Mirror Mirror

•2•

A familiar icy hiss was my waking call. "I must insist that you leave her to rest." I heard Erik snap outside of the tent.

"Did you not hear her mother?" A grotesque, booming male voice barked back. "She wants me to take the child! Buy her for less than a bride's price! Anything to remove herself from the stigma of a child plagued by demons!"

Mother . . . Wished to sell me off? So soon? I was not even of the marrying age, and I did not yet wish to be a bride.

The grotesque voice laughed heartily, and when I sat up from the cot I could see his fat shadow cast upon the tent wall by the sun's early rays.

His laughter suddenly died down and he kneeled to a smaller shadow that I assumed was Erik's. "Or do you wish to have her for yourself, Don Juan?" He breathed, just loud enough so I could hear. They remained that way for a few moments before the fat man laughed again and walked away.

Outside I heard Erik snarl and I quickly laid back down and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep as he entered the tent once more.

"You have no need to pretend, girl. I know you are awake."

I pouted with a huff at my easy discovery and sat up. Erik was seated as far as he could away from me at the other end of the tent, his back turned to face me.

I was stunned speechless at that back.

Though I knew previously that he was thin, I was not prepared for the true extent of it now that I had my full vision restored.

Erik looked emaciated. Translucent yellowish skin covered his arms and neck, mostly hidden by a thin sleeveless shirt and the short black hair on his head. Through the shirt itself I could see his entire spine; from the nape of his neck until it dipped down out of sight beneath the waistline.

Somewhere in my mind I knew who he was; knew he was what my mother had warned me about . . . but then he spoke, and I—though still an innocent, sexless child—was entranced.

"Last night you had a seizure." Erik stated as he rummaged around piles of strange contraptions and medicines. "Tell me how long you have been having them; these attacks."

"Since I was little . . ." I nearly whispered, my throat hoarse from lack of water.

The skeletal boy stopped for a moment before hesitantly turning towards me.

The skin of his neck was just as translucent as that on his arms, but that was all I could see. A pale white mask covered his entire face. Only his sunken yellow eyes showed through.

Oh, those eyes. I can still remember those eyes; the eyes of a tortured old man trapped in a child's body; eyes so full of fear and sorrow . . .

"I see you have full use of your optic facilities now." Erik grunted, swiftly turning back to his work.

Such large words for a boy only a few years my senior! I found myself staring in amazement. "You are a sorcerer . . ." I gasped. "Just as mama said you were!"

Erik suddenly let out a bark of cruel laughter at my words and turned to face me, flourishing a hand into the air with all the grace of a king. "Ha! I bet she has told you I ride dragons and turn misbehaving children to stone with a single glance as well! Do you really think I would remain here if I could do all that?"

I shrunk back as the boy stood from his chair and took a menacing step forward.

"Mothers steer their children away from my tent, with words of; 'Erik will get you', and yet those same mothers will laugh with their children as this living corpse is put out on display for their entertainment! The human race disgusts me!"

The boy turned suddenly and threw his chair across the tent in his fit of rage.

I let out a small scream and tucked my head beneath my hands as the chair sailed over my head and hit the fabric wall behind me.

Immediately I felt my jaw lock up and my hands begin to shake. There was hardly any warning this time.

Erik's yelling—having before shook the entire tent—now ceased and I found something metal being forcefully pushed between my teeth. I recognized it instantly as a horse's bit.

I managed to pry my eyes open in time to see Erik grab what he had been working on and, just as he had the previous night, pour it down my throat.

I coughed on this new substance, but felt my tensing muscles begin to loosen and relax. After a few minutes—when he was sure I would not bite my tongue—Erik removed the bit from my mouth and helped lay me back down on the cot.

"These seizures seem to be caused by excitement . . . " he murmured, no longer enraged. "I gave you a muscle relaxant; not quite as strong as what I had you swallow previously, but you should be fine for now at the very least."

As he said all this, the boy had handed me a jug of water—which I drank from gratefully.

"Thank you, Erik," I finally managed to say clearly when my thirst was quenched. "My name is Tzipporah, if you wished to know."

He gave me a bewildered look, sunken yellow eyes wide with shock; it was as if he had never been spoken to like a normal human being before. Erik closed his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Why should I wish to know your name, poshratt?" He grumbled, once more a grouchy child pretending to be a man. I couldn't help but giggle at the thought.

I watched the visible skin of the boy's ears flush in embarrassment and he snarled at me, going to retrieve his chair and continue his work.

"Y-You should not have come to Verdu if you knew you could not handle the excitement!" Erik barked, trying to busy himself with herbs and potions.

I glanced down in slight sadness at his words. "I usually stay with papa instead of mama during this time . . . but papa died of fever a few months ago. Mama had to bring me."

Erik said nothing at that, and we both sat in silence for a long while after; him fiddling with his projects and me regaining my strength.

"You should remain here until the festival is over in a week." Erik finally stated quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Superstitious gypsies and too much excitement will be bad for your health."

I gave a somber sigh. "What a shame . . . I was so looking forward to the music, too."

Erik paused in his work. "You like music?"

I nodded, even though his back was turned to me. "Papa would sometimes hold me during my attacks and sing me to sleep." I did not know my father very well, but I had loved him all the same.

There was a pregnant pause, and I could practically taste the tension in the air.

"If . . . If that would help your seizures . . . I could—perhaps—do the same? Not the holding part, o-of course! The singing!"

The words seemed hard on Erik, as though he were scared I would tell him off and flee. He looked back at me hesitantly, like the scared and lonely child I could tell he truly was, and I made sure to smile as warmly as I could.

"I would like that very much, please."