The Maiden in the Mirror

by Scott Hamerton

  From the second string, he drew forth a lighter sound, soulful and young. Sparks of gladness erupted across the yawning chasm beyond the balcony.

  "Then the king died and the princess inherited the throne. Some said it was murder, but they always said that. The new queen was crowned at the age of twelve."

  The third string, soft and sweet, brought gentle waves of lightning down from the heavens, but they vanished when he halted.

  "The new queen, being just a young girl, hated spiders, and was badly bitten one spring. As a demonstration of her authority and immaturity, she ordered the extermination of every spider in her realm. I tried to convince her otherwise with my friendship, but she ignored me."

  From the thinnest string, Lord Arach called forth a high-pitched, wailing sound, but not an unpleasant one. The powerful tone revealed the room to Minerva, somehow creating a light from nothing.

  Minerva stood on a tiny balcony overlooking a wide pit inside a monstrous and hollow tree. In all directions, she saw spiders of every size, climbing, flying, and weaving their silks into great, massive sheets of cloth. They spun colorful tapestries, brilliant white sails, and shimmering robes of delicate hues. The threads of their webs shone like starlight, suffusing the air with light.

  "Since the day I first learned to call this a violin, I have been able to speak to them through my instrument. When I play, the spiders listen."

  Lord Arach's bow bounced a few times, testing the strings, and the spiders played back, in their own vibrant way.

  "My wife made the most wonderful dresses from the silk that the spiders wove. The queen killed her, and my child. Put to death for the absurd crime of housing the spiders that I so dearly loved."

  Lord Arach spoke no longer, and began his song. Minerva could find no words to describe the beauty in what she saw. Millions of spiders worked in unison to create elegant weaves, lighting their way by their own showers of electricity. With every surge and pulse through the myriad webs, the whole of the room throbbed with the glory of a blazing sunset.

  When Lord Arach stopped, stifling darkness hid everything once again. "I didn't fight for the life of my wife like I should have. Like I could have. My nation is no more, because on the day she died I played for the spiders. I played until they came to me from across the skies and over the horizons. I played until everything burned, and ash covered the fields, and the rivers dried, and the city lay in ruin. Then I fled. I brought them with me, and here we live."

  "You're a magician," she gasped.

  "I've been called that, yes. Those that know of such things label me a composer. I show you this because we are very much the same. These spiders are all I have, and I would die to protect them. The anger you felt towards me is the same anger I feel after seeing the damage caused by your arrival. Many of my friends died that day, and others will never recover."

  Minerva wanted to see the spiders again. The lights. The patterns. All of it. She suddenly felt that Arach was committing a terrible crime by hiding such splendor from the world.

  "Shall I play for you?" he asked, noting her expression of absolute longing.

  Lord Arach began to play once more, and the room overflowed with life. Somewhere, deep in Minerva's mind, she remembered the song that he composed. Her throat cramped and her heart rose in her chest. She knew the words, but not their origins. They hung foreign and silent in her mind, yet clear as the words to any prayer.

  Tears found their way into her eyes as she watched the spiders work, filling the room with flowing waves of radiance. The music began to overtake her, and she felt she could not bear it. Her heart and body ached, but there was no release. She wanted to sing the song that her mind had found. Her throat seized and her breath stuttered until she succumbed to its power.

  And then she sang.

  Minerva closed her eyes and let her voice find its own way into the world. Together with Lord Arach, they composed a song lost to the world. A song both sad and sweet, of love and loss. When they finished, Lord Arach held the final note, letting her voice find its way back to her in waning wonder.

  "I don't understand," she mumbled. "Why was I singing?"

  Arach grinned as he lowered the violin. "That's the power of my magic. I can set a mind to a task, even against its will. For the spiders, it makes them weave. For you, it apparently makes you sing."

  "Am I any good?"

  "Well, to be delicate, I wouldn't say you were terrible."

  Minerva frowned, immediately recalling her opinion of Thimbler and his stitching, while Lord Arach chuckled.

