The Emperor's Mirror

by Emily Holloway

  “I won’t ask,” Tallis said. “I just wish I could.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them enjoying the cool night and the company.

  “I was wondering,” Tallis finally said, his mind going back to the matter at hand, “if I could show Sienna the temple and where the chest used to be. Would that be all right with you?”

  Brannon shrugged. “I don’t care. Just don’t get caught and get me in trouble.”

  “I won’t,” Tallis said. “What would the best time be?”

  “They come in the early mornings and then again in the early evening. So morning or afternoon would be all right. Or late at night again.”

  They watched the stars, and Tallis began teaching Brannon the names of the stars and the constellations and how to find them. Brannon absorbed this information like a sponge; it was far more interesting than studying religious texts. Tallis noticed after a while that Brannon was starting to shift uneasily at his side, occasionally looking up at the forest and scanning it before quickly looking back up at the sky or over at Tallis as if for reassurance. Moments later, something unpleasant started to nag at the edge of Tallis’ senses.

  Tallis stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence and smoothly got to his feet. His eyes scanned the area for any sort of threat, sniffing the air cautiously. Brannon let out a little formless noise. “Wh-what . . .”

  “I don’t know yet,” Tallis said, putting a hand on Brannon’s shoulder. There was someone watching them; he was sure of that much. “It’s time to go in,” Tallis said, and steered the unresisting boy back towards the door.

  He pushed Brannon inside; the smaller boy was pale with fear. “Go back to your room,” Tallis told him, “and stay there. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “What? No!” Brannon’s hands tightened in Tallis’ shirt. “Don’t leave me!”

  Tallis gave Brannon a close look, taking in his white face and wide eyes, his trembling voice and body. Whatever presence this was, Brannon was reacting badly. Tallis glanced back out at the grounds. At the very least, whoever it was had stopped drawing closer. “All right,” he said. He picked up his shoe and let the door close behind them.

  “Hang on,” he said to Brannon, who was still shivering helplessly and clinging to him. Tallis traced a few symbols on the door, ensuring that no one would be able to open it from either side.

  “I’m s-s-sorry,” Brannon managed.

  “It’s all right.” Tallis knelt down and hugged him. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

  “What . . . who was . . .”

  “I don’t know, little prince,” Tallis said. “But I’ll try to find out tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry. You could have gone to see what it was if I hadn’t been with you.”

  “I promised I would protect you and that’s what I’m doing,” Tallis said firmly. “That comes first.”

  “All right.” Brannon sniffled.

  “Do you want to go back to your room?” Tallis asked, and Brannon nodded. “All right. I’ll stay with you until you’re feeling a little better.”

  Brannon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to look adult. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  When Tallis was not up and about by the time breakfast was served the next day, Sienna snuck into his room, being careful to not trip the wards or wake him. She settled in the chair directly next to his bed, and cleared her throat.

  He sat up in a blur of movement, bolting from his nest of blankets, one hand filled with raw power that looked like it could turn nasty at the slightest provocation. “Who’s there?” he demanded, and then his eyes landed on Sienna, sitting next to him and laughing helplessly at the mess he had made.

  “Oh, Tallis,” she managed between chuckles, “you should see the look on your face right now. You’re very fierce.”

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Tallis protested, after taking a deep breath. The power dissipated and his hands relaxed. “I could have cooked you!”

  “Please,” Sienna said. She sounded insulted.

  Tallis muttered something uncomplimentary and attempted to smooth his hair into some semblance of order. “Now that you’ve had your laugh, do you feel better?”

  “Quite,” she replied. “I figured your life could use a little spicing up.”

  “My life is exciting enough,” Tallis said firmly. He yawned and stretched. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

  “Choices, choices. Give me the good news first. That way maybe the bad news won’t seem as bad.”

  Tallis smiled at her and stated, in a singsong voice, “I know what was stolen.”

  “Oh, really? Do tell.”

  “A mirror. The Mirror.”

  “The . . . oh!” Sienna blinked at him, startled. “The Imperial Regalia? Here?”

  “Only a third of it now,” Tallis said, as Sienna continued to gape at him. “The sword is gone as well, but it wasn’t stolen. There’s a chest for it here,” he continued, “and it wasn’t forced open; you can tell because the magic is intact. You can be damned sure the Elder would be throwing a fit if two items had been stolen.”

  “Huh. That’s interesting in and of itself. You couldn’t open the last chest?”

  “No,” Tallis said. “Brannon can’t, either.”

  “Then how do you know the Mirror was taken and not the Pendant?”

  “Brannon said it was the Mirror. He’s seen them opened before.”

  “It’s nerve-wracking not to know anything about this child.” Sienna shook her head and decided to move on. “All right. The Mirror, interesting. You saw where it was taken from, I assume?”

  “Yes. There’s a Temple here. That’s where the Regalia is kept, and where Brannon lives. He said we could go back today as long as we make sure the monks and the Elder don’t know. The Temple itself is underground, deep under the hill. I think the hill must have been put there after the temple was – it looked like the temple itself was buried. Then, presumably, the tunnels were added and the monastery built on top. Probably to keep the Regalia safe.”

