The Emperor's Mirror

by Emily Holloway

  “No, but with you, I never know when you might start coughing up blood.”

  “Hey,” Tallis said, looking somewhat affronted. Jaron and his monks had spent a lot of time patching Tallis up after his body proved too frail to handle the massive amounts of magic he could work with it. Coughing up blood was often the least of his troubles. “Why would I do something like that?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” Jaron said dryly. “Any more interrogation?”

  “No.” Tallis sipped his tea. “I think I’m done for now.”

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  About an hour later, Tallis strolled back into the monastery looking rather smug. He quickly located Brannon; it wasn’t difficult, given that he was still in the same hallway. He had moved about six feet down the floor, but that was all. His hair was escaping its tie and hanging down around his face. The soapy water had now soaked all the way up to his mid-thighs, and he looked miserable.

  “I’m back,” Tallis greeted him, with a grin. He was a bit put off when Brannon said nothing, and didn’t even look up at him. He plowed onward as if it made no difference. “I talked to the Sheng Yin. He gave me a letter granting me the right to spend time with you and talk to you.”

  Brannon glanced up at him. For a few moments, his sullen face had become neutral. Then he heaved a sigh and redirected his attention to the floor.

  “Are you angry with me?” Tallis asked worriedly. “I’m sorry.”

  “If I speak to you before Elder says I can, I’m going to be scrubbing floors ‘til I’m thirty,” Brannon muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Go ‘way.”

  Tallis sighed. “All right, I’ll go find him,” he said. He walked quickly through the hallways until he found Edrich in his public chambers, going over some religious texts. He entered without permission and cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” Edrich said coldly.

  “The Sheng Yin gave this to me to deliver to you,” Tallis said, trying to keep his self-satisfaction to a minimum as he handed the missive over.

  The Elder took it, giving Tallis a suspicious look before examining the seal within an inch of its life. He broke it, opened the letter, and began to read. At first he read quickly, but then his eyes slowed down and he looked it over a bit more carefully. A peculiar expression crossed his face, and he tossed the letter into the fire.

  “What does it say?” Tallis asked curiously. “I wasn’t told of the entire contents.”

  “Please feel free to speak with Brannon,” Edrich said coldly, “but do not leave the monastery with him without telling me. It’s important to keep track of his whereabouts.”

  Tallis bowed, seeing that his question was not going to get an answer. “Thank you,” he said. He turned and left the chambers without another word. Brannon was still scrubbing when he got there. “He gave me permission to speak to you,” he said. “Really,” he added, when Brannon looked suspicious. “The Sheng Yin told him to.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Elder Jaron was kind enough to help me plead your case.”

  Brannon perked up a little at the familiar name, tucking his hair behind his ears. “The interesting priest. I’ve met him before. He was nice to me and answered my questions and didn’t make me feel like I was wasting his time.”

  “Asking questions never wastes his time,” Tallis said, sitting down on the floor beside Brannon. “I ask him lots of questions. He was one of my teachers. He still takes care of me sometimes.”

  “I bet he’d be a good teacher.”

  “He is,” Tallis said. “Maybe he’ll teach you someday.”

  “Maybe,” Brannon conceded, going back to scrubbing while they talked.

  “Do you want to go outside later?” Tallis asked, changing the subject.

  “Can I?” Brannon asked, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

  Tallis nodded. “Elder Edrich said it was all right as long as we don’t leave the monastery without telling him, but I wasn’t thinking of doing anything besides sitting outside for a little while.”

  “I have to scrub floors until dinner,” Brannon said with a sigh.

  “After dinner, then.”

  “All right,” Brannon said, clearly pleased. Then his brow furrowed. “Don’t you have actual work to do?”

  “Not right now. Soon I may have a couple of people to talk to. We’re waiting to hear back from some of our contacts.”

  Brannon made a face at him for no particular reason.

  Tallis made one back.

  “You’re silly,” Brannon said, laughing.

  “I know.” Tallis pretended to be mournful. “I try so hard to hide it.”

  “I don’t want to scrub the floors anymore,” Brannon said, tossing his cleaning rag back into the pail. “Tell me a story.”

  “All right,” Tallis said with a laugh. “Do you want to sneak outside?”

  Brannon smiled eagerly. “Can we? I haven’t been outside during the day in three years, four months, and seventeen days.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” Tallis said.

  “I won’t,” Brannon said, laughing. He got to his feet and then looked down at his robe, which was soaked and wrinkled. “I’ll have to change clothes first,” he added, and started down the hallway, sliding his hand into Tallis’ as they walked.

  * * *

  // “Dragon, dragon, look!” The prince bounced into the courtyard, then stopped short when he didn’t immediately see the dragon sprawled out in the sun. He blinked and looked around, then spotted the dragon in human form, sitting on the wall of the courtyard and looking out over the countryside. The view was magnificent from that wall, given that the courtyard was at the edge of the palace grounds. He could see the tiered fields below, the river sparkling in the sun as it wended through them, the mountains in the far distance.

