by Edward Cox
‘I might be some time,’ Denton said. ‘Wait for me here, and try not to worry.’
Marney sank further into magical apathy.
Denton’s smile was tired. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, and then we can go home.’
With a nod to the Librarian, Denton approached the mirror and stepped into the reflection as though it was an open door. As he walked away into the library room, the mirror’s surface reverted to show Marney’s rippling reflection. She looked dishevelled, and dark circles ringed her eyes. She didn’t care.
‘You are not offended that you cannot accompany your friend.’
Marney was aware that she was alone with the Librarian. She wasn’t sure if his words were a question or a statement but answered nonetheless. ‘It’s less dangerous if only one of us knows why we’re here.’
‘I agree with you.’
The Librarian remained standing by the mirror doorway. Marney felt no threat in his scrutiny, and she gazed around the hall to lessen what was fast becoming an uncomfortable silence. So much hardship, so many struggles to reach the Library of Glass and Mirrors. It hardly seemed feasible that Marney had actually arrived. Almost dreamlike.
‘Would you like to ask me a question?’ the Librarian said.
‘These mirrors – they’re all portals? To other rooms in the Library?’
‘Sometimes, yes. Sometimes they lead to entirely different libraries, some of which no longer exist and others yet to achieve existence. At least from your perspective. Do you understand?’
Marney didn’t. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her.
‘Forgive me,’ the Librarian said. ‘You are cold.’
The empath jumped back as a black iron brazier rose from the glass floor. The strange flames that filled it were like moving shards of mirror holding the reflection of fire. But the warmth they gave was very real and banished the chill from Marney’s body. She couldn’t suppress a mighty yawn.
‘How long has it been since you last slept?’
Marney thought about it. She had spent so long jumping from House to House that the days and nights had blurred into a grey twilight where time no longer had meaning. ‘You know, I really don’t remember.’
‘Your journey has been hard and you are tired. Perhaps you will rest now.’
Something bumped gently against the back of Marney’s legs. A lounger had materialised behind her. Covered with thick cushions and upholstered in soft velvet, it was the most comfortable and inviting resting place Marney had ever seen. She yawned again.
‘Please,’ said the Librarian. ‘You have nothing to do but wait for your friend. Sleep.’
Marney made no argument and climbed onto the lounger. Instantly, her eyes closed and her mind drifted away. As she fell asleep she heard the Librarian say, ‘Afterwards, we will talk about your future.’
The door exploded inwards, wood ripping from hinges, and Fabian Moor strode into a grand reception hall.
The manor house was in the western district, and the occupants had already heard whispers that Moor had escaped the Relic Guild. Even so, the four henchmen guarding the entryway were unprepared for this morning raid.
Moor thrust out a hand, releasing his magic. Four silver streaks raced away, one after the other, each finding a different target. Cold swirls of air froze the henchmen into statues of solid ice before they could even draw their weapons. At the back of the hall, two more appeared, one running down either side of the double staircase. A third up on the balustrade aimed her pistol. Moor turned her to ice and sent out a burst of magic that knocked the other two unconscious before they reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘Show yourself!’ Moor shouted up to the hall’s high ceiling. ‘Do it now! Or I will kill every person in this house to find you!’
A woman appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by two armed bodyguards. She wore a green gown of expensive material and held herself regally. Jewels glittered on her face, tiny multicoloured stones stuck to her skin in patterns resembling ritual tattoos.
She glared down at Moor with fearless eyes. ‘Not many people can escape the Relic Guild’s clutches,’ she said. Her tone was effortlessly neutral. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Spare me,’ Moor said, his skin glowing with energy. ‘You and I have business to conclude, Gemstone Llem.’
She stared for a moment longer before walking away with her remaining bodyguards, saying, ‘Follow me.’
Behind the illusion, Van Bam sneered. He was in exactly the right mood to play the part of a Genii.
