Kingdom of Mirrors and Roses

by A. W. Cross

  “Belle—” Clarice started, but stopped mid-sentence when I summoned up the magic from inside me.

  My eyes snapped open and I gestured at the sink, releasing the magic. “Purgate!”

  The dishes lifted from the water, the sponge hovered through the air toward them, and then began cleaning the dishes while moving around in circles.

  Clarice moaned softly.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, turning toward her.

  She was holding her head and squinted a little, but she nodded. “I’m fine, just a mild headache. It’ll be over soon.”

  Amélie gulped down another handful of eggs. She looked a little pale, and I hoped she wouldn’t become ill. We were running out of herbs as it was; although I asked Philippe, my best friend who was also a Hunter, to bring new herbs whenever he went out to the forest, it was barely enough to sustain the people in town.

  The sponge finished cleaning the dishes and fell back down on the sink. The dishes lined up neatly back into the cabinets. I had no idea why Father insisted we shouldn’t use our magic for trivial things; magic was a gift, sure, but why not use it to make our own lives easier once in a while?

  “I don’t want to settle for anything less than perfect,” Amélie said, steering back to our previous conversation. She already looked a little better. “And there’s no one in town who even comes near that, except maybe Ph—” She stopped mid-sentence and gave me a funny look.

  Clarice laughed, smiling from ear to ear. Her headache seemed to have disappeared as fast as it appeared. “Maybe who?”

  “Maybe no one.” Amélie looked down, but her cheeks turned as red as the lips from Snow White in her fairytale.

  “No, no.” Clarice stood up now too, and grabbed the milk tray to put it back into the kitchen cabinets. “I distinctively heard you say ‘Ph’. So, who?”

  “I don’t know. Phylis,” Amélie muttered below her breath.

  “Phylis? She’s sixty,” I said, not understanding.

  “Fine!” Amélie threw her hands in the air. “Fine! Philippe, okay, I meant to say Philippe! God, you’re horrible!” She stood up so fast she bumped into the table, nearly knocking over the only item left on it, the candle we lit up during dinner every evening.

  Without saying another word, Amélie raced up the stairs, two steps at a time.

  “Philippe?” I asked Clarice. “She likes… Philippe?”

  “Sure.” Clarice gestured for me to move aside so she could open the cabinet doors and put the milk back where it belonged. “It’s obvious. For anyone who has eyes. I’ve known it for months now.”

  “And you haven’t told me, why?”

  “Because it’s her secret to tell, not mine. Besides, we both know that’s never going to work. She just has one of those stupid child crushes, that’s all.”

  I glanced at the now-empty chairs and shuddered when the door to Amélie’s bedroom slammed shut from upstairs. “What if it’s not? What if she’s serious?”

  “Oh, come on.” Clarice snorted. “Philippe would never be interested in her. We both know he only has eyes for one woman.”

  “He has?” I almost had to sit down from shock. Was Philippe interested in someone? No… He would’ve told me. We’d been friends since we were both toddlers. Being the same age, we’d practically been raised together, and Philippe was one of the few people who didn’t care that I only had one real arm, and that I was infected with the Blight. Sometimes, he even grabbed my mechanical hand, without flinching or without even commenting about it, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Clarice rolled her eyes at me. “You’re an idiot.”

  I frowned. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

  Leaning against the kitchen cabinet, Clarice reached out and grabbed my hand. “You’re so smart, Belle. I used to think Father was the smartest person in the world, when we were little. But as we grew older, I realized I was wrong. When Father invented something and couldn’t work out this one kink, or this one error, and he struggled to find a solution, sometimes for days on end, then you would sweep in and come up with a solution and save the day. And then I began to realize, Father isn’t the smartest person I know, not anymore. It’s you.”

  “Uhm, thanks, I guess,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable at my older sister’s praise. “But I sense a ‘but’ coming”.

  “But when it comes to things like people, relationships, friendship? You’re an idiot.”

  This was the second time she’d called me an idiot in one morning, and I was starting to get annoyed. “Why?”

  Clarice shook her head. “Open your eyes, Belle. Maybe you spend so much time focusing on what’s in here…” She tapped her finger on my forehead. “That you forget to look at what is out there.”

  “What—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, she held a finger in front of my mouth to shut me up. “You’re coming into town with me today.”

  “What? No.” I hated going into town, and I already had to do it two or three times a week based on when we needed groceries or other items; I didn’t want to do it on a whim.

  “You are, no complaining. All you do, day in, day out, is either help out Father with his inventions, or lock yourself in your room trying to decipher Mother’s diaries.” She paused, and her tone grew softer. “It’s been years, Belle. We can’t stay stuck in the past. Mother’s diaries won’t be able to obliterate the Blight any more than Father’s inventions will. And in the meantime, life is getting away from you.”

  “What happened to you that you suddenly woke up with all the wisdom in the world?” My question was sarcastic, but a dark gleam crossed over Clarice’s features for a second.

