Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

19

Mari woke sometime in the night, compelled for some reason to read the letter in his bag. She feared that even after everything, the reason was jealousy.

She suspected he'd awakened when she'd left the pallet, but he said nothing as she went through his things. Really, what could he say after he'd gone through hers?

Once more, she eased the letter out and opened it, frowning to find it was from the Valkyrie Nïx, and intended for Mari. Why hadn't MacRieve given it to her? Instead the bastard had broken the seal and read it!

After a glare in his direction, she skimmed the lines.

Mariketa,

Happy Accession! Behold, a gift. A skeleton key of sorts... a piece of the puzzle for the Witch in the Glass.

Fondly as ever,

Lady Nïx,

Proto-Valkyrie

My mother says I must not pass

Too near that glass;

She is afraid that I will see

A little witch that looks like me,

With a red, red mouth to whisper low

The very thing I should not know!

PS: You still owe me fifty bucks.

What—the—hell?

What glass? Was the mother Mari's own? Why would Nïx think Mari would need this?

Mari had known Nïx all her life, and she was aware that, as confused as Nïx always seemed, the Valkyrie did not do things without reason. In fact, Mari had been around her enough to know that everything she did—no matter how seemingly inconsequential or crazed-sounding—was done with purpose, from a stray word to an absent touch.

With that in mind, Mari took the letter and padded past MacRieve and the fire toward the water. At the pool, she knelt down and peered at the smooth surface, wondering if the words could be an incantation.

Mari's spell casting was hit-or-miss at best, and witches were most vulnerable to another's spells when they cast their own. Spells opened the gates, and anything could get in.

As Elianna taught, "Reach for power, leave your power vulnerable."

Mari's uncontrollable, near useless power. What was there to lose, truly? Besides the ability to send MacRieve airborne?

Decided, she began to murmur the words, once, twice... on the third recitation, her reflection began to shift as if the pool had been disturbed. Then she saw something she never expected. Her eyes looked like mirrors and her hair swirled about her head, though Mari felt her hair heavy down her back in the windless cave. It was her in the water, but it wasn't.

"What... what is this?" she whispered.

The reflection spoke, answering, "A conjuration."

Mari was actually conjuring? "Who are you?" she breathed in amazement.

"You," the reflection replied.

"But how?"

"You are the Mirror Witch. Reflections conduct your powers to you." The voice was Mari's own, but distorted—the way wind sounded different sieving through misted leaves.

"I can divine by mirror?" She knew of a few witches who could do this, and it was a handy talent to have.

"You are a true captromancer."

Whoa. Not just a handy talent. Captromancers were extremely rare. They were said to be able not only to divine by mirrors, as astromancers did with stars, but to use them as focusing tools, protective talismans—and even as portals for travel. "But I don't understand. I've never used a mirror to aid my magick."

"Come with me—I'll show you."

Mari pulled back, fear like ice building inside her veins. "In there?"

"Are you ready, Mari?"

"R-ready for what?" She felt danger warring with allure, her compulsion battling her aversion. This could be a trick by a sorceress, a spell to divert Mari's powers from her. She shook her head wildly. "No, I'm not ready... not ready... "

When a pale hand broke the surface of the water, Mari wanted to lunge back, to escape this, but was transfixed by the glistening apple offered in the nearly transparent palm. In that sighing voice, the reflection coaxed, "Just have a taste... "