Mirror Bound

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  He reminded me of you because he sacrificed so much and it still wasn't enough.' This silenced him on the subject of guilt, and he asked: 'You like him very much, don't you?' I replied with feeling: 'I couldn't help it, this boy is special, to have suffered such hardship and still be totally human. He cannot be allowed to go back to his parents and lead a normal, boring life.

  So much talent and such drive have to be given direction, such natural leadership cannot be buried alive in a secretary's job or a stewardship. If he is not challenged he will get bored, and with his horrible memories and his talents he may become the next black mage.'

  That message came home, and Paul offered: 'When I'm able to move around again, do you want me to test him and see if he is guardian potential? Then we could help him get his education, even if that school that the council member wants to found is not viable.'

  That was enough for me, for I knew that those two would recognize one another for what they were immediately, so now I just needed to make sure they'd meet soon.

  After this I described the whole scene to him, Frances' role as mother-figure, Lukas' incredible effort, and his subsequent wish to see George about it. The total of twenty strange children on the estate now, of which the two catatonic ones certainly wouldn't be able to reveal their parents.

  'I want to help as much as possible, and Lukas feels the same. 'Is he coming home tonight?' Paul asked. I replied: 'He is planning to, but I'm afraid he may try to heal another child first. If George is willing to help him.' 'I trust George with anyone, he'll not ride him as hard as I did you, driving you into reaction sickness time and time again, Lukas will be fine,' Paul said, 'do you want some dinner? You must be starving, I know I am. I think I can make it downstairs and maybe even cook.'

  That's when you know you really are a bad cook, when people with a fresh and very painful shot wound prefer to navigate a stairs over eating your

  cooking.

  But of course I knew that already, and I had never put any energy in improving my skills, so I guessed I deserved it. Fortunately I was allowed to help, by dicing stuff, and pouring tea, but I did not get to touch a pan or even the boiler, though I was sure standing up hurt Paul more than he hurt my feelings insulting my cooking.

  We got an edible dinner within half an hour, and we both enjoyed that very much. It was even quite romantic, him and me gazing at each other infatuatedly over a plate of good food.

  But after dinner he graciously allowed me to do the dishes all by myself whilst he laid on the sofa, waiting for his painkiller to take effect so he would make it up the stairs.

  Soon I was sitting on the sofa with his head in my lap, stroking his hair, and he asked: 'Do you want to know what I discovered about those statues?' I had completely forgotten about those silver statues, and I said as much, at which he told me: 'I can imagine, saving a bunch of neglected children from a derelict house in the midst of hell is much more exciting. Though I did find something interesting, I just need to verify it with a book.

  Could you fetch it from the bookcase, it's placed among the magic books, a large red leather-bound tome with the striking title of 'The merry faerie' in gold lettering.'

  Carefully I got up from the sofa, replacing my lap with a pillow, but he got up and sat on the sofa instead. I searched for the book among the scores of magic books, and finally discovered a large tattered red book with the title in gold letters, removed it from the shelf and took it with me to the sofa.

  Once there I sat next to my lover, and laid the book on his knees, it was big enough that when Paul opened it it covered both our laps. He started to turn pages, obviously familiar with the contents of the ancient book, and I caught snatches of beautifully calligraphed images and a nearly illegible script.

  Paul didn't seem to have any trouble reading it, and he quickly found the page he was looking for. He scanned it, then read part of it very carefully and slowly, then said: 'It is as I thought, these are elven marriage statues, some families have them made for their children to celebrate their joining. They're usually just beautiful and associated with good luck, but sometimes their maker puts so much of himself in them, that they develop a soul of their own.

  Apparently the souls are part of the statues, they don't have bodies pining

  away somewhere. Interesting as they are, studying them any further can wait until the current situation has been resolved. We'll just leave them here to get acquainted with the house.'

  Now when had I heard him say that before, and why did it raise the hairs in my neck?

  But those children needed our help, and I hoped we would have something to offer them the coming days. I took a good look at Paul and it seemed the painkiller had taken effect, for he sat straighter and more relaxed.

  I asked: 'Is the pain gone?' He nodded and replied: 'It is, and even when it comes back it hurts ever so much less than it did this morning. That is a very valuable talent Lukas has. Do you suppose his father knew somehow, going to such lengths to set it free?' I mused: 'It would make him very useful to his father's court, if one didn't care about the price Lukas had to pay to get the talent.'

  Paul added: 'Maybe dear papa also hoped it would make him more tractable, having suffered a little at the hands of scary demons, having been humbled .'

  Suddenly I remembered something I had wondered about earlier that day:

  'Does your boiler need attention to keep the contents hot? I realized today that I have never seen you stoke it yet.'

  Paul answered: 'It does, you're right, I almost forgot. I use a magic to stoke it about ten times as efficiently as a normal boiler, but it does need some fuel, about once a day. I'll show you straight away.'

  We put the red book aside and I followed him into the cellar, down the rather steep stairs that ended in the small, rather cold room with one wall covered in shelves, where Paul kept his supplies. On the other wall was a cabinet, I guess the deepest darkest place in his house, where he told us he kept the mirror that was the portal to the world full of demons, wrapped in black velvet. And a large boiler, made out of copper but unadorned, still a thing of great beauty, with the expected pile of coal beside it.

