Author's Note: I'm leaving this open in case because these are a collection of standalone fantasy adventure stories, all taking part in the same world but not necessarily following on from each other.
Warning: swearing and minor violence.
Reflective Undead Navigation
The mirror looks like a tooth. That's all Remus can really compare it to. He digs it out of the dirt while the others squabble over the distribution of gold between them. Only a thin shard of light pierces the gloom of the cave, but it's enough to see his own reflection peering curiously back at him through the mirror. The glass is clean and clear, as though nothing has ever touched it.
Remus has seen many strange going-ons before. He's familiar with most forms of magic, despite only being able to access the more primal forces. The mirror feels neither primal or strange, but there is a touch of unnatural energy about it, as though something dead had once misted over the glass with its rotting breath.
"Got anything good?"
The voice comes from behind him, distracting as always. Sirius stands a few feet away, clad in his usual hunting gear, one boot digging into the prone troll's leg. He's still cleaning his sword on the troll's loincloth. It's disrespectful, but considering the troll tried to use them like toothpicks, Remus lets it be. He tucks away his dagger, and crosses the cave to show Sirius the mirror.
"I don't think it's made of anything special," Remus admits. "The frame is cracked, so it can't be made of anything rare. It isn't dirty though."
"Oh yeah? Where'd you find it?"
Sirius is much sharper than most people give him credit for. He sheathes his sword and hums thoughtfully, glancing over Remus's shoulder when he indicates the patch of dirt.
"Buried under all that dirt, and not a bit of mud on it. So the metal might be worthless, but you think there's something magical going on there?" Sirius wiggles his fingers in Remus's face, brushing the tip of his nose in a teasing manner. "Something worth going to Aberforth for?"
"Maybe." Remus shoves Sirius's hand away with an exasperated sigh. "We're not due in Vedahof for a few weeks though."
The squabbling on the other side of the cave reaches an interesting pitch. James yelps when Regulus slams into him on the way out of the cave, storming past them without a word. Bruise-blue magic swirls around his clenched fists, a sure sign of his irritation. Remus watches his tense shoulders until he vanishes out of the cave, and then turns to arch an eyebrow at James.
"By this rate, your first date is going to end with him breaking your nose."
Sirius snorts, leaning his elbow on Remus's shoulder. He's only an inch taller than Remus, especially without the elevation of his favourite scale-skin boots, but he takes every opportunity to plant some part of his body on Remus's head or shoulders, lording that inch over him with a sharp, bright grin. He only backs away when Remus plants his own elbow in Sirius's gut, storming away. A chorus laughter follows him all the way to the mouth of the cave, where he picks up his abandoned pack and stuffs the mirror inside it, cushioned by old clothes.
Maybe it is worthless, but there can't be any harm in pawning it off anyway.
The journey to Vedahof crosses the broadest part of the Kingdom, and takes several long nights. With anyone else, that might be a boring trip, but with the Marauders, Remus finds it impossible to let his attention wander. It's never boring in their little group. Sometimes it's a little too exciting.
They manage to steal a cart and a few horses in the nearest run-down village. Remus would feel bad about it, but the Crownsguard lingering outside the town are notorious for sneering at anything wolven, and he doesn't have the patience to pretend sympathy for them. The cart is sturdy enough, and packed with burlap sacks. Most of them are empty, having just parted with their contents as the morning trade rushes in, but they find a few stray plums and pears to sate their hunger. Regulus takes over the steering while James sits up front, leaning into his space and dazzling him with his wit. Regulus rarely looks blinded, but occasionally Remus will glance over the top of the cart, and spot his eyes softening. It's easy to see that he does actually care, despite trying hard not to.
"It's sweet," he says on the first night, with only a touch of dryness. "They're both sweet."
Sirius scoffs, sprawled along one half of the cart with his hood pulled up, hanging down over his forehead. Their ankles are tossed lazily over one another. Remus wishes this small point of contact didn't make his heart somersault in his chest, but it's pointless to hope. He likes to think he's grown used to it.
