Silver Mirrors

by A. A. Aguirre

  When he stumbled again, he stayed down on hands and knees, trying to regain his breath. Saskia curled up under him and turned away, crying fitfully.

  His heart raced, and his chest burned. He could feel his arms and legs starting to cramp, so he pushed himself to his feet and reached for Saskia. When she tried to struggle, he grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet, pressing her against the rock wall before she thrashed her way off the edge.

  She slapped him, hard. Then again.

  “You bastard! We have to go back! Let me go, we need to get back!”

  The path was still crumbling, slivers and sheets of broken rock and dirt sliding down the mountainside with a grating sound. They could be hurt, buried under a pile of rocks. But getting through that landslide will take hours or days; if we break a leg looking for them, we’re all dead. Or they could be . . . Ritsuko could be—no. They’re alive, and we will get them out of here.

  The thought of losing Celeste twisted his heart, startling a pained self-confession from where he’d buried the thought. I can’t go on without her. Mikani let Saskia vent for long minutes, striking at his chest and trying to push him away, while he regained his breath and tried to get his own trembling back under control. When she tired, with her fists clenched in his shirt and her cursing reduced to loud gasps for breath, he leaned in close to be heard over the rain.

  “We can’t rescue them, Saskia. Not on our own.” She sobbed louder, but he could sense her listening. “We need to get help. We’ll return.”

  “They’ll be dead by then.”

  “They could be dead now.” The admission cost him: his stomach wrenched, and for a long moment he couldn’t draw breath for the knife endlessly turning in his chest. No. It’s not true. I won’t let it be. Be strong for me, Celeste.

  Saskia snapped her head back, eyes wide and red. She pushed at him and struck at his chest and face, weakly. He only turned away enough to avoid the worst of the blows without breaking eye contact.

  “Don’t say that. Don’t you bloody say that, Janus, they have to be alive, they have to be.”

  “Then they need more than two idiots stumbling in the rain and reminding those damned rock creatures that they’re there. Be smart, Braelan.”

  Saskia was silent for a long moment, angry and frightened. “Damn you, Janus. You bastard—let me go.” Saskia closed her eyes and stood up straight. He did not need his gift to feel the wave of hatred she had for him at that moment—it matched his own self-loathing; but the blinding wave of her grief had broken for now.

  He fought back the knot in his throat and started limping up the slippery trail before his muscles cramped up completely. He could hear her following, splashing against the stream of filthy water rolling down the trail and against their shins.

  Then she was next to him, ducking under his arm to help him limp along, wet and bedraggled and freezing cold against his side. They struggled along for the better part of an hour, crouching against the wall when the wind whipped the rain into icy shards of hail and starting nervously every time thunder cracked with the sound of rock giants throwing boulders down from the sky.

  He was reduced to willing his legs to move, concentrating on keeping his balance, so he’d not drag Saskia over the edge if he stumbled.

  Have to keep moving. Come on, Mikani, get your arse in gear. Ignore the pain, push through it. Have to get Ritsuko. Have to help Hu. It’s only pain.

  He was snapped out of his hollow trance by a whinny. Up ahead was a small widening of the path, half-sheltered by a rock overhang. Their horses were huddled there, trembling and wild-eyed, but seemingly hale. He went to the animals, calming them and rubbing them down as best they could. Mikani could barely walk, and Saskia would be unable to lead them all.

  “We need to rest.” Mikani forestalled her protest with a gesture at his legs. “I know. But we need the supplies and horses if we’re going to get help. And honestly, I don’t think you can carry me to the next bend, let alone the top of the mountain. Ten minutes, and we go on.”

  “I can go on ahead, get you all some help.”

  “And you could fall off the edge, or get waylaid by animals, elementals, or craggers . . . and we’d all be done for.”