  “I… What you said this morning scared me, Belle. About something, or someone being out there, whispering things to you, things like that you’re alike, and that you should join him or her?” Teas glistened in her eyes, and it had been years since I’d seen her this vulnerable. I wanted to hug her, wrap my arms around her, and tell her everything would be all right.

  “I think I even dreamt about something like that,” Clarice continued. “About something in the woods taking you away, saying you belonged with him. And I worry that… The more you shield yourself from the rest of us, the more you’ll start to belong with…”

  She stuttered, struggling to finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to. I knew what she meant.

  “Belong with them. With the Tainted,” I finished for her.

  “I want you to be happy, Belle.” She squeezed my hands. “No matter what. I don’t want you to be haunted by the past and by things we can’t change.”

  I looked down at our interlocked hands. Clarice was acting very strange, even for her. Way too concerned, way too emotional. And the way she said her last sentence, it almost sounded ominous, like a curse, like something was about to happen, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

  “Come on,” she pressed. “Come with me. Please?” She held her head to the side, batting her eyelashes. When she acted like that, I couldn’t say no to her, even if I wanted to.

  “Okay, fine. But I’m going to bring Father his breakfast first. And we’re stopping by the library. That’s about the only place in town I actually want to visit.”

  “Sure, whatever you want.” With a weary smile, Clarice moved away from the kitchen cabinet and glanced around the kitchen, as if she was looking for something to do.

  Something wasn’t right, not at all. I should be blunt, and just ask her straight-on what was going on, but if she wanted to tell me, she would. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to tell me yet.

  While I headed outside to Father’s workshop, a shiver ran down my spine despite it being soaking hot today, and I increased my speed, hurrying as if the devil was on my heels.

  3

  “Father! Breakfast!” I shouted by way of warning as I opened the two wooden doors that led to my father’s workshop, which was located in the basement underneath the house. Once upon a time, th
is had been a storage basement, but then my father had started to conquer more and more of its space with his inventions and workshop materials, and when my Mother passed away, he basically took over the entire place.

  “Oh, aw, yikes, oh!” My father shouted as welcoming cries, no doubt hammering on his own fingers again, getting his hand stuck between cogs for the millionth time, or dropping something on himself and getting hurt in the process.

  Father wasn’t naturally clumsy, but he was so focused on his work that he tended to forget everyone and everything around him, so that, when someone showed up into his workshop, he was so startled he either hit himself or something else—one of the reasons why I’d learned to give warning cries now to indicate my presence.

  “Are you okay?” I shouted as I descended the stairs into the basement.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Come on in,” Father called back from within his lair.

  Lair was the right word. Where, once upon a time, the workshop had at least appeared clean or somewhat organized, now it was a complete mess. Half-finished projects lined up the back wall, each of them in a different state of completion.

  Some of the ideas were decent, but some of them were downright ridiculous, like my Father’s attempt to build a machine he called the ‘Eggernaut’, a transport line that rolled forward and where the eggs of our chickens would automatically fall on after they’d been hatched. Then, the machine would carry the eggs to a basket at the end of the line. The system worked, sure enough, but if you had a dozen eggs on a normal day, then at least ten of them were broken from being thrown into a basket.

  Ultimately, the Eggernaut counted as another idea archived but never removed, as the remnants of the machine still occupied a back corner of the workshop.

  In the middle of the workshop filled with failed ideas, stood my father. He wore a brown apron and coat to protect himself from dirt and debris, sturdy boots, and goggles. Wearing goggles while you worked was the number one rule. That rule dated back from when Mother was still alive. Back then, Father’s workshop had been manageable, and ideas that turned out to be less-than-fabulous, he threw out or disregarded. Now, it seemed as if he didn’t have the heart anymore to throw anything out, not even a cooking automaton that he had tried to assemble five years ago and that had promptly tried to burn down our kitchen. While he’d make sure the murderous automaton couldn’t move anymore, it still occupied a spot in the chamber of horrors, looking as grim as ever.

  “I brought you some breakfast,” I said while I pulled my gaze away from the cooking automaton of doom that had tried to burn us all.

  Father’s workspace – a large, wooden table with a plethora of bolts, screws and nails spread upon—barely left any room for me to put down the tray, but he helped to shove some of his equipment aside.

  “Thank you, Belle.” He barely glanced at the tray before gesturing at his newest invention, which was occupying most of the wooden table. “What do you think?”

  I stared at Father’s newest invention. It looked like a crossbow ascended on top of a stick. Reasons why? Completely unclear.

  “Well… what is it?” I cleared some equipment off the wooden bench opposite Father’s workspace, and jumped on it, dangling my feet over the edge. I had spent many hours here, watching Father and learning from him, but mostly enjoying just being with him.

  Father blinked a few times, seemingly surprised I hadn’t guessed right away what exactly his new contraption was. “Well, I don’t have an official name for it yet, but it’s supposed to go on top of the Wall. See, this can be connected to the Wall…” He gestured to two hook-like devices he had screwed on to the bottom of the device. “Then, the apparatus will shoot at anyone who comes close from the other side of the Wall.”

  I couldn’t help but stare skeptically at the mini-harpoon-like invention. “And how will it know when the person coming near is one of the Tainted or one of us?”

