The Window and the Mirror

by Henry Thomas

  “I’ll keep the prisoner in my sight at all times. No one must see me leave Torlucksford, so say nothing.”

  Durn handed him up the basket of provisions. “As it please you, Commander.”

  When they shut the cell door, Joth could see Eilyth smiling at him in the darkness. He smiled back and they both started to laugh while trying desperately not to, but the ironbound carriage cell was solid, and with the creaks and groans that the carriage was making as the team set out neither the driver nor the youth would ever be able to hear them.

  “Well done,” she said to him quietly.

  “It isn’t over yet, but at least we escaped Mage Norden for the time being. Now, if Ryla Dierns can have a stroke of luck and get clear of him, we’ll be back on our way in no time.”

  “I saved something for us,” she said, “from the packhorse. See?” She produced the wineskin with the last of the mead in it and held it aloft.

  Joth grinned. “I forgot to include that in my plan.”

  “Lucky for you, I did not.”

  They shared the remainder of the mead as the rolling cell trundled over the cobbles and down toward the gatehouse, where they stopped briefly to pick up a basket of delectables hand chosen by Captain Vell, an assortment of crockery jars with waxed linen covers. It also included a sack of wine, much to Joth’s pleasure. He picked through the jars using his nose to ascertain their contents, but it was too dark within the cell to be sure; everything smelled of vinegar. He put the basket back on the floor. He felt Eilyth looking at him through the darkness.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “What if Ryla Dierns does not come?”

  “We will give her a fortnight, then we will have to move on.”

  “Yes, but what then? How will we travel?”

  She was worrying about her horse now, he realized. “We will find a way, lady. We can find another airship in Kingsbridge or book passage along the river, if need be.”

  She was silent.

  “Don’t worry about Aila, lady. Bellan will take good care of her.”

  “Thank you, Joth. You are right, and I am wrong to worry. Yet, I worry.” He could hear her laughing softly to herself. The jailer’s cart rolled on through the night as Joth and Eilyth at last fell off into sleep amidst the symphony of creaks and groans and rocking as it conveyed them along the road to Kingsbridge. They would ride through the next day and into the night in relative comfort until all hell broke loose in the small hours of the following morning.

  Twenty-Four

  The inn was bustling when the Norandian horsemen led her downstairs to the great room. Ryla was dressed as smartly as she could be, plumed hat cocked jauntily, hosen smooth and gartered smartly at her knees. She was a handsome woman, shapely in all the right places and aware of it, and she would use that to her advantage if she saw an opportunity—even if it were an opportunity that involved the smarmy mage and his bullying attitude.

  Ryla knew how to out-clever the clever. She was a clever girl herself; a clever woman, now. Things had been hard for her, but she had persevered, and she had grown into something more than she had been. She had forged a life for herself out of the coals of her ruin. It was long ago that she had sworn the blood oath to avenge her family and her friends and her own honor, but before that she had wandered the way of the wind. In those old and lonely days, she had survived from hand to mouth, from day to day. Her grief was so deep and her sadness so profound that she nearly lost herself in them, but she had survived due in large part to the kindnesses of a short string of male benefactors, the last of whom had given her the Airship Skyward upon his death.

  He had been good and kindly, and it was the closest thing to love she had known since the vicious Lord Uhlmet murdered her first true love, her friends, and family all those many years ago and denied her a life that she once held dear. Now, as she was led down the stairs of the little inn in Grannock, she reflected on her equally good and bad fortune and how luck had played such a role in the events of her life. It was not easy, but she had always survived, and she had always held on to the good and put the bad behind her as best she could. When she had seen the desperate face of the young soldier in the skyharbor at Borsford she had almost turned him away immediately, but she had been glad that she did not after reading the writ he bore and seeing the name “Uhlmet” scratched at the bottom of it. She had thought for certain that she may have intercepted someone of great importance to her most hated and detested former lord—someone she might be able to use as leverage to force a meeting. Then Ryla had planned on getting Lord Uhlmet alone on board her airship and dropping him from a great height onto the rocky outcrop where her small village once stood.

