Mirror Gate

by Jeff Wheeler

  “I want to speak with you. To hear about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing. Can you wait for me in my rooms, Hugilde?”

  “Of course, Miss Fitzempress,” the older woman replied lovingly.

  “Yes,” Mr. Durrant interrupted. “You can save the gushing for later. Sera, we need to talk. And not in the hall in front of the servants. Madame, may we retire to your library?”

  “Of course, Mr. Durrant,” said Sera’s mother.

  Sera gave Mr. Durrant an arch look. “I haven’t seen her in four years, Mr. Durrant.” She squeezed Hugilde’s hands and kissed them. “I need not make excuses to you.”

  “Yes, Sera. Nor do I wish to hear them. I am relieved to see you are well. The rumors coming from the abbey are truly disturbing. If we may retire?” He gestured her toward a hallway door.

  “I will come presently,” Sera promised, giving Hugilde another hug. Then she followed her mother and Mr. Durrant into the study. A tray of fruit had been arrayed on a nearby table, and Sera suddenly realized she was famished. The melons were cubed, and she bypassed the little silver pincers and began plucking fruit from the tray.

  “Where are your manners, Seraphin?” Mother scolded.

  “It’s all right, madame, we are in private company,” Mr. Durrant said. “When word came of the attack at Muirwood, I feared the worst and cursed myself for not insisting more strongly that you leave with me. If I had realized the extent of the danger, I would have forcibly removed you.”

  Sera was touched by the look of alarm and worry on his face. Or perhaps he was merely reacting to the fact that his fortunes were tied to her success. He had made enemies supporting her cause.

  “As you can see, I am uninjured,” Sera answered. “I’m more worried about the Aldermaston. He’s gravely hurt, and his pilot was shot and killed.”

  “His pilot?” Mr. Durrant asked with astonishment. “But he’s a maston. How could that be?”

  “No one knows. Lord Fitzroy is investigating the matter. The Ministry of War has sent in people as well. It is still too early to be certain of anything.”

  Mr. Durrant still looked agitated. “And you went straight to the privy council upon your arrival? How did that fare?”

  “I would like to know that as well,” said her mother, who hadn’t been allowed in that meeting. “Your father looked smug afterward.”

  Mr. Durrant turned to Sera with a concerned look. “That does not bode well.”

  “Indeed, and it didn’t go well,” Sera said, feeling anxiety spread in her chest like a disease. “I was . . . too subdued. The news caught us all by surprise. I was so stunned I didn’t know what to say. Father came across as decisive and concerned.”

  “Did he seem surprised by the news? This might have been set up by the Ministry of War.”

  “I don’t think so, but I cannot be certain. By the end of the council meeting, they dismissed me and said they would summon me tomorrow for an interview. I was almost an afterthought.”

  “You should have spoken up!” her mother said worriedly.

  “Please, madame!” Mr. Durrant intervened, holding up his hand. “I think Sera is fully conscious of any mistakes she may have made. It does no good to litigate evidence in a case already determined. Of course your father handled the surprise better. He may or may not have been previously informed. And he has certainly gained experience in the role of leadership over the last four years. The timing of the events is entirely too suspicious however.”

  “I agree,” Sera said. “The man who attacked came around the same time as the ship from the Ministry of War. And if they are conducting the investigation on the attack and are the ones behind it, then we won’t see an honest result.”

  Mr. Durrant pressed his fingers together as he paced. He was deep in thought. “There are multiple strategies at play here, Sera. It is critical to unravel them quickly. First, your grandfather died, likely of natural causes, and his death has set in motion irrevocable events. A new emperor must be chosen. Because your grandfather did not—nay could not—name an heir, it is up to the privy council to decide. Of the possible Fitzempress heirs, you and your father are unequivocally the most suitable, due to your uncles’ mismanagement of their funds. One of them could be behind this, trying to discredit the both of you and claim the rewards that will come with the office. Their creditors, surely, would wish this. Second, we soon receive a delegation from the court of Kingfountain. A match between our two worlds would be unpopular, but it may improve our relations with that world and put an end to the hostilities between our peoples. There are undoubtedly some factions in Kingfountain that would not want this to come to pass. They may also be behind it.”

