Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Spriggan Mirror

If the real reason was that he hadn’t felt comfortable using a fourth-order spell when a second-order one would serve, as Gresh suspected, there was nothing to be gained by forcing him to admit it.

They finished breakfast in silence and were soon on their way west and north, toward Ethshar of the Rocks.

It was very nearly noon when the carpet soared between the towers of Eastgate and descended toward Gresh’s shop. The trip had been far more comfortable than the eastward journey, owing to the lack of crowding, greater familiarity with the hazards of flight, and the absence of a baby, but there had still been relatively little conversation, and Gresh was very glad to stretch his legs after sitting for so long.

Twilfa was standing in the open door of the shop, waiting for them. She waved and called a greeting as the three of them climbed off the carpet onto the street.

“Did you find the mirror?” she called as they approached.

“We did,” Gresh replied. “Have you heard from Kaligir?”

“No; should I have?”

“Not necessarily, but it seemed likely, since you seemed to be expecting us.”

“Oh, Dina told me you’d be home about now. I suppose she heard from Kaligir. So you really found the mirror? May I see it?”

“It’s safe in Dwomor; we didn’t bring it with us.”

“You didn’t? But why…?”

“I’ll be happy to explain everything once we’ve had some food, rest, and beer,” Gresh told her.

“Oh!” Twilfa realized she was blocking the doorway and stepped aside. Gresh and Esmera moved past her into the shop; Tobas was rolling up the carpet. Twilfa looked at him, then at the pair inside, and asked, “Where’s the other one, and the baby?”

“I left my wives in Dwomor,” Tobas said, as he hoisted the carpet on one shoulder, picked up his case, and strode to the door. “Both of them.”

“But that’s…” Twilfa turned.

“That’s Karanissa’s sister,” Gresh told her. “Esmera. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

“Sister?” Twilfa stared.

“I’m told the resemblance is strong,” Esmera said, smiling.

“Esm?, I have eleven sisters, and no two of them come close to that strong a resemblance!” Twilfa said. “Are you twins?”

“No, Karanissa is older,” Esmera replied, her smile widening. “Quite a bit older, actually.”

“About that food?” Gresh asked.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Twilfa hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them in the shop’s front room. Tobas looked around for a convenient spot to put down the rolled-up carpet. Gresh closed the front door.

That gave the three of them a little privacy. “It occurs to me-do you want your origins kept secret, or would you just as soon let everyone know you’re only a few days old?” Gresh asked Esmera, as she headed toward the chairs in the corner.

“I think I’d prefer to keep it to myself,” she answered.

“We’ll probably have to tell Kaligir,” Tobas remarked, as he thumped the rug down in front of a large brass-bound chest.

“If you must,” Esmera replied. She sat down in one of the velvet chairs and began undoing her braid.

“What are you doing?” Tobas protested.

“I’m letting my hair down, now that I won’t be flying anywhere, and I don’t need to worry about you confusing me with Karanissa.” She had the braid uncoiled and was untying the ribbons that held it together.

“But I’m still… I mean, people will think you’re her!”

“Tobas, I am not going to keep my hair up forever; I’ve braided it for traveling often enough, but I’ve never worn it coiled up that way before, not in four… I mean, Karanissa never wore it that way, in four hundred years, and I don’t like it any better than she did. I’m done traveling, so I don’t need the braid, either.”

“But everyone…”

“Tobas.” She stopped unraveling the braid and put a hand on his. “I am going to be living here, in this city. People are going to see my face, sooner or later, and whether my hair is up or down, they’ll notice the resemblance to your wife. There’s no point in trying to hide it, or pretending I don’t look exactly like her-of course I do, because I’m her reflection made flesh. You know that, I know that, and Gresh knows that. I’ll be happy to use the twin-sister excuse instead of the truth, just to save a lot of tedious explanation, but I’m not going to ignore the fact that I’m physically identical to her. It would be silly to try. I will try to hide that I have all her memories, to save on explanation, but even that is my business, not yours. Now, calm down, sit down, and wait for Kaligir.”

Tobas looked down, remembered that she was not who she appeared to be, and snatched his hand away. Then, reluctantly, he settled onto the other velvet chair.

Gresh hesitated; he wanted to give Twilfa some help in the kitchen and start getting caught up on business matters, but he had promised Tobas he would never leave him alone with Esmera.

“Will you two be all right here if I go give Twilfa a hand?” he asked.

Tobas threw Esmera a quick glance, then said, “I would really prefer…”

“Could I come with you?” Esmera interrupted. “I’d like to meet all your sisters and get to know them, if I’m going to be staying around here.”

Tobas looked relieved. “I’ll stay here, to let Kaligir in,” he said.

That was not exactly what Gresh had wanted, but it was close enough-and it really would be a good idea for Esmera to get to know Twilfa. “As you please,” he said.

Together, Gresh and Esmera made their way down the passage to the kitchen, where Twilfa was filling beer mugs from the keg in the pantry. A tray of black bread and hard cheese stood ready on the table.

“I thought you’d want something simple and filling,” Twilfa explained, with an uncertain glance at Esmera.

“Excellent,” Gresh said, not mentioning how similar it was to the breakfast they had eaten in Ethshar of the Sands. “Esm?, could you fetch that big jar of apricots?” He pointed, and then picked up the prepared tray.

As Esmera lifted the heavy jar down from the shelf, Twilfa leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure she isn’t Karanissa?”

“Quite sure.”

“But she isn’t really a sister, is she? Isn’t Karanissa four hundred years old?”

“Yes.”

“So she’s, what, a homunculus of some sort? A shapeshifter?”

“More of a magical accident-and a witch, just like the original, so she can hear everything we’re saying.”

Twilfa threw her a quick, guilty look. “Oh.”

“That’s all right,” Esmera said, as she turned, holding the jar. “Of course you’re curious; anyone would be. As Gresh says, I’m an accident-remember, he went to find a magical mirror? Well, he found it, and it is a mirror, as well as the source of the spriggans. I’m a reflection turned human.”

“Oh.” Twilfa’s voice was noncommittal, but her expression was frankly baffled.

“But I really am human now and would prefer to be treated as such.” There was a faint tone of warning in Esmera’s voice.

Twilfa did not miss it. “Oh, of course,” she said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You weren’t,” Esmera assured her, relaxing again. “And as a guest here, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s nothing…”

Just then the doorbell jingled.

“That will be Kaligir,” Esmera said. “Shall we go?” She hoisted the jar of pickled apricots and led the way back to the front room.

The Spriggan Mirror A Legend of Ethshar

Kaligir stood in the doorway, looking around distastefully. He wore the same red-and-black formal robes and black cap he had worn for his first visit, a couple of sixnights earlier.