  Saskia chewed her bottom lip for a moment before finally nodding. She turned away from him to light a lantern, more for cheer than heat. Mikani also hoped it might summon help in the dark, though the chances were slim in such a remote location, and even less that the curious party would have good intentions. They sat in silence while the horses recovered, and Mikani stretched and rubbed away the cramps in his legs.

  “Do you really think they’re still alive?” Saskia didn’t look up from the small, flickering flame, her half-chewed travel biscuit forgotten.

  “I do.” Bronze gods, I hope so. Or I’ll tear down the damned mountain. “It’ll take more than a big rock to bring down Hu. He’s taken a shotgun blast to the belly and walked away from a six-on-one bar fight before.”

  “As I recall, you were the one that started the fight. And the shotgun was first aimed at you.” She turned toward him, dark circles making her eyes look hollow in the shifting light.

  Well, hells if she’s not right about that.

  “And I got him out both times.” He waited for her reluctant nod. “He’s a tough, stubborn brute. You know he is. And Ritsuko—” He cleared his throat, pained by the sudden clench deep in his chest. It took him a few seconds before he could continue in a relatively even tone. “Ritsuko’s smart and resourceful. If anyone can get them out of that mess, she can.”

  “You care about her.” Saskia sounded wistful.

  He looked away. “She’s my partner. Of course I—”

  “Not what I meant, idiot. And you bloody well know it.” She looked away, tying her hair back into her customary loose braid, twigs and dirt and all. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite like this, Janus. Not even . . . not even with me.”

  Mikani frowned, running a hand through his hair but glad of any diversion from the thought of Ritsuko hurt and waiting for him to find her. “Hells, Saskia. You and I . . . gods, we had some great times, but we wanted different things.”

  Hells and Winter, we’re having this conversation now?

  “Oh, Janus.” She gathered some loose dirt and threw it at him. “I think . . . we would have killed one another, sooner or later. You’re too damned pigheaded and bloody honorable for a pragmatic weather witch to put up with for long. Let’s get moving, shall we?” She stood, turning the valve to extinguish the lantern, and the night was all darkness and cloudy skies.

  He clamped down on his gift, hard, to keep from reading whatever emotion was rushing through her. Better to take her words at face value. “Saskia—”

  “Please, Janus. Hurry.”

  CHAPTER 16

  SASKIA TOSSED JANUS A SADDLEBAG. WITH HIS USUAL reflexes, he caught it. Then she mounted Hu’s black horse wearily. This day felt endless—and she had a sick hollow in her stomach. He can’t be gone.

  Irahi was her oldest friend: her father had hired him over twenty years ago, on her first trip as the Gull’s apprentice navigator. She’d taken an immediate liking to the boisterous young man and his boundless cheer; he’d eventually admitted to being amused by her restless enthusiasm—and her penchant for finding trouble, a welcome change from his placid life on the Sisters archipelago. While most of the crew deferred to her as the captain’s daughter, he’d treated her as a crewmate and, eventually, as a friend. When her father had given her command of the Gull, it had surprised no one when Irahi chose to serve under her . . . and they’d been traveling together ever since.

  Gods, I can hardly remember a time without him. He has to be all right.

  She finished adjusting her saddle and glanced over at Janus. A tight knot formed in her throat at the look she’d glimpsed on his face, like he couldn’t breathe for thinking of his missing partner. He kept glancing back toward the broken path, and for a moment she thought they might turn ba
ck to search for their missing companions.

  Then he tossed the bag over the roan’s saddle and saddled up. To her eyes, he looked almost tender as he took charge of Ritsuko’s piebald. Fortunately, it was a placid animal and fell in behind them. As she led the way out from the outcropping, she noted that the rain had tapered to a miserable drizzle while they rested.

  Her mount was sure-footed along the rock trail, never faltering as it climbed. The narrow trail widened gradually as she reached the entrance to a high valley, the rocky ledge opening into a scrubby plain flanked by steep, wooded slopes. After that, it was easier going, but Saskia’s whole body ached with each swaying movement of her mount.