  “Do not forget my husband’s ambition,” Mother said flatly, her eyes like daggers. “He covets the throne. He feels entitled to it, I assure you of that, Mr. Durrant.”

  “His ambition is naked for all to see,” Mr. Durrant scoffed. “And the privy council knows it. Which is what gives Sera the advantage in this case. There is a reason that the rights of inheritance no longer pass directly from the father to the eldest child. Sometimes they are the least qualified to assume the burdens of state. Your father’s brothers stand testament to the wisdom of this policy. History is replete with examples of the misery that can follow the rule of an evil man or woman. Power does corrupt, that much is blatant. No, Sera, do not fret over your performance today. You will not be judged by a single incident. The privy council is wise on the whole. They want to choose someone who will protect and preserve the empire.”

  “But does that mean, Mr. Durrant,” Sera asked, “that they would also want to preserve the social hierarchy? You know I intend to make certain changes.”

  “Of course!” Mr. Durrant beamed. “And I have ever been your most ardent admirer. These past years, I have done my part to curry favor with Lord Welles. I’ve already told you how influential you may be to his success. I’ve also done whatever I can to inform the people of your intended policies. Believe me, you are well liked down in the City. And there is great suffering. The cholera morbus is a terrible blight. No one is safe from it. Why, just last week it struck another manor here in Lockhaven. The entire household was banished to the City, and those who took them there have been refused permission to return until they can prove they are not suffering from the contagion. Your father has had no success in solving this epidemic.”

  “Surely it’s not his fault,” Sera objected.

  Mr. Durrant shrugged. “The people don’t care whose fault it is. He is a ruler, and so he is blamed.”

  “And so would I be,” Sera said with exasperation, “were I in charge. It’s irrational, Mr. Durrant.”

  “People are irrational,” he countered. “They make decisions every day that are against their own self-interest. And let’s not forget the people of Kingfountain and their water rites! How quick they are to consider us a threat to their way of life. We cannot change that aspect of humanity. But I believe, and I know that you do too, that if we spend some energy alleviating the suffering of the poor here, if we can forge a season of peace with our enemies, then you will go down in history as one of the most benevolent monarchs of all time! The laws of the empire favor the wealthy minority. They were established to ensure the hierarchy.”

  “It was established with good cause,” Mother said in a warning tone. “You toy with it, Mr. Durrant, at the peril of us all. Change must be made wisely or not at all.”

  Sera clasped her hands and tapped her lips with her joined forefingers. “I have studied history in Muirwood, Mother,” she said, giving her a sharp look. “You speak of the revolts. The rebellions. The wars with other worlds.”

  Her mother nodded firmly. “Kingfountain wants to rule us and liberate our people from our authority. And our own poor would probably celebrate the savages. They are both different than us.”

  Sera shook her head no emphatically. “They are no different than us, Mother. Consider how our own decisions have brought this upon us .
. . how badly we have dishonored Empress Maia’s vision. She wished to give all of her people the opportunity to study and learn the Mysteries. The schools were founded for that very reason, but in the end, we took that right away from them. They built her seat of power in the sky to keep it safe from invaders; we’ve imitated that with Lockhaven to separate ourselves from our own poor.”

  “Well said, Miss Fitzempress.” Mr. Durrant clasped his hands behind his back. “A speech like that in the privy council tomorrow will find favor with many, I assure you. There will be some who will be offended by it, but it will make an impression. Each ministry has struggled with the others for supremacy. When business flourishes, the Ministry of Law blooms. When there is an invention, the Ministry of Wind excels. But the interplay between the two always leads to conflict . . . to disruption. And then the Ministry of War takes power. And after War? The Ministry of Thought comes to achieve the promise of peace. It’s like the four seasons, only they do not rotate every year. These seasons can last for years. Decades even. It is past time for a season of change. A time to break the molds. A time to end the corruption. Only the younger generation can achieve this.” Here he gave her a cunning look. “Because they alone cannot see something difficult as impossible. They’ve not been jaded by the failures of the past.” He gave a sidelong look to her mother. “Do not let anyone force you to marry, Sera. You must be different. You must seize what opportunities you can. The rules do not apply to you. You are the maker of them!”

