Mirror Gate

by Jeff Wheeler

  The black thoughts invaded her mind, gaining traction because they were at least partially true. She knew she lacked self-discipline. She knew her mind wandered too much.

  Hugilde finished the unbraiding, then took a brush and started to work the kinks out. Gazing at her reflection, Sera saw only the flaws. She knew she was pretty, but why was her nose shaped just so? Did her rounded cheeks make her look a little plump? Why couldn’t she tame all these random, harmful thoughts? The first one seemed to have loosed a cascade that would drown her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Hugilde said admiringly as she worked the brush through Sera’s hair. “I always thought you were a pretty child. But you are radiant now.”

  “You’re saying that because you used to be my governess,” Sera said, trying to dismiss the compliment. “Most people think I am only fourteen.”

  “No, Sera. I said it because it’s true. Your biggest problem isn’t that you’re small in stature. I fear the prince from Kingfountain is going to want you to be his bride. And you’ll start a war by turning him down!” She smiled with affection and squeezed Sera’s shoulder.

  “Some men will use any pretext at all to fight,” Sera replied lightly, but she appreciated the compliment. It made her feel a little better.

  “Something came for you today while you were gone,” Hugilde said cautiously. She reached into her dress pocket and withdrew two sealed letters. “The first is from your friend at school. The second, well I . . . I didn’t open it, Sera, even though I suspect who the author might be. You’re sixteen now and nearly a woman. But I still want what is best for you. Did . . . Mr. Russell correspond with you while you were at Muirwood?”

  Sera’s heart lurched when she saw the letters in the mirror. Being away from Cettie for so long had caused an ache in her soul, like a festering bruise. Hearing news of her troubles had made her frantic for more information. But she also saw a little flush come to her cheeks at the mention of Will Russell. “No. Well, he did send me a letter recently, but it was the first I’d heard from him.”

  Hugilde handed both letters to her. “I know I should tell your mother it came. She is the mistress of this house. But that will be your choice to make. Not mine. You should be making your own choices now.”

  Sera’s hair fell well past her shoulders, and some of the ends teased the paper. She recognized Will’s handwriting from the letter Commander Falking had delivered to her at Muirwood. You could tell a thing or two about a person by their style. Will was conscientious and confident.

  She slid her fingernail under the hard wax, breaking the seal, and opened the paper. Her hands were starting to tremble, but she forced them to be still as she anxiously read on.

  Dear Miss Fitzempress,

  I am uncertain whether or not you received my previous letter. My apologies for being bold in this request, but I have heard that there may have been an attempt on your life at the abbey. It has vexed me to think that some blackguard tried to harm you. May the cholera take his life. I hope you are well and not terribly frightened. You were always so fearless when we were young. I’ve always admired you for that.

  If you have not received my previous letter, then I will use this opportunity to repeat the information previously conveyed. I will be coming to the City in a fortnight or less to receive orders for my first duty. Your father has done all in his power to hinder my career, and I fear that I may be banished to the far reaches of the empire or even a more miserable post on another world. He has recently renewed his efforts to force me to hand over the letters. Although they are innocent, as you well know, I fear he may use them against you. If I can possibly improve my fate, and yours, by surrendering the letters to you instead, then I am willing to part with them. I will bring them with me and offer to give them to you in person, save one, which I hope to keep as a memento of our childhood friendship. Not that I seek to boast with my crewmates, of course! Never would I desire to do anything that would cause you grief, Miss Fitzempress.

  My greatest regret is that I could not bid you good-bye when I was expelled from your father’s house. I will meet you anywhere you choose if you can do me the honor of sending an invitation. Without one, it would prove impossible to get past the hosts that separate us. I will be stationed at the garrison at Whitehead in the City while I await orders. If I do not hear back from you, I will not think any less of you. Perhaps my letters have been intercepted by others and will not reach you. But I must at least try to see you again.