"It's disgusting," Sirius says. "It might be sweeter if they stopped taking their sweet damn time about it. How long's it been now? A year? Two?"
"Longer," Remus says, but he's not thinking of James and Regulus. He's thinking of them, of their history.
Seven years ago, Remus stumbled out of his home in the dead of night and found two boys lurking in the dark, contemplating who to steal from first. They were arguing in whispers. It was Wolv-Haver, where whispers were as loud as shouts, and every wolf in every home could hear the conversation happening beside the stack of rotting wood outside the shack. Remus had darted into the dim light of a single torch, his eyes glinting with untamed fear, and told them of the danger. He scratched the message into the dirt with claws that he had yet to learn to put away. When they scribbled their own names in return, and told him come with us, he hadn't put up much of a fight.
Neither one had seen fit to tell him that come with us meant we're your family now. What they really should have said was, "Home's with now, and you'll hate it and love it, and you'll probably want to wring our necks for dragging you into all sorts of weird magical danger, but it'll be worth it."
And it was worth it. It still is. Not to mention, Remus can give as good as he gets.
"Longer, huh?"
Remus glances over, his attention caught by the musing undertone to Sirius's voice. Sirius watches him carefully from underneath his hood, his eyes glinting with a curious emotion that pins him in place. He feels prickly with sudden heat. Wolfkind comes with a built-in predator sense, and unwanted attention can make them antsy, but Remus doesn't feel hunted as he allows Sirius to look at him.
The cart hits a bump, rolling over a stone. The motion dislodges their gazes. Regulus starts cursing up a storm, and James's surprisingly soft laughter lights up the night, warm like the steadiest sun-stone. Sirius is the first to look away properly, tilting his head towards the steadily darkening sky and blowing out a long breath. Remus breathes with him, feeling his lungs quake in his chest.
"Feels like no time at all," Sirius murmurs.
In the morning light, the mirror looks no different. It is still vaguely tooth-shaped, though different to Remus's fangs, which he keeps hidden with a wreath of twisted herbs tied around his left wrist. Glamours are impractical for long-term use, and when the herbs begin to flake away he'll need to make a trip back to Frank's shop. It's an arduous journey, but since it lets him hide his pointier parts, Remus can't bring himself to complain much.
He tilts the mirror back and forth as the car ambles on, letting the glass catch the light. There's nothing different about it, and yet he felt the way it grew suddenly warm through his pack, where it was pressed against his thigh. He studies it carefully, laying it flat at his eyeline, and then lifts it again. He meets his own eyes, and for a brief second, he thinks he's seeing things. But then he peers closer, and-right there. Right there in the glass, reflected in his eyes, are the words take the next left.
Remus puts down the mirror and reaches up to rub his eyes. He picks the mirror up again, but the words are still there, scrawled in distinct Ebenezen characters, each stroke of ink purposeful and slightly slanted, as though handwritten instead of stamped.
"Stop pretending that you know where we're going, and sit down," Regulus snaps, his seething voice cutting through the conversation happening around him. "Vedahof takes too long to get through if we go through Antler Pass, and I'm not dragging a cart through the mines."
"Technically it would only be above the mines," James points out. "There wouldn't be much point in driving down into the earth, would there? Let's save that for another day, when we're bored enough to die."
The look Regulus gives him could peel the skin off a blazing deity. "We're taking the next right, and that's that." He grips the reins tightly and snaps them, urging the horses on. "No arguments."
Remus snorts. This rule has never had much impact on the louder, more combative members of the Marauders. It's not even a rule that Regulus follows, on a good day. The chances of him escaping an argument, even for something so simple, are slim to none.
Sure enough, Sirius takes up the gauntlet. He kneels on the flat of the cart, leaning over the short back to drape his forearms over Regulus's shoulders, laughing specifically to annoy him. He puts a hand over James's mouth when he moves to speak, and loudly lists off the reasons why Antler Pass makes for a better trip.
"Sometimes they've got vendors through there, and I'm craving those toffee slice things. They smother that stuff in spice. If we take the right path, we won't see civilization for days."
