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CHARTERSTONE
Chapter 5
Blood and Glass
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The dead do not stay dead,
And a sad tale it is,
But sadder still is this
When the living do not live.
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Eimeth spent a sleepless night in one of the well-furnished guest rooms of the Clayr. Despite her long and tiring day, sleep refused to come, and so she tossed and turned in the darkness. Mogget's earnest cat-snores from the armchair in the corner did not help much.
Once, she got up and tried the mirror shard again, pricking four fingers and even slicing down her palm with the edge. All she gained was a painful scratch and sore fingertips, and a stain on the carpet. For all her strength as an Abhorsen, she saw nothing at all.
And there was so much she wanted to see. Mirel's words echoed in her head: "I Saw myself and Adiel, and we fought, and I fell from my horse. I think I passed the Ninth Gate..." Surely it could not be coincidence that Mirel would see herself dying in exactly the same way. Could Adiel have killed Tallie and plan to kill Mirel, too? Why, though, would a young cousin who fostered with the Clayr be a threat to him?
Unless Mirel had not seen herself, but Tallie...!
She went back to bed then, and when the first light of dawn crept through her window rose and dressed in silence. Mogget, stretched out on his back with all four paws splayed in the air, did not wake as she slipped out of the room and down to the dormitories where Mirel slept.
The girl was already awake, sitting up in bed with her head on her knees. She
did not pay any attention to the other three occupants of her room, all
blonde and dark-skinned Clayr, as they murmured and snored in the last
remnants of sleep before it was time to wake up for the day. "Mirel," said
Eimeth. At her soft call, Mirel's head darted up, her entire body tensed, and
then let out a long, weary sigh when she saw the Abhorsen standing there.
"I couldn't sleep," said Mirel quietly, swinging her knees out from under the blankets. "Rather...er... disturbing dreams." She took a pile of clothes from the dresser beside her bed and slipped them on over the undergarments that she had been sleeping in.
"Neither could I," said Eimeth. "Disturbing thoughts, in my case. There was no chance of dreams, for I did not even fall asleep."
Mirel smiled and came out into the corridor with the Abhorsen. Eimeth nodded in the direction of the kitchens; the smell of sausage and eggs and tea had already reached her nose as it wafted down the hallways. "You did very well yesterday," Eimeth said. "Not many girls your age would have dealt so courageously with the things you saw in the mirror."
"Thank you, Abhorsen," said Mirel.
"I must ask you if you think you are strong enough to try it again," said Eimeth.
Mirel swallowed convulsively and did not answer.
"There is something threatening this land, something that may have the other shards of the mirror. I believe there may be a spell that has been placed upon it to prevent any of the Clayr or myself from using the shard to See," Eimeth continued. "But I doubt they took a young niece of the Abhorsen into account; I think that is why you can See in it and no one else could."
She stopped and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, looking directly into Mirel's eyes. "I need your help, for something so powerful as to blind the Clayr is something powerful indeed."
"I think... I think I am afraid of doing it again," said Mirel slowly. Eimeth's shoulders sagged and she let out a long sigh. But just as she was about to speak Mirel went on. "But I will do it again, because it must be done and it must be stopped."
"I was hoping you would say that," said Eimeth. "Very good. I think I will take you with me, then, when I go back to my House." Mirel nodded, glancing about her.
"I would like that, Abhorsen," she said.
"Very well, then. We shall leave within the hour," said Eimeth.
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The Paperwing arrived at Abhorsen's House as the sun reached its zenith; the winds from the north had been favorable for travel and carried the travelers with great speed over the Old Kingdom.
Mirel sighed behind the Abhorsen as they spiraled once and then began the long descent toward the little island tucked snug atop the waterfall. "It's very beautiful up here," she said, half-shouting so her voice would carry over the wind. Eimeth nodded.
"That it is," she shouted back. "I always loved flying, ever since I was a very little girl."
She did not catch Mirel's answer as they skidded down onto the Paperwing terrace. Mogget leapt out as soon as the craft stopped, and scampered away into the bushes, hissing at the sendings who hurried forward, ready to help Eimeth from the Paperwing and take Mirel's pack.
