The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen

by Delia Sherman

  I didn’t raise my hand. Too many explanations I didn’t feel like making, too many questions I didn’t want to answer. I listened with half an ear while the Magic Tech went on about doors between realities and harmonic resonances and the technical differences between mirrors backed with silver and mirrors backed with mercury.

  “It’s possible to tune mirrors to each other,” the Magic Tech said. “But it’s dangerous, and ultimately unstable. If one mirror goes offline, it weakens all the others.”

  The only mirror that interested me at the moment was the Mermaid Queen’s. I stopped listening.

  While I’d been waiting for it to be dawn, I’d done a lot of thinking. Taking the Magnifying Mirror from the Mermaid Queen had made me a hero, but it had also put the Park in danger. Was that my fault? Or was it the Lady’s for giving me the quest in the first place? Not that it mattered one way or the other. As official Park changeling, it was my job to fix it.

  If I could figure out how. If I survived Hallowe’en and my stupid bet with Tiffany.

  At this point, I realized the Magic Tech was standing in front of me. He was holding a ring with a black stone over my head and looking concerned.

  “Problems, Neef?”

  I cranked up a smile. “Problems?” I said brightly. “No. Just not enough sleep.”

  He frowned at the ring. “The Mood Ring says Distress. Must be broken.” He shook the ring and stuck it in the pocket of his lab coat. “Pull yourself together, Neef. What if you broke a mirror and you’d been woolgathering when we talked about counterspells?”

  “I’d be in deep trouble,” I said. “I know. I’m focused now.”

  Which wasn’t true, but what else could I say? The ring was right. On top of everything else, what was I going to tell my friends when they asked how my Equinox had been? The thought of explaining what had happened, of some random East Sider overhearing and telling Tiffany—or, worse yet, that sneaking Airboy . . . No. I’d just keep my head down and my mouth shut and maybe they’d mind their own business for a change.

  I’d hardly sat down at lunch when Fortran looked at me. “What’s up? You look like ogre spit.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And you look like an apopa.”

  “What’s that?” Fortran asked.

  “An incredibly ugly and misshapen dwarf from Alaska.”

  Stonewall tsked. “You’re in a mood, girl. Did Radiatorella stay too long at the ball?”

  Espresso passed me her cup of milky coffee. I took a sip. It tasted almost as good as it smelled. I opened up Satchel and reached inside, too depressed even to make a wish, and pulled out a hamburger.

  “Whoa,” Fortran said. “Satchel’s being nice to you. You must be really upset.”

  “Are you worried about that stupid challenge?” Danskin said. “Because if you want to get out of it, I bet we can come up with a way.”

  I’d almost forgotten Tiffany’s challenge. Now I really wasn’t hungry. I laid my hamburger on Satchel’s flap. “I don’t want to get out of it. I just want to survive.”

  “We need to know more about the Angry One,” Mukuti said. “You want me to go look her up in the library?”

  “You won’t find anything,” Stonewall said. “She’s an urban legend. In Folkish terms, she’s just a baby. There’s no traditional way to get rid of her. Nobody even knows if she’s a ghost or a ghoul or a hungry demon. That’s why she’s so dangerous.”

  This was not what I wanted to hear. “Are you telling me that she doesn’t follow any rules?”

  “Of course she does. We just don’t know what they are.”

  Stonewall opened his magic bag, pulled out a plate of poached eggs in white sauce, and started to eat. Mukuti, Espresso, and Fortran argued about where Folk came from. I didn’t listen. I’d just remembered that the Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen knew everything.

  Relief percolated through me like coffee. I could ask the mirror how to control Bloody Mary. And since the Green Lady never let the mirror out of her sight, I could at least raise the subject of giving it back to the Mermaid Queen at the same time. Of course, I’d have to find the Lady, and then I’d have to think of how to phrase the question so the mirror would answer me, but those were minor details.

  Suddenly I was starving. I picked up the hamburger and took a bite. Even cold, it was still good.

  The Green Lady is hard to find unless she wants you to find her. The Pooka had taught me that the best way to run into her accidentally on purpose was to get really, really lost. And there’s nowhere in Central Park that’s as easy to get lost in as the Ramble.