Focusing his magic to maintain his mask while simultaneously keeping Samuel, Macy and Bryant invisible, Van Bam as Fabian Moor ascended the stairs and followed Llem and her cronies. The illusionist could see the truth behind his own magic, and his fellow agents climbed the stairs ahead of him as wispy green skeletons. Samuel took the lead, his prescient awareness alert for hidden dangers, his pistol loaded with ice-bullets.
On the upper floor, Llem led the way through ornate double doors into a plush and spacious office. This house was rented by her father. Fortunately for the Relic Guild, he and his staff had returned to the Gemstone Isles before war had broken out and Llem’s mother didn’t live here. Aside from Llem and what remained of her hired help, the house was empty.
She sat behind a leather-topped wooden desk. Her bodyguards flanked her, hands resting on weapons holstered beneath their suit jackets. Llem’s jewels sparkled in the warm golden light of a glow lamp sitting on the desk, mostly hiding the expressions on her human-looking face. In fact, the only indications of Llem’s Aelfirian side were her pointed ears. She seemed confident, but Van Bam could see the fear she was trying to hide in her hazel eyes.
The green skeletons of Macy and Bryant found two henchmen hiding inside the room, behind the opened doors. The twins punched them unconscious and threw their bodies out of the office while Van Bam created the illusion of higher magic glowing from his hands. At the same time, Samuel took aim over Van Bam’s shoulder and pumped an ice-bullet into each of Llem’s bodyguards. They froze with a whirl of icy wind. Van Bam flexed his hands, and, right on cue, Macy and Bryant slammed the doors shut behind him.
Llem barely flinched, but she no longer tried to hide the fear in her eyes.
‘Now we are alone,’ Van Bam said. ‘I trust there will be no more interruptions?’
Llem glanced casually at the frozen statues either side of her and managed to retain some composure. ‘We had a deal,’ she said. ‘You left me in the lurch.’
‘I was indisposed.’ Although Van Bam had mastered Fabian Moor’s image, he had not heard his voice – no one in the Relic Guild had – and he hoped Llem didn’t notice any discrepancy. ‘I have been told that you are seeking to reverse the work you have done for me.’
‘And that surprises you? I didn’t think you were coming back, and I didn’t want to get lumbered with the blame for what I’d done. But now’ – she opened a drawer and produced a key, which she threw on the desk – ‘it’s all yours.’
Van Bam looked at the key; it could’ve opened any one of thousands of houses in Labrys Town.
‘The address,’ he demanded.
Taking a pencil, Llem scribbled it down on a piece of paper, which she folded and placed on top of the key. The green skeleton of Macy picked them up and brought them to Van Bam. Llem appeared unperturbed by the objects floating in the air. The illusionist looked at the address. A house in the northern district. But what was kept there?
‘All my requests have been met?’ Van Bam said.
‘Exactly as you demanded.’
‘You are sure, Llem? I do not like surprises.’
‘Surprises?’ Llem’s face betrayed more of her fear. And some anger now. ‘I don’t even fully understand what I’ve done for you, Moor. Everything about this job has been a nightmare. I want to wash my hands of it.’
; ‘Then everything is prepared?’
‘The House is protected, the merchandise is in place and no one will be missed.’
Van Bam looked at the key in his hands, mulling over what that might mean. He decided that he had all the information he needed. ‘You have served me well, Llem.’
She scoffed. ‘A good magic-user of mine lost his life setting up that place.’
‘You seek recompense?’
‘Only to never have this deal come back on me.’ It was clear that she was struggling to maintain her courageous façade. ‘I don’t care what you’re doing, but if the Relic Guild gets wind of our association, I’ll be dragged to the Nightshade.’ She feared the Relic Guild more than the man before her. She didn’t know Moor was a Genii. ‘I don’t want to see you again. Ever.’
‘Easy terms to agree to,’ Van Bam said. With the green skeletons of Samuel, Macy and Bryant following him, the illusionist headed for the door. ‘And if I were you,’ he called back, ‘I would keep a very low profile.’