  "At worst, your only fault is that you're rather flat," he said.

  Minerva snapped back from her thoughts. She felt it was an incredibly cruel thing to point out, and it wasn't the first time he had done so.

  "Here," he said, as he tapped her in the chest with the tip of his bow. "You're not using your diaphragm."

  Minerva couldn't believe his audacity.

  "Try to put more strength into it. Use your whole chest."

  "You'll have to excuse me, My Lord, but I don't think my personal efforts are going to change the situation any time soon."

  "It's mostly just practice. We can work on it right now. I will start again." He began to play again, but stopped short when she didn't join in. "Have I offended you, My Lady?" he asked, looking over the violin at her as she fought to hold back tears.

  "How could you not?"

  "There's no reason to get upset. If you can't handle a little criticism, how do you expect to improve?"

  "With time!"

  "Not without practice, you won't."

  "Practice what, exactly?" she snapped.

  "Singing," Arach retorted, but his voice trailed out of confusion.

  "I, but, pardon?"

  "You were flat. Practice will improve that," he repeated.

  Were. That's past tense, she reminded herself. "Forgive me, My Lord, but are we talking about my singing, or my chest?"

  Just then, Arach connected the two halves of the conversation together, and he started to laugh hard and wild. Minerva stood indignant, wishing that she didn't need to endure his company any longer. He had started to show his cruel side again, she thought.

  "Forgive me, My Lady. I swear on my life that I did not intend to offend you. When I say that you're flat, I mean that your notes are flat. They are too low. The opposite of which is sharp. Let me show you." Then he played a note for her, and as he did, he leaned his finger back and forth on the string. "Flat. Sharp. Flat. Sharp. See?"

  Minerva's neck and face flushed with unresolved anger, and she looked down to hide her shame.

  "My Lady, you have made a liar out of me. Just now, you have seduced the whole of my heart. Perhaps I will accept your offer, after all."

  Chapter 62

  Lessons in Love

  "Put your foot over here."

  Minerva repositioned herself as Lord Arach took her hands and clasped them gently.

  "Now move your hips in time with mine."

  She did her best to keep in motion with the older man.

  "Good."

  With a broad smile, he signaled his approval, and she smiled back.

  "You can take off your shoes, if it's more comfortable," he offered.

  Minerva kicked her footwear gently to the side, leaving her feeling vulnerable.

  Lord Arach held her close, and began to move once more. He smiled all the while, serenading her with a gentle song that relaxed her greatly.

  They moved in rhythm together with their bodies held close enough for her to smell the resin on his shirt, and she couldn't help but laugh. Every day since she awoke aboard the Skyraker had been a tense and terrifying journey in an unknown world. For the first time, she could fearlessly submit to someone.

  Arach yelped, exaggerating his wound as she caught the top of his foot.

  "I'm sorry, My Lord."

  "Formalities come off with the shoes, I say," he joked.

  "I think you'll find that I am no better with
my feet than I am with my words. They both move without thinking."

  "Perhaps, but at the very least, you are smiling."

  In this way, they danced. Slow and steady. Step by step, he taught her the comfort of a steady stride in the arms of a trusted friend. When it was late, and they were tired, they went to a high ledge overlooking the city. Minerva watched in wonder at the beauty of the spider storms, rising and rushing through the forest on their way to a new home.

  Fireflies didn't look so beautiful.

  "Do you swear by your mark that you're a pirate?" he asked, leaning over to scrutinize her response.

  "Yes," she answered.

  Lord Arach frowned sorrowfully. "How long do you think it will be before you murder someone? How long until you watch all that someone is slowly drain from their eyes?"

  The thought horrified her. "Have I upset you?" she begged in wonder.

  "Quite the opposite. You have exceeded my expectations in every feasible way."

  "They why say such things?"

  "Because you are something of an enigma, Minerva. You bear the mark of a pirate, and you swear by the life that they lead, but the life of a pirate is one of lying, cheating, thieving, and murder. It is a life of violence. You have proven tonight that you possess all the qualifications to be one of the finest ladies, and you have also proven that you have what it takes to be a murderer."

