by Cameron Jace
“I think we should cough or something,” I whispered to Angel. “She might not realize we’re in the room.”
“Of course not,” Angel said. “Can’t you see she is busy?” He pointed at her.
This time, I noticed the lady’s main concern wasn’t the magic mirror. Not even the floating images through the mirror. It was the loom she was weaving artistically with her hands.
I am saying ‘loom’ because I can’t find words to describe it better. It looked like a magic carpet, its threads in the lady’s hands, but I couldn’t locate the threads at the beginning or end. She weaved the threads into the mirror, and then mountains rose into some lands. She weaved the thread again and there was a river made of cloth like the one we’d seen before.
I stood, mouth agape, unable to believe what I was looking at.
Then I took a step back to take a look at the lady’s surroundings. Back then I had never understood what I was looking at. But now I know. So I can explain it.
Lady Shallot and her mirror were encircled with what I later learned was called a Dream Temple, a sacred place to commune with dreams and other worlds. The Dream Temple was where a Creator, in this case her, weaved the worlds. The Dream Temple intermingled Dreamworlds and real worlds through invisible doors. Only Dreamhunters, a special breed of humans, had the power to travel between them. And the Lady was an all-seeing-eye to these words.
We were most probably standing in the top of the Tower of Tales with God weaving our lives.
Chapter 34
The Queen’s Diary
The Lady God was now weaving something with a red ball of thread that seemed to never end. But the red threads were connected to other threads on both sides. She didn’t seem to use those two. One of them was black. The other white.
We stood there watching her for a long time. I realized I could stare at her working for years and years. Then, at some point, the Lady decided to talk to us.
“Welcome,” she said. I assumed she had seen us in the mirror, and I was startled at her lack of surprise to see us. Later, I realized she had been watching us inside the tower for days. “Forgive me for not turning around,” she continued. “I have to finish this last piece.”
None of us said anything. We bowed our heads in obedience, hoping she saw us in the mirror. Her presence was majestic. Who were we to respond to her?
Lady Shallot sewed the red thread tentatively, like a caring grandmother. She did it with accuracy and love. I happened to finally understand that she wasn’t just weaving mountains, rivers, and towns into existence. She was also weaving lives to occupy those worlds.
But what I noticed more, was that she had a thing for stars, moons, and suns. She took her time with them. She loved them. And wondered if she had ever given life to the Moongirl who had just died for us.
Angel was still in a hypnotic state, watching the Lady in the mirror weaving the world.
“Please have a seat,” she pointed behind her back. “I’m almost finished.” She wet the thread with her tongue and continued working on her masterpiece.
There were no seats in the room, but there were two turtles with shells that looked like chairs. Angel sat on one immediately. I waited to see if the turtle would squeak or scream in pain. It didn’t. It only pulled its head inside to give way to Angel’s legs. Imitating him, I sat on the other chair — I mean turtle.
“That’s about it. All this world needs now are a sun and moon,” Lady Shallot basically talked to herself, proud of her creation in the mirror. How I wished I possessed such a power. I’d be sitting all day knitting the world as it manifested in the mirror. “I’ll have to wait for a sun and moon to be born soon, and see if they fit this world,” she mumbled, and turned around.
A sun and a moon to be born? I thought she weaved them. Now I realized she was only putting some last touches of newborn stars when I saw her earlier.
My curiosity drove me to tilt my head and try to glimpse her face from the sides. I wanted to know more about her. I almost fell in love with her.
She had an interesting face.
She looked serene — not beautiful, but glowing in a spiritual way. I had expected a lady who lived this high to be possessed by the kind of beauty that brought a tear to the eye. Instead, she looked ordinary, like most of us in many ways. She looked as if she were fit to be anyone’s grandmother — everyone’s grandmother. Her eyes were doe-like and caring, and her smile made me want to sleep in her arms. If I were asked to go through all the obstacles I had again to meet her, I was going to do it happily.
“Isn’t it a mystery how people look very different in reality from their reflection in the mirror?” Lady Shallot finally turned around, her eyes scanning our faces.
“What do you mean?” Angel asked eagerly.
“Did you ever notice that your left is your right and your right is your left when you look in the mirror?” she said.
Angel said nothing. I didn’t know why exactly. Maybe because not many people owned mirrors in that time of history. The only mirrors we knew about then were made of brass and obsidian stones, which weren’t exactly reflecting much. Glass mirrors — or silvered, like some liked to call them — were not invented until years later. They were the most precious thing on earth then; more than gold — although later in life I had the most horrifying experience with them.
“I don’t like mirrors,” Angel uttered. His face twitched, and I didn’t see a reason to spoil this magical moment.
But I understood. Being a half-vampire—due to being the descendant of one of the most feared vampires in the world—he avoided mirrors. Against contrary belief about vampires at the time, mirrors did show their reflection, but only the gruesome dark side of them. A vampire was all the ugliness in the world in front of a mirror.
“The fact that your left is your right in the mirror means that you can never really see yourself with your own eyes,” the lady elaborated, dismissing Angel’s comment. “It’s impossible to see who we really are.”
