The Glass Girl

by Kim Alexander

  “What was that all about? He wouldn’t even look at me,” she said aloud, and then sighed. “Talking to myself, now I sound as mad as Rane.” She knew everything depended on her calm, her charm, her ability to convince Moth to come home with her. She went in expecting surprise, certainly, but imagined he’d hide any annoyance behind a blank smile. After all, he’d made a request and she’d honored it. She’d moved on with her life; she was with Auri, now, and he probably had someone, too. No hard feelings. But it hadn’t seemed that way at all.

  He hadn’t been smiling, not blankly or any other way. He hadn’t been mildly annoyed or slightly inconvenienced. He’d been furious.

  “But why?”

  “Why what?” Scilla asked, shutting the door behind herself.

  “Why don’t you ever knock?”

  Scilla leapt onto the bed, and then stretched out and put her hands behind her head. “Nice rooms. Did you see the view?” She sat up and threw her arms around Lelet’s neck. “We’re here! We did it. I’m on Eriis.” She blew out a breath and sat back. “All the demons are so pretty—they all look just like Ilaan. Oops, I guess I shouldn’t talk about him. But you were right, it’s dusty as hell.”

  “Language.”

  Scilla laughed. “Fine, May. So, did he say yes?”

  “I didn’t ask him. We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

  “He looked surprised. But he was glad to see you, right?”

  Lelet sighed. “The opposite. I’ll try again at the party. I hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

  “Well, if he won’t listen to you, I can still—”

  “Scilla, stop. That was the whole point. What did Mr. Kinley say? If the judge thinks you and Moth made a deal, he could prevent Moth from saying or doing anything for Rane’s case. You can’t say anything, promise me.”

  “First of all, I promised a million times already. Second, I hate Kinley. He acts like I’m a ten-year-old and can’t understand reason. Ugh, he’s the worst.”

  “No, Scil. The worst would be if Rane was locked up forever. So, you know what to do. You have an important job. Let me do the rest of it.”

  “Speaking of, I have a note for you.”

  “From who?” Scilla pulled the folded sheet out of her pocket. Lelet recognized the handsome, flowing handwriting. “From Moth. He sent you a note to give to me?” She read aloud:

  Until I can explain to my uncle the king who Lelet is and why she’s here, please ask her to stay in her room. He should make an early exit from the event this evening, at which point she is welcome to attend.” She felt something in her chest tear open, something she’d thought had begun to heal.

  “Hey, so that’s good. He says you’re welcome to attend.” Lelet didn’t reply. “So, I’m going to go get dressed.” Scilla edged towards the door. “I’ll see you later?”

  Lelet nodded and forced a smile onto her face. “I’ll make a late and dramatic entrance. If you need help with your hair or dress or anything, well, I have some extra time on my hands.”

  Once Scilla left, Lelet went back out onto the balcony. The sun was a faint bronze disc dropping into the banks and rows of clouds that made up the whole of the sky. The wind had picked up, bringing the dust along with it, and she could see light stones flickering on and windows closing up and down the streets inside the Arch. Outside, the Quarter was lost in the murk. Even though she’d lived alongside these people, shared their meals and walked beside them, she felt utterly alien.

  “I am alien,” she told herself. “I don’t belong here.” She went back inside, closing the doors and pulling the drapes. She pulled the sparkling dress from its bag and laid it on the bed. She went to the dryroom (now refitted with fresh water) and washed her face. She looked in the mirror.

  “I’m a careful person who makes good decisions. I don’t lie to people. People depend on me. I make good decisions. I do the right thing, and no one disappears. I make the right choices, and no one dies. I take care of business, and I go home to Auri.”

  She nodded briskly, made up her face, put on her party dress, and sat back down on the edge of the bed to wait.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Eriis

  The bottle of sarave sat unopened on the dressing table. Rhuun looked over at it every few minutes, to make sure it hadn't moved. His hand wanted to reach for it, but his hand and the bottle would have to wait. There was a party to get through, dinner and chatting with humans Lelet, she's here, she came back to you, no I can't do this again, what will I say, what will she do, what does she want, and after everyone had retired for the evening, he and this bottle would spend the rest of the night together. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself more than a glass or two, but if this didn't call for more, what did?

  He looked at himself in his mirror—not only hung at the right height, but long enough to show him his whole reflection and his new coat without crouching. He might have gotten a demotion with his uncle's arrival, but the new king was happy to accommodate his nephew with things of value but little importance.

