Broken Mirrors

by A. F. Dery

  But as he saw another of the High Lord’s messengers approach, he suddenly realized he had a fairly good idea about that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I didn’t hit her.”

  Kesara gradually felt awareness seeping back into her. She was lying on her back, stretched out on something. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her rear end hurt, and her ribs really hurt- relatively speaking, of course.

  “I would never hit a woman!”

  Everything was dark. That was probably because her eyes were closed. She thought she’d give it another moment to make absolutely sure. No good came of rushing these things, as she knew from experience.

  “Don’t look at me that way, Graunt, she ran into me. Truly. She’ll tell you herself.”

  Yes, of course I will, my lord. I will immediately own to slamming into you in your own hallway while fleeing the undesired attentions of your steward who is, by the way, probably some kind of pervert. Just so you know. Kesara wondered in a foggy, distant sort of way if maybe she ought to say something to Lord Eladria about that. Eventually. For the children, of course, not at all because the man had annoyed the unholy hells out of her today.

  “She was running very quickly.” A pause. “It was actually quite impressive, thinking back on it...”

  And she had no proof, anyhow. Perhaps further investigation was in order first. Generally that required eye-opening.

  At that thought, she cracked one open slightly. The brightness of wherever-she-was greeted the pain in her head with enthusiasm and she quickly shut it again before she could make anything out.

  Evidently, the dialog taking place somewhere in her proximity did not take notice of this heroic application of personal effort.

  “And of course, I was in full armor for that bloody training exercise...”

  Ooh, that explained a lot. Like that pounding here, and that throbbing there....

  “I tried to bring her around myself, but she wouldn’t be brought.”

  Damn straight, thought Kesara.

  “So I am absolutely not trying to hide my servant-battering from the rest of the Keep. I just thought since you are familiar with...you know, the whole Mirror thing...you would know best how to handle this.” Another pause. “She is all right, isn’t she? I heard her head hit the floor.”

  “Was there an echo?” Graunt’s gravelly voice rasped, sounding amused.

  “Not funny,” Lord Eladria said.

  Kesara tried again to open her eyes. Though not much more successful than she’d been the first time, this time she was noticed.

  “Oh, that is a good sign, she’s waking up,” Lord Eladria sighed as if he’d been waiting a fortnight to see this very thing. His relief both touched and perplexed her. Perhaps he felt another headache of his own coming on.

  Kesara felt something cool and damp touch her forehead. “You’d better be brought, little rabbit,” Graunt’s voice murmured drily in her ear. “My boy isn’t a very patient one. Be much longer about things and he’ll insist I start on you with the needles. For your own good, of course.”

  The next effort at eye-opening had remarkably more vigor and after a few dozen rapid blinks, she found she was in Graunt’s cavern room- something she could have guessed at with eyes closed, she thought a little bitterly- evidently lying on one of the random tables she’d seen during her visit with a small cushion of some sort under her head.. The room was brighter than she recalled, evidently owing to several oil lamps that had been lit and placed on surfaces near her. Lord Eladria stood to one side of her looking vaguely dismayed at the course of recent events, and Graunt stood to the other, looking...well, like Graunt.

  Those little black eyes seemed to laugh at her. “Such progress, so soon. I’d expect no less from you,” Graunt declared, showing teeth.

  “How are you doing, Kes?” Lord Eladria’s brown eyes looked worried. Kesara almost expected to see hand-wringing.

  “I’m fine, my lord,” she managed to say, suddenly feeling awkward with conversing from her position on the table, but as of yet unwilling to try to move anything.

  “You said that before,” Lord Eladria’s eyes narrowed and his tone turned accusing. “And then you fainted.”

  “Fainted? I did no such thing,” Kesara said at once, offended. “I temporarily lost consciousness, no doubt because I nearly cracked my head open. Could have happened to anyone, my lord.”

  “Not to me,” he informed her. “I don’t really need a helmet, I just wear one for show.”

