Margaret Weis - Heroes And Fools

“If you go without Mama’s jewel will the bad man hurt you?”

Vandor sighed, too unnerved to lie. “Yes.”

Her expression darkened. The thief felt a new twinge of unease. Never had he seen such an expression on so otherwise innocent-looking a child. “I don’t like him,” she said at last. “He’s just like Garloff. Garloff’s a nasty wizard in a story Mama used to tell me. Garloff was evil, not like Huma. Huma was the hero in Mama’s story.”

Grizt had lost the path of the conversation, his eyes straying to the growing daylight. How much longer could she hold him here? Certainly not forever, and when her hold slipped, Vandor would suffer worse than ever. “Gabriella, listen to me!”

She did not. Her eyes brightened, and she peered at him in a manner vaguely familiar. “Garloff is like your wizard, and you’re just like Hurna.” Before the thief could absorb the obviously absurd comparison, the little girl added, “He won’t hurt you if I give you Mama’s jewel.”

Vandor Grizt blinked, uncertain that he had heard correctly. “What?”

Gabriella carefully removed the brooch. She cupped it in her hands, covering it so tightly that Vandor could not see it. “He won’t hurt you if I give this to you. Here.”

Gratitude nearly overwhelmed Vandor Grizt. She wanted to give the Arcyan Crest to him in order to save him from Mendel. The little girl saw him as some tragic hero out of one of her late mother’s stories. In the past, when he was alive in the real world, there had been many women who had fallen sway to his lies, believing him to be a great champion rather than merely a well-dressed thief. He had never dissuaded them, never felt guilty. . until now.

“Gabriella,” he managed, “thank you.” It pained him that she would give up so valued a belonging to the black robe, who would use it simply to enhance his miserable existence, but by no means did Vandor intend to turn down her generous offer-not if it meant finally escaping the world of mirrors.

“Papa gave this to me after Mama died.” She opened up her hands again, revealing the brooch in all its glory. It appeared to glow in the gathering daylight. “He told me all about it.”

Not all, Vandor suspected. If the girl knew that the brooch contained magical powers, he doubted that Gabriella would part with it even to rescue her new storybook hero. That he dared not mention.

“Here, Sir Vandor.” The little girl reached out with the artifact, nearly touching it to the face of the mirror.

Grizt took it with hands still unburning, hands that trembled in relief. He stared at the desired object, stared at the griffons and the kingfisher who seemed to mock his hopes. “Thank you, my lady.”

She giggled again, and her expression darkened once more. “You have to give it to him, Sir Vandor. I don’t want him hurting you again.”

Did she really think that he would keep the bauble for himself? Magical artifacts were useless to him, all the more so in the shadow world. He started to assure her but held back, seeing something in her eyes that disturbed him. What sort of child stood before him? At times she frightened him more than Mendel. “I will, my lady,” Vandor finally managed. “I will. . and thank you again.”

The slumbering form moved restlessly again. Gabriella calmly looked at her father, then returned her gaze to Grizt. Never had he seen so old a look in the face of a little girl. “Goodbye, Sir Vandor. Please come to play with me some time.”

The thief found himself flung from the mirror, the stubborn pull of Mendel’s own looking glass suddenly and at last triumphant.

Yet. . as Vandor returned to his familiar prison, he noted with some surprise and relief that for once he felt no pain in the transition. Even the harsh cold did not bother him much this time. Grizt wondered that the little girl could be responsible, that she could be so powerful. The Arcyan Crest, on the other hand, held tremendous power and perhaps some of that transferred-

The Arcyan Crest! Vandor thrust the girl’s brooch through the glass, placing it carefully on the table in Mendel’s chamber. Only then did he sigh in relief. His youthful admirer had given the precious artifact to him in order to save his life; but if he kept it too long in the mirror realm, surely it would be destroyed this time, and Vandor Grizt would only have had himself to blame for repeating his folly.

A moment later, the cadaverous form of his cursed master appeared in the doorway. “You have it? Give it to me, you stupid cur! I want it!”

After the calm manner in which Gabriella had spoken to him, Mendel sounded much like a spoiled child. . a spoiled child who could dangle the thief’s life before him. Nonetheless, Vandor was tempted to reach out and grab the artifact back. If not for the gnarled mage’s hold on him, the thief would have let the chill realm destroy the Arcyan Crest. Mendel’s aghast reaction would be well worth the loss. Vandor sorely wanted to leave the realm of mirrors; he wanted his body back, though, wanted it more than anything.

“It’s there,” he muttered. “All yours at last, Mendel.”

“The Arcyan Crest!” The gleeful figure scooped up the brooch, cradling it in his hands. Mendel’s eyes surveyed his prize, fingers stroking the fine craftsmanship.

Vandor Grizt studied the mage in disgust. Mendel did not deserve such a treasure. He himself had made no effort, had sacrificed nothing. Grizt, at least, had the credo of a thief; he worked to earn his prizes. Mendel could thank the little girl for the Arcyan Crest. Only because she had been willing to part with her mother’s heirloom for Vendor’s sake did the black robe now have more power with which to stoke his ego.

“So long. .” cooed the aged spellcaster. “So long have I sought you. . you are mine now. . mine.”

Mendel had his great desire, now Vandor would at long last have his. “Mendel. . my body.”

“Cease your prattling! I’ve more important things on my mind!” The archmage went back to stroking the artifact.

Grizt, this time, would not be silenced. “My body, Mendel! You said that if I stole this for you, I might-”

“Talk to me no more about your wants, dandy! You’ll obey my every command or suffer the consequences for it! Don’t think you have any choice!”

“But my body-”

“You have no body.” Mendel glared at him. “Not for some thirty years, fool! Did you think I’d waste precious power on preserving that bit of tawdry meat? What does the husk of one paltry thief compare to my needs? Be satisfied with serving me, Vandor Grizt,” he said, laughing, “for you’ll be doing so for the rest of my life!”

A roar of agony escaped Vandor. He threw himself against his side of the mirror, trying to reach for the throat of the monstrous mage. All these years he had been tricked. What a fool he had been. Mendel had led him by the nose, making promises he never intended to fulfill. Gabriella had thought him a ghost; how accurate she had been. Vandor the ghost, dreaming of what never could be, must have amused his master.

To hold a woman again, drink fine ale, feel the warmth of day without fearing its searing heat. .

A ghost. All these years he had been nothing but a ghost.

Vandor tried to force himself through the mirror. He felt something begin to give. He pushed harder, fury and bitterness fueling his strength.

Unfortunately, Mendel saw him and reacted accordingly. The Arcyan Crest in one hand, Mendel touched his medallion with a smile.

A shock of unprecedented pain coursed through Vandor. It was worse than ever, undoubtedly enhanced by the Arcyan Crest. Screaming, the thief fell back into the mirror, practically sobbing.

“I think. . yes, I think I’ve had enough of you,” the vulturish mage proclaimed. “This would be a most excellent time to test the limits of the Arcyan Crest. I will draw the magic from the mirror and from what little there is in the spell binding you as well and augment the potential of the crest. Let’s see if the tales of its power are true.”