The Glass Girl

by Kim Alexander

  As they approached the Seat, the Zaal appeared bored, looking at nothing in particular. Araan did the same, with a somewhat kinder visage. Thaali, Rhuun noted, struggled not to stare at Coll, whom she had not met before. There was a silence.

  “I understand this is a great day,” said Araan, finally. Now that he had spoken, the others could as well.

  “It is, Uncle. Thanks to the work of my assistant, Coll, the weather is almost as it was before the Weapon.”

  “Nice to see you above ground, Coll.” The Zaal didn’t bother with a glancing look but fixed his fellow mage with a bright stare. “I heard you’d made yourself useful. After everything I taught you in the Raasth, I wondered if you’d seek my permission to trot some of those charms out.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Araan. “It was the same charm I wrote, that they’ve been using to fix the weather. These two decided they knew better than the whole of the Raasth and decided to take La Naa on themselves.” He turned his gaze towards Rhuun. “Tell me, does the knife sting less when it’s held by a friend?”

  Araan gave the Zaal a bland smile. “Your charm, your blade, your Raasth. How tired your arms must be, carrying us all around.” He turned back to Rhuun. “You were saying?”

  “I, uh, yes. If you’ll approve it, we are prepared to send an invitation to the humans at the Guardhouse. To invite them here. To open trade and reopen The Door.” He pulled the document from his coat. “It is your decision.”

  Araan and Thaali shared a glance. “We approve, yes, we approve very much. Bury the past and make way for the future. Perhaps we’ll even see this other world ourselves, one day.” He winked at Thaali. “I hear it tastes delicious.”

  Thaali laughed out loud. Rhuun caught a look of panic crossing the Zaal’s face before he carefully composed himself. What is going on here? He decided to act only on what was said, not what was unsaid. There’d be time to pick over this conversation later.

  “Delicious,” he said, “yes, their food is certainly different from what we enjoy here at home. They have something called baby lamb chops—”

  “In your hand. Is that it?” Araan leaned forward. “Let me see it. How soon can we taste our new world? What do you think, shani?”

  “Soon is too long,” Thaali said. “Let’s start now.”

  Rhuun handed over the document. Araan took a quick look at the double sided, densely written sheet, and held out his hand. The Zaal took a pen out of his coat and handed it over. As his uncle signed the document, he thought of how his mother handled important decisions. Think, she would say, about the why. Is this for yourself? For pride or anger? Is this for idle curiosity? Let the ‘why’ guide your hand. He’d thought she was the greatest leader her people ever had until he came across the book she’d been quoting. Even if she hadn’t thought it up, it was still good advice. The paper his uncle had signed without reading would change the lives of everyone on Eriis in ways they couldn’t yet imagine. Even idle curiosity would have been an improvement on Araan’s heedless behavior. It was almost as if they had reasons of their own to get The Door back open.

  Araan passed the paper back, and Rhuun said, “I must admit, I didn’t imagine you’d both be so eager to see the humans again. It must seem like only yesterday…”

  He looked down from the High Seat. “Time passes not, or passes by.” From the corner of his eye, Rhuun saw Coll jerk his head up. “We are here, it is now. Our only desire is to open the Door to our new world.” The Zaal cleared his throat. “The humans’ world, of course.”

  Thaali snickered.

  Reasons of their own, reasons that had to do with revenge? Because of the Weapon? Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who had discovered the gift of anger. He noticed the Zaal watching Coll, and then spoke, Rhuun thought, rather loudly.

  “I must admit, Coll, I admire the way you’ve risen.” The Zaal smirked. “From holding the bowl to…whatever it is you two are up to now. We all remember your chats with the Glass Girl. You certainly have a way of inserting yourself if you think a human is nearby.” He flicked a glance at Rhuun. “You’ve got half of one here, at least. Where will you appear next?”

  Rhuun could hear his mage’s breath quicken. He is afraid, he thought, and was astonished to realize he himself was not. What can the Zaal do to me now? What’s left? He considered the mage, daring to meet his eye. You took everything from me. My freedom. My blood. My friends—gone. My love—gone. I even had to trade away my own shadow. But look at what’s left of me. This is what I am now.