“Only others can tell you how you really look,” I muttered, agreeing, and remembering all the things I went through to come here. “Only others can see you the way you really are.”
“There is great wisdom in that,” she began sewing again, but without looking back. “But one can’t help but wonder if my left in the mirror is my right, does it mean my up is my down, too?”
Slowly Angel began to get interested in her paradoxically provoking questioning.
We didn’t ask her how she knew our names. It was pointless. She probably knew the name of rats, ants, birds, and the tiniest creatures in the world that she’d been weaving. “If a mirror reflects a man’s right as his left, why wouldn’t it reflect his upside as his downside? Or better,” she continued, seemingly interested in the subject. I wondered if there was a point to it, but then she said it out loud. “Could it be that it reflects a man’s evil as his good? Is it possible that we never see our own evil, and that it can only be seen by others?”
Chapter 35
The Queen’s Diary
Angel shrugged, and I grabbed his arm. This lady saw right through us. By now, we knew she was the one who had the power to gift us a home. And it seemed she questioned our goodness. I assumed she mainly questioned Angel’s goodness.
“Would you mind telling us what this place is?” I interrupted, trying to ease the tension in the room at the top of the world.
“It’s an island,” she shook her shoulders, still facing Angel. “It exists, and it doesn’t at the same time,” she slowly turned to face me. “It only shows itself for those who ask for it.”
“And those who don’t?” I had to ask, thinking about Night Von Sorrow tailing us all the way, about Captain Ahab’s ship having been here.
“They will never be blessed with seeing it,” she said. “If you’re capable of accepting this for an answer, we shall continue our conversation.”
I wasn’t comfortable with her challenging conversation, but you didn’t argue wit
h gods, not in my life. So I nodded agreeably. Angel didn’t flinch. He still seemed perplexed with the idea of him being good or evil.
“Good,” she said. “My name is Lady Shallot. Some call me the Lady of Light. Neither is my real name, of course, because the mirror never reflects your name, does it?”
We weren’t going to argue. We were glad to be alive, and we decided to listen to her, for she may be able to help us.
“People have the need to name things, even when the meaning of things is already inside them and doesn’t need to be labeled. If you never knew an apple was called ‘apple,’ would you change your mind about how good it tastes or how poisonous it is?”
“If I may ask,” Angel said in a hesitant voice. “What do you do exactly, Lady Shallot?”
“That’s a rude question to ask,” she laughed. It was a kindhearted laugh. She wasn’t belittling Angel, only something in his question amused her. “Would you ask a god what he does?”
“Are you a god?” Angel asked eagerly.
She smiled to herself, “Would you ask a god if he or she were a god?”
Angel was entranced by her indecipherable words. On the other hand, I couldn’t neglect her interest in talking to him, but not so much to me.
“I’m not a god,” she said. “In fact, I’m not God.”
“Then what are you.”
“I am weaver. Some might claim I am the only weaver left. I weave worlds,” she said, peeking back at the world she’d just woven in the mirror. “Although this one needs a sun and a moon, like I said. Suns and moons are always the hardest to weave.” She turned back and took her time looking at Angel and, finally, me again. “But that’s not what you really want to ask me. Is it?”
“That’s true,” Angel nodded. “We were sent to you. I thought you knew,”
“People always send other people to me,” she said. “I weave worlds and lives. And lot of people need a new life.”
“We need to reach a real shore,” Angel said. “We were told you can find a land where my wife and I can start a new life and forget about our past.”
“I understand,” she said. “But sadly there is no shore for you two,” Lady Shallot said bluntly, still tentatively weaving something.
“What do you mean by that?” Angel frowned. “We’re not going to be trapped in the ocean for the rest of our lives. We’ve been through a lot. This isn’t just.”
“Don’t talk to me about justice,” Lady Shallot said. “You may bring that up with Godmother Justina. She lives here in the same ocean. If you want to reach her, you only have to know in your heart that you want to meet her, and then stay strong while swimming the ocean for a couple of days. Besides, justice, in my book, is overrated if you ask me. It’s a myth and is unattainable.”
“Then what is attainable?” I asked.
“You can get anything you want in this world, only if you pay for it.” Her words were harsh, but she never said them in harsh way. Again, she was like grandmother teaching the children how to live.
“Are you saying there is a price we have to pay for you to help us?”
She nodded silently.
“We’ve been through a lot,” I said. “I even sold my soul to Fate. Isn’t that a price?”
“It definitely is,” she said. “But you didn’t pay that price to me.”
“Then name your price.” Angel tensed.
“I believe you’ve been given a sack with seven items,” Lady Shallot said. “It’s valuable enough.”
I was going to tell her what happened to the items, but Angel stopped me. “Would the items suffice?” he said.
“Indeed,” Lady Shallot answered.
“What would we get for the items?”
“A home,” Lady Shallot said. “Safe from those who are chasing you. A home where you can start all over again. In fact, I was planning to give you a kingdom and make you a king and queen. The Kingdom of Sorrow, I think will be a good name.”
