said. 'Magical pressure takes time to build up, and it's only been a day and a half since the sword was stolen. We probably have at least another day before the marc of the Enchanted Forest starts draining out.'
'Probably. But what if we don't?'
Morwen sighed. 'Perhaps we're approaching the problem from the wrong direction. Let me think about it.'
'With Telemain to take care of, when will you have time?'
'I'll manage,' Morwen said.
A muffled thump echoed from the stairwell. Another followed, then some scraping noises. 'Ow!' said Brandel's voice. A moment later, the carved wooden rim of an enormous old mirror thrust up out of the stairwell.
'My goodness, it's large.' Cimorene rose hastily and went over to help. 'You should have said something.'
'I'd forgotten how big it is,' Brandel panted.
Together, they hoisted the mirror the last few feet up the stairs and propped it against the wall. 'Will it do?' Brandel asked.
'I don't see why not,' Cimorene said, but she sounded doubtful.
Morwen couldn't blame her. The sorceress's magic mirror was so old that the glass had uneven areas that distorted the reflection. Tarnish mottled the silver backing like black moss, and the wooden frame had deep cracks.
'Well, there's no point in waiting,' Cimorene said.
'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call.'
Leaning forward, she waited eagerly for the mirror's response.
15
In Which They Have Difficulties with a Mirror
Slowly, the splotchy reflection of the room faded into a smooth, even white. Then a voice from the mirror said, 'Really?' It sounded hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. 'Are you sure you don't want to leave me down in that storeroom for another twenty or thirty years, gathering dust and cobwebs and talking to the magic cloaks for company? Not that I'm complaining, mind, but cloaks don't have much in the way of conversation.'
'I wish to speak to Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest,' Cimorene said firmly.
'You're supposed to specify that in the verse, you know,' the mirror said. 'Though I guess I can make an exception, this once. Especially since you know exactly who you want to talk to. None of this 'fairest of them all' silliness. I hate that. I have to hunt through seven or eight hundred people, and in the end it's a matter of opinion anyway, and nobody is ever happy with the results. Now, you are clearly a woman of decision. 'I wish to speak to Mendanbar, King of-' Wait a minute. King? Are you sure?'
'Quite sure,' said Cimorene. 'Put me through to him, please.'
'If you insist,' said the mirror, 'but I should warn you that in my experience kings don't talk to just anyone.'
'He'll talk to me. I'm his wife.'
'Well, sorry, Your Majesty,' said the mirror in a hurry tone. 'I'll get right to it. I suppose you know that there's mud on your cheek.'
Before Cimorene could reply, the mirror filled with slowly swirling colors, and from it came the sound of someone humming a soft melody ever-so-slightly off key. 'Mirror!' said Cimorene. 'Mirror?'
The mirror did not respond. 'I think you just have to wait until it comes back,' said Brandel.
'Isn't there some way to make it stop humming?' said Cimorene.
'Morwen? You know about magic mirrors.'
'Not enough to do that,' Morwen said regretfully.
Finally, the humming stopped and the mirror cleared, but instead of the grinning face of the gargoyle in Mendanbar's study, or Mendanbar himself, they saw only the same milky whiteness as they had before.
'I'm sorry,' said the mirror. 'I don't seem to be able to get through.'
Cimorene and Morwen stared at the mirror for a moment in appalled silence. Then Cimorene said, 'Can't get through? Why not?'
'How should I know? I'm just a mirror.'
'Try again,' said Morwen.
'And no humming this time!' Cimorene added, but she was too late.
The swirling colors-and the humming-were back.
This time the wait seemed interminable. Cimorene paced back and forth in front of the mirror, frowning and biting her lower lip. Finally, the humming stopped and the mirror cleared.
'Nope,' it said. 'There's nothing to communicate with. Are you sure he has a magic mirror?'
'He did when we left,' Cimorene said.
'Maybe someone broke it,' Killer suggested.
'Unlikely, but possible,' Morwen told him. 'Still, I think the difficulty is probably at this end.'
'There's nothing wrong with me!' said the mirror indignantly. 'I've had no complaints, not one, in all the years since I was first enchanted.'
'That was, however, a long time ago.' Morwen turned to Cimorene.
'Telemain did the spell on the mirror at the castle, didn't he?'
Cimorene nodded. 'Last year, as a wedding present. He updated it just a few weeks ago.'
'Then it is possible that the two mirrors are incompatible,' Morwen said.
'Ridiculous,' said the mirror. 'I'm very easygoing. I get along with everyone, even that dreadful woman who spied on her stepdaughter all the time. Now, that woman was incompatible with everyone. Honestly, the things she did-' 'Go to sleep,' Morwen said.
'Phooey,' said the mirror, and the milk white surface faded back into blotchy silver.
'Do you really think it's just a problem with the different spells?'
Cimorene asked doubtfully, but her expression had lightened a little already.
'It doesn't happen often, but it does happen,' Morwen said. 'We can ask Telemain about it tomorrow morning. Maybe he'll have some sugges-' 'I don't know.' Cimorene chewed gently on her lower lip. 'I think I need to talk to Kazul. Killer-' 'Oh no,' said the donkey. 'Not me.
Flying is too much work. And I haven't had any dinner yet.'
'He does sound like Fiddlesticks,' said Trouble.
'I suppose I should get you something,' Brandel said without much enthusiasm. 'What would you like?'
Killer's eyes lit up. 'Clover. With sweet flowers and slightly tart leaves, for a nicely balanced mix of flavors, and maybe a little parsley as a palate cleanser. Not the kind of parsley that crinkles up, the kind with the flat leaves.'
'I'll see what I have,' Brandel said, sounding slightly stunned.
'Well, if Killer won't help, I'll have to take the laundry basket,' Cimorene said with a shrug. 'Will you show me how to use it, Morwen?'
'Certainly,' Morwen said. 'Just bear in mind that the balance is a little tricky.'
'It can't be any worse than the magic carpet Mendanbar and I had to ride when we were looking for Kazul,' Cimorene replied. 'I'll manage.'
Morwen nodded, and she gave Cimorene the short list of basket-control commands. Together, the two women wresded the basket out the window and set it hovering. Then Morwen held it while Cimorene climbed carefully into it. To make sure nothing went wrong, Morwen watched as Cimorene started down, then she turned away from the window with a smile. Cimorene was right. She could manage.
A new series of thumps and scrapes echoed up the stairwell, and Brandel appeared, carrying a bushel basket heaped full of clover.