  Rhuun turned to Araan. “Please remind the Zaal how one properly addresses a member of our family.”

  “Ah.” Araan leaned forward in the Seat, his eyes gleaming, “He’s got you there.”

  “Your Grace,” the Zaal sneered. “Although—”

  “To answer your question, Coll will be found at my side,” said Rhuun, “as my trusted assistant. What about you? How will you make yourself useful? I’m sorry to say there’s now a wait list for my blood, so you’ll have to get in line.” He could hear his own voice, see his own calm exterior, as if from above. “I’ll be sure to give your best regards to the humans.” He smiled at the royal couple. Araan looked amused; Thaali was wide-eyed with excitement. They were, he realized, eager for a fight. Not today. “Uncle. Madam. We will keep you informed.”

  He nodded at them and turned away, with Coll close behind him. As he walked, he muttered under his breath, “And go scorp yourself.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Mistra

  Before she spoke, Lelet scanned the room.

  The study was flooded with golden late afternoon light, and Auri was in his favorite leather armchair by the window, one leg tucked under him, reading the paper. His book of Mistran history, which he’d been working his way through for the better part of the eight months she’d known him, sat on the round table next to the chair. She’d spoken to the maid, and there was a nice salmon and some new potatoes ready to go for his dinner. A crisp white wine was on ice in the chiller. He looked up.

  “You’re dressed to the gills for dinner at home.” He set the paper aside and regarded her, standing in the doorway. “Are you cold?”

  “I was thinking of visiting May,” she replied. “She sent a note. She says she needs to see me.” She rubbed her palms against the stiff, dark green brocade of her coat. “I won’t be late.”

  “I suppose it’s me and Jan for dinner.” He sighed and reached for his paper. “Do give May and Stelle my regards.” He’d made some pointed remarks about her sister, and she knew he didn’t care for Stelle. But it seemed he would let her go without an argument, and she was relieved. “Do you need a cab?” He thought keeping a coach and your own horses was a waste of money, and she agreed with him. It would be nice to see her Petrel again though; she’d have to remember to give him an apple and make sure he was getting enough exercise.

  “I thought I might walk,” she said. “Get some fresh air. It’s still early. I’ll stay on the boulevards.” The side streets, though quicker, were often poorly lit. He had a horror of anything happening to her and liked to keep her close to his side.

  “Take one home, then. And come here before you vanish into the night.”

  She laughed and went to kiss him. “It’s not night.”

  “Actually, it’s going to be dark before you get there, so forgive me for wanting to see you live to come home to me.” His embrace was warm, his kiss was sweet, and he really had her best interest at heart.

  “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Take some cash from the desk. Go see you sister. Honestly, Letty, sometimes you act like I’m your keeper.”

  Once on the street, she stood still, relishing the silence. Maybe I need a keeper, she thought, as she eyed the shortcut through a quiet neighborhood back to her old house. It was still light, the streets were busy with people and coaches and carriages. She took a step off the curb in the direction of the tree lined street. He’d be disappointed if he found out she’d gone against hi
s wishes. When she did things carelessly, people got hurt. Disappeared. Died. She wasn’t like that anymore. She did the right thing, now.

  She took a breath and turned back to the broad main road.

  “Darling, look at this beautiful coat! Did Auri get it for you?” May stroked the fabric, a dark pattern of leaves and branches. “Not one of ours, is it?”

  “Does it have to be?” Lelet regretted the sharpness of her tone as soon as it was out of her mouth. May pursed her lips. Then she smiled, took Lelet’s hand and led her into the dining room.

  “Look who's here to see you.”

  “Scilla!” Lelet threw her arms around her sister. “You’re as tall as me. Look at you, you’re gorgeous!”

