The Glass Girl

by Kim Alexander

  He’d been practicing for weeks.

  He’d finally performed Na Aari Vais, and in setting the beautiful silk that stood for his beautiful Niico ablaze, it allowed his beloved to return to the rock and bone of Eriis. He was surprised at how quickly the cloth was consumed, and how soon he found himself sitting alone with the wind at his back on a lip of rock. Not even a shred or speck remained. It usually took a long time, the ceremony. Bodies took a long time to turn to ash. He wondered if Eriis would accept Niico without any actual bones to contribute. But he couldn’t imagine a place that wouldn’t be improved by Niico’s presence, and walked away from the grey hillside feeling he’d done the right thing. Niico wasn’t gone, but at least he was free.

  “What do you think happens when you shimmer from place to place?” Jaa had asked him, when he’d finally looked away from the dark path that had been his destination for so long. “Where do you think you go?”

  He knew it wasn’t just a question of disappearing and reappearing in a different place. Since she’d ‘moved’ the tents in their entirety to avoid the storm that could have killed them all, he was desperate to find out how it was done. Even the Mages didn’t have this kind of power. Well, at least not anymore. But he’d never given a second thought to the mechanics of shimmering—until now. You leave, you arrive.

  The answer was obvious. He found he was angry that it hadn’t occurred to him before.

  Doors; doors everywhere. Or rather, Doors, capital D, everywhere. When one shimmered from place to place, one simply slipped from room to room. That was how Mother Jaa described it; Eriis was like a great house with Doors opening to many rooms. The front Door led to the Veil, and Mistra had a front Door of its own. Just as one could become lost in an unmapped city, so could one become unmoored in the Veil. But since all the Doors were unfixed and some were more like windows, the analogy eventually fell apart.

  “Why doesn’t anyone know this?” he asked. It seemed huge to him; world-changing.

  “Why would they? What difference would it make? When you light the stones, do you wonder where the heat comes from?” He admitted he had not.

  “Well, why haven’t you taught this to anyone else?”

  “You think I haven’t tried? I nearly succeeded with our friend the queen.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “I wondered how she was able to find me. And yet she wasn’t in the room with me, so she wasn’t properly shimmering at all. Is this how she did it?” He recalled the way her image would blink and shiver, and how she spoke to people behind him, people he couldn’t see. The bitter smell of magic that surrounded her then, filled the room now.

  “Yes and no. I was able to show her how to find a Door much further away than she’d ever considered opening. She hadn’t the skill to step through, not to such great and unknown distances. And the only person she could appear to was you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You are a burning flame in any dark place.” She couldn’t see the surprise on his face and continued. “She could see you, and so she could find you, even if she hadn’t the strength to visit you in person.” She sipped her water. “As it was, the energy she needed nearly drained her dry during her little foray to the Vastness. I did try to warn her she was in danger of damaging herself, but she insisted. She couldn’t control how much of her own…vitality to aim at the process.”

  “She poured out a cup when a few drops would do.”

  “A cup!” She laughed at that, more heartily than he thought the jest deserved, as if it had another meaning to her. “Yes, a cup. One might say.” She gave another cackling laugh and settled herself. “You will begin the same way she did. Opening a Door and peering through it.”

  Although he had an image of leaping from world to world, he supposed one ought to start at the beginning. And peering through a Door sounded like spying. Niico wanted to be a spy. Maybe it would be appropriate pick up where he’d left off.

  “Whom should I look at?” He had an idea forming.

  “Whom would you like to see?” When he didn’t reply, she patted his hand. “Our sight, I fear, is limited to Eriis. We cannot see through the Veil, or onto the dark path. Perhaps you’d like to look in on your sister?”

  “No.” He took a breath. “No, I think not.” She had misinterpreted his hesitation.

  “Then who?”

  “My father.”

  She frowned. “But I was led to understand…”

  “That he’s dead? If he is, I want to count his bones and make sure each one of them is accounted for. If he’s not…I want to find my Father, however he fares. Wherever he is.” She was quiet for a moment, and he said, “You think to warn me against wasting my time. Against taking revenge.”

  “Not at all. If you’ve figured out a way to take vengeance on the dead, I’d surely like to witness.”

  “Oh. Well.” He’d been expecting an argument. “How do I begin?”

  And she’d shown him, and he’d looked through Doors, so many Doors, and had been shown nothing.

  Well, not quite nothing. Just not the right thing. It wasn’t working.

  And here it was again. Today it appeared to be the back of someone’s house, but no one on Eriis had a yard so green, or ringed by so many lush trees, or basked under a sky so blue. He could only be looking at Mistra. Here was the man he’d seen over and over, a soberly dressed, dark-haired human man in his late middle years. The man often appeared with a younger friend—perhaps a lover or a relative, he didn’t know. The younger man looked enough like Beast to make Ilaan turn away, feeling a hot flicker of the anger he’d never let burn out. This anger distracted him and caused the image to fade, and so he’d never managed to watch long enough to hear their witless, human chatter. Today the pair sat in low chairs and sipped drinks with ice.

