The Universal Mirror

by Gwen Perkins

  “I’m not sure that he does. I don’t right know… I’ve not talked to him since.” His boots swung up again, then fell back harder against the pier, rattling the boards as they hit. Quentin’s fingers reached for the piling. “And I didn’t know for sure that you could do it, aye, but I felt that you could. If not, what was it all for?”

  “Hope, maybe. If we hadn’t figured it out—”

  “You, you mean.”

  “No, we. It took all that work to know. Any road…” Asahel smiled as he heard Quentin use the phrase, never one heard in the manor houses. “It would’ve been worth it. The Council, when they form again, will have to be more accountable. Certainly, healing’s no heresy now.”

  “How will they form a Council again? We’re lucky they’ve not rioted in the streets.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that some of the leaders, at least, weren’t present.” He sighed. “The Geographer took the worst of it.” Both men fell silent. Asahel recalled only the broken beak of a raven mask, feathers scattered across wood, bloody at the tip. There had been little left beyond that, he had heard.

  “Will you try for a place?” Asahel asked. Quentin shook his head.

  “No. I have enough to focus on at home.” He smiled. “Our door has lines at it every morning. That’s what your miracles will do for a man. Catharine refuses to think that we should line it with guards.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Asahel shrugged. “I know you. You’ve a liking for that sort of adoration.” The smile turned into a grin, followed by a nod.

  “Oh, I do,” Quent agreed. “Are you sure that you don’t want to make a go of it with me? It was us at the beginning. We ought to see it through. You liked the idea of saving the world once, or at least the country.”

  “I still do.” It was hard to admit with Quentin’s hopeful face upon him. Asahel knew that he was only going to disappoint him as he added quickly, “But not now. After all that’s happened, I need… I’d like to start over. While that’s possible.” His face turned, studying the sea. He’d spent years of his childhood learning the waves, every turn and trick of the ocean, without a place to spend that knowledge beyond the confines of the docks. The world was filled with possibility now that the Heresies had been lifted, yet as he stared into the water, he felt as if it had closed.

  “I’ll miss you.” It wasn’t a plea but a simple statement of fact. Asahel gave him a slight, shy smile in return.

  “I know.”

  “And Catharine too.”

  “That, I didn’t know.” Asahel laughed. “But I’m glad.” He leaned back, careful not to brush his friend, placing his hands flat on the pier. The day was still warm despite the glow of autumn and he felt the heat radiate through the wood.

  “So this is it,” Quentin mused. He leaned forward, kicking his own legs out to Asahel’s surprise. “Did you plan to tell Felix about leaving the island? I do like being one up on him, but you do owe him.”

  “Owe him? Sure, and he’ll have no want to see me after I called that sickness down upon him. He knows that I’d no idea you could heal. Not for sure, any road.” His face flamed as he himself sat up, sick with his guilt. There was so much that Quentin didn’t know about his role in the imprisonment. He’d managed to forgive Felix for a part the other man hadn’t played, but Asahel knew that Quentin could never forgive him in the same way. It was too much to ask. Just another reason to go, he thought to himself.

  “You can’t assume how another man feels because you think you bear them some responsibility.” Quentin said, his voice level. He reached out, resting his hand over Asahel’s for a moment. It disappeared before Asahel had a chance to respond. Quentin stood, his foot scuffing the pier as he looked down. “Talk to him when he comes, at least.”

  “What do you mean, when he comes?” Asahel jumped to his feet so quickly that he shook the piling he was standing next to. Quentin grabbed it, then relaxed as he realized that they were going nowhere.

  “I thought that the two of you ought to talk, so I suggested that he be here around… midday.” His eyes squinted up at the sun. “Which ought to be about now.” The squint turned into another grin. “Fortunate since I’ve got to be back home. It’s been much more pleasant since my wife came to the rescue—I think she rather liked being in the spotlight.” His smile softened but Asahel took no notice.

  “You’d no right to meddle.” Asahel scowled.