  “Duly noted.” Sienna glanced out the window to check the position of the sun. “So what’s the bad news?”

  “Someone was stalking the grounds last night,” Tallis said. “Someone powerful.”

  “Did you get anything from him?” Sienna asked.

  Tallis shook his head. “I’ll definitely know him again if I feel his magic, but I couldn’t follow. He came around while I had Brannon outside with me, and the most important thing was to get him inside and safe.”

  “Ah,” Sienna said, and Tallis was a bit surprised that she did not protest this decision. “Well, at least that will give us something to do today. I haven’t spoken to Elder Edrich yet. I need to go threaten him a little more, and then I can huff off and meet you outside.”

  “I think the monks are all at morning prayer,” Tallis said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  She smiled at him as he started to fish around for his clothes. “I’ll let you get ready.”

  * * *

  Tallis chose not to be present for Sienna’s final visit with the Elder. It turned out to be less of a scene than Sienna would have liked; she simply excused herself from the case with cold politeness, and was escorted from the monastery. She took the long way around, riding until she was out of sight, then turning and making a wide loop back, coming out past the hillside behind the monastery.

  “You’re right,” she said, dismounting and joining Tallis by the small door that he and Brannon had used the night before. “Someone was here, and it was someone not nice.”

  “I think it was the same person who stole the chest,” Tallis said. “Feeling his presence frightened Brannon pretty badly.”

  “Shall we follow the trail?”

  Tallis nodded. He sniffed once and headed off purposefully. Sienna followed him, a little amused. “It’s so cute the way you can sniff out magic,�
� she said, and Tallis blinked at her, obviously perplexed by her comment. She arched an eyebrow at him. “Haven’t you noticed? Whenever you’re trying to sense magic, you sniff, like a dog following a scent.”

  “Really?” Tallis blinked at her for a moment.

  “Yes, really.”

  “Huh.” Tallis sniffed and set off again. Sienna stifled a snicker.

  They walked in silence for about ten minutes. The autumn day was cool, with a strong breeze that rattled the dying leaves in the trees. They were not on a road, but the trees were spaced fairly far apart and the undergrowth had been trampled down. Tallis suspected they were following a game trail, although it was also possible that someone had come this way before, perhaps many times. He wondered if the thief had used it; it could not have been an easy heist to plan, and whoever had stolen it must have watched the monastery for some time.

  Gradually, the magical trail became harder to follow, fading out among the trees. “Hang on,” Sienna said. “Let’s do a tracking spell before we lose it.”

  “All right.” Tallis thought for a few moments, and then drew a few complicated sigils in the air. They glowed momentarily and then held fast to the ground. A footprint lit up, then another. The two of them hurried to follow the prints across the forest floor until they came to a dead stop in a stand of trees.

  “Here,” Sienna said, as the golden glow of the tracking spell lifted into the air and traced the form of a large rectangle in the midst of the forest. Then the light gradually dissipated, fading from sight. “He must have Gated,” she said.

  “At least we’ll know his magic if we feel it again.”

  “True.” Sienna paused thoughtfully for a few moments. “It really doesn’t feel like the good Father Emory in Nuan Huo, does it? But then again, he might be masking his aura, so we might not know.”

  “Calessa might be able to tell. She’s been near him longer.”

  “Well, she’s stuck there for now, so we can’t very well have her compare the magical signatures.” Sienna shrugged. “Let’s go see the temple. If we can put a tracking spell on the chest, then all this postulating might be unnecessary.”

  * * *

  Calessa woke early and sent some messages off to the Warder Academy and a few friends, trying to track down information on the two family names Owain had mentioned. He may or may not have been telling the truth, but it was at least a place to start.

  Owain knocked on her door shortly after she had eaten a quick, unappetizing breakfast from her rations. “Emory would like to see you,” he informed her.

  “Should I feel honored?” she asked, rising to her feet.

  “I suppose if it would help,” Owain replied with a shrug.

  “Somehow, I don’t think it will.” She put the note she had been writing to Tallis in the safest place available – her cleavage – and followed Owain down the stairs. He showed her into Emory’s sitting room, and she got her second good look at the man. He still struck her as being nothing remarkable, except perhaps for his curiously flat blue-grey eyes. He was dressed in a simple set of priest’s robes with no adornments. Yet something about him, perhaps now that he was no longer trying to mask it, radiated danger. Calessa couldn’t help but feel on edge.

  Emory smiled, which didn’t help. “Thank you, Owain,” he said. “You may leave us.”

  Owain nodded slightly and turned to go.

  “Leave the door open,” Calessa told him. Owain looked faintly amused at this, but did as she asked, vanishing into the temple’s corridors.

  Emory smiled again. “I assure you, Lady Calessa, that I mean you no harm. I merely wished to chat with you for a little while.”

  “All right,” Calessa said evenly. She sat down on the richly upholstered ottoman across from his desk. “What do you wish to chat about?”

  “Have the accommodations been satisfactory? I admit I am unaccustomed to having people stay here.”

  “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

  “Now that you have been here several days, what do you think of my temple?”