They take a vote. Regulus wants to go right, and James wants to do whatever Regulus wants-at least for today-and Sirius wants Remus to take his side, but the mirror wants to go left too. Remus doesn't really want to do what the mirror wants, just in case it has less than stellar intentions. He pushes it back down in his bag and says, "Right, please. I don't want to deal with Sirius after he's had too much spiced toffee."
"Oi!"
Regulus snorts, muttering under his breath. Sirius abandons his quest to irritate his little brother and whips around to face Remus, the cart creaking beneath his knees.
"You're painful enough to deal with without sugar," Remus tells him placidly.
Sirius shoves him for being a traitor, and then slumps across his lap, forcing him to card his hands through his hair.
"You owe me," Sirius says, patting his thigh lightly. "This is a punishment, so try not to enjoy it too much."
"I'll do my best," Remus says, and dutifully scratches his scalp until he falls asleep.
At the crossroads, Regulus steers the cart right. The sloping path to Antler Pass drifts out of view, pockmarked with glittering ore. They round the corner. Remus almost expects the mirror to burst into flames for his defiance, but nothing happens. He must tense up, because Sirius cracks open one eye, prodding his thigh.
"S'wrong with you? You've gone all funny."
Beneath the complaint, there's a thread of concern. No matter how thick the veneer of unbothered, casual brazenness, Sirius is an attentive friend.
"If you don't like it, you can sleep on one of the sacks," Remus says.
Sirius opens his mouth to say something disgruntled and charming, no doubt, when the cart hits a bump that certainly isn't a rock, and the whole thing tips over. It's a mess of noise and heat. The air whips past him, knocking the air out of his lungs. Remus feels the sensation of flying and falling all at once, the motions twisting up as his body flies through the air.
When Remus can breathe again, there's a horde of bells ringing in his ears, and he's flat on his back, staring up at the bright sky, stunned still. He sucks in a lungful of air. Sirius appears above him in a flash of storm-grey light, covered in dirt and grinning like a wild thing let loose.
"Ambush," Sirius says merrily, while arrows shoot past them and James yells in the background.
"Never would have guessed."
Sirius laughs, extending a hand. "Gonna lay there all day?"
Remus lets himself be pulled to his feet with a groan, stumbling into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius steadies him, murmuring something indiscernible in his ear. His voice is so close and his breath is warm, and Remus shivers, leaning into it, still dazed.
"Awful close there, Moony," Sirius murmurs, but it doesn't sound like he's protesting.
Regulus sends a ball of black energy over their shoulders from his perch on top of the flaming cart. It spits and sparks, colliding with the chest of an oncoming monster, melting into its torso and turning it to dust.
"Stop canoodling!" Regulus snaps.
James whips around, his face a picture of incredulity, even as he grabs a monster by the ear. "Canoodling?"
Black energy soars towards James this time. He dodges just in time.
"Seriously, Reg? Canoodling?"
"Shut up and do something useful, Potter!"
Sirius barks a laugh, and the cart burns a little hotter.
Remus sighs, brushing himself off. He has no doubts that the mirror is unbroken in his bag, and probably radiating a smug sort of heat.
"Perhaps we should have taken a left," he admits.
And then he dives into the fray before Sirius can say I told you so.
Stealing a cart doesn't work quite as well the second time. The walk might have been nice, if it weren't for every monster popping out of the ground just to mess with the ground. Remus has an ache for every cell by the time they finally stumble across the border into Vedahof.
A little red light burns in the near-distance, at the end of the wide main road.
The Marauders is the name they gave themselves, but it isn't just for them. Their group is scattered. It gathers new members every day. Peter, halfway across the world and delving into the dark happenings of a mysterious magical group. Lily and her sun-stone amulet, her fiery red hair that blazes only half as much as the determined fire in her eyes. Alice and her sweet healing spells, her heavy mace that could take out an army if she wanted it to. Frank, who doesn't like to get involved but will if it means protecting his friends. Marlene, too, when she isn't busy breaking into Crownsguard-protected establishments and stealing back stolen artefacts, cackling all the while.
