by A. F. Dery
Approaching the dais, Thane gave a respectful bow. The High Lord stood and returned the bow, his face turning unexpectedly serious as his eyes fell on Kesara.
“My Lord, if I may introduce to you the Mirror Kesara Jonril, of Eladria,” Thane said, very carefully, very slowly pronouncing her full name. He had never tried to utter it before, at least not in front of witnesses, but he was satisfied it had come out correctly. There wasn’t a single snicker to be heard in the hall; in fact, there was absolute silence, which was almost as disconcerting.
To Thane’s shock, the High Lord gave a half-bow to the young woman behind him. “We are deeply honored, Mistress Jonril, to welcome you to our Court. There are very few with your talent in our part of the world, as you must know, and that you have aligned yourself with one as honorable as Eladria is a grace to all of our Union.”
“I am honored to serve Eladria, my Lord, and in serving Eladria, serving his allies,” Kesara answered smoothly.
So far as formal greetings went, it was irreproachable. Thane tried to school his features into composure, but he was thinking, where the hell is this coming from? Is this what they taught her at Mirror school?
“I am most gratified to hear you say so, Mistress Jonril. For a long time, I had hoped for one of your number to cross our borders,” the High Lord continued, his customary smile returning. “Indeed, one has before you. Perhaps you have met? Malachi, won’t you bring her forward?”
Bemused, Thane turned to see Malachi walking forward from one of the side groupings, looking vaguely bewildered himself. An ashen-faced woman with light brown hair, in a dress identical to Kesara’s but somehow not nearly as flattering, walked just behind him, as Kesara had walked behind him.
But that was where the similarities between them seemed to end. This other woman looked drawn and sickly, barely seeming to have the strength to curtsy as she was brought forward and faltering briefly when she again straightened.
“My Lord, you are of course acquainted,” Malachi said tersely.
And that’s when it came together for Thane: so this was the gift from the High Lord to help his wife. A Mirror! Malachi’s wife must be in terrible shape indeed. He glanced over in the direction Malachi had come from before he could stop himself, and saw an immensely pregnant, but otherwise healthy looking, young woman partially reclining on a chaise.
“Yes, of course. But allow me to introduce her, if you will not,” the High Lord said, a note of reproach creeping into his voice. “This is the Mirror Elsbeth Marin, of Malachi.”
“We have met, my Lord,” Kesara said, and Thane saw from the corner of his eye that she was smiling, not the false smile she had demonstrated to him once before, but a genuine one that glimpsed small white teeth. It distracted him momentarily. “My greetings to my sister.”
“And to mine,” the other Mirror returned, almost mechanically, and Thane’s eyes returned at once to Elsbeth. Her voice sounded hoarse as though little used; he noticed now that she was closer that her eyes were oddly glassy, and nearly unfocused even though she was looking in Kesara’s general direction. Thane suppressed a frown and saw Kesara’s own smile falter, watching as it turned entirely false, her lips pressing back together.
“Has Eladria fallen on such difficult times, that you are in need of one of these creatures?” Malachi said roughly into the ensuing silence. There was a strange tone to his voice that Thane could not identify, an odd look to his eyes now as he turned his scrutiny on Thane. “I thought they were for the truly ill and failing, as my wife has been. But this one does not look unwell.”
“You misunderstand,” the High Lord said before Thane could speak. “Mirrors are not only for the infirm, Edmund. They are a great sign of power and status when they are from, one of the finest prizes any ruler could wish for his country, like any great weapon or finely trained soldier, if the Mirror is well taught and sufficiently skilled. The Emperor of the Ytaren Lands boasts of no fewer than five in his Court, and he is a man of no small means or poor health! I cannot imagine how you came by one in a country as insulated as yours, Thane, but no one here could blame you for seizing such a boon when the opportunity presented itself. You benefit us all by such prudence.”
And because the High Lord had stated it as such, Thane knew it was at once accepted as being fact by all those present, and would be by all those who heard about it. Thane stopped himself from sighing in relief as he graciously half-bowed his acceptance of the compliment, but it was a near thing.
Yet the thought still nagged at him: That bastard thought I must be ill to have a Mirror, yet he still did not hesitate sending that pig to us. He didn’t know why that made him feel sick inside. Nothing whatsoever should have been able to disturb or surprise him about Malachi any longer, and yet…this had once been his closest friend. Did I really do anything to warrant this kind of cold-blooded treachery?
“I, of course, arranged things for Lady Margaret. I was quite fortunate to have one of my emissaries to Ytar bring Elsbeth back with him,” the High Lord was saying. “I had no idea at the time how useful she would truly be, but when Edmund wrote me about his Lady’s dire condition, there could be no question, of course she must be sent to her. I am gladdened to see how well it has worked out, that Lady Margaret could even be present here with us in spite of the difficulties of her confinement.”
“Er, forgive my saying so, my lord,” Thane said meekly, lowering his eyes in feigned embarrassment. “But the Lady Margaret isn’t very…confined, is she?”
Thane could feel, more than see, Malachi’s dark glare directed at his head.