"Have you ever been here before?" asked Eimeth as she freed herself from the sendings' grasp. "I know I do not take so kindly to visitors that they come very often."
Mirel blushed slightly. "But Abhorsen, you are not here very often, are you? I have been here many times, but I have never met you before."
Eimeth smiled. "I know. My daughter used to complain that I was never there unless she wanted me gone. Usually she was getting into mischief at that point."
The girl laughed. "Oh, I can believe that. I've heard stories!"
"Ah, but I suppose I was the same way, always getting into scrapes when I was your age," said Eimeth, fondly recalling some narrow escapes and near misses. "It's the way of youth, I suppose."
"I suppose," replied Mirel. "I never get in much trouble myself." She hefted
her pack over her shoulder and walked toward the house. Eimeth frowned.
She stood for a moment longer, wheeling the Paperwing into the shed with
the help of the sendings, and pulled her own knapsack free of the securing
straps.
As she neared the house, she heard voices: Mirel's and her mother's, the
former quietly explaining and the latter loudly questioning. In spite of herself
Eimeth smiled, knowing that although her mother was more than a little deaf,
the old woman refused to believe it. The younger generations had simply all
developed the nasty habit of mumbling every word they spoke, such a pity, of
course.
"And what do you think you are doing, daughter, simply kidnapping a young girl from her fosterage? Do her parents know?" cried her mother when she spotted the Abhorsen striding across the grass.
"I believe Kadel finds me a competent adult and more than capable of keeping one young girl out of danger," said Eimeth stiffly. "And no, I have not let him know that I have his daughter. I will send a messagehawk as soon as I can."
The old woman opened her mouth, and with a sudden foreboding worthy of the Clayr Eimeth knew what was coming. "I assure you, I will take far greater care of her than I will myself, Mother, no matter where we go!" Mention Tallie and you are out, blood be damned, old witch!
Mirel looked from adult to adult, biting her lip, obviously bewildered at the enmity between mother and daughter.
"Speaking of messagehawks," said her mother acidly in her too-loud voice, "one came from Adiel. The message is in your study. One of the sendings transcribed it."
Eimeth nodded curtly and swept past her mother into the house. "Excuse me, grandmother," she heard Mirel say, and then heard the girl's footsteps padding after her.
"What was that about?" said the girl, puffing up the stairs behind the Abhorsen. Eimeth did not answer her out loud.
She thinks it was my fault Tallie died. That if I had been home, like a proper mother, I could have gone into Death and saved her.
And Eimeth could not, would not, admit that privately she shared her mother's opinion. As an Abhorsen, she knew losses were part of the job. And that if she had been able to save her daughter, it would have been going against the code of the Abhorsens; put to rest, not awaken.
As a mother, she could and did blame herself, when she could have done something had she only been there. No parent should outlive their child, ever.
But she would never say that to anyone, least of all a niece she had only met a few days ago, who looked so like her daughter that it was misery itself to meet Mirel's eyes.
The message lay in the center of her desk, written in the clumsy hand of Piper, one of the oldest and most intelligent of the sendings. Eimeth puzzled it out, reading aloud for Mirel's benefit, since the scrawl of the sendings bore some getting used to.
"To Eimeth, Abhorsen, from Adiel, Abhorsen-in-waiting," she read. "I have left Calibe and am traveling south towards the Wall. A summons from a small village there reached me in Calibe so I felt it prudent to reply since I am closer than you are, as I have heard you are visiting the Clayr. The villagers report similar activity as the necromancer I have just defeated; I suspect that there is another, possibly in league with the first one. More details to follow when I have them." Eimeth sighed and crumpled up the message. "It cannot be a coincidence," she said, "that so many petty necromancers are suddenly popping up all over the Kingdom. It is as if Death is easier to get in and out of these days."
"Yes, the Clayr spoke of that quite often," said Mirel. "And the Queen pays no heed to any warning whatsoever, even though the Clayr's Sight is blocked. That in itself bears a heavy warning, but the Queen's messages all say that if they can See nothing then there is nothing to See."
"Do you feel up to looking in the Mirror again?" asked Eimeth. A flicker of fear passed across the girl's face, but she nodded slowly and reached into her pack. She had wrapped the shard in a scrap of black silk after Eimeth had given it to her for safekeeping.