It was strange. Marney couldn’t remember waking up. She couldn’t recall rising from the lounger to eat from the table laden with exotic fruit which had appeared beside the brazier of mirror-flames. She poured herself a glass of water; it tasted sweet, cool in her throat. She bit into a semicircle of what appeared to be blue melon. It had no smell but wasn’t entirely tasteless. It left a bitter tang in her mouth, surprisingly refreshing as it sated her hunger.
Denton had yet to return but the Librarian was there – silent, still, watchful, hidden in his black robe. His presence felt natural, calming, nothing like as intimidating as the other creatures of higher magic she had met.
‘How long was I asleep?’ Marney asked him.
‘For as long as you needed to be.’
Marney decided that was as good an answer as she was going to get and finished the slice of melon. ‘You’re not the only one, are you?’ she said, pouring another glass of water. ‘Librarian, I mean. There must be more of you, surely.’
‘There must be.’
Once again, he used an ambiguous tone, and Marney wondered how much she, a creature of lower magic, could ever truly understand the Library of Glass and Mirrors, or any other House inside the Higher Thaumaturgic Cluster. This isn’t the reality we’re used to, Denton had said. Perhaps everything Marney had been shown, including this hall of many mirrors, was only a simplified representation that the eyes of a lower creature could perceive.
‘I am curious,’ said the Librarian. ‘You have magic that allows you to control feelings.’ He said the last word as though it encompassed an alien concept.
‘I can manipulate emotions, in myself and others. I’m an empath.’
‘How interesting. Then, for example, you can detach yourself from your emotions to better accept incongruous situations, such as the one in which you presently find yourself.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet you are not using your magic now.’
Marney froze, her hand inches from picking up another slice of blue melon. She had spent so long keeping up a guard, protecting herself from the horrors of war behind a magical shield of apathy, that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be without it. But the Librarian was right: she had dropped her empathic defences entirely. Her emotions were raw and exposed.
‘Please, tell me how you are feeling,’ said the Librarian.
Marney wasn’t sure at first. She looked around the hall, at the changing colours in the glass walls, at the mirror portals that occasionally gave glimpses into other rooms and realms, and a sad smile came to her face. ‘Guilty,’ she realised.
‘I am not sure I understand why,’ the Librarian said.
Marney did. She understood all too well. ‘A friend of mine was murdered. Her name was Angel. She was a healer. She was travelling with another friend – Van Bam. An illusionist.’ Tears came to her eyes. ‘When I heard about Angel, I didn’t want to admit it, but my first reaction was relief. Relief that she had been killed and not Van Bam. You see, Van Bam and I, we’re … we’re—’
‘Lovers,’ the Librarian finished.
Marney dared not confirm lest weeping overtake her. She wiped tears from her eyes, seeking no help from her magic, deciding to feel something honest for once.
‘You should not feel guilty, but you will anyway,’ the Librarian continued, a strange inflection to his voice which she couldn’t interpret. ‘Love is such a potent and visceral reaction. It is, perhaps, the one incomprehensible emotion that all races share.’
‘I wish I could believe that,’ Marney said. ‘I haven’t seen much love in this bloody war.’
‘You are a fascinating creature, Marney. Surprisingly complex.’
For the first time since he appeared in the hall, the Librarian moved, walking to stand on the opposite side of the brazier. He held his hands, covered in scales of hard light, before the mirror-flames – as an act of normality to comfort her, Marney surmised, not from any need for warmth.
‘This Library holds a record of your visit,’ he said. ‘It holds an account of the path that led you to the Library. But of your future, there is next to nothing.’
Marney narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Either that much of your future is yet to be written, or that it has been hidden as completely as you are able to hide your emotions.’
‘But I thought you knew everything – the past, the present, the future … everything.’
