The Mirrors Edge

Prologue
London, 1701

Kora Dillon sat dutifully in her seat in the darkened pub. Her shoulders were weighed down as her husband's arm was slung across them. The smell of the dirty Thames was made stronger by the unusually warm London evening. It was much too hot for April.

She was the only female at the table, in fact, other than the bar maids she was the only female in the pub. Her husband didn't pay her any mind save to keep a tight hold on her and scowl at anyone else who dared even look at her sideways.

The men around the table with them were all strangers to both her husband and herself. They were all drunk, or nearly drunk, and her husband kept the ale flowing for them.

He wanted them to talk.

And talk they were.

Kora did her best to keep her expression as blank and smooth as a doll's. She would not give her husband any clue as to which words out of these mouths were true, and which were false.

"Rumor's say thar be a city full o' em," the small man with the mousy nose and fat lips said. Kora didn't like the way he snarled when he spoke. It got worse the more he drank.

"Aye," another said, red faced and fat, rolling in his seat. He laughed with every word out of his mouth. "A whole city o'lady folk who'd eat'cheh afore yeh could find yer way to the treasure!"

"You're sure," her husband spoke in his smooth rolling Irish brogue, "that this treasure is real?"

"Heh, no!" the fat man laughed. "Mermaid's ain't real. Why'd there be mermaid treasure if there ain't mermaids?!"

"Mermaid's is real!" This voice came not from any man at the table. Kora turned her head, as did every other man, to see a boy, no more than twelve, only a few years younger than her, standing a few feet inside the door of the pub. He was filthy, from head to toes. His feet were bare, and all he wore were a pair of baggy trousers. His curls were so dirty she couldn't figure their color. But his eyes, staring at them, were bright gold, and they were certain as he spoke. He was clearly trying to appear stern, with his thick brows pushed together tight, but his curving soft lips, made him look as if he were smiling.

Kora hoped he'd turn around and run. She hoped he'd run as far and fast as he could, away from this place, away from her husband.

Her husband laughed, and dragged her closer to his side. "Is that so, boy? An' what makes yeh so sure?"

"I seen one," he straightened his shoulders and nodded once firmly.

"Didja now? Where at?"

"In the Thames," he answered again. He backed up a step though. "Only caught a glimpse ah did. Bu' she was real she was."

Her husband chuckled again. "Ah believe yeh boy. Kin yeh tell me anythin' about 'em?"

The boy scowled. "Got any bread?" he asked.

Her husband's brows rose. "Oh, a bargain eh?" He picked up a crust of bread off of his plate and handed it to the boy.

He snatched it and stepped back. "Ain't just ladies," he glanced at the fat man as he said that. "There are mer-men too. I saw two o' them. They wen't the the edge of the Thames and they took of their clothes and they both jumped in. I saw their tales . . . they nevah came back. They jus' left their clothes there and they swam away, t'ward th' ocean."

Her husband stared at the boy, and he stared right back.

"That it, boy?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Did yeh know boy, that the mer people have treasure? Magic treasure, vast, vast enough to make a thousand men richer than kings, with properties fer th'stories. There's things in their caves as can make a man live forever, turn plain metal to gold, and make any dream or desire reality. Did you know that boy?"
The boy's bright gold eyes had not widened in wonder at the illustrious picture painted for him. In fact he'd inched back a little further, clutched his bread a little tighter and pursed his smiling lips. "Nah sir. Ah didn't know . . ."

"You mus' hear many tales though, around here in these streets?"

The boy nodded very slowly.

"I'll make you a deal, child," her husband said with a grin that turned Kora's stomach. "If you find out anything you can about that treasure, and you come and tell me, I'll give you a meal every night."

Without hesitating, the boy nodded. "Deal, sir!" He actually grinned then, but his brows were still drawn down.

"Excellent," her husband said.

The boy turned then, and scampered out of the pub.

Her husband turned to the man at his right. "Clay, that boy was lyin' teh me. Find him. And then kill him."

Clay stood up, nodding. "Aye, Cap'n," he said in his deep, soft voice. Out the door he went, his dirk drawn into one hand.

Neither Clay or her husband had noticed the dark haired man with the tri-corn hat and the kohl around his eyes slip out of the pub first, heading after the golden eyed boy.