Wordlessly the girl handed her the sharp piece of glass, and Eimeth, wincing, reopened the cut on her palm, slicing quickly over the scab. She gasped as bright blood welled out, and hastily held the mirror under her hand before the drops could hit the floor and be wasted. Mirel watched for a moment, until the blood had spread outwards over most of the surface, and then took the mirror.
"How much blood would you need to work the whole Mirror?" she asked quietly, before looking into the surface, and Eimeth shuddered in response. She wrapped the black silk about her palm and sat down, gritting her teeth against the pain. Mirel's eyes danced over the surface of the shard, flitting here and there; once Eimeth got up and looked over her shoulder, but still she saw nothing. In the warm sunlight of her cozy study the mirror did not cast a red glow, but still Mirel's eyes blazed with the crimson reflection. At last the girl looked up and sighed.
"I saw many things, Abhorsen, but very little that seemed relevant. I looked for necromancers arising, all over the Kingdom, but none were powerful enough to block the Sight of the Clayr."
"Did you see what that was, what blocks their Sight?"
Mirel shook her head. "At least, I do not know what it is. I saw a great cairn, built of rocks on a hill, and I heard the name Kerrigor repeated over and over again. It is this Kerrigor which calls to the necromancers, gives them power that normally they would not have."
"I do not know anything of this Kerrigor, either," said Eimeth. "Did you see any of his plots? What does he mean to do?"
For a long moment the girl paused, and Eimeth saw the crimson fire burn in her eyes once more. "I saw a great underground lake, with Charterstones rearing up from the water. And I saw blood, and men fighting with swords, and a great many Dead walking about the palace. I saw Prince Rogir in a panic, and his brother Torrigan falling in a faint on a flight of stairs."
"This is a grave threat, then," said Eimeth. "I know this underground lake. It is a resevoir beneath the palace, and the Great Charters are there. It is the most powerful repository of Charter Magic that there is."
"I have only been to the palace once," said Mirel. "I didn't see that part of it."
"But we still have many questions," said Eimeth.
"I think that Prince Rogir may know of some of them," said Mirel softly. "Many times when I asked it who Kerrigor was, it showed me the prince in that same panic. Always the same picture, the prince with his sword drawn and a look of fear on his face."
"Then we shall go to Belisaere, and ask the Prince," said Eimeth. "He is a clearheaded young man, and I believe that he will help us."
Mirel nodded, biting her lip. "There is one more thing, Abhorsen," she said, so quietly that Eimeth had to strain her ears to hear the girl. "Kerrigor knows that it is I who has the other shard. He possesses all the Mirror but that one corner, and he wants it. I could feel him, fighting to block my Sight, the whole time."
"Can he?"
"No. I know enough Charter Magic to use the Mirror to stop him, even though he taints its use with Free Magic." She smiled crookedly and ran a hand through her hair. The gesture, unconscious though it was, had been something that Tallie often did. Eimeth felt her breath catch in her throat, and reminded herself furiously for the twentieth that this was not her daughter. "He knows not who I am, though he strained very hard to find out," added the girl quietly. "I do not think that I will be strong enough to stop him next time, though. His power grows, Abhorsen."
Eimeth reached out and squeezed the girl's shoulder. Mirel smiled again, the shadows under her eyes deepening. "In the morning we will leave for Belisaere, I think," the Abhorsen murmured. "There is time enough for a good night's sleep."
And, she added silently to herself, Mother will never let me hear the end of it if I kill another one of her grandchildren. She bit her tongue on the thought, tasting the metallic tang of blood on her lips, and led her niece downstairs to the kitchens, away from the red-stained mirror and the shadows lurking beneath the glass.
Tomorrow would be time enough to face the necromancer Kerrigor. The Dead had all the time in the world; it was only the living that need worry about haste.
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Sorry for the extraordinarily long delay between posts... I can't tell people to hurry up and update any more, because it would be totally hypocritical. Went to college, left the story on the home computer, haven't been able to get to it until now. Hopefully I will be able to finish this soon, since I am copying it onto my laptop so I can work on it. Plus, it's break... hurray for free time!