Mirror, Mirror

by Laura McConaughay

  “Tomas,” she said forcefully, waiting until he met her eyes before continuing. “You must promise me absolutely to not tell anyone about this.”

  “But they’ll know that the princess is missing,” Tomas protested weakly. “Surely somebody…”

  “They will know in time,” said Marya. “But they will not find out from you. Let me handle this, Tomas. Now promise me that you won’t speak of this to anyone.”

  There was a reluctant pause, then Tomas whispered, “I promise.”

  “Good,” said Marya. “Now you can go. And do not worry, Tomas. I will take care of this.”

  Tomas gave her a grateful but still slightly worried look, then stood. He bundled up the boar’s heart again, and bore it away with him. Marya noticed that he forgot to bow on his way out, but chose not to say anything as she had far more important things to concern herself with. Namely, finding the princess before anyone else.

  As soon as she was alone again, Marya moved over to the table in the center of the room and hurriedly cleared its surface. The power was searing through her blood, demanding to be used, but her hands were steady as she placed a smooth, silver disc on the table. She looked at it critically, then polished it a bit with her sleeve until its mirror-like sheen was restored. Then she poured a small bit of water onto the silver, which pooled and spread and pooled again until the entire surface was covered with the thinnest layer of water. She took a deep breath, gripped the table, and cast her spell.

  The room tilted crazily as the power rushed out of her, then steadied again as an image appeared, as if reflected on the water’s surface. Marya leaned over the table and stared down at it, studying the picture before her. The image was of a small cottage in a clearing in the woods, and in front of the cottage stood the princess. She was scratched and her clothes were torn and ragged in places, but she was alive and looked mostly unhurt. As Marya watched, the princess’ face broke into a smile and she could almost hear an echo of the girl’s laughter.

  In front of the princess were arrayed seven men - all of them very short, and all of them dressed in the rough clothing of woodsmen. It was difficult to tell them apart except by the color and length of their beards, but the princess looked like she was playing some kind of game with them. She would point at one or another of them, and say something, then the one she‘d pointed at would nod or shake his head, and they would all laugh.

  Marya shook her own head, pulling back from the image. She dropped a small twig onto the silver disc, which immediately began soaking up all of the water, and apparently the image as well. Once the water was all gone, Marya put the twig in her pocket, and put the silver disc back into the old trunk it had come from.

  Marya pulled the dust cover off the sofa in the corner of the room, and sat down. The nervous energy that had filled her all day dissipated abruptly, and she closed her eyes in sudden exhaustion. Soon a pleasant numbness overtook her, and she was able to think clearly.

  She needed to retrieve the princess, and as quickly as possible. It would ruin her plans if she simply found the girl and led her back to the palace for one and all to see, and it was equally impossible for her to overpower the girl. It was clear that some other agent was going to be needed.

  It was not long before Marya remembered a special poison that would help in the task before her. Once taken, the poison caused its victims’ limbs to stiffen and their pulse to slow. For as long as the poison remained in their system, they would appear to be dead to anyone who looked upon them. If she was able poison the princess with this concoction, transporting the girl back to the castle would be a relatively simple matter. The question that continued to plague her was how to deliver the poison.

  As the queen sat there, half reclining on an old, uncomfortable sofa, a great many ideas came to her. Most of the ideas were foolish and impractical, and were dismissed as quickly as they arose. She thought of applying the poison to a girdle, and then offering to help with the laces - picturing herself pulling the laces tighter and tighter until the poison crept from the cloth to the girl’s skin. Her imagination quickly showed her how poorly such an attempt could go, such as the girl simply refusing to try the girdle on, and the idea was discarded along with its predecessors.

  Next she thought of the simpler plan of poisoning a comb, which could deliver its venom as soon as the teeth of the comb touched the princess’ scalp. This idea pleased her at first, until she realized how easily a comb might fall out of place. With such a small amount of poison as could be fit onto the teeth of a comb, the girl would revive as soon as the comb was removed. This idea was thus abandoned as well.

  The afternoon light was just beginning to fade when Marya had her last, and best, idea. She would poison a snow apple. The king’s daughter would never refuse a snow apple, no matter who offered it to her.

  The sun dipped behind the horizon, and the room was left in sudden darkness. Realizing with a start how late it had grown, the queen left the tower room, locking the door behind her. She went downstairs hastily, rushing to her room to change, and arriving at the dining room a little breathless but on time.

  Three places were set at the table, but the king was the only other diner present that evening. After waiting a few minutes, he decided that they would begin without his daughter, and gestured for the servants to serve the first course. The meal began well - the food was excellent, Marya was in high spirits, and the king was in a good humor.

  As the meal progressed however, and the night grew later and darker, the king began glancing at his daughter’s empty place more and more frequently. A look of worry grew on his face, until finally he sent one of the servants to make sure that his daughter was not ill.

  Marya looked up from her plate warily, then managed to give a little laugh. “She’s probably just tired out from her long day, Donavan. And I’m not surprised she’s not hungry - you should have seen the lunch hamper Cook put together for her to take.”