  Sera felt a part of her buzzing inside. Mr. Durrant’s words had reawakened her self-confidence. Her courage to defy the odds and claim her birthright.

  “You swell her head with all your pretty talk, Mr. Durrant,” Mother said warily.

  “I trust her enough to take that risk,” he replied evenly.

  When she finally went to her rooms after the long conversation with her mother and Mr. Durrant, Sera felt like resting. But she was too eager to see Hugilde, whom she found doing needlework on the small sofa. In an instant, it felt like she had shed years and was once again a little girl seeking wisdom from her governess.

  Hugilde looked up from her work. “There you are. Quiet as a mouse. I almost didn’t hear the door open.”

  “Are you tired, Hugilde? Do you need to rest?”

  “What? Is Sera concerned about an older woman’s aches and pains? You have changed.”

  Sera shrugged. “I’m not as selfish as I used to be. It’s so good to see you, Hugilde. How I’ve missed you. You went back to Hautland, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, to my own people,” she answered, setting the needlework aside. She rose and came to Sera and took her hands. “It was not easy finding work after your father dismissed me. He forbade me to contact you. His advocate sent for me, saying that I might be able to regain approval in the eyes of the prince regent if I came to serve you again.” She lowered her lashes. “In another realm.”

  Sera felt a sickly feeling in her stomach. “Another realm?”

  Hugilde shuddered. “I have been living very humbly, Sera. Last winter I feared I might die of cold.” She looked into Sera’s eyes. “Your father’s advocate offered to pay me a sizable sum if I would persuade you to seek the prince’s affections. He seeks to use me to manipulate you. I agreed to come, agreed to do his wishes. But only so I could warn you. Your father seeks your downfall. That man is determined to ruin you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MINISTRY SECRETS

  Lord Prentice, the prime minister, met Sera outside the privy council chamber the following day. A large block-shaped man with an expressive face and prominent forehead, he had light brown hair that had receded far back on his scalp but still grew long at his ears and the nape of his neck. He had a cunning look that immediately put Sera on her guard. She had come early and worn her violet-and-silver frock. Hugilde had braided her hair in a regal style and had applied some subtle embellishment to her lips and cheeks, which made her look older than sixteen.

  “You are early, Miss Fitzempress,” Lord Prentice said. “I was told you’d just arrived.”

  “Early is on time,” Sera answered with a nod. “I’m ready to see the council.”

  “Not all the members have assembled yet,” he answered. “Would you walk with me around the corridor for a turn? There is something I would like to show you before the meeting starts.”

  “Oh, and what would that be?”

  “Something you will be intrigued to see, my dear. You have been at Muirwood for nearly four years, so you have learned that each estate contains a room that controls all of the Leerings throughout the place. I would like to show you this one.”

  He was right. Sera was intrigued. But there was a reason he had offered to do this. This man had been selected by her father over Lord Fitzroy, which had opened the position of Minister of Wind to Cettie’s guardian. Sera was certain that Prentice supported her father. So why would he attempt to do her a favor? She would have to be on her guard, but she wanted to see what he was about.

  “Thank you, Lord Prentice. Shall we see it now, then?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  He escorted her down the corridor and around the bend. It would be easy to conceal a door since there were so many throughout the palace, each with a little bronze plaque with a number etched into it. He brought her to the one marked 117.

  “Curious that there is no one guarding it,” Sera said as he fished in his vest pocket for the key.