  Your fellow conspirator of the hedge maze,

  William Russell

  CETTIE

  It has been said that pain is a teacher. The lessons I have learned from clotting blood, black sutures, and near-constant pain have given me compassion for those who cannot escape the ghosts of hunger, disease, and fear. We must all of us confront our own ghosts and gain mastery over them. This is the essence of the Test. Some students cannot face their demons. And by not facing them, they remain trapped in ignorance and fear of the unknown. It is always easier to face our shortcomings sooner rather than later. If we do not, interest comes due, and it is a terrible foe.

  I fear we have procured a lofty sum in our society today. A sum that will not be repaid without much loss of blood and treasure.

  —Thomas Abraham, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SERPENTINE

  Juliana Haughton had always defied tradition and convention with a mischievous smile. While Fitzroy didn’t fall sway to the dictates of fashion, his sister-in-law snubbed them outright. Lady Maren’s younger sister wore breeches like a man, high leather boots, and a leather corset and had two daggers buckled to her belt, as well as a pistol strapped to her thigh. Her lips were always painted bright rouge, and while her curly hair was similar to her sister’s, she’d been sailing the skies for so long that it was perpetually windblown and only half tamed by a black ribbon. Juliana was full of energy and life and had no intention of following normal womanly pursuits.

  She had earned her way up the ranks of the crew by being smarter, a harder worker, and more cunning than any of the sailors she worked alongside. Of course, she also had the advantage of being trained by Raj Sarin, the Bhikhu, and had proven she didn’t need to rely on the protection her relationship to a vice admiral naturally bestowed.

  After her older brother disinherited the women in the family, Juliana went to live in a village beneath Gimmerton Sough with her sisters until Fitzroy and Lady Maren married. She had then lived in Fog Willows until she was of age to study. As a youth, she spent each summer away from school at Fitzroy’s mine in Dolcoath, working hard to learn how to transport valuable commodities by sky ship. When she finished her training, Fitzroy had offered her a job piloting one of his ships, but she’d refused to take what she had not yet earned. She instead joined the shipping trades overseen by the Ministry of Law. Her ship, her source of income and freedom, had earned its name—Serpentine—delivering serpentine stone from a minefield on another world. She’d earned her captainship by navigating the Serpentine safely back to the empire after the original captain was killed in a skirmish.

  Juliana had not gained her reputation or position by staying still, and after her arrival at Muirwood, Cettie spent her afternoons not wandering the grounds wistfully, but learning how to knife fight, how to negotiate with dishonest men, and—most excitingly—how to pilot the Serpentine. And she’d been encouraged not only to pilot it, but to test the ship to its limits.

  “You’re still too high, Cettie!” Juliana shouted above the roar of the wind as the tempest swept down a hillside within the marshland known as the Bearden Muir. “Closer to the trees!” The wind whipped Juliana’s runaway hair, and the excited gleam in her eye showed how much she was enjoying the exercise.

  Cettie gripped the spokes of the helm that connected her to the Leerings on board. She’d tied her hair back in the same fashion favored by Juliana so it wouldn’t blow in her face. Some of the sailors were gripping the rails and c
asting nervous looks at one another.

  “How close?” Cettie asked, feeling the power of the ship’s Leerings thrumming inside her. They were a league or so away from the abbey and coming up fast on the Tor, the lopsided hill topped with a tower.

  “You can see through the Leerings on the hull. Frighten me.”

  A sky ship, especially an unloaded tempest, could do some amazing, heart-pulsing stunts . . . and now she had permission, no orders, to indulge in them.

  Sinking deep into herself, Cettie connected with the Leerings on board. She sensed the threads of magic that wove through the Serpentine’s timbers. Sensed the nails and rivets, the caulking, the planks and seams. She could see in almost every direction through the eyes of the Leerings on board. It was so easy to lose herself in the ship’s magic . . .

  She made the tempest lurch lower suddenly, causing grunts from the surprised crew. Gripping the helm spokes, she felt the power surge inside of her, raw and menacing as the vessel came so low it felt like they were sailing the treetops.

