouble.’

  He wouldn’t be the only one. Ava tried to ignore the churning in her own stomach. ‘Have you ever heard of Lord Skinner?’ Ava asked. ‘He’s in charge of Wyse and everyone says he’s a fine gentleman.’

  ‘But you don’t like him,’ Howell said.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You’re thinking it, though, aren’t you?’ He flashed her a nervous grin, then shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’ve never heard of him. Mr Bones is in charge here. I ought to tell him what’s going on.’

  ‘But you don’t want to,’ Ava said. ‘You don’t trust him.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You’re thinking it, though.’

  They both smiled.

  Ava tucked her hair back behind her ears. Strange how you just instantly felt you knew certain people – stranger still when that person was from another world.

  ‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ Howell asked.

  Ava considered. She had so many questions that she didn’t know what to ask first. �
�Unwyse,’ she said eventually. ‘Tell me all about Unwyse.’

  Lord Skinner served roast chicken that evening. He ate quickly, not appearing to notice that Ava picked at her food, barely touching it.

  ‘How do you like the Footers?’ he asked.

  Ava felt a blush creep up her neck. ‘They’re very nice.’

  ‘Really? I always thought Mrs Footer was like a snappy little dog.’

  Ava smothered a giggle. Matthew kicked her under the table.

  Lord Skinner set his knife and fork down briefly. ‘Has Mr Footer given you a demonstration of the magic mirror yet?’

  Ava shook her head. ‘He is very busy.’

  ‘I’m sure he can find time. It was your father’s mirror, after all. I’ll speak to him if you wish.’

  Again her vision blurred, and the smell of damp leaves surrounded her. Lord Skinner was much nicer than the Footers. She wished she could work for him.

  ‘Do you think a broken magic mirror could ever start working again?’ she asked dreamily.

  Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes, but Lord Skinner leaned forward across the table. ‘That’s an interesting question. Why do you ask?’

  Ava felt the words getting ready to spill out. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and the jolt of pain brought her vision back into focus. Her face grew warm.

  ‘No reason. It might happen, though, mightn’t it? No one knows why the mirrors stopped, so they might start working again. Suppose I looked into a mirror one day and saw an Unworld boy looking back . . .’

  ‘An Unworld boy.’ Lord Skinner pushed his plate back and a servant slipped silently to the table to collect it. ‘Any particular Unworld boy?’

  Ava instantly wished she’d kept her mouth shut. ‘No. I don’t know of any Unworld boys. I was just wondering.’

  Lord Skinner watched her a moment longer, then nodded. ‘It’s always good to wonder.’

  The servants brought in a silver trolley loaded with desserts – large bowls of trifle, a lemon tart, even a perfectly white blancmange.

  ‘You should visit again,’ Lord Skinner said, picking up a jug of cream. ‘Tomorrow.’

  Matthew beamed, and babbled thanks. Ava sat silently, not touching any of the desserts. They all suddenly smelled funny, as if they’d been sitting in the hot kitchen for far too long. Why had she mentioned an Unworld boy? She’d come here determined not to say a thing, then she’d started thinking Lord Skinner was a fine gentleman again and the words had just come out. What was he doing to her?

  As Howell said, something very strange was going on.

  CHAPTER 10

  Fairy enchantments are created by drawing magic from the mist that fills the Unworld. Flimsy as the air they come from, they only affect the surface appearance of things, and they fade. But there are other kinds of magic – the old magic that links the worlds through the mirrors. And the living magic that inhabits people.

  Actually, there are lots of books on this subject. If you want to know more, go and read one of them and stop bothering me. What do you think I am – an encyclopaedia?

  The Book

  Somehow, a whole week had gone by. Howell had moved mirror seventy-seven to the far corner of the gallery, where it was out of sight of the front desk and the doors. He hadn’t seen the pink-haired lady again, but Mr Bones still called on him daily – as did Ava. Howell found himself looking forward to their conversations more and more, even though he lived under a cloud of dread that someone would find out.

  The following Saturday afternoon, he sat before the mirror, a cloth in his hand ready to jump up and pretend he was cleaning it if anyone came in.

  Ava’s reflection also held a cloth, and she twisted it into knots as they talked. ‘Lord Skinner has invited us to dinner again. I don’t want to go, but Matthew still thinks he’s a fine gentleman and won’t hear a word against him.’

  Howell scratched the tip of an ear. ‘Mr Bones has invited me back to the Mirror Station. He wants me to spend the whole day this time.’

  ‘Are you going?’

  ‘I don’t have much choice. If I don’t go, he’ll know I’m trying to avoid him.’

  They both sighed.

  ‘I seem to be the only person in Unwyse who doesn’t trust Mr Bones,’ Howell said. ‘Except for the pink-haired lady, whoever she is.’

  ‘And I’m the only person in Wyse who doesn’t think Lord Skinner is a fine gentleman. Except for Charles, and I haven’t seen him all week.’