  She would gladly go with the soldier if that was what it took to end Uhlmet’s life. The skies love a volunteer, she thought ruefully, and better the satisfaction of ridding the world of Uhlmet the Monster and living on. She would retire to the Southwest Isle and buy a small holding there like she had wanted to do since she had first flown over the beautiful beaches with their coral sands and verdant mountain forests filled with colorful birds. She would keep the airship and continue running her shipping business, but she would captain it out—perhaps to Elmund, if he ever learned to control his brutish temper, the bloody fool. The man was a liability every time they left the decks but he was a fine hand in the sky. Not many could reef a sail or scramble up the rigging as nimbly or as fair as Elmund could, of that she was certain.

  Losing Dathe had been a horrible thing for all of them. He was a sweet lad, quick with a laugh, even at his own expense, and the crew had liked him well. There was nothing to be done for it now, but she would see that this mage compensated her for her damages and delays, and she would see that whatever family lost Dathe would have his things and a bit of money as well. It was only right that she did so. It was a captain’s duty, she knew, but she also had a strong sense of justice concerning such matters. She would not let that snake of a mage wriggle free of her demands, she was sure of that. And just as sure that she would watch Uhlmet die before her eyes.

  She was a part of something larger, a secret, burgeoning society of tradesmen and intellectuals and workers alike who expressed dissatisfaction with the Magistry and their totalitarian rule, their usurpation of the Nobles, the upset of the ruling class and the unsettled peasantry whom were left with little option for change under the rule of the mages. Having arisen from the peasantry herself, Ryla felt a desire for justice. She had sought out men and women aligned against the Magistry and their rule, and she had conspired with them against the government in small ways over the years—transporting letters and smuggling cargo aboard the Skyward—but her ultimate goal had always been the death of Lord Uhlmet. But now that a clean end to the monster had presented itself, this slight and shrill-voiced Mage Norden had interposed himself between her and her goal.

  The Norandians led her through the bustling great room aswarm with carters and drivers and drovers breakfasting at the tables as well as the foreign soldiers and the mage with his scrawny-looking clerk off at a table in the corner near the fire. The slope-shouldered, balding man was gnawing on a strip of bacon like a rat. He looked up from his plate at her approach and wiped greasy hands on a napkin cloth. “Captain Dierns, what an honor,” he said, rising and gesturing grandly at the table before them. “Please join us for breakfast. We have much to discuss.”

  Ryla looked to either side of her as the Norandian guards withdrew and then turned her eyes back to the mage. “I’m not interested in further delays, Lord Mage. I’d be most interested in resuming my journey. As you are well aware, the time I lose equates to a loss in profits on all my cargo.” She said it with a smile.

  “Yes, yes, of course, captain. You’ll be happy to learn that our wagons have caught us up and it will be a simple exercise of loading my cargo aboard your airship and we will be underway. Have no fear, Captain Dierns. Your rough treatment at th
e hands of the Magistry is at an end. Smooth sailing from here on out.” He smiled obsequiously and stared at her for far too long.

  “I thank you, Lord Mage,” she said, matching his lingering look and masking her revulsion. It was enough to do the trick she mused as she caught a spark of satisfaction in the oily mage’s eyes. Now the fool thinks he has a chance with me, she told herself. Good enough for now; she did not want to push things too far too fast. “If you would favor me by releasing my crew, I can begin preparations to get underway.”

  “Yes, the Norandishmen will escort us all to your ship, along with my cargo. I’m assuming that during the loading you shall have ample time to prepare the ship?” He smiled innocently, but Ryla knew that behind it Norden was gloating. He was not going to give her an opportunity to escape like that.

