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Authors: A.E. Marling
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she had dedicated herself to the sleeping cure.
On the fourth day, she had lifted herself from bed. She had stretched, yawned, and felt as tired as if she had not slept a wink. If anything, she had felt even more exhausted. I should have tried sleeping for four days…or five?
So it was that even after the Lord of the Feast’s claim that her most sacred and secure of places had dropped an enchantress to her death, she had no trouble sinking into slumber.
The Provost of Applied Enchantment dreamed of her laboratory. A dream of mirrors and jewels. Hiresha floated above a glittering dais, her magic buoying her into the air. Enchantresses could not cast spells while awake, but here her power pulsed as near as the green and red garnets floating by, each glowing with its own nimbus of color.
Mirrors orbited the domed ceiling of a round room of black rock. No doors or windows cluttered the laboratory, except for one skylight opening on constellations of pink and blue gems. The mirrors showed Hiresha in a sleek dress of spiraling amethyst designs. Her breath leaked from her lips as wisps of grey, but even in the frigid air and wearing a single, backless dress, she did not shiver, not in this dream she ruled.
“Lord Tethiel must have forged the writ of admittance,” she said to herself.
“Not by himself,” a reflection answered her. The woman in one mirror looked similar to Hiresha, except that she wore a yellow dress alight with topazes. Where Hiresha appeared upright and composed in the other mirrors, this reflection leaned forward with a grimace, wriggling her yellow-gloved fingers. “Bright Palms broke his hands, remember. He couldn’t hold a quill.”
Hiresha accepted the fact that most of what her reflection said would be pointless. Provost Hiresha had isolated the distracting elements from the rest of her consciousness into a mirror, but she was still relieved to have someone else in her dream to talk to.
“The pertinent questions are what is he doing here—”
“He came to see us.” The reflection held one hand over her heart, and the other clutched her throat.
“—and can we trust his word of Enchantress Miatha’s fall?”
Hiresha could remember the woman’s name now, in this lucid dream. One mirror flashed, opening as a portal into the enchantress’s memories. The image within the glass shifted to a remembered scene of Miatha being awarded her green gown, with Hiresha half-dozing among the faculty.
“What if,” Hiresha said, “Lord Tethiel knew of Enchantress Miatha, and he cast an illusion to make me see her falling. That is why none else noticed. Perhaps she is not dead but kidnapped.”
“We like to think so.” The reflection bunched her hands into glittering fists. “No, we changed our mind. Why would Tethiel want to trick us?”
“To shake my belief in the Academy, perhaps.”
Hiresha made herself focus on another mirror. It displayed memories from earlier that day. In the glass portal, the falling Enchantress Miatha gazed back, framed by an unforgiving blue sky.
“She was dazed, disbelieving,” Hiresha said.
“We agree with Tethiel. She didn’t jump.”
“Probably,” Hiresha said. “Note the detail in her clothing, the fluttering ribbons. The wind interfaces with them in a most realistic manner. If this was illusion, Tethiel must have crafted the masterpiece, not Minna.”
“But it was day!” The reflection stretched her hands out of the mirror’s field of view. “Feasters can’t cast in daylight.”
“Anecdotal reports say the Lord of the Feast can,” Hiresha said. “I remain incredulous.”
The reflection pointed across the room to another mirror. “What about Minna? She was touching us, and she’s a Feaster. Maybe Tethiel worked his magic through her.”
“For a more direct link? A possibility.” Aches crawled through Hiresha’s chest. “Either the Academy’s magic is deteriorating, or Tethiel has a scheme.”
“Not good. Not good.”
A mirror
On the fourth day, she had lifted herself from bed. She had stretched, yawned, and felt as tired as if she had not slept a wink. If anything, she had felt even more exhausted. I should have tried sleeping for four days…or five?
So it was that even after the Lord of the Feast’s claim that her most sacred and secure of places had dropped an enchantress to her death, she had no trouble sinking into slumber.
The Provost of Applied Enchantment dreamed of her laboratory. A dream of mirrors and jewels. Hiresha floated above a glittering dais, her magic buoying her into the air. Enchantresses could not cast spells while awake, but here her power pulsed as near as the green and red garnets floating by, each glowing with its own nimbus of color.
Mirrors orbited the domed ceiling of a round room of black rock. No doors or windows cluttered the laboratory, except for one skylight opening on constellations of pink and blue gems. The mirrors showed Hiresha in a sleek dress of spiraling amethyst designs. Her breath leaked from her lips as wisps of grey, but even in the frigid air and wearing a single, backless dress, she did not shiver, not in this dream she ruled.
“Lord Tethiel must have forged the writ of admittance,” she said to herself.
“Not by himself,” a reflection answered her. The woman in one mirror looked similar to Hiresha, except that she wore a yellow dress alight with topazes. Where Hiresha appeared upright and composed in the other mirrors, this reflection leaned forward with a grimace, wriggling her yellow-gloved fingers. “Bright Palms broke his hands, remember. He couldn’t hold a quill.”
Hiresha accepted the fact that most of what her reflection said would be pointless. Provost Hiresha had isolated the distracting elements from the rest of her consciousness into a mirror, but she was still relieved to have someone else in her dream to talk to.
“The pertinent questions are what is he doing here—”
“He came to see us.” The reflection held one hand over her heart, and the other clutched her throat.
“—and can we trust his word of Enchantress Miatha’s fall?”
Hiresha could remember the woman’s name now, in this lucid dream. One mirror flashed, opening as a portal into the enchantress’s memories. The image within the glass shifted to a remembered scene of Miatha being awarded her green gown, with Hiresha half-dozing among the faculty.
“What if,” Hiresha said, “Lord Tethiel knew of Enchantress Miatha, and he cast an illusion to make me see her falling. That is why none else noticed. Perhaps she is not dead but kidnapped.”
“We like to think so.” The reflection bunched her hands into glittering fists. “No, we changed our mind. Why would Tethiel want to trick us?”
“To shake my belief in the Academy, perhaps.”
Hiresha made herself focus on another mirror. It displayed memories from earlier that day. In the glass portal, the falling Enchantress Miatha gazed back, framed by an unforgiving blue sky.
“She was dazed, disbelieving,” Hiresha said.
“We agree with Tethiel. She didn’t jump.”
“Probably,” Hiresha said. “Note the detail in her clothing, the fluttering ribbons. The wind interfaces with them in a most realistic manner. If this was illusion, Tethiel must have crafted the masterpiece, not Minna.”
“But it was day!” The reflection stretched her hands out of the mirror’s field of view. “Feasters can’t cast in daylight.”
“Anecdotal reports say the Lord of the Feast can,” Hiresha said. “I remain incredulous.”
The reflection pointed across the room to another mirror. “What about Minna? She was touching us, and she’s a Feaster. Maybe Tethiel worked his magic through her.”
“For a more direct link? A possibility.” Aches crawled through Hiresha’s chest. “Either the Academy’s magic is deteriorating, or Tethiel has a scheme.”
“Not good. Not good.”
A mirror
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