by L. J. Smith
“Please,” she said softly to no one at all.
Slowly, one by one, the others knelt around her. Even Elwyn, after an uncertain look at Charles, faltered and joined them. But Morgana’s lashes were dark crescents against the lifeless pallor of her face, and neither breath nor heartbeat stirred her body.
The vixen bowed her red-gold head and whimpered.
And then something magic happened.
Almost as if awakened by the vixen’s cry, a tiny glimmer of gold rippled down the rusty staff. As they watched, unbreathing, another joined it, and another. Like sparks on a wire, like shining beads of molten gold, the glimmers raced and multiplied until the entire staff was alive with them, swarming, throwing a pattern of light on Morgana’s face.
In that shimmer of gold they saw the deathly pallor retreat from the sorceress’s cheeks. The shadows around her eyes faded. And then her lips parted and her breast rose and fell with the intake of breath.
They were still on their knees, encircling her, when the sorceress opened her eyes. She looked at them in surprise, then quickly took a deep breath, one hand fluttering to her face. Her astonished gaze fell on the glass, which still held a few drops of water and the remains of the flower.
“Malthrum!” she cried. “But which of you could possibly—” And then for some reason she looked at Alys. “Never mind,” she said, sinking back, still looking at her. Then, quietly: “I thank you.”
Alys swallowed and nodded, her cheeks hot. And the others, as if suddenly released from paralysis, broke into joyous hysteria.
The vixen leapt onto Morgana’s lap, and then off again, rolling on the floor like a puppy. Charles embraced Janie, who was wiping her cheeks with a look of mild surprise, and then—to be quite fair—he embraced Elwyn, too. Everyone was laughing and crying and shouting excitedly until Morgana’s voice cut through the pandemonium.
“Hold, hold!” she said, struggling to a sitting position. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful—I am not—but would you all kindly hold your peace? Thank you. Before we all give way, there is something vitally important that we must do. We must search the house for any sorcerei who remain.”
Everyone looked involuntarily over his or her shoulder.
“Yes,” said Morgana. “My wards won’t hold much longer, if indeed they have held this long. And now that the mirrors are closed there’s no sending anyone back to Findahl. Leave this little one—Claudia, is it?—with me, and I’ll see she’s all right.”
The serpent, thought Alys, as everyone moved to obey Morgana. She had been right in her suspicions; now the Passage was closed for good, and it was gone forever. She told herself it was for the best, that a Feathered Serpent could no more live on Earth than she could live in the Wildworld. But in the midst of telling herself this she remembered its bright black eyes and felt the weight of its tail coiled trustingly around her wrist, and her throat ached.
She met Charles and Janie back in the living room. Morgana had taken Claudia and the water glass into the kitchen.
“Did you see any sorcerei?”
“Not a sign of one. How about you, Janie?”
“Well, there certainly are none in this house. May I ask if you expect to find them under the rug?”
“No.” Alys straightened. “I was just looking—don’t you remember that red thingummy Cadal Forge had? The jewel.”
“It went into the mirror with him.”
“No. It went by me. It ought to be here—”
At that moment she was interrupted by a siren.
The three of them looked at each other and stiffened.
“Sounds like a whole convention,” said Charles as another siren joined it, and another.
“Sounds like they’re coming here,” said Janie.
Charles ran to the front of the house and returned, breathless, to peer through the living room curtains.
“I think they’re surrounding the house,” he shouted grimly, over the noise.
“Let them come around back like anyone else,” said Morgana’s voice from behind them. “The wards have fallen and it will be some time before I can raise them again.” Although the sorceress supported herself against the kitchen doorframe, both she and Claudia looked greatly recovered. “That front door hasn’t been opened in over a century,” she added, slowly crossing the room and easing herself into a large chair by the hearth.
From the back drive brilliant lights pierced the curtains, shifting and moving, and then fixing. Suddenly all the sirens stopped. The dead silence was eerie.
“After all we’ve been through—oh, I can’t believe this,” said Alys. “First the Society, now the police. It’s like a joke.”