  The prince bounded up the small set of stairs and plopped down next to him, oblivious to the dragon’s moment of quiet contemplation. “Look,” he said proudly, extending his hands. He was holding a little origami dragon made of purple and gold paper.

  The dragon smiled down at the eight-year-old boy. “Did you make it all by yourself?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the prince said. “Well, Mother got me the paper at the city market after I asked her to. I wanted to make one that looks just like you.” He rustled the origami dragon at the real one. “Except that it’s too small.”

  “He’s very nice,” the dragon said solemnly. “I think two dragons my size would be a bit much.”

  “Uh huh,” the prince said. “And this way, when you’re off protecting Father, I can keep this one with me. When I get older, I’ll put a spell on it to make it breathe fire,” he added.

  The dragon laughed. “I don’t breathe fire, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” the prince said. “Only the little dragons do that. You breathe out that golden . . .” He trailed off for a few moments, searching for the right word. “Well, power, that makes things go boom. But I’ll never be good enough to make it do that, so I’ll make it breathe fire instead.”

  “You may be that good someday,” the dragon said, laughing at this description of his capabilities. “But fire is fine,” he added, although he suspected that the prince’s real intention was to set courtier’s shoes on fire with it.

  “But I made it fly! Look!” The prince lifted the dragon up and released it. A wind caught it quickly and it soared out over the fields. “Look at it go!” the prince declared.

  “He flies very well,” the dragon said, hoping that it returned.

  “Do you miss flying out over the countryside?” the prince asked, watching the dragon’s wistful face. He held out his hand and the origami dragon returned, alighting delicately on his wrist and folding its wings.

  “Sometimes. The palace can feel very small.”

  “Why don’t we go flying?” the prince asked eagerly, for what was probably the thousandth time since his first meeting with the dragon.

  The dra
gon sighed and gave the same explanation as always. “I would like to, but the people get alarmed when I fly, because it always means that something is wrong.”

  “Something is wrong,” the prince said. “You’re bored and cooped up. That’s wrong.”

  “You’re very thoughtful,” the dragon said. He reached out and tickled the origami dragon under the chin; it squealed and scampered up the prince’s shoulder, attempting to hide in his hair. Both the dragon and the prince laughed.

  The prince looked around as one of the servants called his name. “I have to go in now,” he said idly.

  “I notice you’re not actually going,” the dragon observed.

  “Well.” The prince heaved another sigh, then extended the origami figure out to the real dragon. “Here,” he said. “Keep it, so you’re not so lonely when I’m not here to keep you company.”

  The dragon was startled. “I thought you made him to keep you company.”

  “I did, but I have maids and servants and all those people. I’ll make myself another if I get lonely.”

  “Thank you,” the dragon said, accepting the origami. “I’ll treasure it.” //

  * * *

  After keeping Brannon entertained most of the day and ignoring the annoyed glances from the monks and Elder Edrich, who seemed to think that they were being too loud, Tallis fell sound asleep with Brannon snuggled up next to him. It was simpler than putting another warming spell on the temple, which he knew he would have to do at some point.

  He had spoken to the Elder on this subject, and Edrich had informed him rather irritably that they would do the warming spells more often, if not for the fact that no one at the monastery had the magical power to do so. Sustaining one for a few days was the most they could do; they simply did not have anyone who could renew the spell every day.

  He sent a grumbling Brannon off to morning services and found Sienna in the forest. Sleeping on the ground for two days had not improved her disposition. She had heard back from most of her contacts and none of them had heard anything of use. The Academy had sent a list of everyone they knew of that could build a Gate by themselves; none of the names were familiar and Emory was not among them. Their discussion about how to proceed was becoming an argument when a small white bird flittered up. It landed on Tallis’ head and proceeded to try to nest into his hair.

  “He – hey!” Tallis swatted at it ineffectually until Sienna plucked it off his head and unfolded it. “What is it?”

  “It’s from Calessa. She’s having a hard time of it.”

  She handed over the letter, which detailed the last several days’ worth of events at Emory’s temple. Tallis read the contents with growing dismay.

  “Quite,” Sienna agreed. “What do you want to do? It may be best to go to the temple and check on her. We can pool our information, such as it is, and figure out our next step.”

  Tallis nodded agreement and drew the Gate. They stepped through, into Nuan Huo. “Oh,” he said, as something occurred to him. “On the way back, I want to stop and pick something up.”

  Sienna looked suspicious. “What?”

  “A book for Brannon. I told him I would bring him one.”

  Sienna rolled her eyes but restrained herself from making commentary, then busied herself finding a place where they could rent a carriage to take them to the temple. They got there at a fortunate time; there were no services and few people. They found the small courtyard out back where Calessa and Owain were sitting. It was not at all done in the ancient style, but had a hedge maze and a fountain made of black stone and several benches from the same.

  Calessa smiled and waved at them as they walked over. “Hello,” she said. “It’s nice to see your faces.”

  Owain cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll take my leave,” he said. “Calessa, will you be staying the night again?”

  “Most likely,” Calessa said. “I’ll stop to say goodbye if it turns out that I’m leaving,” she added. He smiled at her and left the courtyard.