  “Funny. I could say the same of you.” The comment was pointed despite the smile. Asahel hesitated, wondering what Quentin knew of the events that had transpired. It was clear now that he’d spoken more to Felix than Asahel had realized. Unaware of what the other man was thinking, Quentin lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Come and see us before you go.”

  “Of course,” Asahel managed, watching the redhead walk away. There was a bounce to his step that had never existed before—surprising, given that he’d never expected Quentin and Catharine to come to a peace.

  He walked back up to the shore as the sun continued to rise in the sky overhead, beating down through the clouds. The beaches were empty, although he could hear the sound of hammering in the distance as shipwrights continued at their trade and the calls of workers rang back and forth across the docks. Asahel kept walking, his feet leaving deep grooves in the wet sand as he followed the waterline, moving in and out of the tides that lapped his boots. He had no intention of meeting Felix. It seemed as the sun began its descent and the sky started to darken faintly overhead that Felix felt the same.

  The man stood at the shore in thought as the shadows lengthened around him. A sharp wind blew in from the ocean and he lifted his head to breathe in the salt air, yearning for it. His hair whipped against his face, falling into his eyes so that they stung with tears.

  “Soames.” Felix’s voice interrupted the silence. He didn’t turn but instead, blinked at the water in his eyes.

  “You didn’t have to come,” was all he said.

  “You were never going to.” The older man stepped in front of him, breaking his view of the sea. Asahel noticed that he still had a slight scar from where the illness had taken him, next to his left ear. Felix reached up to touch it, conscious of where his gaze had landed.

  “I’m sorry,” Asahel said, miserable. “I didn’t have the right to do… what I did. Any of it.”

  “I was going to die regardless, you do realize.” Felix replied. His hand dropped, resting on the hilt of his sword. There was a faint crackle of magic as his skin touched the steel, no longer afraid to channel energy through the weapon as vessel. “If I had to die, it might as well have been in the service of good. Think of the songs that could have been sung. Pity that they won’t be now.”

  “Besides,” he added. “You apologize too much, Soames. I think we’ve discussed this before.” His shoe dug into the sand and kicked a little up at Asahel, spattering the edge of his tunic. It earned Felix a scowl in spite of Asahel’s intention to apologize, followed by a laugh from the older man.

  “Laughing about it won’t make things any better,” Asahel said quietly, walking over to sit down on a log washed up on the shore. A crab scurried out from beneath the driftwood, hiding beneath a rock. Felix eyed it uneasily but joined Asahel, sitting an arm’s length away from the other magician.

  “No, it won’t. Only time can do that.”

  “Quentin doesn’t know it was me.” The words came from him in a gulping sigh. Asahel longed to have the excuse of wind for why his eyes suddenly stung and his cheeks reddened.

  “He doesn’t need to know,” Felix said, tracing a circle in the sand with a lazy toe. “If you want to punish yourself, live with that. Let him be, let him think that I was the one. What does it matter, in the end?”

  “He’s my friend. I ought to tell him the truth.” He pressed his hands against the log, the sand on it gritty against his palms.

  “No.” Felix shook his head. “We’ve enough to deal with in the coming months without asking that of him as well.” He glanced over at
Asahel. “You listened to me once when I gave bad advice. Perhaps you ought to give me a second chance.”

  “You’ve given me a few,” Asahel said slowly, his eyes meeting Felix’s. “I’ll run out.”

  “Eventually,” he allowed, leaning back on the log. “But people can forgive more than you think. You don’t have to keep walking away.”

  “I’m not walking,” Asahel protested. Felix lifted a single eyebrow. “I’m… taking a boat.”

  “A boat?” Felix tilted his head, pondering it. “I’ve always wanted to sail.” Asahel blinked as Felix laughed. “Come on then. You can’t be the only magician to leave these shores—who knows what other trouble you’ll find yourself in?” He tapped his sword. “It’s time that I put my own talents to use for a good cause.”