  A stern glance emphasized his point before he continued.

  "To live with pirates is to be taken by their vices, and yet you resist. In your efforts to remain modest, you revealed to me your fear of your own blossoming womanhood. To which I wonder, will you remain a lady, or will you become the criminal that you swear to be? The reason I invited you here tonight, without any word of deceit, was to see for myself which version of you was the real one."

  "What have you decided?"

  Lord Arach shook his head. "Nothing. Perhaps you really will be the world's first lady pirate."

  Nearly the entire city was dark when Arach escorted Minerva back to the main hall, where Ubadah waited with a jacket.

  "I doubt you know this, but that dress you wear was woven for my late wife."

  Arach idly stated his fact as Minerva donned the jacket, and her body froze.

  "I know this because the spiders that weave that hue of silk no longer live. The child that ruined my home also brought about the extinction of a beautiful creature, and there was none other that could have sewn it. I don't know where you found it, but I thank you. Thank you for letting me hold my wife in my arms, one last time. You have given me a greater gift than I ever could have imagined. I hope my company wasn't too much of a burden, this evening."

  "Absolutely not, My Lord."

  Ubadah opened the door, and as he did, several cold and weary sailors jumped to their feet. The crew of the Skyraker roused at the same time as the wicked and cruel Lord of the Loftwood bent to one knee and gingerly kissed Minerva on the hand. In one swift, collective motion, their jaws fell slack.

  "Goodnight, My Lady."

  Chapter 63

  A Dagger in the Dark

  "What did – you do?"

  Minerva smiled at the twins and tossed her head back. "Oh, you know. This and that."

  For the first time ever, the twins gave her a very angry look, and she relented.

  "We had supper, listened to some music, and then we danced and talked."

  Olbus stood ready to escort her back to the Skyraker. "You did well, sailor."

  "I bet the captain – gets better treatment now."

  Minerva wondered just how right the twins were as she went to sleep that night.

  The next morning was like any other morning in Reshampur, only this time the post that normally restrained Captain Glass sat empty. Minerva learned that Lord Arach took the captain to the palace, and her entire day flooded with dread, fearing that somehow, something she had said or done had resulted in a much worse fate for the captain.

  "Ye want to throw some dice around with the boys, tonight?" Big Jim asked as he swept the floor.

  "No thanks, Jim. I'm worried about the captain. I don't think my conscience would let me enjoy myself."

  "Aye, fair is fair."

  Reshampur, just like Riggersport, never benefitted from direct sunlight. Street lamps burned constantly in many places, leaving the vibrant colors of the tents and tarps muddied and subdued. When she left the bakery, Minerva found her way to a lonesome outlook, and waited for the nightly clouds of spiders to spawn. She sat on the ground and straddled a post, dangling her toes over the edge of the terrace. The rope between the posts hung at just the right height for her to drape her arms over it and relax.

  After more than an hour of contemplation, she heard footsteps behind her. Minerva turned to see Spit, Patch, Grunts, and several girls that she didn't recognize, just as they entered the small balcony. Her arm shot for Velvet's hilt, but not fast enough. Spit wound his arms around her head and neck, pinning her against the post.

  Minerva bit down on Spit's forearm, filling her mouth with blood. Spit howled in pain and drew his arm back just far enough that he could strike her. His fist connected with her temple, stunning her thoughts while his other hand firmly held her bun, locking her only weapon in its hilt. Minerva wrapped her legs around the post as tightly as she could and screamed for help, struggling to hold on.

  Severely outnumbered, the young men easily overpowered her efforts and dragged her to her feet before pushing her out towards the edge. Spit punched her hard in the gut, causing her to cough and wince in pain. The post on which she rested only a moment ago pushed into her thighs, causing her feet to lose their grip, and she grabbed Patch's shirt by the back, hanging on tight.