  She did not like the obligation of being pressed into service by the Magistry, especially when it left her at the whims of men like Norden and took her away from the prize of finally stopping Uhlmet, a prize that was actually in her grasp for the first time after so many years of waiting and hoping and plotting and failing. No, she thought, I won’t let that opportunity escape me easily either, my dear lord mage, no matter what. She would have to wait until an opportunity presented itself and she could speak with her crew and Shiny and Pretty alone. She would gain the mage’s trust, and at the first opportunity she would rid herself of the obligation of satisfying his whims. She masked her annoyance well, and instead looked a bit put out by the whole ordeal and held her palms up and shrugged.

  “I’m only interested in speeding things along. Where’s my breakfast?” She sauntered over to a chair and draped herself across it.

  Norden licked his lips and chuckled nervously. “Serving girl! The captain has an appetite!” He called out with his shrill sounding voice. “Most pleasant, most pleasant,” he muttered contentedly to himself as once again he ran his eyes all over her and for too long.

  She pretended not to notice and instead reached for a flagon of ale and a cup and poured herself a long draught. She hoped that breakfast might afford her an opportunity to see her crew, the mage having kept them separated for the entirety of the previous day and night, imprisoned inside their rooms and served by nervous-looking tavern staff. Ryla had begun to feel as though she would start crawling up the walls before long, and then the guards had knocked on the door and told her in broken Oestersh that the mage wanted her to join him. She had been repulsed and relieved at the same time, but Ryla Dierns knew an opportunity when she saw one, even if it was only a window with a view to an opportunity. She had made more from less in the past.

  “My dear lord mage,” she said pleasantly, “my crew works much better on a full stomach, and the faster we get them fed and going the better.”

  Norden looked up from his breakfast. There was a bit of egg stuck to his chin. “Right, captain. See to it then.” He said the last to his clerk and jerked his head toward the stairs. The thin man practically jumped off of the bench to accommodate his master’s command. Ryla watched as the clerk said a few words to the Norandian captain and two guards started lazily up the stairs toward the rooms.

  A plump serving girl set a plate before her and started away. The breakfast was the same as it had been the day before, but this time there was a small pie accompanying the eggs and marrow-bones and sausages. It was filled with parsley and mushrooms, and it smelled delicious. The food was quite good here at the inn in Grannock. Secretly, that was why she had liked to stop over here when her route made it convenient, that and the fact that she liked the little town on the hill. It was quiet and isolated and most of the time quite peaceful and pleasant. It reminded her of the small village where she had spent her early childhood, the way it had been before there were ever any troubles.

  Though now it seemed to Ryla that trouble could find its way anywhere, especially now that she had found it in Grannock. It took her a moment to realize that Norden was staring at her again. She looked at him and met his eyes and looked away. Now he must be positively straining at the seams of his small clothes, she thought tersely. He was no fool, but he was one of those men who would always view women as ineffectual objects and conquests, beings incapable of matching a man’s merit or worth—things to be coveted and prized and seen in public with, but without any kind of hope of ever realizing any equanimity or equality. For men like Norden, it was a man’s world.

  That was fine by Ryla, for those men were the easiest to fool as they were half fooled already. She caught him staring at her breasts and pretended that it did not make the bile rise in her throat.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Mage Norden?”

  “Hmm? Sorry, Captain. No, I am quite all right, I assure you.” The man practically blushed. This would be easier than she had first thought, no doubt.

  It was scarcely a few minutes later and Galt, Kipren, and Elmund were ushered down the stairs and seated at a table near Ryla and given their breakfasts. Elmund met her eyes and gave a slight nod. That was about as much as she would get out of the man, but it was all that she needed to know that he and the lads were ready to jump if she called out a command and bid them do so. Now was not the time, Ryla knew; it served no end to keep resisting the Magistry now that Norden had the upper hand. The most troubling thing to Ryla Dierns at the moment was that there was no sign of the soldier and his charge, the fiery haired girl with the face of a child and the eyes of an ancient.