  “That’s it! That’s better!” Juliana crooned.

  Cettie felt the ripples in her stomach as she guided the vessel up and down, matching her rhythm to the natural rise and fall of the landscape. The rush of energy inside her was dizzying. They raced over pools of stagnant water, which rippled in the wake of their passing, and birds scattered to get out of the way. The Serpentine had yielded to her thoughts completely. In her mind, she controlled its functions, and it responded to her thoughts without hesitation.

  Ahead, she could see the Tor rising in the distance and felt the uneasy urge to send the ship upward at once, but she knew Juliana wouldn’t allow it. A sky ship would shatter against a mountainside. If she stopped the ship too quickly, the crew could be vaulted overboard. There were so many risks to manage, but the thrill of piloting the craft pulsed through her. A brazen smile rose to her face.

  “Captain!” one of the sailors shouted worriedly. They trusted their captain. Cettie hadn’t fully earned their respect yet.

  She noticed the zephyr a moment after the sailor did. A huge oak tree in the midst of the woods blocked their current path, and a zephyr had just lifted above it.

  “It’s a ministry ship,” Cettie said, feeling the thrum of magic coming from it.

  “But we’re bigger,” Juliana said with a laugh. “Don’t veer. He’ll get out of the way.”

  Having two ships in proximity to each other was especially dangerous. An error in judgment could wreck both.

  The zephyr was coming straight at them, and Cettie’s heart pulsed with fear. She wanted to veer away. Why was the ministry ship acting so strangely?

  “He will move,” Juliana said. “Stay on course. He’s testing you.”

  Cettie bit her lip and increased the ship’s speed. The vibrations within the tempest shook her wrists and arms. Her legs felt weak from the stance she held. There was no time for her mind to wander, to worry about whether the kishion had commandeered a ministry ship. She trusted Juliana’s instincts, which had been honed over years at the helm.

  Obey orders.

  The zephyr peeled away and began racing toward the Tor.

  “Don’t let him beat you there,” Juliana said with a snarl. “Park us on top of the tower first.”

  A zephyr was more maneuverable and faster, so it was an unreasonable order. But Cettie was determined to follow it. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to imagine how to perform the maneuver. She only had moments to decide on her strategy. The zephyr zipped upward toward the hilltop. Cettie could see the students climbing the steep stone steps to the summit. Some were pointing at the approaching sky ships, watching the race unfold before their eyes.

  She increased the speed, and the thrumming started to rattle her teeth. The tempest convulsed at the order. If they’d been heavily laden with a shipment of stone, the cargo would have burst loose of its confinement. Sailors hunkered down, gripping the rails, and she could sense their fear. Juliana wasn’t afraid. Nothing made that woman afraid. Some instinct also told her that this was a deliberately staged race. Juliana had arranged it to test her skills.

  She had the speed she needed. The zephyr continued its ascent up the Tor, aiming straight for the tower. It began to slow so that it wouldn’t overshoot the mark. In order to get there first, Cettie would need to uphold her current momentum yet still slow the ship enough to land precisely at the top of the tower—without knocking it over of course! In her mind, she imagined the maneuver from beginning to end. The answer came to her in a trice. The hull would need to pivot around so that the ship climbed the mountain rear first. Exposing the broad side of the tempest to the wind would help slow it down naturally while it gained altitude. She could picture it in her mind, an almost corkscrew ascent, each round dropping speed and bringing the ship higher until they were level with the tower.

  It felt feasible. It wasn’t overly dangerous, assuming the zephyr didn’t suddenly get in the way. The Leerings on board understood her intention. And they obeyed.

  The crew groaned as the tempest swung sideways. The motion of going forward and suddenly backward would have made less experienced passengers violently ill. Cettie kept her thoughts focused on executing the maneuver, willing the Leerings to do it quickly and safely, but she also looked out for the zephyr, trying to ensure that they wouldn’t collide. Juliana gripped the support ropes tightly, an enormous grin on her face. Cettie continued the turn until the tempest was fully backward and then willed it up around the hill. The zephyr had not altered its approach—it was still slowing down as it made a straight ascent toward the mark.