  I asked: 'I have wondered before why it is cool in here, when that thing should be heating the room up to an unbearable temperature?' This made Paul laugh, and he said: 'Can't fool an engineer, can I? I have a spell on that boiler, keeping all the heat inside.

  If it overheats, it vents into the workshop on the other end of the wall in winter, and outside the house in the summer. The boiler in the kitchen is

  connected to this one, as well as the one in your apartment.

  They merely keep the water hot and send it around the house, they don't actually heat it. This one does all the heating.' He opened a chute and handed me a hand shovel, asking: 'Can you fill that from the pile three times and ease it in?' I filled the shovel up with coal and let the contents slide into the chute.

  He nodded in approval, that was slowly enough.

  Then I repeated that movement twice, hung the shovel back where it came from, and closed the chute.

  Satisfied, Paul said: 'That is it, it's ready for another day. In winter I need to stoke it twice a day, with double the amount of coal, and I remove the spell from the piping and the other boilers, and they heat the house.' I was stunned, thinking of the quantity of coal my parents used to burn to keep our house heated in winter.

  Our tiny house, where we lived with five people in one room and had two unheated bedrooms. 'It's one of my great frustrations, not being able to improve society with magic. Every family in the city could live this comfortably, with running water as well, I use magic to pump that from the ground and engineering to pump it around the house.

  But if anyone knew, I'd be imprisoned, murdered, who knows what the people would do to me for using magic. So the boilers I sell are just that, boilers, though I try to make them as fuel-efficient as possible.' He seemed positively sad about having to keep the advantages of using magic a secret, and
he looked so wistful I couldn't help wrapping my arms around him and kissing him.

  He returned my kiss with fervour, a good sign, his body responded to stimuli again, he really was much better.

  After the kiss he said, in a very serious voice: 'Melissa, I've had a lot of time to think about things. Getting shot reminded me of the dangers we face. If something should happen to me I want you to know that I keep the portal in the cabinet over there.'

  This, pointing at the cabinet I already suspected was the hiding place of that powerful thing. But he was not done yet: 'Until you are at your full powers, George should have that, he is strong enough to guard it. I also want you to have this house, instead of running the risk of being turned out by my parents.'

  I didn't even want to think of him leaving me behind, I still heard the shot and

  saw him fall in my mind. His comments distressed me, and he noticed:

  'Melissa, I can see this upsets you, but please bear with me, I have a reason to want to discuss this with you. You love me for who I am as a person, and you love my work, and I want you to have my legacy if anything should happen to me. Which I hope will not, for I want to live with you for years and years to come, I love you more than anything in this world and I want to build a life with you, make us both happy.

  So though maybe this isn't the time and most certainly not the place, I still want to ask you something:'

  He was very intense now, the air in that little room was laden with feelings. I found that having him look at me like that still caused my heart to skip a beat, and I had some trouble remembering to breathe.

  As I watched him, rooted to the ground by his intensity, he slowly sank to his knees and looked up at me, eyes burning, and I heard his voice, thick with feeling: 'Melissa, will you let me be yours forever, will you marry me?'

  I know I said I didn't cry easily, but I can tell you, his intensity combined with the humble posture, and the still fresh image of him dropping, not knowing whether he was dead or alive, or hurt beyond hope, well I'm not ashamed to tell you that made me cry now.

  I helped him up, for I didn't like to see him humble himself for me, and though I knew it was his way to show me that he wanted us to be equals, I could also see that in his condition it was painful. Of course he needed an answer too, and instead of just saying 'I will', which I did, wholeheartedly, I contacted his mind and let him feel the depth of my love for him, but also a big question: what about Lukas?

  For though I would marry Paul, how could I not marry the man I loved so much it hurt and who loved me at least as much, it would nonetheless break my heart to shut Lukas out of it.

  Wrapped up in Paul's arms now, and bearing a significant part of his weight as a sign he needed to be back in bed as soon as possible, I felt his happiness and reassurance flood my mind and my intended whispered in my ear:

  'Dearest, how could I ever do that to someone I professed to love? But even if I didn't love you way too dearly to break your heart, I have come to love Lukas too. I don't want to marry you to claim you for my own, I want to marry you to provide for both of you in case something happens to me.'

  I wanted to hold him forever, but I could clearly feel that he was at the end of

  his strength, and I didn't want him to have a setback. So I kissed him once more, then helped him up the stairs to the sofa, where I cleaned the wound, and from there to bed.

  Chapter 38

  When he was comfortable again, I continued where I left off to take him to bed, caressing his hair, his face, kissing him and holding him.

  He asked: 'Do you want a real wedding, a big thing? With both our families, a gorgeous dress, a walk down the isle, dancing and a banquet? It can be arranged, my parents would love it, they would of course have preferred a girl of a noble family, but they have a healthy respect for a true talent like yours.'

  I contemplated it seriously, but I couldn't imagine putting the highest class of the country in one room with my working class parents. Would anyone benefit by the association, even if it was just for a few hours?