  Even when you’re used to it, the Ramble is spooky at night. The trees stick their roots in front of your feet and catch their twigs in your hair. There are ghosts, too, shadows that are white or gray instead of black. Some of them are still person-shaped; some are so old that they’re nothing but trails of chilly mist or a sudden shiver down the back. I was careful not to look at them too closely, or at the lights that twinkled invitingly between the trees. They were will o’ the wisps, feux follets, ignis fatui. Following them would mean falling into the Lake at the very least.

  I don’t even like to think about what kind of Folk play in the Lake on a dark night before moonrise.

  So there I was, totally and completely lost, groping around in the dark with leaves brushing the back of my neck, ghosts moaning around me, and a fresh wind stirring up a smell of rotting leaves and wet rock, when something swooped at me, chittering.

  I ducked, tripped, and fell into a bush.

  There was a complicated moment full of scratchy branches. And then I was in a clearing with hard, grainy rock under my knees and the Lady in front of me, lounging on a boulder. At her feet sat Councilor Snuggles. Since the moon wasn’t anywhere near full, he had two legs instead of four, but he was still plenty hairy and toothy and sharp-eyed. The Lady’s face glowed in the darkness like a lamp, rich amber-green, with the ropes of her bark-brown hair coiled around it.

  I scrambled up and bowed with my hand to my chest.

  “Snuggles,” the Lady said. “Why do I know, whatever she says, I ain’t gonna like it?”

  Councilor Snuggles cocked his head in a doggy shrug.

  All Folk are easier to deal with if they think you’re not afraid of them. Ignoring the fluttering in my stomach, I stuck my hands behind my back so I couldn’t play with my hair. “I need a boon,” I said.

  “Mortals,” the Lady said. “They never show up unless they need something. What d’ya want?”

  I took a deep breath. “I want to ask a question of the Magic Magnifying Mirror.”

  Apparently, this was exactly the wrong thing to say. The Lady grew taller and incredibly skinnier. Her eyes spun like sparklers. Her head tipped back and started to grow into her neck, and she started to hiss like a kettle boiling over.

  Part of me shook like a tanuki’s belly. Another part, trained by the Diplomat, noticed that the Lady’s fangs stayed folded in her mouth and that Councilor Snuggles didn’t bother to move away from her tail. Was it possible that this fairy fit was more for show than for real?

  I took a harder grip on my fingers. “Very scary. But I’m not going away until I get my boon.”

  The Lady-serpent hissed. “I am the Genius of the Green Places of New York. Who are you, to make demands of me?”

  At last—a question I could answer. “I’m your champion. I got the mirror for you in the first place. That gives me rights.”

  To my surprise and relief, the Lady shrank back to her usual size.

  “Okay, you’re my champion. You got rights. I didn’t blast you for getting on my nerves. That’s plenty of rights for one day. Now go away.”

  There was something about her voice and the way she wasn’t looking at me that reminded me of Fortran telling the Diplomat that he hadn’t put beans down Lightbulb’s back. Folk can’t lie, but they can mislead.

  “Genius of the Green Places,” I said formally, “Green Lady of Manhattan Island, Guardian of the Ci
ty’s Heart. As your champion and your Voice, I charge you to answer me: Where is the Magic Magnifying Mirror of the Mermaid Queen?”

  Councilor Snuggles winked at me.

  The Lady bit her lip. “You’re asking as my champion?”

  “And your Voice.”

  The Lady sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you. When a Voice asks, a Genius answers. That’s the rule.”

  I waited.

  The Green Lady yawned and looked up at the sky, where a nail-clipping moon balanced on the treetops. “What were we talking about again?”

  “The Mermaid Queen’s mirror.”

  Emerald eyes gazed into mine. “You’re a good kid. Smart. Brave, too. Great Voice material. I always knew it.”

  “Thank you, Lady. Now tell me about the mirror.”

  Her dreads gave a slither. “I lost it.”

  I thought about the Diplomat and kept my eyes steady on the Lady’s face.

  The Lady’s hair retreated into a quivering braid.

  “That’s too bad.” My voice was astonishingly level. “Do you have any idea where you might have lost it?”