  Once again, she saw the white horse screaming as it tumbled from the crumbling edge. If Janus hadn’t told us to dismount, I would’ve gone with it. She didn’t want to dwell on the tragedy, but there were no words that would suffice. Janus must’ve felt the same way because he was quiet behind her, just the rhythmic clop of the roan’s hooves ringing against the rocks.

  When the rain picked up again to a steady drumming patter on her head and back, she hunched her shoulders against the downpour. She was chilled, drenched, and grateful for the distraction the discomfort provided from her brooding.

  An interminable period later, the rain had subsided to a miserable drizzle once more when she spotted lights in the distance. The sight—along with the promise of warm stalls and mounds of oats—encouraged the tired horses into a canter. Though Saskia was a fair rider, the sudden change of pace nearly unseated her, as she’d been practically dozing in the saddle. Behind her, Janus cursed.

  The village of Skalbrekka was tiny, hardly more than a widening of the path along the valley floor. No more than ten cottages, along with a stable and the public house where travelers took shelter on the way to the mines: the rail line that ran from the mines toward Northport snaked by nearby, but she could see nothing resembling a train station in the village. Even gaslight hadn’t reached this far north; instead, they used old-fashioned oil lamps, a handful of them to light the main thoroughfare. There were no people about, probably because it was past dark, and the weather was nasty, but as Saskia slid off her horse, raised voices from the tavern reached her ears. At first she thought they were fighting, then she recognized a traditional drinking song, belted out in a thick dialect of the old tongue.

  Haven’t heard that spoken in years.

  She took a step in that direction, but her knees nearly buckled, so she clutched the black, who tugged her toward the stable. By the sounds of it, Janus led his horse that way, too.

  A lad came out rubbing his belly. She guessed they’d interrupted his supper, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Worry had too tight a grip on her.

  Saskia produced some coins and jingled them in her palm. “Two silver crescents for you to care for our mounts. Four more if you’ve fresh horses.”

  “Ponies, ma’am. They’re sturdier, better for the mountain paths.”

  “That’ll do. Get them ready.”

  “You can’t ride out at this hour.”

  Janus snarled. From the sound, she guessed he was losing patience. “Why not?”

  The boy glanced over at him. “Owner’s orders, sir. It’s too dangerous to travel at night. There’ve been . . . goings-on, out in the wilds.”

  “Like freak storms and marauding elementals?” Saskia snapped the question. “We know. That’s exactly why it’s imperative for us to get back. We lost two of our party, and we need to find them.”

  “You can talk to Glenn, if you like. He runs the inn, owns the ponies, too. Might be, he’ll see fit to help you.”

  With a sigh, Saskia dropped two crescents in the boy’s palm. Irahi would scold me for taking my frustrations out on the boy. “Thank you. Look after the horses for us.”

  “Will do, ma’am. I hope you find your friends.”

  Inside the public house, the air felt shockingly warm, likely from the press of bodies and the blazing fire. There were a dozen or so men in the common room, roughly dressed and sporting luxurious beards and braids twined into their long hair. But there were a number of women, too, and not just the ones serving drinks; some conversed in a tight knot in the corner while others joked and drank alongside the men. A large group continued singing in exuberant fashion as she trudged toward the bar, where a lean, one-eyed man kept watch on the room.

  “Are you Glenn?” she asked.

  “Depends who’s asking. Do I owe you money?” The man smiled.

  Janus cut in with another growl. “We need to rent some ponies and we could use a hand with a search. How much?”

  Damn it. Never show how desperate you are. You just tripled the asking price.

  To her surprise, however, the innkeeper was shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go prowling in the dark for any amount of coin. Settle in, and I’ll see who’s available, come morning.”

  Saskia mustered every last scrap of calm and patience as Janus slammed his palm down on the counter. “I’m an envoy of the bloody Council of Dorstaad, and my partner’s out there, possibly injured—”

  “The Council has little to say what goes on in Skalbrekka, mate. You’re in the hinterlands now, well and proper. I collect you’re upset, so have a drink on the house. Then I’ll rent you a room, you’ll sleep, and we’ll set out. In the morning. I’m not losing anyone else in the dark or letting my ponies break their legs.”