  Asahel rose, his feet carrying him to the water’s edge. Only a few ships floated ahead, white sails billowing in the autumn winds like clouds drifting through the mists. The waves remained calm in spite of the wind, sun shining off the dark water. His fingers clenched as he thought of what might lie ahead if he were to consider Felix’s offer and his own dreams of taking the healing magic that Quentin had discovered to foreign shores. It’s a fool’s dream, but then again, he thought as he looked at Felix, we’re both fools in our way.

  “There’s no sailing in winter,” Asahel said with a smile. “We’d better get started, aye? There’s a lot of world to cover.”

  Acknowledgments

  No novel is created in a vaccuum and this is especially true of The Universal Mirror. Writing this book was done with the support, love and friendship of a great many people, especially:

  My family—Laura, Amaranth, Nynaeve, and Oisin, as well as my grandmother Karin, Amanda, Ann, Troy, and Yvonne—for always being there to listen, whether that be about writing or any one of a great many things. It takes a great deal of patience to put up with a writer and I appreciate theirs. (Not to mention their creativity and senses of humor!)

  All of the good friends (and great writers) who have helped me along the way:

  · Cortney, for having put up with my scribblings and chatter since middle school

  · BriAnne, for listening and providing constant encouragement in spite of my occasional rantings

  · Caitlyn, for throwing ideas back and forth with me constantly (as well as too many other things to name here)

  · Amy, Jason, Nichole, Cait and Matt, for being my readers when I needed it and giving me great feedback

  · Stephanie and Joan, for being not just fantastic colleagues but friends, always there with support and inspiration.

  I'd like to thank Enggar for a book cover which so perfectly represents my own image of my characters and story.

  And a very special thanks goes to my publisher, Frank, for not only believing in The Universal Mirror enough to publish it but for being incredible to work with every step of the way. Thank you for helping me make my dreams a reality.

  About the Author

  Gwen Perkins is a museum curator who finds constant inspiration among the artifacts and ephemera of everyday lives. Although presented in a fantasy setting, the characters and events of The Universal Mirror were heavily influenced by her historical research. Gwen lives in Tacoma, Washington with her partner and their three children. This is her first novel.

  Samples of Other Hydra Titles

  Andraste by Marisa Mills

  Chapter 1

  Andraste sat whittling on the battlements, overlooking the thick forests of Nymphia. The elf flicked her ears back. All elves could move their ears- similar to the way cats do, in order to better perceive sounds, and Andraste was no exception. The sharp footfalls confirmed that someone was coming, and from how loud they were, Andraste had a feeling she knew who. Turning back to the piece of wood in her hand, she began carving again.

  “Andraste, I know you're up there! I'm not that blind.”

  Andraste knew that voice well; the bards would probably liken it to that of a nightingale. That’s Radiance. Curses!

  Radiance came to stand beside her on the battlements. The elf’s curly red hair blew in her face as she stood with her hands on her hips. Andraste stood, too, her brown and silver hair flying in her face, and she tried to shove it away from her eyes. Radiance looked at her with her brownish-green eyes and that smug look she had in her left eye. It was the “I’m not letting you get out of this” look. Her right eye was blind, and she usually took care to cover it with her bangs to keep people from asking why it looked the way it did, but the wind was blowing too hard for that to work. Instead, her hair flew all over the place, like autumn leaves did in the wind. Actually, her hair was almost the color of autumn leaves when Andraste thought about it. Or maybe copper was a better comparison. “Andraste, you’re up here whittling.”

  Andraste shrugged, glancing at her half-finished phoenix before tossing the wood away. Someone else- most likely one of the guards- would probably pick it up and finish it later. “Your power of observation is incredible,” she replied.

  “Don’t be so sarcastic. Aunt Xandrina says that’s a teenager thing, and you’re not quite there yet.”

  “Two more years.”

  “Well, Xandrina says we need to get ready for the party tonight,” Radiance stated. “And she told me to come find you.”

  “I can’t pretend to be sick?”

  Radiance laughed. “No, you were sick at the last one. I don’t know why you hate these parties so much.”