  “Somewhere green?”

  Calm. Poise. Pleasant expression. “In Central Park, maybe?”

  “I don’t think—nah. Definitely not.” She lifted her chin defensively. “I’m on it, though. Remember the scavenger hunt?”

  I’d totally forgotten the scavenger hunt. “Of course. The scavenger hunt. How did it work out?”

  Snuggles gave a bark of laughter. “It would’ve been great if we’d been looking for mica chips and tinfoil. We also scored some silver earrings and a couple mirrors in plastic frames and some sharp metal disks with rings on top that smelled like tuna fish. Everything came from Central Park. The other Green Places didn’t play.”

  I sighed. “Well, at least we know it’s not here.”

  “You have any idea how many Green Places there are in New York Between, little mortal?” Snuggles asked.

  Of course I knew. When I was very little, Astris sang me to sleep with them: Fort Tryon, Riverside, Gramercy, East River, Inwood, Washington Square, Bryant, Morningside. And those were just the big ones. It was hopeless. Even if the Pooka let me quit school and I spent every minute of the next three months looking, I’d never find the Mermaid’s mirror.

  “That stupid mirror,” the Lady said, “has been more trouble than it’s worth. I wish I’d never heard of it.”

  “Me, too,” I said, “seeing how everybody in the Park is going to get poisoned.”

  The Lady ignored this. “I can never remember how to turn the dumb thing on, and when I get you to fire it up, it won’t answer my questions.”

  I stared at her. This, I thought, was what the Diplomat referred to as a piece of unearned luck. “So you’d be willing to give it back to the Mermaid Queen? If you had it, that is.”

  The Lady made a sour face. “Yes. No. I dunno. Look—the mirror’s mine. Her Fishyness is just a bad loser. But she’s threatening my Park, my Folk. I’m the Genius, right? I have to protect them.”

  Something sparked in my head. It wasn’t a plan, it wasn’t even a whole idea, but it was the beginning of one. “So if I go on a quest for the Magic Magnifying Mirror and find it, I have your permission to return it?”

  The Lady looked mulish, then thoughtful. “Maybe.”

  “And you promise you won’t try to keep the mirror for any reason expressed or unexpressed?” I wasn’t sure what this meant, but I’d heard the Diplomat say it and it sounded official.

  The Lady’s face puckered like she’d eaten a basket of lemons. “A promise is no fun if I can’t mess with it.”

  “That’s the deal,” I said. “No backsies.”

  She exchanged a long look with Councilor Snuggles, then sighed. “Howzabout this. I ever find out you ratted on me about losing the mirror, the deal’s off.”

  It was the best I was going to get. “All right. I wouldn’t anyway, but I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re the one who lost the mirror.” I wouldn’t have to, I thought. They’d figure it out for themselves. “Let’s shake on it.”

  So we did that, her hand like polished wood in mine, smooth and hard and cool.

  When the Lady let go, she said, “You’re at that mortal school, now, aren’t you? Whose bright idea was that?”

  “The Pooka’s,” Snuggles said.

  “Yeah, I remember. He jawed at me until I was ready to blast him.”

  Councilor Snuggles scratched his ear. “You said yes instead.”

  “Here’s hoping I don’t regret it,” she said, and melted back among the trees with Councilor Snuggles, leaving me standing in the middle of the Ramble in the dark. I had to cry before a moss woman would show me the way home.

  Chapter 9

  RULE 400: STUDENTS MUST NOT MAKE BARGAINS WITH SUPERNATURAL BEINGS WITHOUT PERMISSION.

  Miss Van Loon’s Big Book of Rules

  So now I had permission to return the Mermaid’s mirror and save the Park. All I needed was a clue where to start looking for it.

  Astris and the Pooka weren’t any help. When I came back to the Castle and told them about my new quest, they just nodded. I was a hero; I found things nobody else could find. It was all part of being official Park changeling.

  They weren’t worried about whether I’d find it by the Solstice deadline, either. Astris laughed when I started listing all the Parks of Manhattan. “Silly pet. Don’t you worry. It’ll be the last place you look. It always is, in quests.”

