Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, etc. created by Mercedes Lackey.
CHAPTER 6: The Mirror
It was a beautiful spring day in the village. The market was bustling; the shop doors were flung open, and everywhere were the sounds of children playing, wives haggling, and merchants calling out their wares.
Myndira sighed longingly as she stood before the shop window. That's the most beautiful dress I think I've ever seen. Never mind it was plain muslin, and not the silks and fine linens she'd seen on the highborn Blues as they dashed through the Collegium corridors on their way out to a night on the town. 'Dira's breath misted the glass, and she drew a haphazard figure through the patch of fog.
She had never really worn dresses before, if one didn't count her mother's old satins and silks, stored in the townhouse attic. What fun times she'd had as a child, playing with the neighbor's daughter at dress-up and striking poses in front of the tarnished old full-length mirror! But then as she'd gotten older, her parents had grown less tolerant of such games. And the last time she'd played, she'd been a guilty ten-year-old, sneaking up into the attic just one more time. And her mother had caught her. Havens above, she'd been mad—
:Throw the stick! Throw the stick throw the stick throw the stick throw the stick:
'Dira turned around and grinned at the sight before her. One could always count on dogs to break one out of an introspective mood. The dog in question was a flop-eared, shaggy member of its species, and was at the moment trying to get the attention of its master, a pimple-faced teenager apparently bumbling his way through conversation with a pretty local girl.
:Woof a bit.: she sent to the impatiently bouncing dog. :Go to female-human-person, wag your tail. Look friendly, offer your paw.: The dog sent back a mystified response, but followed her suggestion. As 'Dira had anticipated, the village girl was delighted at the puppy's antics, and began cooing over both the dog and his master, scratching the shaggy animal behind its ears and urging the young man to throw the stick for the creature.
The animals here have accepted me, even seemed to have formed a pact to look after me. Every time I leave the signal tower for the village, I can sense at least two wolves trailing protectively after me, as though I were a high-ranking member of their pack. I suppose that what they say about country folk being friendlier than city people applies to the animals, too!
She'd also heard that these rural villages tended to be more reclusive, too, and less tolerant of outsiders' strange ways. On the other hand, she'd also heard that people far in the country sometimes developed their own, eccentric ways. She simply desired to find a place where she could fit in.
The people here seem to have accepted me, though. I'm the new guardian of the signal tower, part of a prestigious line in their estimation. So I suppose they already think of me as one of their own.
"Heyla, 'Dira! Whatcha looking at there?" Myndira looked up and smiled to see the burly, middle-aged man detach himself from a knot of quarreling farmers and come striding up to her.
"Good afternoon, Manley. I was just—"
"Looking at a dress, I see." The village handyman nodded sagely at this example of typical feminine behavior. "Good to know there's a woman in there, with all the work you're doing at the signal tower. Not that you're not feminine," he rushed to say as he caught sight of Myndira's expression. "You've just been working so hard making repairs on the tower, fixing the place up all by yourself—"
'Dira held up a hand, laughing. "Don't worry, Manley, I know what you're saying." She lifted her arm and flexed it. "I've put on some muscle since coming here, true, but I hear you country men like your women strong!" Both she and Manley laughed. "But I'm hardly doing it alone, not with Ilona showing me the ropes and you helping out with whatever requires more expertise than swinging a hammer."
"That's what I wanted to talk with you about, 'Dira. Seems a trader just came in with those parts for your kitchen. If it's all right with you, I can come on up to the tower tomorrow morning and start working on the indoor pump."
"Really? I'd love not to have to walk back and forth to the well every time I need to wash dishes or take a bath or anything. The sooner you can install the pipes, the better!"
"Thought you might say that," Manley grinned. "You ladies do love your conveniences, don't you?" He dodged Myndira's mock punch and strode away. "I'll be there a candlemark past sunrise," he called back over his shoulder.
'Dira waved good-bye, and turned back to stare at the dress in the shop window. It had a modestly high neck, but was at the same time graceful and feminine, with just enough lace at the hems and sleeves to look fanciful without overdoing it. She plucked at the gray sleeve of her loose tunic. Would—would I look silly in that? It's not at all revealing, and I think I could pull off the figure…
"So why don't you just buy it, then?" an amused voice spoke into her ear. 'Dira jumped about five feet off the cobblestones and spun around.
"Ilona! Gods, it's a good thing you're a Healer, because I just about had a heart attack!"
"You know, I didn't think you were the type," Ilona said, ignoring Myndira's indignation. "You don't seem at all frilly or missish, and whatever time you don't spend fixing up that old tumbleshack of a tower, you always seem to be entrenched in those musty old tomes of yours." She grinned. "But now I see that you're just as susceptible to a pretty dress as the rest of us." The Healer pushed 'Dira through the shop's door. "Tell you what. I'll make it my gift to you. Get you some nice green ribbons to match the dress, too; they'll go wonderfully with that chestnut hair and eyes of yours. I know you'll probably have to put most of your pocket money into that tower, anyhow."
"But I couldn't," 'Dira protested, pushing her lenses further up the bridge of her nose. "It's nice of you to offer, but—"
Ilona held up a hand, cutting off further argument. "Don't be ridiculous. Hasn't anyone ever told you never to argue with a Healer? You'll never win, and that's a fact! And besides," she continued, placing a motherly arm around the younger woman, "I haven't any young lady of my own to fuss over. Now, let's go and see about having that dress fitted for you, and then I'm treating you to a late lunch at the inn. And that's final."
'Dira gave up any further attempt to reason with the older woman. She blushed. "Thank you, Ilona. I suppose I'm just not used to being fussed over like this, I guess."