This was when I was about to cry. All the things she mentioned were never going to happen. “We lost every item in the sack, Lady Shallot,” I said. “We needed them to save our lives. We’re sorry.”
Lady Shallot didn’t sympathize. She put her thread aside. “Every last one?”
I nodded.
“Then there is no home for you two,” she said bluntly. “And not just that – now you owe me. Let’s see if you can pay your debt.”
Chapter 36
The Queen’s Diary
“But that’s not fair,” I said. “You and Cerené must have known we’d be using the items on the way.”
“We did.” Lady Shallot surprised us. “And now you’re in debt.”
“I didn’t expect that from you,” I said. “You’re supposed to be caring and loving. This is almost evil what you did.”
Lady Shallot gave me a look that reminded me of Van Helsing telling us that evil was a point of view. She actually told me the same thing again.
“Everyone keeps saying that to us, and I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” she said. “We do the things we need to do. Nothing much has to do with them being evil or good.”
“And why did you have to fool us with the seven items?” Angel asked. “Why did you want us to be in debt?”
“So you can pay the price for the Kingdom of Sorrow,” Lady Shallot said. “You see, this isn’t an easy doing, to weave a world for you to live in. I wanted to help you from the beginning when Cerené told me about you, but I needed to have you in debt so I am sure you will do your best in the Kingdom of Sorrow.”
“Sounds like a concealed excuse, just like the one Van Helsing told us about his son,” Angel said. “He made us bound to each other by blood to make sure we never forget about his dead son.”
“Like I said, we do what we have to do,” Lady Shallot said. “And you should have brought Loki up with you here, but we will figure that out later.”
“So how are you expecting us to pay the debt?” I asked.
“Don’t you want to know whom you will pay first?” she responded.
“I thought it’d be you,” I said.
“I don’t need to get paid,” Lady Shallot said. “All I need in the world, I can weave myself.”
“Then who are we paying?”
“Let me tell you a story first,” she said. “It won’t take long. I believe you know most of it already.”
We were ready to listen.
“Hundreds of years ago a man we call the Piper saved all the members of a town called Hamelin from the plague of rats,” she began. “This Piper had a magic flute, one that could both help or destroy the world, although no one ever knew where he found it, or who had given it to him.”
“I heard this story before—” Angel said.
“Let me finish,” Lady Shallot didn’t like to be interrupted. “The Piper played his mysterious flute and was able to stir the rats out of town — the rats which in some mythologies are thought to be the very first roots of vampires,” she eyed Angel, who shrugged. “But the town of Hamelin’s people, being greedy and unthankful like most humans in the world, didn’t pay him back, claiming his music was the tune of the devil.”
“So the Piper came back and lured their children away with his music,” Angel dared to interrupt again. The story about his ancestors irritated him. “He took them out of Hamelin in 1284. A hundred and thirty children is the count.”
“And…?” Lady Shallot tested if he knew the rest.
“He sent the children to Transylvania, and somehow created the first vampires. This is how my family, the Sorrows, came to be.”
“Not just Transylvania, but Eastern Europe,” Lady Shallot said.
“Does it make a difference?”
“Oh, it does,” she said. “But that’s another story. The story’s most important part is the part you left out. The part you know very little about.”
“Enlighten me.” Angel’s attitude scared me. I could understand his defensiveness of his family, bu
t he felt too personal about it.
“Not all hundred and thirty children arrived to Eastern Europe,” Lady Shallot said. “Some of them escaped.”
“Seven of them escaped,” I said. I knew part of the story from the Moongirl and my father.
“Indeed,” Lady Shallot said. “We call them the Lost Seven.”
“What do they have to do with our debt?” Angel inquired.
“The Lost Seven are the ones who escaped, the ones who the Piper had sworn to hunt down everywhere, anywhere, no matter how many years he needed to, so he could complete his revenge on Hamelin.”
“And?”
“The Piper never caught them,” Lady Shallot seemed emotional about it. “Year after year, they managed to escape his wrath, giving birth to children to continue their eternal escape from the eternal evil called the Piper.”
“They were never caught?” Angel said.
“Never!” Lady Shallot was proud. “But it wasn’t easy. And each of the Lost Seven had to pay a price for this. And now, after all these years, their great grandchildren are just like you and Carmilla.”
“They need a home,” I uttered, finally connecting the dots.
Lady Shallot smiled, and turned to face me. She seemed to have underestimated me, and now just admired my answers. “But they don’t just need a home.”
“What else do they need?”
“Since this generation of the Lost Seven is so old, they will need protection for their children, the next generation.”
“Are you saying we should protect them?” I was just guessing.
“I’m saying you will protect them,” Lady Shallot said, so confidently that Angel and I felt intimidated.
And so came my simple question. “We have so many problems of our own,” I said. “Why are you so sure we will protect them?”
“Because that was what all your journey to me here was about,” Lady Shallot said. “The seven items in the sack. They belonged to the Lost Seven. They saved your lives, and now, according the rules of the universe, which you can never escape, you two are…”