  “Where are the others?” She threw it away as best she could.

  Norden was still smiling. “Others? I only kept your crew on.”

  I see, thought Ryla. I see how you work now. “Pity. They have far to go if they’re to make it to Twinton.”

  Norden cocked his head slightly to the side. “Interesting. Linesman Andries made it sound as though he had to threaten and coerce a passage out of you. I see now the story may have a different cast to it.” He raised an eyebrow in what must have seemed to him a threatening gesture, but to Ryla it just made him look ridiculous. In fact she laughed out loud.

  “Come now, Mage Norden, surely you can see how a gallant young soldier would not have to exert himself too much to get my attentions?” She laced it with just enough suggestion in her eyes and almost broke when she saw her effectiveness in Norden’s red face. At least Shiny had not sold her out—for that the lad had earned her respect. It was a fool’s tale in any case. No airship captain allows themselves to be coerced and threatened into taking on cargo or passengers. Unless it’s backed by a writ from the Magistry and a dozen foreign mercenaries, she thought ruefully. “How long will you keep those two under guard?”

  “They are of no concern to you. I have sped them along their way.” He spat it out satisfactorily. He flashed an obsequious smile and went back to his breakfast.

  The spindly clerk cleared his throat in preparation to speak. “The drivers are ready to leave upon your command, my lord mage.”

  “Very good, very good,” Norden squeaked. “Wait until you see our cargo, Captain. You will have never seen its like.”

  Cargo. The man was a fool. He seemed genuinely excited about being the High Mage’s errand boy. “It’s a rare sight, me getting worked up over cargo.” She pushed back from the table. “I’ll be outside, if you don’t mind, Mage Norden. I can’t abide with being indoors after being shut in all day yesterday.”

  Norden seemed to be weighing her chances for escape in his mind. “Of course, Captain.” He crooked his finger at one of the guards.

  Ryla gave a last look to her crew then turned and walked through the front door of the inn and out into the cold gray morning and stood on the side of the short stretch of cobbled road. It was later than she had thought, she saw by the dull glow of the shrouded sun that shone dimly through the overcast sky. The dark skies had made her think that the guards had roused her at dawn, and she had slept poorly the previous night besides. But now she reckoned it to be somewher
e between mid-morning and noon. It would be a piss-poor day for flying, she noted, looking up into the swirling heavens and speculating whether or not she could get Skyward above the menacing cloud bank. A sky like that was difficult to gauge, and she would have to wait to see what the day brought as the sun’s heat could burn some of those clouds away by the afternoon.

  She frowned and squinted up and down the street. A murder of crows flew up from the alley between the stables and the building adjacent. She would have to snug up to Norden. It was not an appealing thought to Ryla Dierns as she watched a dark coated Norandian guard step back inside the door behind her and call out in his strange tongue across the din of the great room. He was leaning halfway with his head and shoulders inside the doorframe. Had she a fast horse and Skyward nearby and hovering, she would have made a break for it then and there, but alas she did not have any of those things and she did not fancy her chances sprinting at all. It was about that time that she heard a low whistle coming from the stables. She looked round to see if the guard still had his head through the door, which he did, and then she looked back to the low wall and saw the furtive-looking stable boy motioning her over to him. He was ragged and hollow-eyed, as though he had not slept in a number of days, but he was standing near the low wall and frantic as he waved her over.

  Despite herself, she almost broke into laughter at the sight of him; hat askew and his fine blue coat, slim dagger hung at his hip, the lad looked as though he was off to go court some country damsel and though he was right at home behind the stableyard wall, he somehow looked incongruous and comical half-crouched as he was in all his meagre finery. She saw from the lather-sprayed riding boots he wore that the boy had ridden hard this morning, and by the look of his face she knew that he was not there for a lark. Quick as a cat, Ryla sprinted to the stableyard and pulled the boy down behind the wall with her.