Sometimes, luck brings them together. Sometimes, it's an ambush, a flaming cart, and a subsequent four-day march that has them all colliding.
When the unlucky Marauders come stumbling into Vedahof in the dark of night, soot-stained and dead on their feet, Lily Evans is waiting for them. She laughs at their messy states and leads them through the city gates, heading for the rooms above the shop that Alice owns. Remus thinks it's sweet that Alice and Frank own matching shops in separate cities, though he isn't quite sure how it works for their relationship.
"Clean up, and I'll see if we've got enough food for everyone," Lily says. "Anyone need healing?"
Regulus has a mild burn on his arm, Remus's wrist aches from a narrow scrape with a boulder-throwing monster, and James is missing half an eyebrow, but they all shake their heads. The rooms aren't very big, but the spare beds are sizable enough that they can squeeze two to a bed. Remus takes his time wiping the sweat from the road off his body, and climbs into clean clothes, eager to tuck himself under a warm quilt. Sirius doesn't let him rest though, swanning into the room with a plate of food, his hair damp and falling in his eyes. It is infuriating. Remus sits up, suddenly ravenous, and snatches the plate away while Sirius laughs at him.
"Evans said that if we get food in the bed, we're doing the laundry for the next month. She's busy making fun of James and Reg for not setting a wedding date yet, so we've got time to talk."
Through a mouthful of food, Remus says, "Talk?"
Sirius drops down on the other side of the bed. It creaks ominously, and Remus bounces up, almost spilling eggs down his front. He shoves at Sirius, but he just crowds closer, getting in Remus's face and prodding his cheek.
"You've been acting weird. Every morning you get up, and you check your bag, and you start being weird. It's making me insane, Remus. What're you hiding? It can't be worse than those giggling knives James found last year."
It is worse than the giggling knives, because the truth of it eludes Remus. He hates not knowing things. He doesn't understand the goddamn mirror, but as far as he can tell, it sees the nearby future and gives him advice about it. Vague, directional advice. Sometimes he takes it seriously, and sometimes he does the opposite, just to see if it's really working, or if he's paranoid.
Remus scowls at his bag, thrown against the opposite wall. He lets Sirius have some of the food and falls back against the stiff pillows, grimacing.
"It's that bloody mirror," Remus mutters.
"Ha!" Sirius launches his fist into the air, victorious. "I knew it. You started acting shifty after we got out of that cave, and then you didn't mention the mirror again after that. But you kept checking your bag and then acting like a paranoid bastard. James reckoned you were hiding something dirty."
Remus looks at him askance, brow ticked up. "And you knew I was too innocent for that, did you?"
"No." Sirius smirks. "I know your dirty face, Remus."
He crows with laughter when Remus steals the entire plate of food and rolls away, facing the wall.
The mirror is waiting for him in the morning. As far as he can tell, there's only ever one piece of advice per day, and it seems to refresh itself every morning. The last message read mind the boulder, and Remus had reluctantly complied with the request, despite not wanting to. It had still been a narrow escape.
"Anything good this morning?" Sirius asks.
Remus heard him get up and sneak down the hallway on his tip-toes, so it's hardly a surprise when he speaks. But the proximity still makes him shiver. He spares a glance over his shoulder, meeting Sirius's bright, amused gaze, and tilts the mirror his way.
Sirius frowns. "I can't see anything. Has it stopped?"
Remus had told everyone the truth last night, not leaving out a single detail. It was Lily who suggested letting Marlene take a look at it, but she's in the next city over, and that's a five-day trip. He was going to settle for Aberforth, but now that Sirius can't read the words written in the glass, an uneasiness settles in his stomach.
"It hasn't stopped," Remus admits. "It says: don't take the main gate. You really can't read it?"
Sirius shakes his head, his eyes flashing. His magic takes the form of thin vapour or thick thundercloud, but it is always, always grey, and sometimes it mists over his eyes. Remus has a hard time looking away when it happens, but he manages.
"It must have formed a connection to me somehow," Remus says, putting the mirror back inside his pack. "Whatever magic's in there, it's certainly strange. I can't feel anything menacing from it. It's just… giving advice."
