The Maiden in the Mirror

by Scott Hamerton

  "I brought you some supper. I thought you might be hungry."

  "Thank you," he replied, and gestured towards a small patch of empty table. "I must save it for later, however. I just ate."

  Minerva nodded as she set the box down. Her father was the same, when he was studying. "I know you're not eating, but mind if I do?" she asked. Warily, she approached the side of his table, dinner crate in hand. "I wanted to ask you some things."

  "Please do, on both counts," he said.

  Minerva opened her food and grasped the utensils, but only stared, wondering how to ask the thing she needed to know. "A man named Roker attacked me," she said, as an opener.

  "I heard. I also heard that you retaliated quite viciously."

  Minerva didn't reply.

  "Not unlike what happened when the swabbies attacked you."

  "I had help," Minerva confessed, as she drew Velvet from her bun and laid the sword upon the table.

  "Tell me what transpired," Lintumen said, and he licked his lips and his eyes widened, eager to learn.

  "I saw a ghostly woman. I couldn't think straight whenever I saw her, and I thought she was attacking me, but I think she was trying to help me."

  Lintumen grinned wide and fierce. "The Assassin's Bane. Who needs a guard to save you when your sword can fight for you?"

  Minerva always felt unnerved by Lintumen's smile, and the effect was particularly profound in this moment. His gaze locked onto Velvet as he spoke. However, his interpretation directly aligned with her own.

  "It was like I wasn't in control of my own thoughts," she said with a swallow. "How did she do that?"

  Lintumen's face relaxed as he leaned back and looked down at her. "Magicians call it the Equality of Will. She wanted what you wanted, and that alignment of thought allowed her to exert her will upon you. The ghost was merely a phantom of your mind. A hallucination. She was a way for Velvet to communicate her intentions. However, unless you are much weaker of will than I imagined, it would have been very difficult for her to control you directly. So, think carefully about her actions. You said the ghost tried to attack you. When? Was there a pattern?"

  Minerva reluctantly went back in her mind to the night she met Roker. "Always immediately before Roker did."

  Lintumen nodded contentedly. "Those that forged your blade undoubtedly saw fit to imbue her with the knowledge of a master of arms. I suspect that she was reading his posture, and used this knowledge to preface his attack with an attack of her own. Without the ability to control your body directly, she could still control it reflexively."

  Minerva furrowed her brow as she put a steamed carrot in her mouth, fixing her gaze on Velvet in the same way that Lintumen had done. "So that I could dodge in time," she mused, chewing thoughtfully.

  "Precisely, my dear."

  Minerva huffed. She hated the idea of being manipulated like that, but she couldn't deny the facts. Without Velvet's help, she probably wouldn't have fared quite so well. She ate the rest of her supper mostly in silence, while Lintumen rambled on about the principles of magic, delving deep into the meandering philosophies of relics and willpower. She didn't follow much of it, and was more interested in the quality of Thimbler's meal.

  "I think I should go see Nezzen for a bit," she interjected, cutting off Lintumen.

  The navigator appraised her posture as she closed her supper box and stood up. "Very well," he said, and went back to reading his book.

  Lintumen never replied when Minerva said goodnight, leaving her feeling guilty for abandoning him. She suppressed the emotion with a sigh as she passed by the open door into the captain's cabin. She was going to wish him goodnight, as well, but he seemed to be busy working on something at his desk, so she left him alone.

  Nezzen, on the other hand, she was willing to climb up a mast to meet, just on the chance that he would talk to her for a few minutes. She was nearly to the nest when she spotted something moving on the deck down below. It was difficult to tell from where she was, but it looked like a patch of oil drifting across the boards. It slipped quietly up the gangplank and slithered up to the doors that went to the quarters of the captain and Lintumen. Once there, it soundlessly oozed inward through a space much too small for human passage. Something about the way it moved put every hair on Minerva's body on end. It was not, by any extent of her imagination, natural.

  "Nezzen?"

  "Yes," he replied, from out of view.

  "Did you see that?"