  “Uhm….” Father paused for a second, staring at me, then at the gadget, and eventually looking back at me. “I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

  “So, if we were to install these things on top of the Wall, and our Hunters returned from the woods, they’d get shot…. I think that’s one flaw we’ll have to sort out before present this idea to the Town Council, Father.”

  “Hm, you are right…”

  Father either chose to ignore the hint of criticism in my voice, or he hadn’t even noticed, which wouldn’t be uncommon at all since he had that look in his eye, that strange gleam that came whenever he had come up with a concoction he thought would change our lives forever. Ninety percent chance that it didn’t change anything at all or ended up doing more harm than good, but I still loved seeing him like this. So happy. So excited about something. So passionate.

  Was I ever that passionate or excited about something? Anything?

  Maybe Clarice had a point earlier. Maybe I did spend too much time stuck in my own head, and not enough time focusing on the rest of the world.

  “Maybe I can re-engineer it so that the Hunters can turn off the contraptions before they head out,” Father mused out loud.

  “You mean you can’t even turn these off?” I stared at the crossbow on a stand, wondering how easy it would be for one of these to trigger and attack one of our own.

  “No.” Father shrugged. “I figured, once they’re turned on, why would we ever turn them off?”

  I frowned and jumped down from the table. “How do they register someone is nearby? How do they know where to shoot?”

  “I was thinking to connect them to a wire that we can hide underneath the bushes a few meters ahead of the Wall,” Father explained. “See, I have it set up right here.”

  Father pointed to a rope spun between two stretchers on the opposite wall. “Can you pull that string for me? And stay over there while you do it.” He moved behind the machine, opposite from where it was aiming at.

  I did as Father asked me to, and gently pulled the rope, like someone would do when tripping over it.

  The arrow fired exactly the moment I tripped the wire, hitting the floor at the spot where, minutes ago, Father and I had been talking.

  “Phew.” I whistled. “That’s impressive.” I looked back to the piece of rope, and followed its connection, along another cord, all the way to the lower part of the machine. It was ingenious in its simplicity. Pull the rope, and bam, the apparatus fired.

  “Thank you.” Father blushed a little. “I want these lined up all over the Wall, to protect us for when the Tainted try to come closer.”

  I inspected the device, tilting the crossbow from left to right. Although Father’s idea was good in theory, and the arrow shooting at the floor had been impressive, it also sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. If anyone got shot or worse, killed, by his invention, the townspeople would turn on us in a heartbeat and the Town Council would probably banish our entire family.

  My family wasn’t exactly well-liked. If not for the threat of death waiting for anyone who dared to venture outside the Wall, our town would have voted for us to leave already, that much I knew. They didn’t like my father’s inventions; they thought his automatons were creepy and that he was strange. The baker’s wife had even fainted the first time Father presented Dollie to the townspeople. They had disliked my mother too, perhaps even more than my father.

  Despite there being a few more Sorcerers in town, nobody quite liked Sorcerers. Legend had it that the Blight resulted from a spell gone wrong, and while nobody could prove that, it was enough to dislike our kind.

  But me, well, most people did more than just dislike me. That was one of the main reasons why I preferred to stay in our house, close to the outskirts of town, and why I would rather spend the next five days locked up in Father’s basement helping him finish his latest invention without as much as a drop of sunlight, than go into town with Clarice today.

  “If these machines need to go up on all sides, then the wires should be installed in segments,” I said. “So that,
when one of the Tainted shows up on the right side, only the right side is triggered and the arrows only get shot from the right side. There’s no point shooting arrows from the left if the attack is from the right.”

  “Hmmm… You’re right.” Father moved next to me, and I smelled his familiar scent—when I was younger, the smell had always comforted me and made me feel safe. “That’s a good idea, and it should be easy enough.”

  “How will they reload? Before showing them to anyone, maybe we should look for a way to have them reload automatically, so that they can shoot again after an attack.” I felt a wisp of excitement growing in me. Maybe Father’s idea wasn’t so crazy after all, but it still needed some tweaks, and tweaking things was what I was good at.

  I turned around, grabbed my own set of goggles from one of the shelves lined up from the wall, and put it on my head. “Open it up.”

  Father’s smile grew wider as he opened the back part of the apparatus, showing me a mixture of wires in different colors, along with a few cogs and gears.

  “You could maybe,” I said while I inspected the wiring Father had done so far, “include a different shooting range per wire tripped.” I pulled at the rope connected to the device a little, and saw which wire moved inside the device—the red one. “How about you add a different wire every meter or so? And then, once it’s tripped, the correct rope connects to the correct wire, and the shooting range is changed.”

  Father’s mouth dropped open and he stared at me as if I’d grown three heads. “That’s brilliant.”

  I smiled at him; his praise made me feel proud of myself. “I take it that now, the device doesn’t take into account the exact position of the person tripping the wire,” I continued. “But by using the amount of vibrations in the tripped rope, we should be able to calculate the exact spot where the person was standing when the wire was tripped, and if we can use that to change the shooting range, then these devices could be a lot more precise.”