  “I think it’s very well-appointed.”

  “Are you getting along with Owain? He’s never been a tour guide before.” Emory chuckled, clearly amused by this statement. “He seems quite fond of you.”

  “I think Owain is wonderful company,” Calessa said,

  “I heard you don’t believe any one god could ever rule the whole world.” Emory’s voice was still amused, but it deepened slightly, going into his preaching tone.

  “It strikes me as a bit far-fetched,” Calessa said, “and do not take that tone with me. I am not one of your congregation.”

  “Of course not,” Emory said, but his tone did not change. He steepled his hands in front of his face, regarding her with the same look a child might give a fly before pulling its wings off. “I never entertained for a moment the thought that you were. Yet you have stayed for several days, and I’m beginning to wonder why you’re still here.”

  “There is more to an investigation than seeing what’s on the surface.”

  Emory smiled at her. The air felt thick and heavy, warmer than before. She found herself unable to look away from that awful smile. “And what have you seen, Lady Calessa?”

  “I’ve seen that your faithful are not aware of what’s going on.”

  “And what is that?”

  “They believe strongly in what you tell them, but they couldn’t seem to tell me what that was.”

  Emory chuckled. “Perhaps they don’t listen properly. Perhaps you don’t either.”

  “Perhaps.” Calessa was torn between running away and sitting there forever, drinking in that smile and that voice. It was a lovely combination; she found herself struck somewhat dumb by it. The world was fading to a distant point where nothing else mattered, where she was viewing everything from somewhere remote and misty.

  “You are a very beautiful woman, Lady Calessa.” Emory reached out and touched her cheek lightly. “Quite lovely. Although I’m certain you hear that constantly.”

  Calessa nodded silently.

  “My church could benefit from someone such as yourself. Someone that others would listen to, unquestioning.”

  “Warders do not participate in religious affairs,” Calessa responded automatically. This had been drummed into them at the Academy so often that the reply came without conscious thought.

  “True, but one can retire from being a Warder, can they not?” Emory’s smile widened, showing teeth.

  Calessa shifted uncomfortably. She did not want to retire, but at the same time, she did not want to say no to Emory.

  “That would, at the very least, enable you to stay . . . with me . . . for as long as you liked . . .”

  Calessa forced her eyes away from Emory’s face. “Stop,” she said.

  “Hm? Stop what?”

  “Whatever it is you’re doing to me.”

  He took hold of her chin and tilted her face so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “But my dear, I’m becoming quite fond of you as well.”

  “I’m . . . not fond of you.” Calessa ground the words out.

  “Oh?” Emory’s eyebrows quirked up. It seemed to be a rather endearing expression, somehow. The air was so thick that it had become hard to breathe. His palm opened and he caressed her face. Calessa swallowed hard.

  “Emory!” Owain’s voice came from the doorway. The air lightened, as if a cold breeze had swept through the room. Calessa shook herself. Owain stamped one foot like a petulant little boy as Calessa vacated the ottoman as quickly as she could. “You said you wouldn’t!” Owain shouted.

  Emory shrugged. “I lied.”

  “Damn you,” Owain said, but the words were without venom. He turned to Calessa. “Are you all right?”

  “I – ” Calessa shook her head, confused and upset and startled all at the same time. Her expression shifted and she gave Owain a grateful look. “I have to go,” she stammered, and half-ran from the room. She stopped just outside, trying to c
atch her breath and fighting against sudden, intense nausea.

  “I should have known,” she heard Owain say behind her, his tone vicious.

  “Yes,” Emory said, “you should have.”

  “I hate you,” Owain hissed.

  “No, you don’t.”

  Calessa didn’t wait to hear what else they might discuss. Having regained her balance, she fled the temple, slumping onto one of the benches out front. Owain found her there several minutes later, as she sat with her arms folded over her chest, breathing deeply of the fresh air. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “What did he do?” Calessa asked.

  Owain shrugged. “Whatever it is he does.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “He told me that he wouldn’t.” Owain sat down next to her on the bench. “I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

  “Does he do that to you?”

  “No,” Owain said. His lips quirked in a smile. “I’m immune to Emory.”

  “I don’t think so,” Calessa replied.

  “It allows me to keep at least some of my dignity.”

  “Are there horses here?” she asked abruptly.

  “Yes. With the carriages.”

  “I need to be away from here for a while. Would you care to come with me?”

  Owain’s lips twitched into another smile, this one more genuine. “I would be happy to.”

  * * *

  Sienna waited at the small outside door until Tallis, who had re-entered the monastery by the main door lest the monks question how he had gotten back inside, let her in and showed her the way to the temple. Once inside, she stopped involuntarily, her normally serious expression giving way to awe, unable to deny the magic of the place.

  Tallis let her have a moment to take it all in. He looked around for Brannon and found him sitting on the steps of the altar, drawing pictures in what looked like a textbook. Tallis’ lips twitched in a smile and he called out a greeting to the boy. Brannon looked up at him and said, in an aggrieved boyish whine, “Tallis, the Elder’s making me study all this stupid stuff.”