"I don't like this, Moony," Sirius says,
His hands twitch like he wants to take out the mirror and smash it against the ground. Remus understands the urge, but if there is a connection, he isn't eager to sever it so violently. He takes one of Sirius's hands and squeezes it briefly, immediately pinned in place by that steady, burning stare.
"I don't like it either," Remus says. "But it seems harmless for the most part. The danger only really occurs when I ignore what it says. I'm not going to follow it blindly, but I don't want to break it or leave it behind for someone else to stumble on. We could do more harm than good."
"I know," Sirius says, interlacing their fingers after a beat. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."
It would be a lie to say that the dry rasp of their callused fingers connecting doesn't affect him. Remus clears his throat, squeezing his hand again before letting it go, the prickling at his gums warning him to mind his fangs against his bottom lip.
"Hopefully Aberforth will know what to do."
The sign above Aberforth's ratty little shop is battered and worn, and flipped over to proclaim it closed. Sirius bangs on the door while Remus peers through the window, using his enhanced hearing to listen for breathing upstairs or muttering in his workshop.
"It's empty," Remus says. "We'll have to come back later, when he's home."
"Fat chance of that," Sirius says.
Remus tilts his head, and Sirius prods a finger at the note sticking out of the mailbox, a mere few feet from the door. It's a short, brusque notice of a business trip. The shop is closed until the new moon. Bugger off, and get someone else to do your dirty work for you. Remus snorts, rubbing his temples tiredly. It sounds exactly like Aberforth.
"As if we haven't taken care of half his chores just so his musty arse can lay about and do nothing," Sirius says, stuffing the note back in the mailbox. "You know where this leaves us, don't you?"
"Marlene," Remus says.
They argue over it on the way back to the others. James is somewhere in the city, procuring new armour to replace the one that was eaten through with acid. Regulus is either joined at his hip, or lurking in a bookstore, devouring knowledge greedily and avoiding anyone that might want to socialise with him. Lily won't want to see them for at least another hour, exhausted by their antics after only one night, but they all agreed to meet up near the bakery for pastries and commission details.
Remus isn't exactly eager to go out and do battle after their trip, but he admits they need the coin.
That's if Sirius will even let him go with them.
"I'm just saying, there's no need to go all the way to Marlene when Aberforth's right here! We can hang around and wait until he gets back, and then fix the mirror problem from there. There's bound to be less danger waiting for us inside the city than there would be on the trip to Moroth. Less danger, less for the mirror to say, less chance of you getting pulled inside it and eaten by some eldritch glass being, or whatever."
Remus laughs at that, a soft, tired sound that seems to echo.
"Don't laugh at me," Sirius says, but he looks vaguely triumphant. "You know I'm right."
"Maybe," Remus allows. "It doesn't happen often, but I suppose the universe has to make mistakes sometimes." He accepts the shove with good humour, swaying back into step and sobering slightly. "I get that you're worried, but I'm not exactly a damsel in distress. It's a mirror. It might be more dangerous than we know, or it might be a magic prank. Either way, it won't get solved if we just sit here and wait for someone to sort it out for us."
Sirius groans, tipping his head back.
"You know I'm right," Remus teases him.
Sirius scowls, but it disappears quickly, a reluctant grin taking its place. James is the brightest, most cheerful of their lot, but Sirius is quick to flash a smile and charm the pants off anyone he wants. It's nice to see that reluctance. It speaks to how genuine the grin that follows is. It makes Remus feel victorious.
The victory is cut short when he hears shouting up ahead. The ground rocks underneath him. Remus reaches out and grasps Sirius's arm, steadying both of them, and reaches for his dagger with his free hand.
"Oh shit," Sirius says. "Didn't your mirror say something about the main gate?"
The gates to the city stand tall up ahead. Or, they used to. Now only one of them stands tall. The other one is a crumpled heap on the ground. Dust fills the air, mingled with the panicked shouting of the Guards keeping watch nearby. They resemble a particular brand of bird in the northern mountain range, flapping around and squawking.