  "Wait-wait-wait," the swabbie cried while he attempted to dislodge her, twisting in his shirt.

  "I'm taking at least one of you with me!" Minerva growled, as she felt the fingers of one of the girls trying to peel her hand open. Pushing her foot to the other side of Patch, she smashed the girl in the thigh, forcing her to the ground.

  Minerva tightened her grip as Spit hit her again, and she screamed for help again, forcing herself to keep her eyes open, ready to dodge the next strike. If they set their minds to it, they would have little trouble rendering her unconscious and throwing her off the balcony. She needed to remain alert until help could arrive.

  Several more blows landed in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, stifling her ability to call for aid. A real sense of fear grew within her mind. No one was coming to help her. She was going to die right here. Almost in a state of panic, Minerva saw something far more unsettling than the fate waiting for her at the hands of the swabbies.

  In the shadows of the branches overhead, a white porcelain mask twitched and twisted. Its broken facade darted back and forth in a mass of flowing darkness.

  Spit grazed Minerva's cheek as she locked eyes on the assassin.

  "Let me go. Please." She whispered the words quietly, unable to draw a full breath.

  Then the shadow drew closer, washing down the side of the tree and flowing up behind the feet of the swabbies. One of the girls saw the thing as it moved, and she scrambled wordlessly backward from the scuffle.

  "It's just a cloak. It's just a cloak. It's just a cloak." The phrase echoed hollow in her voice. It wasn't working. She couldn't look away. Her last meeting with the assassin felt so long ago, and yet the terror renewed itself full fury. She kicked her legs, thrashing to free herself.

  "Hold her still!" Spit yelled, while the other two huffed and grunted from the effort.

  A dagger, sleek and wicked, slipped out of the darkness, rising slowly into the night.

  "No! No!" Minerva protested in vain.

  As the dagger bit down, the third girl screamed, as only a girl can scream, and then she ran.

  Spit gurgled.

  Patch and Grunts released Minerva at once, and she almost scalped herself as she readied Velvet. The shadow withdrew swiftly and blocked the only exit. Patch pani
cked, his voice broke, and he ran straight towards the darkness, seeking to push past it. Where they met on the path there was a twist of the mask and then Patch was gone. He simply vanished into the shadow.

  "Patch!" Grunts howled at the thing, stepping forward.

  "Don't go near it!" Minerva begged, trying to pull him back.

  "Get away from me!" he shouted as he pushed her aside, trying to distance himself from the agent as it rounded on him.

  Minerva slashed forward, but the assassin moved as quickly as she remembered. It dashed to the side, and then lunged in, quick and low, neatly placing its polished blade straight into the gut of Grunts, who collapsed at once.

  The remaining girls attempted to flee, but the shadow caught them in their steps. It threw a sweeping wing of darkness over them both, engulfing them. There wasn't even a scream, just a cloud of nothing over two whole bodies, followed by absolute silence.

  Minerva bit back tears as the mask turned to face her. She thrust again, attempting to create an opening for escape, but the thing kept a safe distance from her weapon.

  Then a glove appeared in the darkness, and another, and from the infinite abyss below the mask, a bound scroll of parchment came forth. The paper was so dark that it seemed to be made of a single sheet of ash, and the assassin held the missive out to Minerva.

  "I don't want it! I refuse! Go away!" she replied.

  A sharp whistle sounded in the distance, and the mask pushed the scroll closer.

  "No. I don't want it. Leave me alone," Minerva pleaded, wanting nothing more than to see two young girls fall safely from beneath its shadowy veil.

  A chorus of footsteps thundered towards Minerva and another whistle blew. The nightmare lingered shortly, and then slid the scroll back into the darkness and tossed itself over the edge of the city.

  Minerva looked at Spit and Grunts, and the thick pools of blood forming beneath them. Her body began to shake, and she cried. Five armed guards exploded onto the terrace with their weapons drawn, and she dropped her sword and collapsed to her knees, unable to offer any reasonable explanation.