  “Oh?” said the king, looking back towards Marya. “Where did she go, that she needed a lunch hamper and would be too tired to dine with her family?”

  “She said she was going to pick wildflowers,” Marya answered calmly.

  “Wildflowers?” the king repeated questioningly.

  “Yes,” said Marya. “Her maid has a cold, and she thought some fresh wildflowers would cheer the woman’s sickbed and make her feel better.”

  “She did not take her maid?” asked Donavan, the worry lines on his face deepening.

  “She couldn’t, could she, not with the woman sick in bed,” replied Marya. “I told her to take a guard with her, but she never listens to me.”

  “That’s not true,” the king objected automatically. “You know she always tries to do what you ask.”

  “Yes, you always say that,” Marya answered quietly. “But it isn’t always true.”

  The king did not answer, looking impatiently towards the door that the servant left by. The minutes began to slip by, and still the servant did not return. Marya tried addressing the king twice more, but the first time he only grunted in reply, and the second time he did not acknowledge her at all.

  Piqued and ignored, Marya leaned back in her chair. If the king did not wish to talk to her, then she would not talk. Instead, she began to coldly consider the details of the next step of her plan for the capture of the princess, right there in front of the girl’s worried father.

  By the end of this cogitation, Marya had decided that she would have to go find the girl herself. She had originally thought to send Tomas, properly disguised, but had abandoned the idea. She had passed him in the hall just before dinner, and he had looked decidedly nervous and guilty already, as if he were a piece of brittle pottery that might crack at any moment. She hoped for his sake that the alarm would soon be sounded, so that he might join the search parties to help relieve his conscience.

  The alarm was indeed soon given, for the servant returned to the dining hall to report that the princess was not in her rooms, and that n
o one had seen her since early that morning. The king leaped to his feet and began issuing orders. Before twenty minutes had passed, a party of two dozen men were headed towards the forest with torches, with the king riding at the group’s head.

  Marya spent the next few hours trying to look and act worried. Eventually this task became too wearying, and she retired to bed. She slept deeply and long, and her dreams were peaceful ones.

  In the morning, Marya once again assumed an expression of anxiety, and inquired as to the results of the search party. The king had not yet returned, she was told, but some of the men who had come back had reported that they had found no sign of the princess.

  Heartened by this news, Marya told the servants that she was going to spend the day in meditation, and that she should not be disturbed - unless the princess was found, of course.

  It had not been difficult to obtain one of the snow apples from the kitchen, and Marya now carried this to her tower room. She spent a brief hour there, at the end of which she held a truly magnificent apple in her hand. The apple glowed with red and white freshness, and looked almost too good to be true - as indeed it was.

  Marya hid the apple in the pocket of an old cloak, then slipped back down the tower stairs and along the gallery to her own room. She dismissed the maid working there, then set to work creating her disguise. She removed the padding and lacing, washed the paint from her face and the dye from her hair, and then dressed in old, shapeless clothing. Pulling the old and slightly ragged cloak over her shoulders and head, Marya practiced using a stooped and shuffling gait, then left her rooms.

  With so many people out searching for the princess, it was easy for Marya to leave the castle unobserved. Her disguise was tested as she moved through the town, where everyone knew her, but her fears were unnecessary: she was not recognized. Moving as quickly as the shuffling gait would allow, Marya crossed the length of the village and was soon outside of it.

  At the river she stopped and rested. She was not as strong as she once was, and walking with a stoop was more difficult than she had anticipated. She was looking forward to reaching the forest, where she would be able to walk unobserved and thus upright. Cheered by this prospect, she shuffled down to the bank of the river with true artistry, then reached out to take a drink.

  She cupped her hands and filled them with water, but just as she was about to raise them to her lips she was startled by the sudden sound of many galloping hooves. A group of horsemen appeared on the scene, looking as taken aback as she felt. The rider in front was too close to stop, and sent his horse over the river in a mighty leap, before reining it sharply in. The water drained back through Marya’s fingers as she stared up at the king.

  She had seen him like this once before, and for a moment all her dazzled mind could think was that he had barely changed since that day. He was still a powerful figure of a man, and if his hair was touched with grey and his belt slightly wider than it once was, it was hardly noticeable. The last time she had seen him like this, she had been young and beautiful, and she had not known what suffering was.

  Marya’s thoughts of admiration and love were so strong that she forgot to be afraid of how she was going to explain herself, and then all of her thoughts were dashed aside when she saw a brief look of revulsion cross the king’s face as he looked down at her.

  The look was gone as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by the expression of polite respect that the king usually wore when addressing his subjects. “Old woman,” the king said, speaking loudly and clearly as if he thought she might be hard of hearing. “Have you seen the princess?”

  Stunned, Marya could not answer right away, and just stood there staring, her jaw hanging open slightly.

  “Have you seen a young girl in the woods?” the king asked again more loudly, with a touch of impatience in his voice.

  Marya came to herself abruptly, and managed to shake her head. The king nodded at her briefly, then turned his horse and moved off. The other riders fell in behind him, and soon the entire group had disappeared from view.