  "I did."

  "What was it?"

  "I have no idea."

  Minerva put her hand to the pistol that hung loosely around her waist. "Do you think they're in trouble?"

  "Lintumen? No. Captain Glass? Well, let's just say his last name isn't Glass."

  Minerva sucked in her courage, contemplated the itch of the rope between her toes, and then hastily descended to the deck. She crept to the side of the stained-glass doors, loaded her pistol, and then drew Velvet in the other hand before pushing the door open quietly.

  A faint light shone out from the captain's chambers. Lintumen's room was black beneath the door.

  With every step closer, Minerva felt her heart rise in her chest and her pulse quicken. Her eyes darted to the dark corners of the short passage, expecting to see a patch of flowing tar rushing towards her. After several steps into the hallway, a tiny piece of torn paper shuffled out from under Lintumen's door.

  It's just a cloak!

  From what she had seen of it, Lintumen normally wrote in a delicate and flowing script with near perfect linear alignment, and yet these four simple words were scrawled across the back of a page that had been torn from the first book at hand.

  Minerva eyed the locks on Lintumen's cabin, wishing desperately for any additional assistance or wisdom he could offer, but the nature of his note told her far more than the words written on it. The captain was in danger. Right now.

  Chapter 41

  Cloak and Shadow

  Minerva didn't know what she was going to see when she opened the door to Captain Glass' cabin. Whatever the creepy shadow was, it went in without a sound. At first, she didn't see anything unusual. The captain sat at his writing desk, some paces away. He held a large feather quill in his motionless hand. A few lanterns burned in the room, casting a warm glow over the simple treasures that Glass stored in his private quarters. The gentle smell of the captain's cologne suffused the cabin with a sense of familiarity.

  Then his shadow moved. Not like an object, or water, or an animal, or anything within Minerva's scope of reality.

  The thing before her held no clear form but that of a shadow that couldn't decide where it should start and where it should end. It stretched into the corners and grooves of the room, and washed against every surface it touched. The only definition in its entire body was a perfectly smooth white mask that bobbed and weaved across its inky surface.

  Minerva's throat seized in fear as the shadow flowed up behind the captain and her lungs bucked for air. It was holding a dagger, but she didn't know how. It had no hands. She trained the pistol on the mask, stalling in want of a conclusive target.

  The dagger drifted upward, pointing downward at the captain's back.

  "No!" she shrieked.

  It wasn't what she meant to say or do, but it was loud and alarming, and it worked. Captain Glass leaped from his seat with a tiny scream, and fell out of his chair as a wicked slice of steel pinned his letter to the table.

  Minerva aimed for the mask and pulled the trigger. White dust exploded into the air and the captain shrieked again, covering his ears and curling his legs against his body as he drove himself into the corner.

  The writhing darkness snapped away. Its single flat face, now cracked and broken, flicked back and forth between her and her captain. Then it rushed Minerva, over a small railing between them and around a chair. Its body didn't move so much as it just existed in more area than before, and then less area afterward, transposing itself from one location to another while it
s emotionless facade jerked wildly across the entirety of its shapeless form.

  Minerva dashed sideways, bringing Velvet to her writing hand and doing her best to keep the blade trained on the only part of her opponent worth hitting. Velvet's ghost flickered into existence between them, but the shadow stretched tall and wide, and in a flash of darkness, engulfed the specter. Minerva felt Velvet's hilt freeze like ice in her hand as the darkness sprinted towards her.

  The thing spread outwards and around Minerva, consuming the light of her entire world. Minerva lunged in response, striking blindly in a bid to escape. Velvet met with little resistance as Minerva sliced straight through the blackness, and light sprang forth, revealing the room beyond. She dove into the opening, bashing her shins on a chair and tripping, and then scrambling up to the captain. He had managed to get to his feet, propping himself up in the corner, between the wall and the desk.

  "Load this!" she urged, placing her pistol on the desk while the creature reeled to face them.

  This time it approached much slower, weaving back and forth. The gash Minerva inflicted moments ago twisted and shrank, and then vanished.