Remus squints. There's a figure standing near the gates, one hand pressed to his chest. Remus would recognise James anywhere, and Sirius definitely recognises Regulus standing beside him, skating his hands all over James in a panic while the other boy laughs it off shakily. A large, twisted bit of the gate is buried deep in the ground, not inches from where they're standing.
Something twists inside Remus's chest.
"Still want to wait?" Remus asks.
Sirius swears under his breath, and the two of them take off running.
Remus wakes with a sudden jerk. It takes him a moment of floundering before he realises where he is: curled up on the floor of their makeshift campsite, sheltered underneath a tree. He can hear Sirius snoring softly in the bedroll next to him. The grass is damp with dew and the fire has long since died, and Remus has no idea what woke him, but he hates it.
He sits up, rubbing his face. His jaw cracks with a yawn. They're only a day away from Moroth, where Marlene is probably tied up in some scheme that will be the downfall of every arsehole in the Kingdom.
The last few days have been exhausting. Remus is pretty sure he's never had so much trouble from an inanimate object before. He was fairly certain that the incidents must have been coincidences, but after the gate nearly crushed James, and the trip to Moroth was peppered with monsters and stumbling obstacles, he's not so sure.
A little burst of heat from near his knee makes him jump. Remus frowns. The mirror is wrapped up in an old shirt inside his pack, and the pack must have fallen over in the night.
"It must have woken me up," Remus mutters.
He glances at Sirius, still passed out, his chest rising and falling faintly. He looks comfortable in a way that's almost irritating, considering the wild flowers and roots blanketing the ground. One arm covers his eyes, and his mouth is open a little bit, slack. Remus shakes his head, ignoring the warmth in his chest in favour of the warmth coming from the mirror.
He unwraps the shirt and stares into the glass, ready for another arbitrary warning.
The mirror spells out, very plainly: R U N.
"Shit," Remus says.
The ground rumbles, right on cue. It was not the mirror that woke him, he realises with a dash of panic. It was the alert-spells placed around the perimeter. They're buzzing with energy, a sure sign of someone blundering through them. Remus scrambles upright, uncharacteristically clumsy, and snatches up his pack and his sword. He flings Sirius's boots at his chest, stuffing his own on haphazardly while Sirius wakes up, yelling and groping for his weapon.
"Moony?" Sirius slurs. "Whassat for?"
"Get up," Remus says sharply. "No time to explain, but we need to run."
He doesn't want to trust the mirror, but so far it hasn't been wrong. He has no intentions of dying underneath a tree with his best friend. The ground is still trembling, and he can hear the soft thump of heavy, vast footsteps coming closer.
A troll appears through the thick bushes. Remus chokes down a curse word and holds very still. Sirius pulls on his second boot in one swift motion and gets to his feet silently, slinging his pack over his shoulder. Both of them wait, tense as a livewire. The troll's bland, yellowish eyes scan the horizon, not bothering to look down.
"We can take it," Sirius murmurs.
The footsteps haven't stopped despite the troll's lax stance. Remus is about to point it out when another troll lumbers into view, stopping beside its companion. There are still more footsteps echoing behind them.
"We might have a little more trouble," Sirius admits. "But we took down the other lot."
"There were four of us, and two of them," Remus whispers, yanking on Sirius's arm. "We're running, and we're running now!"
Sirius looks disgruntled, but he doesn't actually argue. He whips up a sheen of mist that blankets all of them, and Remus grabs his arm and starts sprinting. The trolls give a thunderous roar, muffled by the mist. The footsteps get louder as they pick up the pace, and then quieter again as the trolls drift of course, losing them in the fog.
"We can't run all the way to Moroth," Sirius hisses, only just keeping pace with Remus, panting heavily.
Remus doesn't bother to slow down. They aren't going to Moroth. The mirror burns against his back, and they don't stop running until the trolls are a silent, distant memory.
Ebenezen is a gritty, seedy little village in the bowels of the Kingdom. It's essentially a ramshackle market on the outskirts of Moroth, where people live and work and sleep under their moth-eaten canopies. It's a place of drink and rough laughter and illegal spells passed back and forth under thick cloaks.