  Scilla, who had traded her long brown braids for a chic chignon and her brown robe for a fitted espresso jacket and matching skirt, had apparently grown up. She did the math in her head—Scil would be nearly fifteen. Lelet marveled at how much May and Scilla looked alike. They had gotten the family’s good looks, that was certain.

  “Thanks, you look thin. But I like your hair. Can I tell her?” Scilla was practically vibrating with excitement. Perhaps not all the way grown up.

  “Tell her after we’ve had a little dinner,” said May. “Stelle has a talk tonight, she sends her love. She’s written a new—”

  “Tell me what?” Lelet frowned. With Scilla here, it had to have something to do with Guardhouse business, and that wasn’t her business anymore. She pushed back the urge to ask if something had happened to Moth, because that wasn’t her business either. But knowing Scilla, she’d hear whatever it was even if she set the house on fire to stop it.

  “She’s going to be talking about ghosts and spirits. Sold out, isn’t that exciting? She does wish you’d come and see her speak,” May ignored her question.

  “You know why I can’t.” Lelet had no desire to be stared at by yet another roomful of other world enthusiasts. Auri hadn’t told her not to go, but she thought he preferred her save her appearances for those who followed him.

  “Old Auri won’t let her,” said Scilla, making a face.

  “Scil! Take that back at once.” May had the same look Lelet remembered from their childhood: like a zookeeper in a cage full of angry lyonnes. “She doesn’t mean it.”

  “Hmmph,” Scil grumbled, but added, “I didn’t mean it. I’m sure he’s a delight.”

  “He is a delight,” said Lelet. Neither sister responded. “Well, he is.” She sat at the dining table, the scene of so many battles; it was like falling backwards through time. “Just as delightful as you are, Scilly. Maybe that’s why I adore him.” She leaned her chin on her hand and smiled at Scilla’s dramatically rolled eyes “Your face is going to freeze like that.”

  May sat with a thump. “The only thing missing is Rane and some flying cutlery. He says he’ll see you tomorrow for lunch, Scil. So,” she continued, turning to Lelet, “he’s treating you well? I mean, of course he is, it’s just that we never get to see you.”

  Lelet sat up straighter. “We are busy.” She thought back to her last dinner with Aelle, how she’d tried and failed to avoid the traps laid by those pretty demon ladies. She forced herself to relax. This was just her sisters. She’d done nothing but make mistakes around them her whole life, and they still loved her. “Honestly, I’ve been staying in lately. I’m tired of all the traipsing around. I wanted a rest. I wanted to do normal things. House things.” May and Scilla exchanged a look. “Please, I’m fine. Auri takes excellent care of me.” Another look, and this time it was May quite clearly telling Scilla to keep her mouth shut.

  Dinner was punctuated by Scilla dropping hints about something dramatic, and May telling her to save it for dessert. Despite the portents, Lelet realized how much she’d missed her family. Maybe she could patch things up between May and Auri, although she honestly wasn’t sure why they each took such a dim view of the other, when they’d barely been in the same room. She liked Moth better, she thought. So did Scilla. Her sweet wine tasted suddenly bitter.

  Finally, the maid cleared everything but tea. Scilla pulled an envelope from under her chair. “Can I tell her now?” May sighed and nodded. “This came for me. And it’s also for you.”

  Lelet frowned. “For you? From where?” Her heart began to pound.

  Scilla’s eyes widened. “You know where. From Eriis. It’s an invitation. They want us to go. They want me, and I want you. You can go back. You can fix everything.”

  “I can go…I can go back…I think…” Lelet pushed back from the table. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Mistra

  Lelet, having gone a delicate shade of green, clapped her hand over her mouth and fled the room.

  “You should have known this would happen,” May said to Scilla. “After all, you were the first one to see her when she got back.”

  Scilla nodded. “I thought she was going to drown herself in my bathtub.”

  May rubbed her forehead. “When she finally came home, she hid in her room for weeks. Stelle and I practically had to break the door down. She doesn’t want to go back there.”

  Scilla thumbed the edge of the envelope. “I think she does. She’s just being dramatic.”