“I see five cars out there,” said Charles, letting the curtains fall back into place, “and those rifles are no joke.”
Alys helplessly turned to look at the small sorceress. “Morgana,” she said, swallowing, “we’ve run into the police before. I don’t know how to explain. . . . It’s all gotten so complicated—”
“Ah,” said Morgana. “I see. Let me think.”
Just then a voice from outside crackled over a loudspeaker, causing all four Hodges-Bradleys to jump. “Alys—Charles—Janie—oh, Claudia,” said the voice. “Darlings, if you can hear me, please, please, give yourselves up.”
“Mom!” said Alys. She, along with the others, had started toward the door, only to stop short in dismay and frustration. “Morgana …” said Alys, gasping.
“All right,” said Morgana. “Come here and listen.”
Outside, the full moon had reached its apex, shining down on the fortresslike old house on the hill. It shone serenely on the five police cars fanned out on the old house’s back drive, it reflected off the metalwork of the car doors behind which ten officers alertly crouched, and it picked out glints of silver on the barrels of the rifles those officers held aimed toward Fell Andred. It just touched the edge of the loudspeaker that Dr. Hodges-Bradley held as she knelt, weeping, with the police lieutenant in charge, and it added its force to the searchlights turned on Fell Andred’s back door until the doorway was lit brighter than day. And, as that door slowly opened, it illuminated something else.
Behind the lieutenant ten rifles snapped into position, five searchlights swung, and fifteen officers stiffened, ready for anything. And then, from all around, there was a universal murmur, like a hushed, long-drawn-out “Whaaat?” and rifles were slowly lowered as the men and women who held them craned their necks to get a better look.
In the doorway, in the moonlight, gazing fearlessly into the searchlights with wide-open eyes, was a young girl. She wore a flowing gown of iridescent colors, and her face was impossibly, inhumanly beautiful. Her hair, which fell unbound in waves to her knees, was palest silver.
Ten rifles dangled from unheeding hands as officer after officer slowly rose to stare in wonder.
Elwyn Silverhair looked around at them and smiled.
“You,” she said, pointing. “And you, and you. Come inside with me. You have been granted an audience.”
* * *
“First,” said Morgana to the lieutenant and Dr. and Mr. Hodges-Bradley, “I must ask you to smell this leaf.”
“What?” began the lieutenant, but then he broke off and pulled his head back sharply, blinking and wrinkling his nose.
“Unpleasant, I’m afraid,” agreed Morgana. “But it will make our conversation so much easier.” The sorceress sat erect in her thronelike chair by the fireplace, with the richly woven cloak Alys had fetched from upstairs about her shoulders and the Gold Staff across her knees. The leaf which Janie had brought at her direction from the cellar was crushed between her outstretched fingers.
“You see,” she continued calmly, as Dr. and Mr. Hodges-Bradley also began to gasp and blink, almost losing their frantic grip on their children, “I am a sorceress, and this is my house. And these four young people, whom apparently you have been harassing, are under my protection.”
The lieutenant, spluttering angrily,
was rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “What the—” All at once he broke off and lowered his arm. On his face fury gave way to surprise and then to mild embarrassment. Alys looked at her parents and saw that it was the same with them. All three of the human adults were glancing about apologetically as if they had suddenly awakened from a nap during dinner.
“I—I’m sorry.” The lieutenant looked down at the vixen, who sat regarding him with eyes like narrow slits of gold, then turned back to Morgana. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that far from being criminals, these children have done both me and your city a great service. They have risked their lives to rid this world of a rather serious menace.”
“Menace, ma’am?” said the lieutenant.
“A sorcerer who forced his way into this world in order to destroy it.” Morgana explained briefly about Cadal Forge and the Society. “But have no fear, he has been vanquished and is now an extremely handsome specimen of modern art. I plan to turn him sideways and hang him over the sofa.”
Everyone followed her gesture to the great mirror behind her, and Dr. Hodges-Bradley tightened her grip on Claudia.