Remus has only been there a handful of times to track down a few dodgy leads. The only people that linger there are the rotten kind. He weaves his way through the stalls, Sirius at his heels, holding the mirror out in front of him. It's bright enough to catch every beady eye in the market. Normally he'd do his best to hide it from view, especially in a place like this, but he wants it gone.
"We should have just sold it to Aberforth," Sirius says. "He'd have taken it eventually."
"We're not going over this again."
"No, we're not," Sirius agrees pleasantly, "but only because you're going to get us both killed waving that thing around before we can have a lovely conversation. What happened to us, eh, Remus? We used to talk for hours. Now you just use me as bait."
"The mirror is the bait," Remus says, but he's too distracted to pay much attention to the conversation. He scans every market stall, ignoring the cheap bottles covered in dust and crates of ore that glint with dull malice. Sooner or later, someone's going to take the bait. Sooner or later, someone's going to-
"Hey there, handsome."
Marlene McKinnon grins at them, her hands in her pockets. She's leaning against a cart, the wheels of which are suspiciously absent. Sirius sighs very heavily, linking his arm through Remus's and tugging him forward.
"McKinnon," he says, once they're out of the main path. "You're supposed to be in a purple tent somewhere, hoodwinking strangers into thinking you've got power."
"And you're supposed to be in a mansion somewhere, disappointing your family."
There's a tense moment, and then the two of them beam at each other, delighted. Remus sighs, detaching himself from Sirius.
"I do not understand your friendship." He holds up a hand, halting any more talk. "I don't want to understand."
Marlene snickers, and Sirius shrugs, a benign glint in his eyes.
"Have it your way, Moony. Our relationship is leagues better than anything McKinnon can make happen, anyway."
Marlene leers at them both. "Relationship, huh?"
Sirius flips her off. Remus denies any pink cheeks and holds out the mirror, waiting to see if she has anything to say about it. He can still see the word RUN spelled out in the glass. Marlene listens intently as they tell her the tale, and when they're finished, she takes one look at both of them, and starts cackling.
"Oh, you're not going to like this," she says, when she's finished. "But I'm going to love it, so who cares? C'mon, I'll show you what your evil little mirror is."
Marlene leads them through the market. The amount of people that avert their gaze would be slightly more worrying, if she weren't firmly on their side. Remus tucks the mirror under his arm and frowns as they near a market stall that is a little cleaner than the rest. The figure manning it is anything but clean, though. His head is tilted strictly at a right-angle, and there are bandages wrapped around most of his body. His screen is a strange, ghoulish green. The strong scent of herbal disinfectant fills the air as they draw near, pungent to the last.
The sign above the market stall reads: Reflective Undead Navigation.
Remus takes in the words again and again, reading them over and over. Reflective Undead Navigation. RUN.
"You've got to be kidding," Sirius says.
Marlene puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles. "Oi, Sir Nick!"
The man turns, and his head wobbles worryingly. Remus grimaces. He's heard of the leagues of undead inhabitants roaming the land, but he never pictured them as… business-owners.
"Ah, Miss McKinnon! I can see you brought some company with you. What can I do for you today?"
Marlene introduces them, and then stands back when a bell rings someone in the depths of the market. She grimaces, slapping the both on the shoulder.
"That's my cue, boys. Word of warning, I'd get outta here once you hear the second bell. You don't want to stick around for the fireworks."
"What was that about?" Sirius demands, once Marlene saunters off, whistling.
"Ah, I believe there's some sort of coup being staged soon," Sir Nick says, peering at them. "Was it my attention you wanted?"
Remus holds out the mirror, and Sir Nick brightens. He makes a delighted sound and accepts the mirror, and Remus slumps, feeling the weight drain off him.
"Oh, this is perfect. Only a few more left now."
"Anytime you want to explain what exactly that thing is, we're all ears," Sirius says flatly.
Sir Nick babbles for a bit, holding up the mirror and demonstrating its many, many functions.