  "Load it!" Minerva screamed at the dumbstruck captain. She stood between Glass and the shadow, desperate for Velvet's ghost to reappear.

  "What is that thing?" the captain begged, as he fumbled with the pistol. His voice cracked high with fear, and he spilled powder all down his nice clean pants.

  He's drunk, her mind informed her kindly, necessitating the creation of a plan that did not include the captain. "It's just a cloak," she said quietly, recalling Lintumen's advice.

  The cloak-thing crawled onto the ceiling with its mask-face twisting in circles.

  "It's just a cloak," Minerva repeated with strength, mostly for the sake of her own conviction.

  The shadow halted just beyond Minerva's reach and transfixed its black and empty gaze upon her. Something cold and metal touched her shoulder, and she jumped. Captain Glass moved to hand her the pistol, but interrupted himself with a panicked cry. Minerva realized too late that she had taken her eyes off the threat, and the shadow slammed into her, knocking her to the side.

  Minerva crashed headlong into the wall, sending splitting pain into her eyes, but she rallied fast, desperate to keep the danger in focus. A flash of silver flickered from within the flowing mass of blackness as it reeled on her.

  It has its dagger again, she realized. It pushed her aside to take it from the desk. What at first was a terrifying thought became a revelation. The dagger is in its hand!

  For a moment, a black glove on an arm of black cloth appeared, holding the weapon. Minerva stabbed triumphantly at the limb, but was far too slow. The cloak danced away and the dagger vanished from view. The shadow immediately distanced itself from Minerva, giving plenty of time for the illusion to complete itself again.

  "I can see you!" Minerva yelled as assuredly as possible, lying completely. "You're a man wearing a mask, and black clothes," she taunted, swinging her sword at the creature, hitting nothing.

  No man appeared in the darkness. It simply waited, dodging and feinting each time she struck at any notion of a perceived detail. Never did it move within her reach. Never did it leave an opening. If she lunged it pulled back. Wary of falling into a trap, she kept her distance, but it always followed from just beyond the tip of her weapon.

  Minerva raced through a thousand ideas that might explain the actions of the shadow. With a smaller weapon, and possibly outnumbered, it was simply wearing her down. Minerva felt the soreness in her legs and the fatigue in her mind. Her breath was fast and heavy, and her mouth had gone dry. It was faster and stronger, and almost unseen. Eventually she would tire, and falter, and then it would have her.

  Captain Glass cowered in the corner. The image Minerva once held of her captain, with his beautiful clothes and polished buttons, standing majestically at the helm of the Skyraker, entirely crumbled. His last name isn't Glass, is what Nezzen said, and just like glass, he was fragile. He had lived up to his name.

  Minerva turned her attention to the creature, driving it back each time it drew close. "It's just a cloak!" she screamed defiantly, pushing forward again, desperate for a plan.

  The shadow drifted around the table as its white mask bobbed low and high, and then side to side. The lamp on the table cast a terrifying glow across the gentle curves of its broken face, but failed to illuminate the abyss of its body.

  "The lamp," Minerva cried, grabbing for its handle. She ripped the cover open and exposed the flame. "You might be a shadow, but your darkness does not hide from the light." Minerva dropped Velvet from her hand and worked feverishly to uncap the oil-filled reservoir. "It's just a cloak made to look like a shadow," she sneered triumphantly. "And all cloth burns!"

  Before she finished her sentence, Minerva flung the contents of the lamp outward across the table in a wide splash. In response to her attack, the shadow didn't dodge or a parry, or perform a coordinated response. Instead, it flailed in panic, retreating frantically from the threat of being set ablaze.

  Minerva threw herself forward with the abandon of a cornered animal bent on survival. Desperate and wild, the white mask whipped about the room, darting for the exit, but Minerva swung her light in a wide arc. She intercepted its retreat, sending it fleeing backwards.

