Broken Mirrors

by A. F. Dery

  “I know you’ve always thought so, Graunt,” Thane said, smiling without mirth as he bowed to her. “But I cannot help what I am any more than she can help what she is.”

  He departed on the sound of another of her sighs.

  Thane walked back to his tower slowly, oblivious to everything but the racing of his thoughts. He felt terrible for Kesara, knowing what he did now. Terrible for her, and confused about her. As hard as he tried to puzzle out her motivations, he came up with nothing but more bafflement. Something Graunt had said came back to mind, and he regretted not asking her about it at the time, awash in new information as he was. She had said that quick attachment was “normal behavior” for those like Kesara. Was it possible that she was, even now, attached to him somehow? Had this happened because she had helped him? Or had she helped him because of some instant connection caused by her abilities? He wasn’t sure why or if it even mattered. He hated the thought that she might already bound to him in some way, against her will, because for whatever incomprehensible reason, she had decided to help him that first time. He would not see her become a slave again. The very thought made him grind his teeth. Loudly.

  The only motive he could think of was that she wished some sort of repayment, perhaps a promotion in her status at the Keep. She truly had next to nothing now, as a foreigner and kitchen worker. But she stood to lose so much more than what she could gain, and she had not asked for anything, nor seemed to behave as though she found her former place beyond endurance. Even understanding her behavior better did not cause the woman herself to make much more sense to him than she had before.

  But he intended to ask her, and would have sent for her again that very night, except that by the time he returned to his rooms, he realized it was growing later than he had thought. He remembered Graunt’s advice to have Kesara moved away from the other servants and decided that this would have to do for tonight. They would speak in the morning, after his usual training session and a meeting that was planned with another of his advisers. He gave his instructions to one of his guards.

  Kesara felt that the world must have gone mad. One moment she was washing her face and hands in a bowl of tepid water in the servants’ quarters after a long evening of enduring the other servants’ hostile stares, and the next a guard was requesting, with a certain, strained veneer of politeness, that she pack up her things and follow him at once. Her quarters’ assignment had been changed.

  This makes no sense! she thought. She’d never heard of such a thing. So far as she knew, there was only one, specific part of the Keep set aside for the servants. She was being led away from it, towards the other side of the Keep. She couldn’t help but notice that it was significantly closer to Lord Eladria’s tower, but it would be quite a hike to the kitchen now each morning. She began to grow nervous, expecting the worst. Well, it’s finally happened. They’re throwing me in the dungeons, or for all I know, just locking me in a basement, she thought as they walked, twisting the strap of her one bag of belongings in her hands. Lord Eladria must have decided that I’m an evil sorceress or something. He seems awfully determined to believe I’m secretly out to get him. I must have been daft to think I could survive for any length of time in the midst of Eladrian paranoia.

  Unfortunately, it was a bit too late to reconsider her destination. She sighed. In all reality, she wasn’t sure she wanted to, even now. She had enjoyed that afternoon more than any she had since she was a child, before the apprenticeship trials had begun. I could have been so happy here, she reflected sadly, thinking back to sitting in the sunshine in Lord Eladria’s laboratory, watching his hands dance like a festival magician’s she had seen once. A comparison she was sure he would not care for, but it was how she felt, nevertheless.

  Finally the guard stopped at a large, rounded doorway. “This is your new room assignment,” he told her, and promptly left her there without comment.

  Kesara stared after him a moment. She did not usually come to this part of the Keep but she doubted he would have just left her standing in front of some dungeon entrance and expect her to lock herself in.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, only to be met with darkness. “Of course there wouldn’t be any light,” she muttered. She squinted into the room, hoping to make out a window or something, and at last thought she could see what might have been a curtain.

  Feeling doomed to stagger blindly around this place over and over again, she felt her way cautiously over to it, only hitting a limb once or twice, and tugged on what she saw.

  Sure enough, it was a heavy curtain, which parted to reveal part of one of the side gardens, illuminated by moonlight which now streamed into the room. She looked around and saw an oil lamp on a small table by the wall and hastened to light it.

  Setting it back down, she finally took a good look at her “dungeon.” It was a spacious bedchamber, with only one bed, far larger than her usual cot and made up with fine linens. There was a chest of drawers at one wall, a wooden trunk of some kind at the foot of the bed, a couple of small tables and what appeared to be a wardrobe. All of her belongings would have fit in only the trunk. A heavily padded green chair flanked a small fireplace in one wall, which had all the makings of a fire and needed only to be lit. All the necessary items were provided. It even had a little mantle, presently bare. She found it charming, all the more so because she usually spent her nights shivering on the other side of the room from any source of heat.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what had precipitated this change in rooms. Was this Lord Eladria’s way of thanking her for her help? Because oddly enough, though there was no doubt it was far more comfortable- and private- than her previous accommodations, it would also make her life a lot more difficult.

  She sank down on the edge of the bed wearily, contemplating what sorts of looks and remarks would be occasioned by her suddenly being moved into what had to be a guest room. Or the kind of penalty she’d incur from Cook if she ended up arriving late one morning, now that she was so much further from the kitchens and did not have the noise and bustle of her fellow servants to awaken her. She was not sure what people who had no servants did to wake up on time, if they lived alone.

