Duke had often told me that my mother was dead; it helped me to remember that there was no other place for me in this world than to serve his will.
“How can you know that?” I demanded. My skin prickled with gooseflesh, hairs standing on end at the back of my neck. “Show yourself, demon!”
“I am not demon-kind,” said the voice. “I am djinn.”
The light in the glass grew brighter, a beam so dazzling that I shielded my brow, no longer able to see my face in its reflection. When it dimmed again, I squinted hard, waiting for the shadow of light to clear behind my eyes. I gasped, stepping back from the fireplace and tripping over my cleaning rags. I landed hard on the wet carpet with a thud and froze there, my heart pounding as I looked back up into the ornate frame.
His skin was the same pale blue shade that the light had been, but he glowed with such ferocity that I thought his insides must have been lit like a lamp. His cheekbones were high and regal, so sharp I fancied he could cut through the mirror with them and let himself loose on the parlour in an instant. His eyes were a darker shade of blue, pure iris without white or pupil. He looked as though he was blind, but I knew by his stature that he was looking straight at me where I cowered on the floor.
Why should I cower? The djinn was on the other side of the glass, and his thin, mocking lips were drawn taught and patient. He beckoned me with a long, bony finger that glowed when he waved it. I rose again, looking around the dark parlour for fear that my tumble had awoken anyone else in the house. If I was going to inspect this fearful apparition, it was best to do it alone. I could scarcely imagine the black magic the Duke would accuse me of if he happened to come downstairs.
“I am the Glassman,” the figure said. He inclined his glittering head in a courteous bow. In spite of my nerves I curtseyed back as I’d been taught. “Now we are acquainted,” he added, his smile widening.
“Why have you come to this place, Glassman?” I asked, keeping my distance from the mirror’s surface as I watched him move within it.
Light coiled in tendrils like smoke behind his body. His torso was covered in a bright coat of gold and green jewels that switched hues every time he swayed one way or the other. He was swaying too often, a hypnotic motion that stopped my eyes from really focusing on him for any length of time. The Glassman extended his strong arms outward, his fingertips pressing on his side of the glass, as though it was simply a window pane.
“I am burdened with an offer for you, Aberash.”
“What offer?” I asked, my mouth growing dry as my palms grew damper.
“I bring you freedom,” he soothed.
The Duke would have said that temptation was the basest sin. It was for that reason that I approached the mirror again, inches away from the Glassman’s hands, but no longer connected to the pane. Freedom was a tempting thought indeed.
“You have magic?” I questioned.
“See for yourself,” he replied, blind eyes glowing brighter as the seconds sped by.
The gold and green of his clothing blurred with another sway and suddenly the vivid colours morphed into some new apparition. Inside the mirror, I saw a scene forming. It was of a bright sunlit plain with a gentle swell of dust rising from the ground. Great green leaves sprouted from dry, brown trees that baked contentedly in the embrace of a distant sun. The glowing orb was high in a perfectly blue sky, as pale and blinding as the Glassman’s skin. Africa. Exactly as I pictured it in my head, exactly as every painting I had ever seen showed it to me.
There was more to the djinn’s powerful vision, for the more I stared into the mirror, the more I felt that I was standing on that dusty plain. My feet grew warm in my broken cleaners’ shoes as the sun-drenched ground ate away at them. I could feel the breeze filled with temperate air, catching dust and swirling a playful cloud around my
“How can you know that?” I demanded. My skin prickled with gooseflesh, hairs standing on end at the back of my neck. “Show yourself, demon!”
“I am not demon-kind,” said the voice. “I am djinn.”
The light in the glass grew brighter, a beam so dazzling that I shielded my brow, no longer able to see my face in its reflection. When it dimmed again, I squinted hard, waiting for the shadow of light to clear behind my eyes. I gasped, stepping back from the fireplace and tripping over my cleaning rags. I landed hard on the wet carpet with a thud and froze there, my heart pounding as I looked back up into the ornate frame.
His skin was the same pale blue shade that the light had been, but he glowed with such ferocity that I thought his insides must have been lit like a lamp. His cheekbones were high and regal, so sharp I fancied he could cut through the mirror with them and let himself loose on the parlour in an instant. His eyes were a darker shade of blue, pure iris without white or pupil. He looked as though he was blind, but I knew by his stature that he was looking straight at me where I cowered on the floor.
Why should I cower? The djinn was on the other side of the glass, and his thin, mocking lips were drawn taught and patient. He beckoned me with a long, bony finger that glowed when he waved it. I rose again, looking around the dark parlour for fear that my tumble had awoken anyone else in the house. If I was going to inspect this fearful apparition, it was best to do it alone. I could scarcely imagine the black magic the Duke would accuse me of if he happened to come downstairs.
“I am the Glassman,” the figure said. He inclined his glittering head in a courteous bow. In spite of my nerves I curtseyed back as I’d been taught. “Now we are acquainted,” he added, his smile widening.
“Why have you come to this place, Glassman?” I asked, keeping my distance from the mirror’s surface as I watched him move within it.
Light coiled in tendrils like smoke behind his body. His torso was covered in a bright coat of gold and green jewels that switched hues every time he swayed one way or the other. He was swaying too often, a hypnotic motion that stopped my eyes from really focusing on him for any length of time. The Glassman extended his strong arms outward, his fingertips pressing on his side of the glass, as though it was simply a window pane.
“I am burdened with an offer for you, Aberash.”
“What offer?” I asked, my mouth growing dry as my palms grew damper.
“I bring you freedom,” he soothed.
The Duke would have said that temptation was the basest sin. It was for that reason that I approached the mirror again, inches away from the Glassman’s hands, but no longer connected to the pane. Freedom was a tempting thought indeed.
“You have magic?” I questioned.
“See for yourself,” he replied, blind eyes glowing brighter as the seconds sped by.
The gold and green of his clothing blurred with another sway and suddenly the vivid colours morphed into some new apparition. Inside the mirror, I saw a scene forming. It was of a bright sunlit plain with a gentle swell of dust rising from the ground. Great green leaves sprouted from dry, brown trees that baked contentedly in the embrace of a distant sun. The glowing orb was high in a perfectly blue sky, as pale and blinding as the Glassman’s skin. Africa. Exactly as I pictured it in my head, exactly as every painting I had ever seen showed it to me.
There was more to the djinn’s powerful vision, for the more I stared into the mirror, the more I felt that I was standing on that dusty plain. My feet grew warm in my broken cleaners’ shoes as the sun-drenched ground ate away at them. I could feel the breeze filled with temperate air, catching dust and swirling a playful cloud around my
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