  After a moment I replied: 'I don't think it would be wise, Paul. You'd better invest your savings in our new company than in one day of luxury. I'd rather just go to the town hall for a licence and to a parish priest and get married there, with a few friends. I think I'd feel like a broodmare if your parents only approve of me to bring some new blood and more magic into the Kenwick-line.

  Would they be insulted if we keep it really small?' Paul laughed and said: 'I have not seen my parents in at least five years, I would have to re-establish contact to pull off a big wedding, but I'd do it for you.'

  'Then I'd rather keep it very small, I understand why you want to marry me, and I love you even more for it, but nothing will change except my name.'

  We cuddled some more, and when I noticed Paul nearly dropping off I watched him fall asleep, always eager to catch the precise moment that he changed from someone nearly ten years my senior to a young man my age.

  I saw it happen this time, the years just melted away as his face lost its worry lines and its seriousness, and the boyish features and the unruly curls remained. A month ago I had a hopeless crush on this beautiful man, and now we had been through so many things together and we were engaged to marry.

  Only a month. Still I had no problem believing it, having shared our most intimate feelings we knew more about one another than countless couples

  who had been married for many years. I didn't wait up for Lukas, but snuggled up to Paul and let sleep take me.

  The next morning I awoke early, there was a lot to do. Paul's sleeping shape next to me was warm, but not feverish, and part of me wanted to stay close to him and enjoy his feel and scent.

  But first I checked if Lukas was there, and he was, in bed but awake, watching us sleep. I looked at him and he smiled at me, his most endearing smile, impossible to resist.

  Remembering the past, I held out my arms and whispered: 'Come to me,' and in a second he was in my arms, his musky scent as strong and as pleasant as ever.

  We managed to stick to cuddling for about two minutes, and then we both got overheated, and with one look at Paul, still sleeping, we quietly left the large bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom, on our way to my bed for some rough lovemaking.

  We were up the stairs in a second, and we hit the bed simultaneously, kissing passionately and touching each others soft flesh greedily. I straddled Lukas and felt him slide into me with a thrill, softly scratching his horns whilst riding his ever increasing thrusts. Neither of us lasted very long, we were both so excited we came nearly together, and Lukas must have had a playful night, for he didn't offer a second round, instead lying against me quietly, letting me stroke him softly. He suggested: 'Let's do this in bed with Paul, a bit of cuddling can't hurt him, can it?'

  As we went down the stairs again, I decided to tell him straight away: 'Lukas, Paul asked me to marry him last night, and I told him I will.'

  Apparently Lukas could grin even wider, for he did so now, I thought his lip might split for real. He took my face in both his hands and planted a kiss straight on my lips. 'My dear Melissa that is wonderful!' he said, 'I'm so happy for both of you! You were meant for each other When will you do it, and how do you celebrate a wedding here?'

  I replied: 'Usually there is a ceremony in church, and a big party for the whole family with dancing and a lot of food, but we're planning to keep it small, our families are so different, and besides, nothing will change by marrying: Paul just wanted to do it because he realized something might happen to him and then you and me would be destitute, losing this house and

  what we've built up with our future company to his family.'

  By now we were back in the bedroom, and we continued our cuddling on the big bed, talking softly not to disturb Paul. 'I'm glad to hear that, I'd survive without your love now, but life's so much better with the both of you,' he said seriously, then gave me that huge grin again, 'how is he now?'

  I replied: 'A
lmost better, your healing worked incredibly well, but he still needs some painkillers, he insisted on cooking last night and showed me how to stoke the main boiler in the cellar, but after that he was knackered and had to go to bed.

  He proposed to me in the cellar, on his knees, between the boiler, a pile of coal and shelves with rations. But how was your night?'

  Lukas grinned again, and said: 'I talked over the whole thing with George, then we fooled around some until I was crackling with energy again.

  Afterwards he wanted me to check out one of the worst kids, so we went to meet them. All of the kids had been cleaned up, and boy did that make a difference.

  That Jonathan kid is positively stunning with his hair washed and cut and wearing clothes instead of rags, and with hope in his eyes. The rest were clean as well but they still lack life. I connected with George and picked out one of the two worst ones, a girl.'

  Now his happy expression faded a little, and he went on: 'It was sad, Melissa, very sad. That poor girl had no recent memories at all, not even of the last thing she ate, or that water battle on the Nomes' lawn. Nothing.

  She did have a barrier and I wore it down until it gave in, which was easy compared to Jonathan's. And her memories were fine, she had lived in a small village with her parents and siblings, on a tiny farm, and her parents hoped to give her a better future by sending her to a boarding school.

  Now I know her name was Felicity, but she didn't register it. George of course saw her memories too, so he'll contact her parents, and he'd ask around among all his contacts for someone who might still help her. They'll call her by name now in the hopes it'll stir her memory.'

  'This was a sad business, but not really hard on me, so I asked George if we could help another child. He looked at me very critically and decided we could. So we did the oldest girl, the one who handed out the food and water.

  She had cleaned up nicely too, only she seemed very depressed. When I touched her I got a lot of memories, more than Jonathan had, she remembered