  The timbers of the tempest shuddered and moaned, but Cettie felt the sturdiness of the vessel as it climbed higher up the hilltop. Dizziness washed through her head and stomach. She could see how close they were to the Tor, the wind whipping the blades of grass down below. Some of the students were cowering as they watched.

  The tempest finished its final turn just as the tower loomed in front of it. The tempest shot up vertically now, stopping only when it was parallel with the top of the tower. The final rotation set the bow over the top of it, blocking the space so the zephyr could not land there.

  It was over. The Serpentine had won.

  Cettie was exhausted from the strain of the journey. Her throat was parched, and her ears were ringing. She felt as if she’d run all the way up the Tor without stopping. Her shoulders sagged as she leaned against the helm and panted.

  “Well done!” Juliana shouted warmly, coming over and patting Cettie’s back.

  “I wasn’t sure . . .” Cettie said, gasping, “it would work.”

  “If I hadn’t been sure,” Juliana said, “I would have countermanded your plan. These ships really are remarkably maneuverable. Before the Serpentine was used to haul rock, it was a ministry ship that had seen some action. Most cargo ships aren’t designed to suffer the kind of abuse you put him through.”

  Cettie looked at her. “I thought ships were feminine. Named after ladies.”

  “They are if they’re piloted by men,” she said with a wry smile. “Ah, here is your victim come to complain.”

  The zephyr pulled up alongside the deck of the tempest. There were three soldiers aboard, all dressed in the regimentals of the fleet—dark coats fixed with two columns of brass buttons up the front and some along the folded cuffs.

  One of them, a darkly handsome lad of perhaps eighteen, wore a lieutenant’s hat.

  “Permission to come aboard, Captain!” he shouted while perching on the railing, elbow resting on his knee.

  “Do you intend to scold me for reckless piloting?” Juliana answered back.

  “Of course not, ma’am!” he countered.

  “Then permission granted,” she answered, folding her arms.

  The zephyr edged closer to the tempest. Two of Juliana’s crew began to unhook the boarding plank from its cradle when the lieutenant jumped the distance instead. Some of the crew gave him a look as if he were mad to
attempt such a thing. It showed a marked self-assurance.

  “Captain Juliana, your reputation is certainly well earned,” he said with a charming smile.

  “What reputation is that, Lieutenant?” she answered innocently.

  “A daring one, I should say. I’m pleased to meet you in person.” He offered his gloved hand, and she shook it with hers.

  “Cettie, this is Lieutenant Russell,” Juliana said, gesturing to make the introduction formal.

  It struck Cettie forcibly that she was standing in front of the young officer that Sera admired so much. He fit her description precisely. He removed his tall hat, revealing a head of dark curly hair, tucked it under his arm, and then bowed to Cettie.

  “Cettie of Fog Willows?” he asked with growing interest.

  “I am,” she replied, feeling as if she knew him already because of all the stories Sera had told her. “Is your given name William, by chance?”

  “It is,” he answered with a smile. “So. You are Miss Fitzempress’s friend?”

  “Her companion and her friend,” Cettie answered. His demeanor quickly transformed to one of delight.

  “And the one who piloted the Serpentine on his most recent voyage,” Juliana added.

  “That was you?” Will said with surprise.

  Cettie felt her cheeks start to flush. She nodded.

  “With such daring, I had assumed it was Captain Haughton. I am astonished. You are Miss Fitzempress’s age, are you not?”

  “Yes,” Cettie answered meekly, wishing his attention were turned elsewhere.

  “And she’s accomplished a great many things already,” said Juliana. “I’m going to try to persuade my brother-in-law to let her join the trade routes. Despite her course of study at the abbey, I think the Ministry of Law would be ideal for her.”