  One of the barmaids slipped them a sympathetic look, but Saskia could tell Glenn wasn’t budging. “How long until dawn?” she asked softly.

  “Four hours, five at the outside.”

  That meant it was past midnight already. Waiting felt like failure, but in her heart, she knew the truth. They’d do more good with the light to mount a proper search. Just hold on a little while longer, Irahi, Inspector . . . I’ve faith in you. She would not accept any other possibility; they might be hurt, somewhere, but they had to be alive. Still, she was no happier about the delay than Janus was, though she hid her displeasure a little better.

  “You promise we’ll ride out then?”

  “My word on it.”

  That might mean nothing at all. Saskia collapsed in a chair, her pack thumping to the floor beside her. Instead of joining her, Janus paced. He was like a caged wolf, crossing the floor in long, impatient strides; he paused at the window to glare out into the darkness like it was responsible for his fury. In time, the young waitress put two steaming mugs on the table, along with soup and bread.

  “Fortified tea, ma’am, and venison stew. It’ll warm you right up.”

  “Thank you,” she said wearily. “How much?”

  “Board comes with the room.”

  There was no chance she was getting Janus into a bed; she’d be lucky if he ate. “I don’t think we’ll be needing it. Will your employer mind if we bide here by the fire?”

  “Not at all. Then it’s two crescents for the victuals.”

  That sounded low, but she was used to city prices, so she merely passed over the coins. Saskia didn’t try to convince Janus to eat. She merely dug in, knowing she needed her strength to keep going on little sleep. In time, his energy ran low, and he flung himself into the chair opposite her. He scowled at the stew and the now-lukewarm drink.

  “I can’t,” he said, low. “I can’t sit here and eat when she—when they—”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Choosing to leave them behind is killing him. She was still angry at him for that—and at herself, for giving in . . . though it must’ve been the right choice, judging by how they’d barely even made it to shelter, themselves. We would have died on the mountain if we’d gone back. Fine, Janus, you were right. But I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for it. Saskia understood how Janus’s mind worked; she’d just never been very good at balancing his moods against her own.

  In silence, she finished her food and drank the tea. He did likewise, grudgingly, probably because he didn’t want to pass out before the search party departed
. After that, the hours seemed interminable. When her eyelids started to grate like gravel, and she found her thoughts drifting like muddy water, Saskia put her head down on the table in the hope of catching a nap.

  A hand on her shoulder startled her awake. From the faint light trickling in the smudged windows, it was just before dawn. And she was surrounded by rough-looking men. Janus stood with them, and he looked like pure distilled hell. His eyes were red as blood, as if he’d been digging at them, and his face was both filthy and unshaven. In other words, he fit right in with the locals, who all seemed like they’d been up all night carousing.

  “As promised,” Glenn said. “Your horses are rested, and I’ve gathered some lads to help with the search.”

  “Whereabouts did your mates go missing?” a tall, bearded man asked.

  Janus described the area, and the Skalbrekkans exchanged uneasy looks. But not a single one protested when Glenn said, “Let’s mount up.”

  The weather was better today, the return trip less harrowing, but it still took hours. Farther from Skalbrekka, they split up, and Saskia was conscious of time ticking away. Over each new rise, she prayed to see Irahi coming toward her, but so far, there had only been empty crags and hollows, broken ledges and unrewarded effort. Maybe one of the other groups found them. But she couldn’t hold tight to that hope. The quest seemed impossible—and then, as if he’d absorbed as much of her mood as he could bear—Janus snapped.

  He flung the reins to his roan toward her. “I can’t concentrate and pay attention to the horse, too. I’ll bloody well find her or die trying.”

  “Janus, you’ve no idea how far away they are—”

  “Quiet,” he snapped.