  Seeking refuge, it crawled up the wall into the furthest corner it could reach. Minerva approached slowly, sliding her feet along the carpet while keeping her eyes locked on her foe. Her reach was short, but even along the ceiling it could not escape her. Between her own heavy gasps, she heard something familiar; the darkness was breathing.

  Minerva stopped, stricken with wonder. Those heavy panicked breaths—an entirely human sound—revealed everything.

  The illusion of a shadow vanished, and Minerva beheld a woman braced against the walls in a feat of incredible athletics. Black seamless cloth covered everything that could reveal her as human, and a massive dark cloak shrouded her entire head and body, stretching around her in all directions. Covering her face, she wore a featureless white porcelain mask, although it now bore an accented scar of ragged edges as inflicted by a gunshot.

  Minerva's jaw fell open. "You're a woman," she stammered.

  The veil of darkness faltered entirely, and the cloaked woman gasped heavily. Oil soaked her clothes, and for a moment, they merely stared at each other. Minerva thought of the fight with Cloudscorch, and of the terrible stench of burning flesh and the horrible death that fire could bring to a person. She suddenly doubted her ability to inflict such a cruel punishment upon another person, even one that had tried to kill her.

  Then the tiny wick in her hand, deprived of its fuel source, went out. The shadows in the room shifted and the veil of darkness on the wall reformed, emboldened.

  Minerva stood weaponless before a nightmare.

  Rather than resume the fight, the mask defied Minerva's expectations. It turned into its own darkness with a snap, and then the shadow folded into nothing, like water disappearing down a drain. The remaining light flowed in slowly, filling the void in reality.

  Minerva snatched Velvet from the floor, searching frantically for any sign of movement. She found only Captain Glass. He stood wide-eyed and terrified in the corner with a loaded pistol clenched in his shaking hands.

  Chapter 42

  The Counsel of Shadows

  "What was that thing?" Captain Glass demanded.

  Lintumen leaned back from the captain's ale soaked breath and caressed the torn page of his book, doing his best to replace the scrap that Minerva had returned to him. "A counselor," he said.

  "A what?"

  "A counselor. Powerful magicians capable of wielding fear and darkness as a weapon, to incredible effect, as I'm sure you noticed."

  "There is more than one?!" Glass shrieked.

  "Perhaps, and there we meet the most peculiar aspect of their identity. You see, it is difficult to discern the true intent of their homonymic title. Is it the counsel
of shadows, as in advice, or is it the council of shadows, as in a group of people? No one knows for certain. However, in light of their considerable power, I struggle to believe that more than one exists."

  Glass breathed in heavy gasps and his eyes darted about the room, still vigilant against any possible appearance of the shadow. The elderly sage appeared oblivious to the distress of his ally.

  Minerva sat on the bed, doing her best to stop shaking.

  Captain Glass rubbed his face and pulled his hair with both hands, lost in worry, until another thought overtook him. "Why don't you have any lights on?" he muttered.

  Minerva noticed it right then as well. The only illumination in the room came from the open door into the hall.

  "A shadow cannot form in the darkness," Lintumen replied through a wry grin. "Truthfully, you're lucky that Minerva happened to interrupt its attack. She saved your life."

  Captain Glass nodded, but his demeanor slumped, as if someone had just lowered an immense weight onto his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, but he frowned for an instant before turning his attention back to Lintumen. "What do I do about this man? This assassin?"

  "Woman," Minerva said, correcting Captain Glass.

  "I'm sorry, say again?" said the captain, dumbfounded.

  Even in the dim light, Minerva spotted the smile that swept onto Lintumen's face. "It was a woman, not a man," she said.

  "How do you know?" the captain urged.

  "She unveiled her," Lintumen explained. "Or more accurately, she unveiled her own mind, stripping away the illusion at the same time."

  "It wasn't me," she responded dismally. "Your note said it was just a cloak. I just kept trying to see what was really there."

  "And you remembered my advice, even in that situation, and pierced the illusion. I offer you my compliments without reservation."

  "What do I do, Lint?" Glass wailed. "He's sending shadows to kill me!"