  It seemed they had the same problem, Howell thought, albeit with different people. Maybe that was why he was beginning to feel closer to Ava, a human, than he did to Will or Master Tudur, who were from his own world.

  ‘Maybe I can help,’ he said cautiously. ‘What if I could get you an enchantment to reveal Lord Skinner’s true nature?’

  Ava’s eyes opened wide. ‘But I thought they were illusions. They don’t reveal the truth – they cover it up.’

  ‘The ones we usually send to you do, but there are others. Things you never think to ask for.’

  A thump came from upstairs. That would be Will, getting out of bed. Howell tensed.

  Ava looked down at her hands. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’

  ‘You won’t.’ In fact, Howell could think of a hundred ways he’d get into trouble for this. He’d need to go to an enchantment shop, which meant he’d need money, and if word got back to Master Tudur there’d be all sorts of awkward questions.

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Ava offered. ‘I don’t have much, but . . .’

  Howell shook his head. ‘There’s no need. If you ask for something through a mirror, we have to do it. It’s in the covenant.’ And, oddly, he found that he wanted to help, despite the trouble it might cause. He wanted to know the truth too.

  ‘Howell?’ Will shouted. ‘Are you downstairs?’

  ‘I have to go,’ Howell said. ‘Come back later tonight – at moonrise. I’ll see what I can do.’ He scrambled up.

  ‘No, wait,’ Ava said.

  No time. Howell pulled the sheet over the mirror, cutting off whatever she’d been trying to say.

  Will clumped down into the gallery a moment later. ‘Who were you talking to? Don’t say you weren’t – I heard you.’

  ‘I was shouting to you, idiot, asking if you were awake.’

  Will shoved him. ‘Don’t call me an idiot.’

  ‘Don’t act like one, then,’ Howell said, shoving him back.

  Surprise flashed across Will’s face, and Howell was almost surprised at himself too. He didn’t usually stand up to Will. He grabbed his coat from the stand by the counter. ‘We’re low on bread. I’m going to see if the baker has got anything.’

  He had three hours, more or less, until moonrise. Where could he find an enchantment?

  Howell kept away from the Mirror Station in case Mr Bones decided to come looking for him again, and headed in the opposite direction where the roads were narrower and the alleys between houses were full of rubbish.

  Something scuttled behind him. He spun round, but the lane was empty. He was frightened of shadows now. Howell forced out a laugh, which didn’t make him feel any less jumpy.

  But then an arm shot out to block his way. Three boys emerged from a doorway. They were all about Will’s age, and about his size too.

  Howell stepped back, felt a tightening in his chest.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The boys looked at each other and laughed. ‘We’re collecting donations for the anti-humanist league. We’re going to end the covenant and set the Unworld free. How much money have you got?’

  Howell didn’t believe the boys were really anti-humanists, but it didn’t matter: they’d take every coin he had. If he was lucky, they’d shove him around a bit, then let him go. If he was unlucky, it might be worse. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the few coins there.

  The biggest boy pushed him. ‘Come on. Hand it over.’

  Another day, Howell might have done it. Today, however, was an
odd sort of a day. He took his hands out of his pockets, looked down at them, then he punched the boy on the nose and ran.

  He couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

  ‘Get him!’ the boy shouted.

  Feet pounded after him. Howell ran faster, tripping through piles of rubbish. He should have just given them the money. They’d have let him go before, but now they were going to beat him half to death.

  A shape emerged out of the mist ahead of him and he ran straight into it. Howell bounced back and looked up to see the wide brim of a hat, striped green and blue like a tiger.

  ‘Hello again,’ the pink-haired lady said. ‘Excuse me.’ She took her hat off and tossed it on the ground as the three boys came running down the alley.

  In a blink, an actual, real tiger stood in front of them.

  Howell yelled in fright and stumbled back. The tiger roared and the three boys screamed and fled.

  ‘My attack hat,’ the lady said, catching hold of the tiger by its green tail. Instead of eating her, it transformed back into a hat. She set it on her head and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. ‘We need to talk.’

  All the questions – Mr Bones, the mirror, the covenant, everything that had happened – bubbled up in a moment.

  ‘Who are you?’ Howell burst out. ‘What’s going on? Why are mirrors working again? Why shouldn’t I trust Mr Bones?’ He leaned against the wall; he would have sat down if there’d been anywhere to sit. ‘Why is this all happening to me? I’m just an assistant apprentice. I don’t even have any magic.’

  ‘My name is Lunette,’ the lady said. ‘I came to warn you. You’re in danger – we all are.’ She fished a small packet out of her bag. ‘Here: I believe you want this.’

  Howell read the label in disbelief.

  Madame Brille

  Purveyor of Artisan Enchantments throughout the Unworld

  77 Euphorbia Lane, Unwyse

  Ingredients: fern, oak, daisy, lavender.