"Well, you can start getting used to it," the Healer said, and tugged 'Dira further into the shop.
o.o.o.o.o
A candlemark later found the two women finishing a course of mincemeat pies and mild ale at the tavern's front room. Healer Ilona stared at the younger woman with a mingling of respect and awe.
"Havens! I don't think that I've ever seen anyone put away as much food in one sitting as you, youngling."
Myndira looked up from her plate with a slightly embarrassed expression. "It's only my third serving," she said sheepishly.
"I won't be surprised if you'll have to roll yourself home after a meal like that. If you're not careful, you won't be able to fit into that new dress of yours."
"About that, thank you again—"
Ilona waved away 'Dira's gratitude and leaned forward across the wooden table with a mischievous expression. "You know, with meals like these, you're lucky you like such baggy clothes! And here I was worrying about having to fatten you up on good, old fashioned country cooking."
'Dira chuckled. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that I'm bony as can be. Though all the work to be done at the tower has put some muscle on me, like I was telling Manley earlier."
"Hmm. And I was coming up with all kinds of excuses why you didn't want the seamstress to fit that dress to you. Poor girl had to do it by guesswork."
Myndira shrugged. "I don't much like being poked and prodded with all those needles and pins." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "To be honest, I'm not much of one for shopping, though I do enjoy owning pretty things like that. But truly, I'm a scholar at heart. "
Ilona settled back into her seat. "And how is your research coming along, then? What are you working on?"
Now this was a topic Myndira could delve into with great zeal! She outlined her most recent paper for the interested Healer, and then brought her up to date on her latest project. "Since I've unwittingly found myself proud owner of a signal tower, I've recently taken an interest in the role that particular form of communication has played in Valdemaran history. Did you know that this particular tower was originally built as a Guard base against any potential Pelagirs threat—including the Tayledras?"
"That wouldn't particularly surprise me." Ilona took a long sip of ale from her mug. "Until quite recently, people came up with the most fanciful tales about the Hawkbrothers. And to think that these days some of them have helped start a new Collegium at Haven for mages."
"I had one as a teacher, though not a mage. She helped train my animal mindspeech."
"Ah, yes. You did mention that. It's quite a useful Gift here in the country."
Myndira sighed. "You have no idea how I've come to rely on it for the little things—the animals warn you about coming weather, can be your eyes and ears if you need to know what's going on elsewhere. And gods, they're loyal."
"Like family?"
'Dira snorted. "I suppose."
"And where's your family, child?"
This was a topic Myndira wanted dearly to avoid. "Back in Haven; what's left of the family, anyhow. My father passed away while I was studying at the Collegium, so my mother's keeping herself busy with her work at the House of Healing."
Ilona raised a brow. "So your mother's a Healer?"
"I suppose. She has a weak Gift, but is a medicinal expert. Before father died, though, she spent much of her time as his hostess, improving his standing among the other minor lords. She stills moves around quite a bit in that social set. Mother…cares a great deal about appearances, you see."
Ilona traced the rim of her mug with her index finger, round and round. "I'll admit that when you first arrived, I thought you were on your own. Up to now, you haven't mentioned your family, nor have I seen you receive any correspondence. I simply assumed they had passed away."
"Hmmph. Other way around; I might as well be dead to them."
The Healer looked up sharply at the younger woman's bitter tone. "What do you mean, 'Dira?"
Myndira grabbed for her mug and quickly gulped down some ale. She hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud. Gathering her composure, she took a deep breath. "You see, the way it is—is that before I came here, I was disinherited. By my mother." When Ilona made to ask the inevitable question, 'Dira held up a forestalling hand. "I simply made a decision she did not like, and as I did not wish to dishonor the family, I found myself in a bind. When I learned of the provision left to me in my uncle's will, I knew I had found a way to solve my problems. Historians don't earn much, you see, unless they make a name for themselves as scholarly experts or write the type of story-novels loved by Bards and incurable romantics." She sat up straight in her chair. "But I have a place to live now, and enough money of my own to fix up the tower and get me by until I'm back on my feet again."
"You have more than that," Ilona added, and it was Myndira's turn to arch a brow.
"You have friends," the Healer clarified, and gave 'Dira a wide, true smile. "And a new dress. You can't stay locked up in the tower with your musty books, and only getting out to speak with your animals and crusty old village Healers and handymen. What about the village boys, hmm?"
'Dira turned bright red. "I don't think—"
"Don't be ridiculous, child! Why else would I insist you get such a fetching dress? You'll look wonderful in it, soon as you meet someone who provides the right occasion."
o.o.o.o.o
Later that night, 'Dira was settling herself into the claw-footed bathtub when the dress caught her eye. The candlelight picked out the muslin's sprigged pattern of dark green where it was spread out against the bed's worn coverlet.
'Dira gave in to the impulse. She quickly scrubbed herself clean, and climbed out of the tub. She put on the necessary undergarments and slid the garment over her head, the fabric floating down to gently settle against her damp skin. After setting her lenses back on her nose, she pulled her hair back with a green ribbon and then crossed the room to the dilapidated vanity. Opening the top drawer, she lifted out a leather bag and emptied its contents into the middle of her palm.
Grandfather gave me this when I was sixteen, a legal adult. He said that when he saw this at the jewelers, he knew exactly which young lady he had to give this to. Oh, grandfather…
The gold choker easily clasped behind her neck. Myndira fingered the emerald at her throat, and then walked over to the old mirror.
Just like the mirror the neighbor's daughter and I used to pose in front of. Except not as tarnished, surprised as I am that there's actually something in this tower that's not falling apart!
She stood in front of the looking glass. And stared at her reflection, at the chestnut hair that was growing out, the pale skin, the wide brown eyes behind two squares of glass. And at the soft, glowing emerald, flowing over her body and glistening at the hollow of her throat.
I look—normal.
o.o.o.o.o
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