The Magic Mirror

The Thing With Feathers

"Drink.." the tall man in the long dark robes instructed, dismally.

As he tipped the bottle to her lips Audrin nearly choked. She didn't immediately know where she was- it was a room of black rock and red flames slipping through the grate of the fire place. She was tied to a chair, with a rope bound so tightly she could barely feel her arms- but for the dull tingle that her legs got when she sat on them for too long. The man in the robes was old, with high, dark brows and a long, hooked nose. He looked like someone who commanded, and he moved like it too. A leader.. but not a kind one. She could see it in the cruel flicker of his eyes. He hated her. He looked like he hated everything and hurt the things he hated more. So when he told her to drink she drank. The texture was unappealing as it oozed like a cold, slippery syrup down her throat but the taste was curious, like candle wax and over ripened fruit.

"What is it?" she asked as he took the bottle away.

"...that was poison.." he said. "...It put the changeling through some pain... but it doesn't have to be the same for you."

"Fier?" she exclaimed and then realized with sinking certainty that she had made it to the lair at last.. but not as a heroically as she had planned... nor as usefully. "You're Graves, aren't you?"

"Well this is awkward.. my reputation must precede me," he turned to place the bottle on the shelf behind him. "You know my name... but I have yet to learn yours and how you come into all of this. Before you tell me, though, I think I ought to warn you... this poison is deadly..and the longer it takes for you to cooperate.. the more unfavorable your odds become. You look like a nice young lady.. kind, gentle.. you wouldn't lie, would you?"

Audrin could feel a strange sensation in her stomach and along her throat. The slightest burn. She wondered if this was the poison already at work.

She shook her head immediately.

"Good," Graves said. "You're doing better than Fier already."

A cloud burst into the room and a bird emerged from it. It was bigger than the birds Audrin had seen so far, it moved as if it were carrying a sack of rocks, slowly and carefully. But what it was truly carrying was a small, ornate, golden hand mirror. Graves grabbed it from the bird with a violent snap of his arm and the bird retreated to the furthest corner of the room. Graves looked at the mirror, confused and then up at the bird.

"This is the very same hand mirror?" he asked.

"Yes master.." the reply was empty.

Graves looked at the mirror again. Audrin suspected the man did not like what he saw for he wore a distinct look of disappointment.

"I should have expected as much..." Graves sighed. "To me an ordinary hand mirror. To Fier.. something much more useful. Parsimum's own work, I see..."

He looked at Audrin again, up and down- searching for something in particular. His sharp eyes landed on her hand suddenly.

"...what is your name?" he asked as he stepped towards her.

"Audrin," she said immediately. "Audrin Plow."

"Audrin.." Graves repeated. "...let me tell you a story... you like stories, don't you?"

She nodded hesitantly. Nothing about this man gave her the impression that it could be a nice one.

"This is the story about a man," he said, wearily. "..a man who loved a woman very much. You see... once upon a time this man and woman were happy. He loved her more than anything else in the world. She loved him as well... ah, but then something terrible happened. The woman fell ill. She was very sick and the man knew that she was going to die. But luckily he knew of a cure. One thing that could make her better. All he had to do was find it."