  He gave her a knowing smile. “The guardians are behind the door,” he said. “Otherwise it would be too obvious that this room is important. Ah, here we are.” He produced the key, which was an iron key of ancient make, the metal mottled with rust stains. Rather than insert it in the lock, he merely held it near the handle. She felt a throb, and then the door opened of its own accord.

  As she entered, she saw two men in uniform, their rank symbols showing one to be a lieutenant and the other to be a captain.

  “Prime Minister,” both men said in unison, bowing stiffly.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he answered, slipping the key back into his pocket. There were no couches or other furniture in the room, just the two men and a very large mirror at the end of a short pathway. She sensed a Leering embedded into the frame. It probed her thoughts, giving her feelings of disquiet for a moment, but the anxiety was quickly followed by a sense of calm.

  “This way, Miss Fitzempress,” he said, gesturing to the mirror.

  As Sera approached it with curiosity, she felt a strangeness about the room. It was akin to the feelings she had when passing the abbey itself at Muirwood. There were definitely Leerings here, ones she could not see, beyond the mirror.

  The prime minister waved his hand in front of the mirror. Again she felt a pulse against her mind. The glass of the mirror shimmered and disappeared, exposing a corridor lit by Leerings. He stepped inside the frame, and Sera followed. There was no dust in the corridor. Her shoes tapped against the stone tiles and echoed down the hall. As she walked, she felt the mirror re-form behind them. Her heart leaped with the sensation, and she looked back and saw that the mirror exposed the two soldiers in the room. But she had a feeling that they could no longer see her.

  “It is a solemn privilege to guard this room,” Prentice told her in a low voice. “There must always be two guardians. No man is ever left alone. They rotate the watch every few hours and assign new soldiers to the duty routinely to keep anyone from becoming too familiar. It is a strict precaution.”

  “Against what?” Sera asked. The echo of her voice sounded strange in her ears.

  “You will see.” When they reached the end of the hall, there was a stone door blocking the way. A man’s scarred face was carved into the door, the eyes blank, the hair pointed like quills. It was a fearsome countenance.

  “This Leering was carved in the likeness of the first empress’s bodyguard,” Prentice said. She felt the pulse of a command emanate from him, and then the stone door slid open.

 
Behind the door was an atrium. A brilliant glow emanated from the ceiling. At first Sera thought it was open to the sunlight, but she realized that the rectangular opening was lit by a powerful Light Leering that only resembled daylight. Stone pillars surrounded a shallow pool of still water, and a couch sat near two of the pillars. The water was clean and translucent, and she could see the black and white marble tiles that lay beneath it. Across from the couch stood a round pillar, about waist height, supporting a Leering carved in the likeness of a familiar woman. Her expression was peaceful, her eyes slightly downcast.

  “Empress Maia,” whispered the prime minister in a reverent tone.

  Colorful tapestries decorated the walls, full of images celebrating the past, but the focal point of the room was undeniably the pillar with the Leering on it. Sera felt a strange tugging sensation at her heart.

  The prime minister walked around the circuit of the room and then paused by the pedestal. “You understand, no doubt, the importance of keys and what they symbolize?”

  Sera knew the answer well enough. “They are symbols of trust and the delegation of authority.”

  “Precisely, Your Highness.” There was something odd in his voice. She was still on her guard. It was just the two of them, and she felt a twinge of vulnerability. Perhaps it had not been wise to follow him here. “Power is derived from the Mysteries. You will understand this better after you have taken the abbey’s Test, but some power is hereditary. Some is earned. Yours, for example, is the hereditary kind. You have the right to rule because of the lineage of your ancestors. I do not. My power, as prime minister, comes from delegation of authority. Once I am removed from office, my key will be given to another, and I will never be allowed to enter this room again. I will not miss it, for it is a heavy responsibility. A burden, truly. Those who serve grow weary in the service.”

  He didn’t sound weary at all.

  “What does this one do?” she asked, nodding toward the Leering with the empress’s face. “All Leerings do something.”