  Ilaan felt the cool touch of Jaa’s assistance in his mind. With her help, his rage calmed and the picture sharpened. They were speaking.

  “Barbaric, really,” the older man said, “But we are a people who respect tradition, and that’s how it’s always been done. Kill the king to become the king. No one would dare deny that claim. Of course, if the new king had a powerful person at their side…someone to sort out the ins and outs of life at court…”

  The younger man was wide-eyed. “A counselor?”

  The older man smiled behind his hand in a way that Ilaan was certain he recognized. “One might say. With a counselor at his side, that new king could do great things. On both the High Seat of Eriis and here on Mistra.”

  Ilaan looked at Jaa, who was frowning and massaging her knotted, swollen fingers.

  “How…how is this possible?” Ilaan asked. “How is that man . . .”

  “This is unexpected,” she said. “But it does explain a fair number of things.” She leaned over his shoulder again, appearing to watch the two men, who were now quiet. “The rock and bone of Eriis. That’s who you were looking for, and that’s who you found. A new face and some fancy clothes cannot change who he is. ‘Kill the king.’ To whom do you suppose your father refers? Who does he think sits on the High Seat?”

  Ilaan looked at his own hands, unwilling to either answer, or continue to watch the man who could only be his father. He tried to figure out what he felt—was it possible he felt happiness to find his father alive? Guilt and shame followed quickly on the heels of his relief, and cold anger trailed behind. He wondered if he ought to tell his sister. He wondered who Yuenne’s new human puppet might be. ‘Kill the king.’

  “My boy,” Jaa said, “You have a decision to make.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Mistra

  “Obviously, you'll have to go.”

  Lelet helped Auri slip off his jacket, and she hung it carefully on the brass and wood mannequin. He stood still, his arms held slightly away from his body, as she unbuttoned his shirt and put it aside with their other laundry for the maid to collect in the morning. He said no one took care of him as well as she did.

  “Bu
t you said…” She found herself gnawing at her thumbnail, and quickly put her hands behind her back.

  “I know what I said. But circumstances have changed, haven't they?” He shrugged on the bitter-chocolate silk robe and sat at his dresser, watching in the mirror as she undressed. “I said I didn't approve because I wanted to spare your feelings. You should have seen yourself that night - it was all I could do to calm you down. You wanted me to say no, and I said it. Or maybe I misread you. I know how attached you were to your demon. Maybe you still are. After all, I'm not a prince.” She hurried to assure him that was not the case. “But I would have thought you'd be able to set your feelings aside, that you'd be eager to help your brother.”

  “You think I'm selfish.”

  “I never said that.” He held out his hand. “Come here.” She perched on his knee, and he laughed. “What are you, a puppet?” He gathered her close, and she felt the same relieved rush; he wasn't tired of her, he still wanted her, he still needed her. “I'll be lost without you while you're away, but I know you'll do the right thing.”

  She pressed her face to his chest, breathing the warm, human scent of him: clean soap, a hint of his woodsy cologne. “I don't understand how any of this happened,” she said. “Where did she come from? Your people—were there any rumors?”

  “My people.” He chuckled. “They're more talk than anything else. I'm thinking of ending the whole venture. I mean, 'The Inner Order' - it’s starting to sound silly. Wouldn't you like that? If I called it off?”

  She wriggled around so she could see his face. “You'd do that for me?” She didn't think he was being insincere, but she knew it was more than a hobby for him, despite his cavalier attitude. Wouldn’t this prove his devotion?

  He gave a shrug. “I mean, really. We've been hunting demons for years, and the only one who ever caught one is your brother.”

  She clenched her teeth and tried not to cry, and he gave her a little shake. “Oh, come on. It was just a joke.”

  “What do we say about jokes?” It just popped out, but the look on his face told it her it was a mistake.

  “I don't know, Letty. What do we say?”

  “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. It's just, I'm upset, and now I have to go there. I don't want to leave you.”

  “I know.” He took her chin and tilted her head up. “Listen to me. I know you. And I trust you. You'll do the right thing and bring your demon back home, and we'll sort this whole thing out. It'll turn out that girl was already dead—maybe one of them did it and threw her through The Door. Or someone has it in for your brother. It was just a horrible mistake. You'll see, it'll be fine. And I know you'd never do anything to make me worry.” They kissed. “When exactly is this meeting?”

  She struggled to recall; she'd only glanced at the letter, other than to find Moth's name. “I think it's quite soon.”

  “We ought to go see your sister in the morning, make the arrangements.”

  “Ah, I think she'll have already left for the Guardhouse.”

  “Then we'll write a letter. Or perhaps we ought to just put you in a coach. You wouldn't want to miss the trip.”

  She looked over his shoulder at their glossy mahogany wardrobe and began in her head to pick what she'd bring—black, tan and brown. And maybe one nice thing, just in case. “I'll have to think of what to pack. It'll still be hot there.” Had he caught her mistake? She thought not, and quickly added, “Or at least that's what the letter said. That it's still hot, just not as bad.”