  The Pooka was just as optimistic. “I wouldn’t be questing too hard to begin with. Whatever you do, you’ll not be finding it until the very last moment, so there’s no use wearing yourself to a thread over it.”

  “You don’t know that,” I protested.

  “I do so. Can you call to mind a single quest that ended before its set time? Of course not. So stop fretting and go to bed. Unless I’m much mistaken, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

  Next day, I skipped lunch to sit on the back stairs and fret without interruption or question. When the horn blew, I went to Diplomacy, where I did my best to pay attention while the Diplomat talked about the difference between bargains you have to keep and bargains you can fudge a little.

  When I looked up from taking notes, Tiffany was glaring at me meaningfully.

  Obviously, summoning Bloody Mary was a bargain I had to keep.

  When the last horn blew, I headed to the library to look for maps of New York Between.

  Espresso cornered me on the stairs. “What’s happening, man?”

  “Nothing. I have to go to the library.”

  “No, you don’t. You have to come with me.”

  Espresso speaking Village I could ignore. Espresso speaking plain English meant business. I put on my coat and followed her outside.

  Fortran was on the swings again, kicking at a maple branch. Stonewall and Danskin were lounging against the iron fence. Mukuti was playing hopscotch. When she saw us, she ran out of the grid and threw her arms around me.

  “You missed lunch,” she said into my shoulder. “We were worried.”

  “I had to do something. No big deal.” I wiggled uncomfortably. “Mukuti, you can let go now.”

  Mukuti stepped back. “Sorry.”

  Everybody gathered around me. “You think we’re not hep to your jive?” Espresso asked. “You’re way off-beat, man. We want to know why. Say we’re curious. Say we’re your friends. They’re both true.”

  I looked around at the circle of faces. Even Fortran looked serious for once. “I can’t tell you much,” I said apologetically. “There’s a kind of geas involved.”

  Stonewall shrugged. “So tell us what you can. We won’t ask questions.”

  I wanted to believe him. I did believe him. I licked my lips. “Okay. Here it is. I have to find the Mermaid Queen’s Magnifying Mirror before the Winter Solstice.”

  Fortran gave me a grin I could have read by. “Is that all? That’s easy. It’s in Riverside Park.”

 
; I liked Fortran. He was smart, and he put his whole heart into everything he did. But he lied. And this was just the kind of thing he could practically be relied on to lie about.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. “You’ve never been inside a Park in your life.”

  The grin dimmed. “I have so,” Fortran protested. “I’ve been there lots of times. I won an acorn off an oak dryad once. Wanna see?” He unzipped one of Backpack’s pockets and produced an acorn. It was battered and worm-eaten. “Wicked, huh?”

  Stonewall picked it up, examined it, put it back in Fortran’s hand. “So not impressed.”

  “Okay, I picked it up on Riverside Drive,” Fortran admitted. “But I do know where the mirror is. This goblin’s been howling. Everybody’s heard it that lives on Riverside Drive.” He shot me a look. “You can ask anybody. Howl, howl, howl all night, every night. Nobody’s got any sleep since before the Equinox.”

  “What’s that got to do with the Mermaid’s mirror?” Mukuti asked reasonably.

  “Well, a bunch of the guys got fed up and snuck into Riverside Park to shut it up. They heard what the goblin was muttering about between howls.”

  “’I’ve got the Mermaid Queen’s Magic Mirror, and now I know everything?’” I asked sarcastically.

  “No-o. It was something about glass beads and a nymph.” He paused. “And a magic mirror.”

  We looked at each other. “That’s it?” Danskin said. “That’s your big scoop?”

  “There couldn’t be that many mirrors in the Park,” Fortran explained patiently. “What else could the goblin be talking about?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Stonewall said.

  “I do,” Espresso said unexpectedly. “Bigger ones go down in fairy tales all the time.”

  The whole thing sounded like a long shot to me, but it was a place to start. “All right,” I said. “I’ll check it out tonight.”

  “Wizard!” said Fortran. “I wish I could help.”

  As we were leaving the courtyard, Stonewall went to walk by Fortran. “By the way, what happened to the guys? Did they get the goblin to shut up?”