“Oh,” she said, quietly. “How horrible.”
Morgana turned back sharply with narrowed eyes. Then she dropped her gaze. “Well, yes, perhaps it is,” she murmured tiredly. Alys was suddenly aware of the effort it was costing the little sorceress to keep erect.
“In any case,” she resumed, looking up again, “you can see that your concern over our welfare is needless, lieutenant. I think you may go back to your officers.”
“Ma’am, I hardly know what to say to them.”
Morgana smiled. “Have no fear. You see, that was Worldleaf I gave you to smell. A breath or two of its essence and you are able to perceive the truth in its purest form, despite the clouds of old prejudices. However, the effects don’t last. Truth in its purest form is lost and only vague impressions remain. In a short time, you will forget what I have said, and all that will remain is the conviction that these four children are somehow heroes. You will tell your officers a perfectly plausible story which you have invented in your own mind.”
“I see, ma’am.” The lieutenant hesitated. “And, ah, just when do you expect it to wear off?”
“I should say about—now,” said Morgana, watching him.
The change that came over the three adults’ faces now was similar to the one they had undergone before. They blinked and looked briefly disoriented. Then they recovered.
“And so, if I have explained everything satisfactorily—”
“Oh—yes, ma’am. I just—now that’s odd—” The lieutenant was gazing at his blank notepad in perplexity. “I wonder why I—that is, I’m glad to have this thing cleared up at last. We’ll keep an eye out for intruders like the one you mentioned. I remember the description—I think… .” Frowning and muttering to himself, he made his way to the door.
“For my part, I’d like to thank you for taking care of the children,” said Mr. Hodges-Bradley to Morgana. “Under the circumstances you’ve told us about, which—which were certainly very—” He broke off, looking doubtful. “Under those circumstances, I should say—”
“We’d better bring the car up from the bottom of the drive,” interrupted Dr. Hodges-Bradley. “Claudia shouldn’t walk so far in the cold.” The door shut behind them, and Morgana settled back.
“Honesty is occasionally the best policy,” she said, yawning. And then she added, “By the Black Staff of Beldar, I am tired. If I can find a usable bed in what’s left of my house I intend to collapse on it. And Elwyn, if you disturb me before dawn, I promise, I will turn you into a train of thought, and lose you.”
And, without another word, she went up the stairs.
“Well!” said Alys.
“Good-night,” said Elwyn.
It was astonishing how tired they were suddenly. All night they had been whipped to a fever pitch of excitement, and now, with the police gone, and Morgana gone, and nothing more to face, reaction set in. Alys all at once felt incredibly numb and stupid.
“Bed,” she muttered dimly as they stumbled mechanically down the drive. And then:
“Oh, blast!” she groaned, and stopped. “Wait a minute,” she mumbled. “I’ve got to go back. I was looking for that red gem of Cadal Forge’s—”
Janie caught her by the arm. “Don’t bother.”
“Eh?”
“It’s long gone.”
As they all looked at her in surprise she pulled something out of her jacket pocket. “I found this by the conservatory door. Outside the house.”
In her hand was a scrap of midnight blue and silver.
Alys started. “Thia Pendriel! You mean she’s out? She’s loose? And you didn’t tell Morgana?”
“Morgana,” said Janie flatly, “is half-dead already. I think any more of this really would kill her. And, besides, she will be miles away by now, with the Gem. She isn’t stupid.”
“Well …” Alys hesitated, her weary brain trying to get hold of this. “Tomorrow morning you come straight back here and tell her. Do you hear me?”
Headlights appeared around a corner and swung toward them, and Janie shielded her purple eyes.
“I’m way ahead of you—as usual,” she said.
Chapter 21
THE SECRET OF THE MIRRORS
The next morning everyone but Janie slept late. The others woke to find she had been gone for hours. When they went outside the vixen was seated on the porch.
“You want us to come with you, don’t you?” said Claudia happily. The vixen gave them a patient look and trotted off.