“Oh, now, don’t be so old fashioned, Thane,” the High Lord said with a laugh. “She has time to go yet, I understand, and she has never been to Court before. I insisted she be present today, if she were able, and hopefully we will all be able to become better acquainted with one of our newest Ladies.”
Thane murmured something meant to sound gracious, while being ultimately indecipherable.
“But I’m afraid that time will have to wait for now. I received word just before you arrived, Thane, that Kitarin is here, and I’m afraid he requires a meeting in short order.” The High Lord moved a step closer to Thane and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Raiders, I hear.”
Thane nodded, understanding at once. “Of course, my lord.”
“Please bring your lovely Mirror to dinner tonight, Thane. I very much look forward to seeing her receive a fitting welcome. And yours as well, of course, Malachi.”
“Yes, my lord,” Malachi said, bowing as the High Lord strode off. He barely gave Thane another glance before returning to his wife’s side, the other Mirror trailing in his wake like a wan phantom.
Thane turned to Kesara, as the room suddenly filled with the tumult of many nobles speaking excitedly amongst each other at once.
“We should go now,” he suggested. “It looks like we’ve been dismissed until dinner time.”
“You can’t possibly disappear now, Eladria!” It was Ossian hurrying up, all smiles. “You MUST introduce me! I have only heard rumors about these Mirrors and I simply must know more.”
“Try the library. It’s that big room with the books in it,” Thane said ungraciously.
“Do you even know what books are, Eladria? Or did one of the servants have to tell you what those things with paper in them were?” Ossian snapped.
“Perhaps we could speak this evening, if my lord does not require me otherwise, my lady,” Kesara interjected before Thane could reply, humbly bowing her head. “I would be honored to answer your questions.”
“A prize indeed,” Ossian sighed. “Very well, as I suppose I can hardly stop your lord from carrying you off under his arm any time he pleases.”
“No, but I’d pay good coin to see you try,” Thane said unpleasantly to Ossian’s retreating back. The lady’s shoulders stiffened but she otherwise gave no indication of having heard him.
“Didn’t you say something about leaving now, my lord?” Kesara as
ked very quietly. Her mask of composure was revealing a faint crack now, colored with dismay, he noticed.
“Yes, but I’m starting to feel ornery now.”
“I could tell.”
“Are you annoyed?” Thane tried not to smile, but quickly made for the door before she could answer as he saw another noble bravely start to head in their direction.
He did not slow his stride until he was safely back in his own tower, having narrowly dodged two other interested parties before making it there.
He turned to find Kesara considerably farther behind him than she had been on their way to the tower, and looking somewhat breathless.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when she’d caught up. “I just didn’t want to get caught again.”
“So you’d just sacrifice me for the cause, is that right?” Kesara said, dismay having turned to irritation.
“No, no, I knew no one would try to stop you, even if I wasn’t standing right over you,” Thane said consolingly. She refused to meet his eyes and he sighed.
“You’re angry with me, Kes?”
“Why were you so rude to Lady Ossian?”
“Because she’s a twit,” Thane said, taken aback by the question, so obvious was the answer to him. “Look, Kes, you will soon see for yourself what that lot is like, and then you can criticize my behavior as much as it pleases you, but not before, I beg of you. It won’t end well.”
“As you like,” Kesara said tensely.
“Now, now,” Thane said, opening the door to his room and motioning her inside ahead of him. “Please don’t be upset with me again. I only ask it for your own good, Kes. All right, all right, I’m lying. I ask it for my own good, because if you ended up crying twice in one day, I’m fairly certain I would just lie down and die of despair at the doom being presaged for my people, and what a pathetic way to die, you know? I don’t even want to imagine what they would write in the chronicles about my death.”
“You’re trying to make me laugh,” Kesara accused as she went in.
“No, I’m being perfectly serious.” He shut the door and went to follow, and ending up nearly knocking her over as she stood immobile in the open archway that led to the sitting room.
“Kes?”
“Graunt,” she said faintly. Thane frowned in confusion at her tone and looked easily over her head and into the room, only to see a large, brownish-gray heap in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Stay back, Kes,” Thane said urgently, gripping Kesara’s shoulders before she could move further into the room. “You don’t want to go in there until she’s done.”
“Until she’s done?” Kesara echoed, bemused. But then she saw it: some kind of subtle rippling in the brownish-gray heap upon the floor. The blood snaked further out with reaching crimson fingers. “She’s still alive! Thane, she needs help!”
“No, no she doesn’t,” Thane said flatly, his grip on her unrelenting as she tried an experimental step forwards. “Please stay here…in fact, it might be best if you go out into the hallway. I’ll call you back in when it’s over.”
Kesara shook her head mutely, staring in horrified fascination as the heap that was Graunt continued to ripple and undulate in a strange way, the movements like that of a fish swimming just beneath the surface of a pond.
Then a face seemed to break out of the middle of the heap, surging up from amid the bland folds of bark-brown flesh and coarse grayish-brown cloth- unmistakably Graunt’s face- leering with pointy teeth that dripped with blood as black beady eyes flashed.