  As long as these two are sisters, thought May, I’ll be in the middle, playing referee. It’s like lawnball, but with handfuls of mud.

  Finally, Lelet came back from the washroom and lowered herself into her chair. May poured her tea.

  “I should have warned you, but this one,” she nodded at Scilla, “convinced me she could be diplomatic. I’m sorry.”

  “But you’ll go,” Scilla said, confident as ever. She opened the envelope and laid a piece of paper on the table.

  “No. I'm not going anywhere.” Lelet folded her arms and glowered at Scilla.

  “I know you want to, so let's skip the part where you pretend you don't.” Scilla pushed the paper, a page torn from her notebook covered in ornate though readable writing, across the dinner table towards Lelet.

  Lelet turned her head, pointedly looking away. “Auri says—”

  “Auri says!” Scilla snapped. “If you say that—”

  The mud had progressed to bricks. Knives would be next.

  “Scil!” May raised her voice so rarely that both sisters stopped and looked at her. “Mind your mouth. Lel, please. Scilla brought it all the way from the Guardhouse, it's the least you can do. Aren't you curious?” Scilla had been annoyingly mysterious about the contents of the letter, saying only that Lelet had to see it, Auri could absolutely not, and it would change everything. It had taken some convincing to pry Lelet away from her new home for the evening. She was not officially residing with Auri (their father would have had something to say about that) but was understood to be spending much of her time at his fine house. If asked, she would say she lived with Rane, in a more fashionable part of town than her dowdy older sister.

  Lelet stared unhappily at the paper on the table. Scilla and May watched Lelet.

  “Fine,” said Lelet, pulling it towards herself with the tip of one finger. “There. I looked at it. How did it even get here?” She glared at her sister. “Did you and Olly do something stupid like open The Door again?”

  “No, obviously. It's from someone named Coll. He says he's a Mage.”

  Lelet blanched. “A Mage? The Mages are running things now?”

  “I don't know, but it came from him. It's the same way I used to talk to…I used to talk to them, over there. It showed up in my notebook.” Here Scilla reached for the page and held it up. “Look, one side is a note saying he was 'tasked with sending correspondence, and successful in making the weather more acceptable to humans.' They made it cooler, you can go in your own skin now. You can go back and sort things out.”

  Lelet shook her head. “I can’t talk about this. I'm not going. May, please tell me you understand.”

  May sipped her tea to gain a little time before answering. The distress on Lelet's fa
ce was plain enough, but without knowing what drove her sister to leave Eriis in the first place she couldn't rightly say she understood. “Scil, your sister seems resolved not to discuss this. We shouldn't try and force her.”

  Lelet relaxed in her seat. “Thank you.”

  “I, however, would love to hear the rest.” Lelet threw up her hands. “What's on the other side? The long bit?”

  “It's an invitation. They want to…” Scilla pulled the paper close to her nose and read aloud. “Normalize relations. Open embassies on both sides of The Door. And a bunch of boring stuff about trade relations. We’ve sent a reply, we accepted. I’m going, and so are Olly and two of the brothers. We leave in a few weeks.” She waited for Lelet’s reaction and didn’t get one. “Moth didn't even sign it, it's from someone named Araan.”

  Lelet looked up. “Araan? Who's that?”

  “The king. If you read this thing, you'd know that.”

  She snatched the page from Scilla. “Araan, on the High Seat. When I left…”

  “Finally!” Scilla leaned on her elbows on the table. “What happened when you left? Did you have a big fight? Did you shoot fire at each other?”

  “Stop it,” Lelet replied. “Moth was on the Seat, is all. Oh, here he is. They've named him ambassador. Good for him, he has a job.” She pushed the page back across the table towards Scilla. “Have a nice trip.”

  May sighed. The change in Lelet since returning from the other side was not for the better. She missed her brash, impulsive sister, the one who never gave up, the one who risked her life for the man she loved. This new version of Lelet sat with a pinched mouth and an anxious face and looked to her new beau for permission to speak, act, and think. It made her miss the days of slamming the door in Billah's face.