  Kesara thought about that a moment and decided that, while this was likely just obligatory masculine boasting, he might be teasing her. And that would be...odd. Very odd.

  “Well, be that as it may, the fact remains that there was absolutely no fainting going on, my lord,” Kesara tried to push herself up on her elbows but quickly gave up on it as her ribs screamed their displeasure. “No, I may have blacked out a moment-”

  “Many moments,” Lord Eladria said. “Enough moments to get you here to Graunt.”

  “Maybe you just walked very quickly, my lord, and didn’t realize it only took a moment.” She tried to sound humble, as though awed by this sudden revelation of his speed.

  “I’m not that fast,” Lord Eladria’s eyes had narrowed nearly to slits by this time. “But you, on the other hand...”

  Uh-oh.

  “You were really flying down that corridor. What the hell was going on there? Do you normally tear down the hallways when you think no one’s around?”

  At that moment, a couple of things became very clear to Kesara. The first was that no matter how convinced she was becoming that her new superior was some kind of pervert who fancied children, she had no evidence, and voicing such a suspicion without any would be idiocy, if not madness, particularly to one as lawfully-minded as she imagined Lord Eladria was. Thus, the true reason behind her flight, divorced from that suspicion, made her look like a hysterical ninny.

  The second was that every other excuse she could think of on such short notice through the pounding in her head just made her look stupid. Or crazy. Or just crazy and stupid.

  “I...uh...I was in a hurry...”

  Those narrowed brown eyes seemed to burn into her brain and Kesara tried not to squirm.

  “I think I could guess that much, don’t you?” he drawled.

  “Let it be a moment, Thane,” Graunt interrupted. “I need to examine our rabbit.” She leaned down toward Kesara and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I don’t like to do it when the patient is unconscious. It spares them so much, wouldn’t you say?” The creature gave her ribs a rather savage poke and chuckled.

  Kesara’s training held her in good stead, however, for she didn’t even blink, only drew an uncomfortably deep breath and said, “At least one of those is broken. I thought I heard a bone snap before I lost consciousness.” She said those last with great emphasis and dared a sidelong glance at Lord Eladria. One corner of his deformed mouth twitched in what she guessed (hoped?) was a suppressed smirk.

  Graunt tsk’ed. “At least you didn’t hit him facing fully forward, or we’d have one truly broken Mirror.” She guffawed at her own joke, the great bark-brown folds of her body quivering with her mirth.

  Kesara found herself wondering if it was possible to lose one’s eyesight from the strain of having to habitually check one’s inclination towards eye-rolling.

  Graunt proceeded to examine her professionally enough. The creature’s hands were cold as ice and slightly clammy, causing Kesara to shiver however hard she tried to ignore the impulse, but she seemed to know what she was about. Graunt would ask frequently about her pain level, though whether this was because she hoped what she did was aggravating it or whether she truly couldn’t tell what hurt Kesara and what did not was a mystery to her. Finally she announced that Kesara was right about the ribs but all else was merely bruising.

  “Except the head,” Graunt said, with a shake of her own. “You knocked your brains quite hard. You were out cold for several minu
tes and that’s never good. You’ll need to stay off your feet for the next few days.” She looked to Lord Eladria. “You have her brought back if she gets the shakes or something else changes, yes?”

  “Of course, old mother, thank you,” Lord Eladria said. “Darius has managed to live without her this long, another few days ought not make a difference.”

  At that name, Kesara shuddered slightly. What if the man decided a head injury warranted a repeat of his little tutorial?

  “He won’t like me much for saying it, but you should have one of his keep an eye on her while she’s abed. Just to head off any possible trouble.” Graunt waved a long hand at him as though she were shooing an invisible insect. “Don’t even tell me they’re professionals and would do their jobs, that is not in question, only their ability to be amicable with a foreigner they distrust, and this one doesn’t need any stress to further antagonize her brains.”

  “I would not think of arguing, Graunt,” Lord Eladria said meekly.