  “I don’t think we can talk here,” Sienna said, looking around. “Let’s put some distance between us and the temple.”

  “Gladly,” Calessa said. They went back to the carriage. Calessa directed them along the same road as she had taken with Owain before, and stopped at the same place. “This should be far enough,” she said, sliding down from the carriage to have a seat on the large stone outcropping.

  Sienna had brought some food; the three of them settled down to eat some breakfast while each went over what had happened to them over the past week. Calessa was still shaken by what had happened with Emory, and had refused to be in a room with him ever since.

  “Given that Emory is the only real lead we have,” Sienna said, “it seems that we need to know whether or not Emory knows how to Gate.”

  “He never went to the Warder Academy,” Calessa said, taking some papers out of her sleeve and leafing through them. “There’s no records of him at any academies, for that matter. Whatever learning he did was either on his own, or more likely, through private tutors.”

  “Exactly,” Sienna said. “We need to find whoever taught him and ask if they taught him how to Gate. Simple, isn’t it? That’s logic.”

  She looked so proud of herself that Calessa couldn’t quite resist deflating her a little bit. “This is presuming that we can find who taught him, and that they’re willing to help us.”

  “There can’t be that many private tutors in that area,” Tallis said. “Especially not with the kind of skill that would be necessary to teach someone how to Gate. And it’s possible that his family may be willing to tell us. It might be beneficial to talk with the rest of the Hilliards in any case. They’ve obviously got no love lost for the black sheep of the family. They might be willing to tell us something that could be of use.”

  “Am I staying here, then, while you two do that?” Calessa asked. “I’m not sure if I’m doing any good.”

  “I think you are,” Sienna said. “If only because your presence here might keep Emory leashed for the time being, while we investigate. He can’t leave the temple alone while you’re here to snoop, particularly if the temple itself is necessary to the hypnosis spells he’s using. Besides, the friendlier you are with Owain, the better off we all are. He may let something slip.”

  * * *

  Both Emory and Owain’s families lived within an hour of another major city in the Western part of the world, Shin Wa. Tallis found a fairly secluded area along the riverbank that he could leave his end of the Gate, and hooked it to Shin Wa’s Gate, warding his end so nobody else would be able to stumble upon it. He did not like to Gate more than once a day if it wasn’t necessary; doing so was a large drain on his energy. However, both he and Sienna were in agreement that they did not want to waste another day before gathering more information.

  The Hilliard estate was generous, although not as large as many of the ones Tallis and Sienna had seen in their lifetimes. The family was clearly wealthy, but not to the point of extravagance. The estate was on about an acre of land in the western part of the world, set in an area of rolling hills and sparse trees. The house was more than large enough for a single family, but constructed mostly of wood and simple red brick. A butler greeted them at the front entrance, and when he was informed that they were Warders who needed to speak with Lord Hilliard, they were sent into a parlor to wait.

  “This is nice,” Sienna said, glancing around. The room had polished wooden floors and walls that were painted a pale rose color rather than papered. It made the room feel warm and welcoming. There was not much in the way of furniture: several sitting couches and tables were placed in groups, but that was all. Several paintings were hung, but nothing famous or particularly expensive. “Very tasteful. However did they give birth to someone like Emory?”

  “Bad luck, I imagine,” Tallis said. He examined the surroundings. “But it appears that there’s a new heir,” he said, picking up a wooden toy from where it had been left on the sofa. “A youn
g one, at that.”

  “According to what Owain told Calessa, Emory was the only son,” Sienna said. “It would make sense that they would have another child after he had left.”

  The door opened before Tallis could reply, and Lord Hilliard walked in. He looked nothing like his son, with blonde hair and a thick beard, and watery but normal blue eyes. He looked at them with respect but some wariness. “Yes?”

  Sienna cleared her throat. “Lord Hilliard,” she said briskly, “my name is Sienna and this is Tallis. We are Warders on an investigation and need to ask you some questions.”

  Hilliard did not look thrilled about this, but he gestured for them to take a seat on the stiff sofa. “Lord Merrick Hilliard, at your service. Please,” he added, gesturing at the butler, “refreshments, if you would.” The butler bowed and hurried out of the room. “What is it that you’re investigating?” Hilliard asked.

  “A theft,” Sienna said. “But specifically, we need some information on your son Emory.”

  Hilliard’s face was blank. “I have only one son, and his name is Rance. He is but a child. Surely you are confused?”

  “Sir,” Sienna said, “with all due respect, we know you have an older son, around the age of thirty, and that his name is Emory. Please do not dissemble.”

  “It is not dissembling,” Hilliard said. “Feel free to check the records to verify that no such person ever existed.”

  As Sienna’s tone was becoming sharp, Tallis interceded. Diplomacy had always been more of his forte than hers. “Sir, we know you had an older son. We know that he has been stricken from your family record. We are not asking you to take responsibility for any of his actions, nor will we share anything that we have learned here today. We are merely looking for some information.”

  Hilliard seemed to be thinking about this, and he stalled for time as the butler came in and tea in delicate cups and cakes were distributed. Finally, after the butler had gone, he grunted, “What do you want to know, then?”