  She sighed, letting herself fall back against the bed. It was amazingly soft, she thought dimly, closing her eyes- just for a moment.

  As it turned out, she didn’t need to worry about how she would wake up in time. She woke at dawn out of sheer habit, scrubbed and dressed and practically flew down the corridors until she ended, panting and trying hard to collect herself into some imitation of dignity, in the doorway to the kitchen.

  Cook looked up, saw her at once, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re not to be here, miss. His Lordship has excused you from your duties until further notice.”

  “I-I’ve been...dismissed?” Kesara asked, eyes wide with shock.

  Cook made a snorting sound, as if to say, no such joy. “Alas, but no, you are merely exempt from your duties- you are still in the employ of the Keep and will still collect wages. He might want to have you work elsewhere, is all.” The woman looked inordinately pleased at that thought, and Kesara wondered with foreboding if news about her ignorance of Cook’s condition had gotten out after all.

  “You’d best return to your room until His Lordship gives instructions for you,” Cook went on to suggest. This, too, seemed to make her brighten, before she turned back to chastising one of the other kitchen workers.

  Kesara sighed, once again making the long march back to her new quarters. She wasn’t sure what to make of this new arrangement, or what Lord Eladria had in mind for her, or why he had changed his mind now, since it seemed plain to her that he had originally meant for her to keep on in the kitchens when he didn’t have need of her other skills. She would have been fine with that, though admittedly her icy reception by her fellow servants upon her return had dismayed her. They would never like her, she supposed, but at least they had finally started tolerating her a bit better than before she’d met
their Lord.

  As it turned out, he kept her waiting for an answer to that one all morning. She was just starting to wonder if she ought to risk returning to the kitchens for luncheon- and if Cook would even feed her- when one of the guards gave a polite knock at her door. She had been summoned.

  She followed the guard nervously up the tower. Somehow it seemed twice as long with her stomach in knots, wondering how this was going to turn out. She wasn’t a fool, she knew he must have spoken with Graunt about her. That was why he’d taken her there, after all.

  The guard escorted her into Lord Eladria’s rooms and led her back directly to his laboratory. She remembered from the day before that he had eaten later than the servants usually did, who actually had their midday meal at midday. Apparently this was his custom. As she normally had nothing to do with anything directly pertaining to him in the kitchens, she was not sure of his habits.

  Her escort rapped quietly at the closed door, far more quietly than he had done when knocking for her. After a moment, she heard a mumbled but distinct, “send her in and be gone, man.” The guard inclined his head to her and strode off, leaving her there facing a closed door.

  Kesara stifled a sigh and went inside. She was momentarily dazzled again by the sunlight glittering on glass. Lord Eladria was behind one of the work tables furthest from the door, pinching something into a glass beaker full of deep purple fluid. She still didn’t know what this special project of the High Lord’s was, but she supposed it didn’t matter. She could hardly be of any help, she knew even less about alchemy than she did about the High Lord himself.

  She stood silently by the door until he’d finished and looked up. His face had that tightness around his ruins of a mouth that she was starting to learn meant he was holding back a smile. “You’ve a bit more color today, Kes,” he observed pleasantly. “The change of scenery must be doing you good.”

  She tilted her head, eyeing him speculatively, then remembered herself and quickly curtsied with a murmured “my lord.”

  He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment in return and began to sort through some metal implements on the table. “I’m sure you must be wondering what is going on. I spoke with Graunt last evening, and she advised me to have you moved. There’s certainly enough room in this Keep that it seemed almost stingy not to. She seemed to think your fellows would not appreciate the time you’ve been spending with me.”

  Kesara had to admit to herself that she was a little surprised that it mattered enough to him for him to heed Graunt’s advice; but then, he might usually heed it, no matter what it was about. “It is true that my return last night to the kitchens was not, shall we say, lauded with feasting and song,” she said dryly. “Is that all Graunt said?” She tried to make it sound casual, but her heart had started to hammer in her chest so hard she was sure her blouse shook from it with every beat.

  Lord Eladria glanced up at her. “She told me you are a Mirror,” he said, in the same tone of voice one with which one comments on the wetness of water or the heat of fire. She didn’t know what to say to that. So she did tell him, and he was acting like it made no difference to him? She felt torn between relief, confusion, and a wholly irrational sense of pique.

  “You could have asked to be moved yourself,” he went on, finally selecting what looked like small set of tongs.

  Kesara shook her head. “Could have, but would not have done. You don’t owe me anything, my lord, and I don’t expect to be treated any differently now than I was before. It is not my place to ask for favors. The other servants will either adapt or be miserable about me. It’s too bad, but there it is.”

  Lord Eladria set down the tongs again and studied her for a long, intent moment. She felt like his deep brown eyes were staring right through, rather than at, her, and she looked away, her cheeks warming. What does he see, I wonder?