  He must have mistaken her quick recovery for fear, because he wrapped his arms around her. “I know you don't want to go. But I know how brave you are. And remember you're better than them. You're human, and you belong here with me, your very own human, the only one who really loves you. That'll make you hurry back home to me, won't it?” She nodded. He was right, after all. If nothing else was certain, she did not belong there. “And when you come home, we'll have a party for your brother, and maybe even your demon can come, if he's still around. Maybe I'll have some sort of announcement to make.”

  “What are you talking about? What announcement?” Moth, at this house? She thought not. But why not? she wondered. After all, he's so fond of you.

  He looked away, smiling. “You'll see. A nice one. You'll like it.” He stood and lifted her with him. “Let's celebrate.”

  “Auri, my brother is still locked up, and that poor girl is still dead. I hardly think—” He set her on her feet, pushing her away so quickly she stumbled backwards

  “Fine. You're right, of course. We shouldn't do anything other than wring our hands and cry.” He went around the room turning down the lamps. “There's always something wrong, isn't there? Maybe we should wear rags and go weeping from door to door.”

  She joined him under the quilt and they lay silently. The curtains stirred in the breeze, and she could smell the rich scent of the garden; flowers, and underneath, not unpleasantly, manure. She could hear him breathing; he wasn't even pretending to be asleep. She could feel him pulling away. “I'm sorry,” she finally said. “There's plenty to celebrate.” She leaned on her elbow and smiled at him. “After all, I have you here waiting for me.” There was a pause. “Don't I?”

  He laughed, and the tension went out of her shoulders. He still wants me, she thought. “I know there's trouble. I'm not stupid. But I can't bear to see you sad all the time. That's all.” He leaned over and kissed her and she pulled him closer, closing her eyes and picturing a smile, a glint of gold, a rush of wings. Sometimes that was enough.

  . “An early day tomorrow,” he said, rolling off and rearranging the quilts. “Get some sleep. We'll start early and have you on your way in no time.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  “Me too,” he replied. “More than anyone. I'm so proud of you.” After a while, his breathing changed and he really was asleep.

  He's right, she thought. He's right. I'm human, I belong here, in this house, with him. She thought again of Thayree, of how she’d failed. It's my fault she's dead. I'll go, and I'll come back, and that will be the end of it.

  It'll be fine.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Eriis

  It was almost second moonrise, and Zaii's household was quiet—the nightstones had been turned down, the last cup and plate put away, when Liim, who liked to read late into the evening, closed his book. He looked up with a frown. “Was that a knock, or the wind?”

  Zaii was already pulling a robe on and heading for the door. Coll stood outside, holding his scarf in one hand. Zaii wondered if he knew how to properly adjust it, having lived below ground for so long.

  “Coll? Is something wrong? Is it the prince?”

  The Mage walked past him, on into the living area, looking at this and that like he'd never seen the inside of a house before, even though he’d been to dinner twice. He sat in a straight-backed chair and raised the lights.

  “Please,” said Zaii, “do come in.”

  The Mage shook his head, as if dust was blown his face. “It's time,” he said.

  “Time? Time for proper Eriisai to be in their beds?” Liim joined Zaii in the study. He raised a brow in question, but Zaii could only give a tiny shrug. “Please keep your voice down,” Zaii told the Mage. Our guest is a light sleeper.” He knew Iither would have his head for not waking her in time to say hello to her beloved prince's favorite Mage, but she and the little moon needed rest more than drama.

  “It's time,” Coll said again. They looked at him expectantly. “Time for us to go to the queen.”

  “To Thaali?” Liim asked. “Why?”

  “That creature? I refer to Hellne, of course. The queen. Have you not been paying attention?”

  “Did you just call Thaali a creature?” Liim might have the same questions about the unusual way the royal couple were elevated to the High Seat as everyone else, but he also respected the office. He'd admonished Zaii more than once for his lack of 'respect until proven otherwise.'

&
nbsp; “Coll, perhaps you could be more specific?” Zaii knew the Mage could be maddeningly vague, but he had to admit if you asked the right questions, the answers were often startling in their insight. He'd thought of dirt, after all, when no one else had even considered such a thing. And someone who could look at the dead sands of Eriis and envision a green and growing world, and come up with a plan to make it happen, was not someone to ignore

  “The king who sits on the High Seat is not the king. And neither is his queen. The true queen brought them back from the desert and now hides in her chambers. Where did she find them? Don't you wonder?”

  “Well, she's said they were trapped in the Veil,” said Zaii. He had questions about that himself but wanted to see what the Mage would say. “Do you doubt her?”

  “The Veil. The very thing we Mages have been studying for generations, something we understand less than The Door itself. It's not too difficult to fall in, but once there, even the power of the Raasth couldn't drag you out. I can count the number of those who were rescued from the Veil on one finger. And she just stumbled on them? Get your boots on, we'll go ask her.”

  Liim laughed. “Just like that? You plan on marching into the palace and pounding on Hellne's door in the middle of the night?” He shook his head. “If that isn't the most absurd—”