"Primarily, though, it functions as a navigation system," Sir Nick says brightly. "We developed it ourselves, you know. Most teleport systems aren't accessible by dead folk, you see, and this is such a wide world that it's very easy to get lost. So the mirror gives you directions to your destination, once you've decided where you need to go."
"So the advice it gives each morning..." Remus says, trailing off.
"Yes, yes, very useful, I know! Lead you straight to your destination, I imagine. Ah, but this is one of the early models. The spells run out after a while. I expect it didn't have the power to give you too many commands, but the daily directions were helpful, I'm sure?"
"Very helpful," Remus says dryly. "I love being told to run the moment I wake up in the morning."
Sir Nick falters, glancing down at the mirror. "Ah. Yes, well, that's… I must admit, we didn't think about that."
"You didn't think putting the word RUN in the middle of a mirror that gives advice might backfire?" Sirius demands.
Sir Nick fumbles for words, puffing up self-importantly. "It's simply to make sure everyone knows who the device was created by! Marketing is very tricky business, you know."
Remus damn near shakes with the urge to laugh, but he holds it in. He doesn't really find it funny, but he probably will later on, when it's not that exhausted. For now he listens to Sirius and Sir Nick argue back and forth, amused and tired.
"And why was it only talking to Remus?" Sirius snaps. "That's another thing I don't understand. Are they connected? Is he going to start getting sucked into mirrors?"
"I did say it was one of the older models," Sir Nick says, drawing himself up and stepping back from the stall, clutching the mirror close to his chest. "The power it takes to reflect that much energy to one person, let alone two, is a monstrous amount and indicative of the intricacies of glass-magic-crafting, which is echoed in the price-"
"But not in whether or not your mirror actually bloody works," Sirius finishes for him.
Remus's thin tether on his laughter breaks, and he turns around, muffling his choked chuckles into his palms. Sirius glances at him and goes stiff with surprise, before a grin spreads across his face. He throws a two-fingered salute at a spluttering Sir Nick, and drags Remus away.
"What a pompous knob," Sirius says, as they duck through the crowd. "I'd go back and strangle him, but he's already dead."
Remus swallows back his laughter eventually, feeling brighter than he has in days. They climb the low wall out of Ebenezen and head for a low valley not far, to stock up on water. They haven't gone very far when Sirius stops in his tracks, frowning.
"Something wrong?" Remus asks, stuttering to a stop as well.
"Besides that whole performance back there?" Sirius waves away his burst of snickering, shaking his head with a grin. "Yeah, actually. The failing spells don't explain why we got chased everywhere by trouble."
For once in this whole voyage of stupidity, Remus actually knows the answer.
"That didn't have anything to do with the mirror," Remus says. "Well, not technically. But you remember how we found the first set of trolls in the first place?"
"High monster activity," Sirius says, brows furrowing. "What does that have to do with-oh. Oh, seriously?"
Remus sighs. "I can never tell when you're making a pun of your name."
"Just assume I always am. But are you telling me the trolls were following us this whole time because they wanted their shiny toy back?"
"We did steal it from them, I suppose. There must have been more in that particular cave that were out while we attacked. And they followed us all the way here. I imagine it still smells of troll."
Sirius's hand twitches, reaching for his dagger. "I feel like this would be a good time to get a move on then."
"We don't have to worry about the trolls anymore," Remus points out. "We don't have the mirror."
"Oh, right." Sirius jerks, and looks at him, wide-eyed. "So they'll head straight for the market stall then, and Sir Nick. We probably should have said something."
Remus opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. Shrugs.
"He's already dead," he says. "Plus, he pissed me off."
If Sirius's eyes were wide before, they're enormous now. He falls forward, roaring with laughter, and when he comes back up, he looks vaguely awed, his mouth open in delight.
"Moony, you're a savage, sneaky bastard," Sirius says. "I love you for it."
Remus turns very pink. It's not the first love declaration he's had from his friends, but it means the most. He straightens up and grabs Sirius by the hand, dragging him towards the low valley, away from the chaos that's sure to be unleashed on the undead soon.
"Yes, well," Remus says, clearing his throat. "Don't you forget it."