  His coat was very fine. Zaii along with Coll and his small staff had made a gift of it to him earlier that afternoon, with drinks raised (water for him) and thanks given all around. “My contact in Mistra, he has a friend who knows where to get things like this. I sent him one of your shirts and he sent this back. We got to test out The Door at the same time.” With Coll serving as the only mage, and Scilla handling the process on the other side, they all agreed a test run would be prudent. Rhuun gathered that Zaii had sent the shirt to Olly, who had given it to Scilla, who had passed it to May. Zaii knew perfectly well his master's history with those on the other side and knew which names might best be withheld. But the coat could only have come from one family. It was black silk, what they called watered silk, Rhuun knew that much about the glossy, stiff fabric. It was also called moiré, although he didn't know how to pronounce it. A thing with many names, one cannot easily focus on it, it's almost like being invisible, almost like I used to be. It was heavy in the hand, cut to mid-thigh and slashed at the back. The collar and cuff bore his family's restored scarlet trim. The lining was the same shade, and he was delighted to see it was the same pattern as the lining of the beautiful grey fur coat he'd left behind in Mistra. He'd missed the little fire breathing beast. He found out later it was the same fabric—Olly had sent the cloak along to the tailor to be repurposed. At their gathering, Calaa had run her hands over it, and whispered to him that she wanted to try it on privately, later. Her behavior, which he had once found comforting, if not enticing, had become overly familiar. She made a competent secretary, keeping the flow of paper on and off his desk in order, but he feared he’d brought her too close, giving her too much access to his personal affairs. Once rebuffed, she’d never repeated her advances, but he suspected she was behind the talk of their having an intimate relationship, or at least encouraging this line of thought in the Quarter and the Arch. He thought it might be time to talk to Zaii about her, but it could wait. And then the delegation had shown up, Lelet had appeared, and everyone else on any world ceased to exist.

  As he turned this way and that before the mirror, he had to admit he looked like he ought to be in charge—of what, though, he wasn't certain. He pulled his hair out from inside the collar. One habit he'd insisted on keeping from his time among the humans was tying it back, and it got caught in all his coats. He pulled on the tail thoughtfully—what Lelet had once informed him was called a horsetail, of course he'd liked that—and then looked at the dressing table, at the bottle, and next to the bottle, where the fat man's knife sat. Change, he thought. This is where we begin to change. Maybe I should change too. He held his long hair out straight with one hand and reached for the knife with the other.

  The sudden silence in the great courtyard was much more gratifying than he expected. He had to laugh to himself at how the attention once would have turned him to a shadow. Aelle, whose bronze gown and strand of bright jewels at her throat was practically a
declaration of war against the old standards of ‘proper’ clothing, was the first to react.

  She handed him a silver cup (she knew he only drank water at these things and wanted to keep it that way, at least for tonight). “Rhuun, you look positively human.” It was hard to know if that was a compliment.

  He ran his free hand through his hair and marveled at the feel of air on the back of his neck. “I wanted our guests to feel welcome. And you know I like a change.”

  There was a tense moment, and then the guests, human and demon, all turned back to their companions. 'And after all,' whispered the Eriisai guests to each other, barely loud enough, as always, for him to hear 'the prince, although he's turned out to be quite accomplished, is an unfortunate-looking specimen, no matter what he does with his hair.' He nodded at Zaii and Liim, and promised himself he'd spend a few minutes with their companion, a wide-eyed young lady who, he'd been told, wanted to name their as-yet unborn child after him.

  Aelle leaned forward and he lowered his head. “You look like a lunatic,” she informed him. “But I expect it'll grow. And your coat is nice.” She smiled, a perfect mask, but he knew her well enough to see her concern. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes. When the delegation arrived. I have no idea why she's here or what she hopes to accomplish.”

  “Hmm, why would she show up? Whatever could she want? Did she forget a shoe? Or lose an earring on her way out? Some say she's here to end you.” Aelle sipped her drink—wine, a gift from their Mistran guests—no water for her tonight—and made a little face. “Others say she wishes to make amends.” She took another, more tentative sip. “And now you with a human haircut. You've been so secretive. We should play clues again.”

  “So, what do you think?” Rhuun asked.

  She merely smiled and raised her glass. “As the humans say, love makes the ground go whirl.”

  He laughed. “Is that what they say?” He nodded at Scilla, who approached with her hands on her hips, staring at him sternly. “Scilla, it's nice to see you out of a brown habit.”

  She blushed and smoothed the front of her white and blue floral frock. The crease lines from being folded away were evident; he thought it was the first time she'd worn it. She'd abandoned her habitual braids in favor of a neat coil, rather like an Eriisai lady might wear, threaded with matching ribbons. Not a child anymore, he thought, and reminded himself not to underestimate her.

  She put her stern face back on and said, “Moth, what happened to your hair?” She made him do a slow turn so she could see the back. “Did you cut it with nail scissors?” She shook her head. “Someone's going to have a fit.”

  “Yes, about that,” he replied.

  Scilla looked at Aelle for a long moment. She may be on her way to a formidable adult, but for the moment she was still a child, as subtle as a bucket of sand. “Well,” said Aelle, “perhaps I ought to see to our human guests. And your uncle, he'll be here in a moment so don't vanish.” She laughed. “I suppose that's unlikely now, isn't it?”

  Rhuun sipped his water and waited for Scilla to begin.

  “She has to talk to you. I'm not supposed to talk about it. It's really important.”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. She shouldn't be here at all. This is too important for these kinds of…distractions. And my uncle, I'll have to explain what she's doing here.” The indifference of the royal pair towards the humans, he suspected, was at least partially feigned. His theory was that their memories were more severely damaged than they let on, and they acted so oddly because they didn’t recall proper behavior. The thought of explaining his relationship with a human woman, which would inevitably lead to a retelling of the destruction of the Raasth—in front of a room full of guests— was more than he was prepared to do. At least he’d be spared socializing with the Zaal. Word was the mage had taken the invitation in one hand and sand in the other, and said he’d eat both of them before he shared water with the humans. “This is very inconvenient, Scilla.” But his heart was racing. He took a breath. “Don't mistake me, I'm pleased you're here. You're correct—this is important.”