  The pain Marya was suffering was too deep to be taken in all at once. It came at her in bursts, each one digging a little deeper than the one before. The king, her own husband, had not recognized her.

  As Marya stood there shaking, it did not take her long to transfer her anger from the king to the king’s daughter. This was all her fault, Marya quickly decided. If she was not lost, then the king would not be searching for her, and Marya would not be out here looking the way she did. Marya would never have needed to find out what the king truly thought of her, and she could have been happy in her ignorance. It could still be made right however. It was not too late. Everything would be made right as soon as she gave the king a son, or so she reasoned with herself.

  The queen resumed her journey, and was soon enveloped by the dark reaches of the forest. There were more search parties to be seen and heard, but since they were calling out for the princess at regular intervals she was able to avoid them easily. She made her way quickly and quietly into the depths of the forest, choosing her path with confidence. She had brought the twig from her scrying with her, and it led her always in the right direction.

  It was nearing mid-day when Marya finally reached the cabin in the clearing. She looked around carefully, but could not see any sign of the seven small men. Resuming her stoop and shuffle, she moved into the clearing and called out in a false voice.

  A familiar face appeared at the window of the cottage for a moment, then the top half of the cottage door swung open.

  “Good morning,” Marya heard the princess’ voice call out.

  “G’morning to you too,” Marya replied, trying to imitate the accents of a very old woman she knew who lived in the town. “Might an old woman such as myself be invited inside, to sit a spell before continuing my journey?”

  The princess gave her a sympathetic look, but answered, “I’m sorry, but this is not my house, and I promised not to let any strangers inside.”

  “Oh, well then, I’ll just have to set myself down beside this brook here,” Marya replied, fumbling with her cloak and skirts as though she were having problems sitting. “Will you not come out and help an old woman to sit down?”

  “I’m sorry,” the princess said again, with a look of true regret. “But I promised that I wouldn’t leave the house either.” After a slight pause, the girl smiled and added, “Really, I’m not even supposed to be talking to strangers while the others are gone.”

  “Ah, well now, that’s too bad,” Marya said, letting herself half-fall onto a tree stump that sat beside the little brook. She heaved a sigh of relief, which was more genuine than not, for her knees and back were sore from the strain of stooping. She turned her head to the sunlight for a moment, then peered back at the cottage.

  The girl was still standing at the door, fidgeting slightly and looking concerned.

  “You seem like a nice, young girl,” Marya said, still in her false, raspy voice. “Would you like one of my apples?” As she spoke, she pulled the snow apple from her pocket and held it up to the light.

  The girl’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the glorious apple displayed in front of her. She had opened the bottom half of the door and taken two steps outside when she paused suddenly.

  “I…I have no money nor anything else with which to pay you,” the girl said, staring at the apple wistfully.

  “Oh my,” said Marya, turning the apple in her hands. “Well, my dear, this is too fine an apple for an old woman like myself to sell. An apple this fine can only be shared, now isn’t that right?”

  The girl looked at her hopefully and waited. Marya pulled a small, sharp knife from her pocket, then cut the apple carefully in half. She held one half out to the princess, who took it eagerly.

  The apple looked so juicy and enticing that the girl forgot her manners and bit into it without waiting for the old woman to start. Before she had even swallowed the girl fell down into a death-like sleep, as the swi
ft poison worked its magic upon her. Marya tossed her half of the apple into the brook and stood, stretching her back and smiling triumphantly.

  Marya was still standing beside the fallen princess, trying to decide on the best way of bearing the girl back to the castle, when she heard movement in the trees. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the small men were returning to the clearing. She bent down and seized one of the girl’s arms.

  Before she could get a good hold on the princess however, the men burst into the clearing. A shout went up, and they began sprinting across the way. With no time to do anything else, Marya was forced to drop the girl’s arm and run. She fled into the forest, cursing to herself as she went.

  The dwarves rushed to the girl’s side, but they were too late. Though they splashed her cheeks with water, though they called her name, though they shook her shoulders, the girl’s eyes remained closed and her cheeks kept their deathly pallor. The dwarves, not knowing about the poisoned apple, believed that she was dead, and grieved greatly.

  The sleep of death that had been cast over the princess made her look even more beautiful than before, and the dwarves could not bring themselves to bury her. They carried her inside the cabin, and for three days and nights they mourned. At the end of those three days, they built a coffin made of glass, so that the girl’s beauty need not be hidden from the world.

  They placed the girl inside the coffin, and placed the coffin in the middle of the clearing. Songs were sung, and prayers were said, and many a forest animal crept to the edges of the clearing to watch what was happening. Finally, one by one, the dwarves left the coffin and returned to their cabin.

  Days and then weeks began to pass, until finally one day a stranger entered the clearing. It was a huntsman, who carried an unstrung bow and no knife. When he saw the coffin he rushed over to it and looked through the glass. When he saw who was inside, he gave a great shout, but those who heard it could not be certain if it was a shout of joy or of grief.