  “Oh, yes,” Andraste ranted sarcastically as they walked down the battlements. “Because listening to a foreign dignitary drone on and on is so fascinating.”

  Radiance laughed again, a high-pitched sound that made Andraste mentally wince. Radiance’s voice might be like a nightingale, but her laugh was more like a mockingbird. “Oh, come on! Every male that comes has his eye on the famous Warrior Princess Andraste and her ‘intense amethyst eyes’.”

  Andraste blushed. “Wasn’t that Lord Vigilance who said that? If I remember correctly, I dumped a glass of wine over his head.”

  Radiance nodded. “Yes, you did, and I was busy talking to the Prince of Invaria, who was very fair, I’ll have you know. He looked slender with hair the color of wheat during the harvest and eyes like copper.”

  The two were almost at the palace entrance. Radiance reached a hand out before they were even at the door, and Andraste pursed her lips. It was small signs like that that showed Andraste the flaws in her cousin’s eye sight. Radiance half-smiled and took a step forward before her fingers brushed the door. “That arrow did a job on my vision, didn’t it?” she asked. “I envy Brilliance; she’s still beautiful.”

  “It’s just a small flaw in your vision,” Andraste said.

  “Well, I have plenty of beauty to compensate for that, but still… I wish both my eyes at least looked the same,” Radiance said.

  “Narcissist,” Andraste teased.

  Radiance scowled at her. Andraste pushed the door open and entered the palace behind her. “Radiance…you know Aunt Xandrina would dismiss you from the warriors if you desired that, don’t you?”

  “And?”

  “Well…I mean, it’s a very small flaw in your vision, but you’d never have to fight again. Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

  Her cousin shook her head. “I might be half-blind, but I’m still a Nymphian, Andraste.”

  Andraste privately thought that ‘being a Nymphian’ was a poor excuse, but she understood what Radiance meant. “So-o,” Radiance said, dragging out the word longer than necessary. “I was looking at the guest list.”

  “Oh no,” Andraste replied, suddenly focusing her attention on the embroidery of a tapestry. “The weavers did a good job on this, didn’t they?”

  “I thought you might want to know Luminous is sending representatives.”

  “Are they really?" Andraste asked, her ears tilting back. “Who are they sending? Is my mother coming?”

  Radiance shook her head. “I'm sorry, Andraste. It’s an ambassa
dor of theirs.”

  “Oh.”

  An elf in a silver gown came around the corner, her brown hair arranged into large curls atop her head. The woman walked gracefully with her head up in traditional, regal arrogance. Her steel-blue eyes looked vaguely distant as she spoke to the shorter elf beside her. “All right, as long as we have enough. That is all that matters-Andraste! Great, I was looking for you!”

  “Radiance told me,” Andraste mumbled.

  The elf sighed. “Dear, you need to get ready. It’s your duty.”

  “I know, but I don’t have to like it being my duty,” Andraste replied. “It’s just boring!”

  “Oh, Guardians, I know!” the elf agreed, throwing her arms in the air in a very un-queen like manner. “How do you think I feel having someone ask me every few seconds how the war is going, or if he can court you, or if I’m looking for a new mate? Oh, and do not forget those... those pompous Glishian representatives! All they talk about is their wine. It’s not even that good, and they treat it like it is some gift from Oishea herself!”

  Andraste sighed. She has a point, the elf thought. “Do I have to wear a gown?”

  The elf half-smiled. “Yes, you do. Ebhlin sewed it just for you, Andraste. Radiance has one, too.”

  “Yes!” Radiance squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! Thanks, Aunt Xandrina.”

  Xandrina nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, I have to go and be sure everything is perfect- even though we all know there will be a mistake of some sort. There always is. Oh, I have to find Ebhlin, too! I’ll send her your way.” The elf bustled down the hallway, stopping next to another elf. “Ah! Aisling, I was looking for you.”

  “Maybe she’ll forget about Ebhlin,” Andraste remarked.

  “I doubt it,” Radiance replied. “I'm sorry, Lady.”