Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Spriggan Mirror

“I can, can’t I?” The dragon cocked his head thoughtfully.

“Personally, I’d much rather you just sealed it away in a box somewhere and didn’t let them meddle with it,” Gresh said. “This all assumes that we can actually get it out of this cave, and I’m not entirely certain of that part yet. I do have some ideas.”

“How long is this going to take?”

“Putting an end to new spriggans should take maybe an hour, I’d say. Giving you the mirror and leaving here safely could take five minutes or it could take days, if I can do it at all.”

“It’ll be dark in an hour.”

“I know.”

“Ali won’t like that.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like the idea of flying in the dark.”

“I don’t blame you. And I may not be done until well into the night. I just don’t know. If I do have everything settled fairly quickly, I think I can convince the spriggans to go away and let us leave, and I can turn you human again. If we can’t fly safely, we’ll just take shelter in the cave until morning. You and Alorria are welcome to join the rest of us here, of course.”

“You think we’ll be here all night?”

“I’m afraid it’s likely, yes.”

“Ali won’t like that. Ali’s parents won’t like that.”

“She insisted on coming along; it wasn’t our idea.”

“I don’t think that’s going to make any difference.”

Gresh turned up a palm. “I know it won’t-so lie. Tell her I messed up a spell and can’t turn you human until the sun rises again, if you like.”

“That might do. There’s no food, though, and she’s a nursing mother.”

“I have a few things in my pack-not much, but a little. We should be able to go back at first light, I think.”

“I suppose.” The dragon looked at the two women. “Will you be all right, Kara?”

“I’m fine,” the witch replied.

“And what about you?”

“I don’t know,” the reflection said. “I’ve never seen night before.”

The dragon stared at her for a moment, then turned back to Gresh. “What are we going to do with her?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Gresh said. “I’m not sure we need to do anything with her. She’s a grown woman, and effectively immortal. Even if she doesn’t know anything about the World, she can probably take care of herself. The spriggans have done all right here.”

“But she looks like my wife.”

“What of it?”

The dragon stared at him for a moment, as Gresh tried to decide whether those huge red eyes actually glowed, or merely caught the waning light.

“Nothing, I suppose,” the dragon said at last. “Get started on whatever mysterious thing you’re doing, then, and I’ll try to keep Ali from getting hysterical.” The huge scaly head withdrew from the hole in the cave roof.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Karanissa said.

“I hope so, too,” Gresh said, as he looked around in the fading light, trying to spot some suitable spriggans.

“Excuse me,” the reflection said.

Gresh turned to her, startled. “Yes?”

“That was a dragon, wasn’t it?”

Gresh glanced up at the darkening sky. “That? Yes, that’s a dragon. His name is Tobas.”

“Are many of your friends dragons? Is that common, talking to dragons?”

Gresh blinked. That was a very sensible question, but this really did not seem like the right time to address it. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “Right now, though, I have work to do.”

“Oh, of course.” She stepped back, with a glance at Karanissa.

Gresh considered the reflection for a second. Despite what he had said to Tobas, he supposed they would need to do something about her-after all, they were responsible for bringing her into existence.

That could wait, however. Right now, he had the spriggans to deal with.

It only took a few minutes to collect several half-burned bits of grass and twig from the floor of the cave and to gather a few reasonably cooperative spriggans-one of them freshly emerged from the mirror.

“Now,” Gresh told the spriggans, “we are going to try a few things. If they work, then I want to make an offer to you and all the spriggans in the World that I think is very fair, and which I very much hope you’ll accept.”

“Can’t speak for all spriggans,” one of the larger spriggans said.

“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” Gresh said. “Now, first off, can any of you read?”

The spriggans exchanged glances. “No?” one of them ventured.

“Let’s just see,” Gresh said. He pulled out a jar and showed them the label. “Karanissa, could you provide a little extra light? It’s getting dim in here.”

The witch obliged by holding up a glowing hand. Her imitation stared up at this in obvious amazement, then began studying her own hand.

“Now, look at the jar,” Gresh said to the spriggans. “Can any of you tell me what that label says?”

No one replied. Some stared at the jar; some exchanged glances with one another, but none admitted to having any idea what the label said.

Gresh sighed and lowered the jar. “So you can’t read. I was afraid of that. Can any spriggans read?”

“Don’t think so,” the big one said.

“Well, we’ll just have to hope the human reflections cooperate, or that your originals can figure out pictograms,” Gresh said, as he slid the jar back into its place in the box. “Now, I need a volunteer to go first.”

“What first?” a brighter-green-than-usual spriggan asked warily.

“I’ll show you, as soon as one of you volunteers. It won’t hurt.” He certainly hoped it wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t see any reason it should.

“Fun?” asked a nondescript spriggan.

Gresh smiled, hoping he looked sincere. “Yes, I think it’ll be fun.”

“Have fun, then.” It stepped forward.

“Thank you!” Gresh picked up one of his improvised charcoals, caught up the spriggan in his other hand, and quickly began drawing on the spriggan’s bare belly.

A few of the other spriggans gasped in horror at Gresh’s apparent treachery. Some stepped back as the captive shrieked. A couple of them fled, vanishing into the shadows at the far end of the cave.

“Ack! Tickles!” the spriggan in Gresh’s hand squealed, as it began squirming.

“Just…hold still for a moment,” Gresh said, as he struggled to complete the sketch he was drawing.

The spriggan began giggling uncontrollably and thrashing its arms and legs and ears wildly, but Gresh refused to be distracted or release his hold until he had completed the job. Finally, though, he set the little creature down on a rock and released it.

It stood there gasping, hands waving, laughter gradually subsiding into panting. Then it smiled broadly up at him. “Lots of fun!” it squeaked. “Do it again?”

Gresh smiled back. “No, let someone else have a turn-and don’t smear the drawing! Don’t touch it! Not yet!” He looked around. “Who’s next?” he asked.

This time no one hesitated. “Next! Next!” shrieked another spriggan, beating its comrades in the rush to Gresh’s knee. Gresh picked it up with one hand while he reached for another bit of charcoal with the other.

As he worked on this second spriggan-who was less ticklish than the first, but still enjoyed the experience-he kept glancing at the first, to make sure the quick charcoal sketch wasn’t being ruined. Before starting the third, he set Karanissa and her reflection to guarding the finished ones, making certain they didn’t let anything disturb his crude drawings.

Finally, after decorating six spriggans, he felt he had done the best he could. He set the two women to stand guard over them while he pulled out the jar of purple powder. He sprinkled it over the mirror, then told everyone, “Stand back! Don’t look in the mirror!”