  “Moth, who's your friend?” Scilla narrowed her eyes at Calaa, who had appeared at Rhuun's elbow.

  “Ah, Scilla, this is Calaa, she is part of my retinue.”

  “Pleasure,” said Calaa.

  “Retinue, huh?” said Scilla.

  “So, this is what an actual human looks like?” said Calaa, smiling politely at Scilla. “How interesting. I'll be sure to take notes for next time.” She looked up him, her eyes widening. “Rhuun, your hair!”

  “Not the time, Calaa,” Rhuun murmured.

  All conversation ceased as the royal couple shimmered into the courtyard. Araan and his queen smiled pleasantly at his courtiers and invited Eriisai, and then looked with mild curiously at the small knot of humans. Once again, he wondered what they really wanted. Well, he only had one job this evening, and it was time to perform. Then he could watch and listen, at least until Lelet arrived. He couldn’t even pretend to know what might happen after that.

  Rhuun cleared his throat and said, “Uncle, Madam, please allow me to introduce our guests from Mistra, the emissaries of the Order of the Veil and the Door.”

  Scilla stepped forward and dropped a perfect curtsy, and to Rhuun's great relief did not extend her hand. Maybe Lelet had done what she claimed and instructed these people on correct behavior.

  Scilla was followed by Olly, who had been talking quietly with Aelle, and gave the correct bow for being received by a dignitary in their own home. The two Elders from the Order, Brothers Maron and Clare, both gave stiff little bobs. Rhuun wondered if his father, back at the Guardhouse, knew where his fellow brothers had gone.

  Araan looked the two men over and glanced at Rhuun. “Too bad they couldn't have brought that funny young man along—the one your mother was always trailing around after.” He shook his head. “I forget…he'd be long dead by now, wouldn't he?”

  Rhuun looked carefully at the floor. Olly said, “Your Grace, I believe you refer to Brother Blue. I am pleased to tell you he lives, although as you say, he is a very old man.”

  “Where is your mother, anyway?” asked Araan. “I would have thought she'd be first in line for water this evening.”

  There was a ripple of laughter at the barbed remark. Rhuun felt heat in his face and wondered how to reply. “I saw her earlier, she extends her apologies.”

  She hadn't, though. He had seen her walking slowly through the Great Hall, and when he asked her about the evening's events she'd merely smiled vaguely and said she'd see him later.

  Scilla cocked her head. “Your Grace, my lady,” she did another quick curtsey, “May I ask a question?” She didn't understand the insult and for that Rhuun was grateful.

  Araan's queen, Thaali, nodded at the girl. “What might a human want to know? I am curious.”

  “Well,” she said, “it appears you haven't aged. Do you know where you were all this time?”

  Rhuun reached for his horsetail and was surprised to find it gone. “Scilla, that's a rather personal—”

  “Not at all,” said Araan. “I am told this young lady is a student of what lies out of our sight. Thaali and I have had many talks about this since we were found—to our great gratitude—by my sister. It was a dark and formless sort of place. We would espy each other only occasionally and wander away. Time did not move at all, or not so we could tell. Many—most—wandered off and never came back. Perhaps they are wandering still.”

  “The Veil,” said Scilla to Rhuun. “That's where they went.”

  “This is what we believe as well,” said Thaali. “There is no escape unless you are sought for, and even then…well. The debt we owe Hellne is immense.”

  Araan touched her arm lightly. “We will honor her by what we do here today, won't we?”

  A dark and formless place…why does that sound so familiar? Rhuun wondered. Well, at least they're acknowledging Mother in other ways than insults. Maybe s
he can come out of hiding soon. His uncle was talking, something about the air, and he struggled to pay attention. A server passed him with a tray of sarave, and he had to force down his hand.

  Olly had stationed himself near the back of the room, near Aelle. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn the royal couple were utterly uninterested in their guests. He knew the Eriisai never showed their emotions, but these two seemed distinctly bored. “Where is the queen, anyway? I wanted to see what she looks like.”

  Aelle said, “The official word is that she has retired from public life. For the time being, for a good reason. It is not spoken loudly, but in some circles, she is still regarded as a collaborator. I've heard that's the only reason she gave up the High Seat at all. Araan has to walk a line, honoring his sister without appearing to condone her behavior.” She nodded at Rhuun. “And the uncomfortable result of that behavior.”

  “And yet here we are,” Olly mused, “the enemy.”

  She slipped her hand inside the sleeve of his coat where he rested it behind his back. “Must we discuss politics?”

  He wrapped his fingers around her narrow wrist. “I've missed you, too.” He hadn’t had time between arriving on Eriis and preparing for this party to do more than give her the promised gift—the citrine and diamond necklace she had him put on her at once—and he was looking forward to seeing her wear nothing else. She said she had important things to discuss with him once they were alone. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.