  Kesara’s eyes widened as Graunt reached up and casually smacked at his face, managing to reach only his neck.

  Lord Eladria’s mouth twitched. “Shall I lean down for you, old mother?”

  Graunt snorted. “You’re a terrible boy.” But her voice was as warm as Kesara had heard it yet. “Go get your flying rabbit put to bed. You should soon be there yourself, the judgments start tomorrow and it won’t do for you to be testy.”

  “Yes, old mother,” Lord Eladria said, bowing.

  To Kesara’s alarm, he then reached down and simply scooped her off the table, cradling her in one big arm that felt like it was carved from granite.

  “I can walk!” she insisted, mortified. She felt Lord Eladria stiffen.

  “I can get someone else to carry you, if you prefer, but you’re not going back all that way on foot when Graunt said to stay off your feet.”

  “You can walk, for short distances perhaps, if you have someone there with you in case your balance is still affected,” Graunt put in, her eyes glittering strangely. “But the walk back to the Keep is too long for you right now.”

  Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she mumbled, “Isn’t there a back door or something? I’ll never live this down. Never.”

  She felt Lord Eladria relax again and he gave a low chuckle. She felt it rumble through his chest as he started to walk.

  “The Keep abuts a mountain, so unless you’re as good at tunneling as you at careening into people...”

  “Oh, gods,” she moaned. “Like the other servants don’t have enough ammunition.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, word of what happened is probably all over the Keep by now, regardless of how you make it back in.” She could hear the smile in his voice, though from where she was cradled against his chest, she couldn’t see enough of his face to confirm it.

  “Thank you, but no it does not, my lord,” she mumbled, and again, the rumbling chuckle. She turned her face towards his chest to keep herself from seeing the reactions she was sure they would get as they emerged from the cavern. He smelled like sweat, soap, and the smoky, earthy aroma that reminded her of a freshly lit pipe. At some point after she’d blacked out, he must have taken off the full armor he had mentioned to Graunt, for he was dressed now in tunic and trousers, and she felt the heat radiating off of him through the cloth. She resisted the urge to burrow in closer, because she was not altogether convinced that embarrassment couldn’t be lethal.

  “I could have had someone else carry you. It would have attracted less notice,” he commented quietly.

  “Is there staring? Laughing? Pointing? Poorly hushed commentary on the clumsiness of non-Eladrians? I’m not looking, you know.”

  She felt the vibration of an almost-silent laugh. “Staring, perhaps a little. They look away out of respect for me, but they’re probably wondering why I’m bothering to do this myself.”

  Kesara hesitated. “To be truthful, my lord, I’m rather wondering the same thing. You really don’t have to go to the trouble personally.”

  Her world momentarily shifted as he shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t trust you to behave yourself for anyone else.”

  “What makes you say that?” Kesara asked, pierced through with foreboding.

  “Well, I hear things, you know. There are no secrets in the Keep and apparently my steward was hollering at you at some point...something about disrespect, if my source was accurate...”

  “Ugh,” she said. Then, after a moment, she added politely, “my lord. Ugh, my lord.”

  “Are you giving him trouble? I thought you wanted the position.” Thankfully, Lord Eladria did not sound angry to her, only puzzled.

  “I did. I do. And I wasn’t trying to give him trouble,” Kesara said tightly. “I found something he said offensive and...I did lose my temper for a moment. I apologized for it. I will accept whatever penalty you or he wishes to impose for my lapse.”

  When Lord Eladria remained silent, she thought, I should have said regrettable lapse. Maybe I didn’t sound contrite enough.

  But after a few moments that felt like much longer, he said in a very low murmur that she probably would not have been able to hear if she had not been pressed against his chest, “Not many women would call Darius ‘offensive.’ He gets along with women exceedingly well. What did he do to put you off, I wonder?”

  She was suddenly unsure if he was talking to himself or her, but was saved from making a decision when he said, “Here we are. You can look now.”