‘Kindly, I would tell you that the Library of Glass and Mirrors is beyond the comprehension of humans and Aelfir. Perhaps it is simpler to say that this place can know all things, but not everything is knowable. At this present moment, of course. From either of our perspectives.’
Marney tried to bend her mind around that. ‘And there’s something unknowable about me?’
‘Just so.’
Marney opened her mouth, struggled with words for a moment, but in the end could only think of asking, ‘Why?’
‘Intriguing, is it not?’ the Librarian replied. ‘This makes you a rare and fascinating creature indeed, and it is the sole reason why I decided to help two humans at the behest of Yansas Amilee. The Skywatchers are good at hiding things, and who knows where your future will lead?’
‘Sometimes it’s difficult to imagine anything beyond the war,’ Marney said, suddenly uncomfortable and needing to shift focus away from the topic. ‘Are you even aware of what’s going on around you?’
‘Yes, we are aware.’
‘Whose side do you stand on?’
‘An interesting question,’ the Librarian said, apparently oblivious to Marney’s discomfort. ‘There are many Houses inside the Higher Thaumaturgic Cluster. Not all of them are as devoted to Mother Earth and the Timewatcher as humans and Aelfir, and most don’t care about the war between Her and Her greatest son. And they will continue not caring until a victor emerges.’ Although the Librarian’s face was hidden by a hood, Marney had the distinct impression that he was smiling at her. ‘As for me, I stand in the Library of Glass and Mirrors, of course.’
‘Do you know?’ Marney licked her lips, ignoring the echo of Denton’s voice, warning her to curb her curiosity. ‘Do you know who wins the war?’
The Librarian took a long time to reply. ‘The only thing I will tell you for certain is that a day is coming when you will hear Her voice. And on that day, you will understand why your future has been hidden.’
‘Her voice?’ Did he mean the Timewatcher?
‘Your friend is returning.’
One of the mirrors began rippling like water. Marney gawped, feeling like a child caught in the act of misbehaving. The reflection in the mirror changed to show the library with the long line of blue glow lamps, and Denton stepped out into the hall. He looked a little daunted at first, as though struggling to remember where he was. Marney was sure that only a
handful of hours could’ve passed since he entered the mirror portal, yet there was heavy stubble on his face as if days had gone by. Bruising covered his broken nose and circled his eyes.
He looked at his protégé and blinked.
‘Denton,’ Marney said, her relief bringing fresh tears to her eyes.
Denton looked around the hall, shaking his head, confused.
‘Are you all right?’ Marney made to go to him, but he stopped her with a raised hand.
‘You have what you came for,’ the Librarian said.
After a quick, nervous glance at Marney, Denton nodded. Marney sensed that he had shut down his emotions.
‘Then your time here is at an end.’
The Librarian walked to the edge of the hall and gestured to one of the mirrors. Marney’s heart skipped a beat as it cleared to show a lush forest in an Aelfirian House. At the end of a track she could see a wooden door set into a frame made from two gnarled trees – a doorway to the Great Labyrinth.
‘Your way home will not be as traumatic as your journey here,’ said the Librarian. He looked back at Marney. ‘I wish you luck, whatever your future holds.’
And with that, he sank down through the glass floor of the hall and was gone.
Quashing a feeling of longing, Marney managed to tear her eyes away from the image of the forest. Alone now with her mentor, she used her empathic magic to control her anxiety while she watched Denton pace, muttering to himself.
‘No, no, no. It wasn’t meant to be like this,’ he said, clearly disturbed. ‘Surely she knows another way.’
‘Denton,’ Marney said, her voice small. ‘What is it?’
‘Your envelope,’ he snapped. ‘Give it to me, Marney.’
It was an order, and he marched towards her with an outstretched hand.
Hurriedly, Marney pulled the envelope of secret, coded instructions from the leg pocket on her fatigues, and Denton snatched it from her. Without pause, he threw it into the brazier. The envelope sank into one of the mirror-shards of fire and immediately burst into flames.