Kesara screamed, trying to scramble backwards in a blind panic, but she could not move, still held in place by Thane’s hands on her shoulders. His grip loosened just enough for her to turn towards the door, but the moment he let go of her, he put an arm around her, again halting her attempt at flight. She was vaguely aware over the rushing of blood in her ears and the urge to run in her legs that he was saying her name, trying to tell her something, but finding herself unable to flee and too terrified to stay, she threw herself against his chest and hoped desperately that his one arm behind her could fend off…whatever it was in the room.
She felt his arm close in around her, a large hand pat her shoulder awkwardly, as she clung to him and shook and sobbed incoherently. The image of those malevolent little eyes seemed burned into her very eyelids: her whole body was tense, waiting for that thing in the room to lash out at her.
He won’t let it, he won’t let it, she chanted to herself, feeling more hopeful than convinced, her heart beating so hard she thought it might burst.
“That was unnecessary,” she heard Thane say from somewhere over her head, his voice flat and colder than she had ever heard it. Kesara felt him bend, his other arm scooping up her legs.
She screamed again when she realized he was presently going into the room with it. Again in her mind’s eye, she saw bloody, pointy, sharp teeth.
Teeth, she wailed somewhere inside of herself. Her feet seemed to burn where the flesh and toe used to be. She struggled against him, but he held her without effort, holding her a little more tightly, murmuring something to her that she couldn’t quite make out over her own incomprehensible shrieks.
She hid her face against his shirt and wept as she ran out of breath to scream with, her fingers cramping painfully in their grip on him. She heard a door click shut, felt something underneath her as he tried to put her down on it, but she hung on. Even with her eyes screwed shut, the world tilted dizzyingly and she realized he must have sat down, moving the arm that had picked her up and draping it around her as well.
He was saying her name, very calmly, over and over. She felt his hand rubbing her back, more roughly than she thought he probably intended. But the sting of the cloth chafing her skin helped her recall herself, and with her mind clearing from its terrified haze, she forced herself to go limp against him. Her cramping fingers did not quite manage to do the same, and her hands shook uncontrollably where they grasped his shirt.
He stopped talking then and the hand on her back moved up to her hair, brushing strands wet with tears that had come loose somehow and fallen into her face back onto her shoulders. She lifted her face and saw his was very close to hers, his head bent down to talk to her. She saw the expanse of his disfigured jaw, the slashing scar his mother’s hand had put there that pulled down one corner of his mouth. Her gaze did not make it as far up as his eyes, but before he could turn his head, she closed her eyes and pressed them against the side of his jaw. His skin felt warm but uneven against her face, the ordinary interspersed with odd slight ridges that were too smooth.
He was so still now she thought he must have stopped breathing, but she felt his heartbeat through his shirt, against her own chest, strong and quick. His hand was still on her hair, as though frozen there, until finally he took a deep breath and his hand fell away, coming to rest again on her lower back. She felt him turn his head, but to her surprise, he was turning towards her rather than away. She felt the scarred lips of his overly large mouth press awkwardly against her forehead; she opened her eyes and lifted her face to him again, filled suddenly with strange and alien needs.
He was staring at her, his brown eyes unreadable, but his mouth was slightly open in something akin to surprise. She felt his hand shaking now on her back and slowly, tentatively, he brought his mouth down to hers, stopping just shy of her lips, hesitating, trembling everywhere now, almost making her teeth chatter with the motion. His breath was warm and shallow and quick on her face, smelt faintly of his morning pipe and tea.
“Please,” she whispered, feeling as though something inside her would snap, and before she could blink, that brief distance was decisively bridged, and she felt nothing but warm, could think nothing but Thane.
Then he had pulled away again, still shaking, his eyes wider than she had ever seen them. “Oh Kes,” he said softly. His voice was low, rough. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh gods.”
“No, no,
no sorry!” Kesara stammered.
“You were afraid. I took advantage.” His words were short, but even so, were slurring together. It took her a moment to interpret them, then another moment because of her mounting confusion.
“No, no, no advantage,” she insisted, shaking her head vehemently. “No advantages taken. No.”
“I promised you, not that kind of company,” he said.
“I never asked for that promise!” Kesara surprised herself by saying. Yet it’s true, isn’t it?
Thane looked surprised as well. “But you can’t mean…no, you’re just confused, what you saw before…anyone would have been thrown off…”
“I asked for it. If you regret giving it, then regret giving me what I wanted, but…none of this ‘taken advantage’ rubbish!” Kesara wondered briefly if any of that had made sense. Her mind still felt hazy, her lips still tasted like his.
“Kes, you’re confused, distraught,” Thane’s words were becoming clearer, his tone firmer. “It was not honorable to…to act like that with you in such a vulnerable state. You trusted me, and I have failed you. Please don’t speak of it any more. It won’t happen again.”
Kesara stared at him, feeling her stomach sink at his assertion: it won’t happen again. Maybe he really did regret it. Maybe he had just felt her desire through the bond and responded to it unthinkingly. Perhaps he did not share it. The thought made her feel a little ill. Did I force him somehow? Her mind flashed back unbidden to the memory of their bonding. Could that have been all me, too?