At Morgana’s house Janie was seated with the little sorceress in the kitchen. Morgana wore a clean fawn-colored robe and she seemed once more in perfect health. Elwyn, her silver hair bound up in a red scarf, was holding a feather duster. She was dusting Morgana.
“Janie,” said Alys, “did you tell—”
“She has told me everything,” said Morgana. “And it made for grim hearing. I blame myself for not watching the Gem more carefully. However, for the moment there’s little to do about Thia Pendriel; and I think, all told, last night came off pretty well. Certainly better than I could have expected, as I sat in the nursery watching the solstice moon rise.”
“Oh! That reminds me,” said Alys. “There are some things I’ve been wondering about.”
“Such as?”
“Well, first of all, how did Janie figure out you were in the nursery—”
“—and second,” interrupted Charles, “where did Elwyn get those serpents?”
“Oh, I went to Weerien,” said Elwyn carelessly. “I really don’t know why, I was so very angry with you. Oh, I was exceedingly wroth! You hurt my head, if you remember. And you said you were going to keep me forever, and for a moment I almost believed you. Why, you frightened me. It was a wicked thing to do.” Her jewel-like blue eyes opened wide.
Alys thought that being frightened for once was perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to Elwyn. But she also thought it would be rude to say this, so she held her tongue.
“So I went back to my wood and resolved to think no more about it,” Elwyn continued. “But somehow I couldn’t stop thinking. It’s a sore puzzle to me why not. I pondered and pondered it, trying to decide what to do, and at last, just when my head was about to burst asunder, I had an idea. I thought to myself, Why, this is high politics. It isn’t your business at all, and I really don’t know what the boy—”
“Charles,” said Charles.
“—what the Charles boy expects you to do about it. And then I had a wonderful inspiration, which was to take the problem to the Weerul Council and let it fret them instead.”
“But that’s exactly what we begged you to—”
“And so I hied me as fast as I could to Weerien, to get it off my mind,” said Elwyn, speaking right through Alys’s remark. “And would you believe it, when I got there, the Council wouldn’t listen! They thought I was
playing a prank! Imagine that! Oh, it was vexing!
“Finally, just when I was about to give up—I’d been thrown out of the Council chambers, you see, and I was wrother than ever—I felt a little brush of wings on my shoulder. I looked and saw a Feathered Serpent, a babe yet, still blue.”
“Oh!” said Alys eagerly.
“Yes. It had been sadly injured by Cadal Forge, and then put into a pool of marvelous healing or something. The very moment it was healed it wriggled out of the pool and flew straight to Weerien. And that was that, you see. Because one of us the Council could disbelieve, but not both. And, oh! Weren’t they upset! They sent a hundred of the guardians back with us to deal with Cadal Forge, and we all flew back to the castle. Serpents fly fast. I like them, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Alys.
“But I do not like the Council. They were extremely cross and annoyed with me for moving the mirror once Morgana was in the Wildworld, and the language they used was not at all nice.”
“So it was you who moved the mirror,” said Janie. “I thought it must have been.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Alys. “Elwyn moved the nursery mirror?”
“Of course,” said Janie. “She was the only one who could have done it, because it had to be done from this side.”
“How do you know?”
“What I don’t understand is how I didn’t know for so long. It was obvious.”
“All right, Sherlock, it was obvious,” said Charles. “So explain to us morons. I want to hear how you figured out where Morgana was in the first place.”
“From the mirrors. That’s where we should have started. No, not going through them, Charles, but analyzing them. Let’s put it this way: The mirrors in this house are here to travel through, like doors. So, logically, there should be one mirror for each room. Any less would be inconvenient and any more would be redundant. But the nursery didn’t have any mirror, and in Morgana’s bedroom there were two. And on the nursery wall was a bare nail, showing that something had once hung there. Remember, Alys? You caught your hair on it when we fought with Elwyn. Clearly someone had moved a mirror from one room to another. But the vixen said Morgana hadn’t touched the mirrors since she gave up practicing magic. When you look at the facts it becomes pathetically obvious.”