  “Why did you ever help me?” he asked finally. There was an odd sense of strain to his words, a sudden tension in the way he held himself as he continued, “I know, I know- you are what you are. Maybe you felt compelled to do it. Maybe you felt like you had to continue after that. I must know your motives, and whether you still wish to be of service in this way in the future, of your own volition. I would not have you feeling...trapped. You are free to make your own choices here and you will never be punished for that.”

  “You’ve said as much to me once before,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but I don’t yet know whether you believe me, and how can I live with myself if you do not, but we carry on as we have been?” Kesara was surprised to realize he was actually worried about this.

  “What a strange man you are,” she mused out loud, regarding him thoughtfully. “Don’t trouble yourself so. I will not do any more than I wish to. Even though you will not like that. I have come too far to surrender all I’ve gained now.”

  Lord Eladria seemed to visibly relax. “I think I understand. And I think I would be more relieved than displeased if ever you say ‘no’ to me.”

  “Don’t be so certain about that, my lord,” she said quietly. “Men have a habit of wanting always to be in the right.”

  He chuckled, again taking up the tongs with a shake of his head. “Ah, yes, we menfolk are the only ones so disposed, eh?”

  She frowned a little. “I did not mean only males. You misunderstand me. I mean humans in general- normal humans, not cursed ones like myself.”

  Lord Eladria fumbled and nearly dropped the tongs into the beaker. “I beg your pardon, Kes?”

  “I thought you had spoken to Graunt about me,” she said warily. She fought the urge to cross her arms defensively, suddenly wondering just what, exactly, Graunt had said.

  “I did. She said nothing to me of a curse. If you mean your...abilities...that is an odd manner of viewing the situation. Graunt didn’t seem to think of it that way, anyhow, and I trust her judgment on these matters implicitly,” Lord Eladria explained. He opened a small box to the side of him with one hand and reached in with the tongs. She watched as he pulled out what appeared to be the body of a dead mouse. Her brows wrinkled in confusion as he dropped it onto a shallow dish filled with soil.

  Kesara swallowed, unable to take her eyes away from the mouse as she said, “Well, my kinsmen view it as a curse. Any children found to be...like me...are usually killed at once. If the parents can’t do it, our village elders do.”

  Lord Eladria stilled. She could feel his eyes intent on her face. “I don’t understand. I thought you were valuable, where you are from.”

  “If you mean Ytar, yes, I am valuable in Ytar.” She was startled by the bitterness in her own voice. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “My kinsmen are actually nomads who travel as a tribe throughout Ytar and also many of the neighboring countries. I have no memory of them, but my origins are no secret. Their beliefs about Mirrors are very different from the Ytarens’. They believe to have one born to a bloodline is a sign of the gods’ displeasure on that bloodline, and only returning the soul in question by way of sacrifice will lift the curse and appease the divine wrath.”

  “Then how did you survive such a belief?” he asked quietly.

  Kesara smiled without humor. “My parents were evidently incompetent and botched the sacrifice. Daughter Maura- one of my teachers- told me I was found bloody and unconscious in a snowbank, close to freezing to death. I remember nothing about this myself. She said something must have gone wrong and they had panicked, though of course, there’s no way of knowing what. It was pure chance that a traveling merchant was passing through and found me there. He and his wife nursed me back to health, and realizing what I was, took me to the school I told you about, where I became their ward. Which is customary even for those who are Ytaren by birth, if they are found to be Mirrors, so I was not really so very different from my peers there, few though there are.”

  “That’s terrible,” Lord Eladria said bluntly.

  She shrugged a little. “Like I said, I don’t remember it happening. It doesn’t h
ave the power to hurt me.”

  “You are very fortunate, then,” he said in a low voice, looking down at the mouse. “So few are so fortunate.” She thought he might have been about to say more, but instead, he took a little glass tube, dipped it in the purple fluid, and gently dripped a small amount of it onto the mouse’s corpse.

  A little puff of smoke came up from the little body, along with a dreadful smell of burning and rot. She wrinkled her nose as the liquid appeared to eat the body and finally looked away, seeking refuge in the far more comforting sight of the crackling fireplace.

  “Does this bother you?” Lord Eladria asked. She wasn’t sure if he sounded concerned or amused.

  “A little,” she admitted. “It reminds me of...other things.”

  “Have you ever worked with an alchemist before?”

  Kesara shook her head. “No, it’s not the...whatever that is.” She nodded towards the beaker. “It’s that smell. It reminds me of a battlefield in the worst of a Ytaren summer.”

  “What would you know of battlefields?” Lord Eladria sounded surprised.

  “Don’t you know what Mirrors are used for, my lord? It would be a waste to just have us sitting by sickbeds, don’t you think?” Kesara smiled a little, realizing she was quoting one of her old teachers. That felt like a lifetime ago already. Her lifetime. “Some bond with us just so they can enjoy the advantages in battle.” Her smile faded and she suddenly wondered if she’d just made a serious mistake by telling him that. He seemed to be handling the idea of a short term arrangement well, she hardly wanted to make the longer-term alternative sound needlessly tempting.

  “It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked back at him in surprise and he was looking at her steadily. His mouth quirked a little and he said, “No, I’m not a mind reader, you’re just that transparent. And I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do, I just hope you will eventually understand that it isn’t necessary.”