  Sure enough, they had come to her new room. Lord Eladria easily pushed open the door with one hand and hesitated at the threshold.

  “Do they not bother with lights in this part of the Keep?” he wondered in a more audible tone than before.

  “Evidently not. It was pitch black when I was brought here last night,” Kesara said. Lord Eladria sighed and it was like being held by a mountain during an earthquake. She was grateful anew for her exceptionally high tolerance for pain.

  Lord Eladria made a strange sound in the back of his throat and to Kesara’s surprise, a harried-looking servant came running.

  Something Darius had no doubt failed to mention in the midst of explaining the intricacies of ‘alphabetical order’ to the ignorant foreign heathen, Kesara thought wryly.

  “This,” she felt a slight jerk as he motioned with his chin somehow, “is unacceptable.”

  “My lord,” the servant fairly squeaked.

  “It won’t happen again.” There was no threat in his voice, he could have been remarking on the weather given the casualness with which he spoke, but Kesara saw the servant turn utterly white.

  “My lord,” came the squeak a moment later, and the servant fled into the room somehow. A moment later, oil lamps were springing to life and a fire was being laid in the hearth. Lord Eladria carried her inside and laid her down on the bed, as gingerly as if she were made of porcelain.

  No doubt he thinks I am, compared to his durability, Kesara thought.

  After the servant had finished and ducked back out the door, an act punctuated with many curtsies, Lord Eladria said to her, “I’ll speak with Darius about sending someone to sit with you.”

  Kesara debated a moment with herself for a moment, then said tentatively, “Er, forgive me, my lord, as I know it isn’t my place to comment...”

  “But you’re going to anyway,” Lord Eladria guessed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  “It is only that your steward scarcely has enough bodies to keep up with the tower as it is, or so I’m told. I honestly doubt he could spare anyone just to sit here and stare at me in bed. I’m sure I’ll be fine, my lord.”

  But Lord Eladria was already shaking his head. “I think not. I am quickly learning you do not understand the word ‘fine’ the same way as the rest of the world does. What is your first language, anyway?”

  Kesara ignored that. “Really, my lord, I could always call for help if I need it-”

  “Not that anyone would hear you from over here.”


  “Isn’t this normally a guest room or something?” she frowned. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a bell pull or any such thing.

  “Not at all,” Lord Eladria said, and to her surprise, his face was reddening. “I had this room set up especially for you. Because it’s close to the tower. It just seemed to make more sense, if you’ll be spending your time up there, and I already told you that Graunt advised me not to leave you in the servants’ quarters...”

  “Of course, my lord. Very sensible,” she said to reassure him. His sudden embarrassment perplexed her, but she’d consider that later. “I really wouldn’t mind one of the kitchen workers, even if they mind me.”

  “No, I’d not see you uncomfortable. If Darius can’t spare someone, he can always do it himself,” Lord Eladria announced.

  She barely stopped herself in time from yelling “ACH! NO!” and instead said quickly in a voice only slightly higher than normal, “Now that would definitely not be necessary, my lord. Your steward is a very busy man, I’m sure. I really don’t think it would do, and besides...” she grasped at straws with both hands. “He’s a man! We shouldn’t be alone together! It’s, uh, improper!” Then for good measure, “Ah! My maidenly virtue!”

  Lord Eladria raised a single eyebrow, nearly to his hairline, and looked around the room in a slow, deliberate fashion.

  Oh, right, she thought. WE’RE alone now. If the ground had often resisted her pleas to open up and swallow her whole, the bed beneath her was just as stubborn.

  “All right, fine, I just don’t want to be alone with him, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth. There. She’d said it.

  “He really must have upset you to drive you to weave such skillful webs of deceit as only I, the reigning Lord of Eladria, could untangle,” he deadpanned. Kesara tried, with little success, not to smile at that. Then, more seriously, “Is there anything I ought to know about?”

  She was sorely tempted to shout “He’s a pervert!” but what came out was a meek, “No, my lord.”