Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) (22 page)

Royal Tailor and Chief Artificer of the Courts of Arcadia

Welcome, Noble Guests

I had no idea what an artificer was, but it sounded kind of…stuffy.

Uriskel gripped the huge iron ring mounted on the door and glanced back with a pained expression. “Are you certain we’ve a need to do this?” he said. “I’ve contacts in the Gray Market. Surely we could find something suitable there.”

“Go on,” Taeral said. “It’s not
that
bad.”

“Isn’t it?” He sighed deeply, turned back to the door and banged the ring against it three times. The hollow booms echoed in the stillness of the courtyard.

The door creaked slowly open onto darkness.

“Oh, come on,” Sadie said. “You’re telling me that’s not suspicious?”

Uriskel rolled his eyes and walked inside. After a brief hesitation, we followed.

The interior of the place was even worse than the outside. Dull, ambient light with no apparent source revealed a cavern of a main room with an enormous crystal chandelier suspended in the center of a high ceiling, and a wide marble staircase at the far end with a landing halfway up, where more stairs split off to the left and right. Thick layers of dust and massive, intricate cobwebs in fans and sheets covered everything.

And rows of motionless silhouettes stood guard at the edges of the room, just beyond the faint light.

“May I help you?”

The voice, like personified thunder speaking through a mouthful of molasses, came from a pocket of gloom to the right of the door. I focused on the spot and made out a misshapen slab of a man, almost as tall as Taeral and twice as wide. He was completely bald, with a craggy brow, deep-set eyes, and huge, square teeth that leaned like a rotted picket fence. One shoulder was higher than the other. His forearms bulged with a network of raised veins, and his feet were the size of hams.

Great. The mirror mender’s butler was Igor on steroids.

“We’ve come for the services of the mirror mender.” Uriskel spoke in a tone I’d never heard from him before. Cold and dismissive, almost haughty. “Present us at once.”

Igor the Terrible looked unimpressed. “Speak the phrase, then,” he said. “All those who seek audience with—”

“Yes, I am aware of the protocol.” Uriskel’s jaw clenched hard. “
Deínahm alaen doun.
”

Make me beautiful?

“Welcome, noble guests.” Igor bowed deeply, and then pulled a tattered velvet cord I hadn’t noticed hanging beside him. It rang the loudest bell I’d ever heard, with enough force to shake a shower of dust from the chandelier.

“Oh, joy,” Uriskel murmured. “We’ve been granted an audience. How fortunate.”

I would’ve said something back, but I was busy staring at the impossible thing sliding down the left staircase to stop on the landing. It looked like a pile of jumbled scrap metal in the dim light. When it stopped, a pair of torches flared to life behind it.

The mirror mender was a person-sized robot spider.

Okay, maybe spider was the wrong word. It—she—was made of metal. A vaguely human-shaped torso floated a few inches above something that looked like the bottom half of a mermaid, except with the tail of a snake instead of a fish. A large, round crystal ball, glowing a pale blue, nestled at the top of the gap where her waist should’ve been, just below the narrow point of the torso. A similar crystal rested at the top of her neck, and the head floating above it was insectile, with closed mandibles and three jeweled eyes—two in the normal places, and the other centered on her forehead.

She had two segmented metal arms in front. And eight or ten more sprouting from her back, each tipped with an…implement. Scythes, pincers, hooks, pointed rods, and at least one that looked like scissors.

Her eyes flashed four times. Once for each of us. And as she slithered soundlessly down the main staircase, she spoke in a metallic and measured voice, like an automated phone recording or a badly programmed GPS.

“Prince Uriskel. Lord Taeral. And guests. Wel-come, wel-come.” Her wasp-like mouth didn’t move with the monotone words—and the effect was chilling. “I do hope you have brought me a challenge.”

“We have.” Straining with effort, Taeral pushed away and managed to stand on his own. “The arm you crafted me has been…damaged,” he said. “If it pleases you, I’d like a replacement.”

“Wonderful. Wonderful.” Her eyes flashed again. “But you are in such a state. None of you will leave until I have clothed you in a fitting manner.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Uriskel said flatly.

“I insist. This is no way for a prince to dress.” Her head bobbed down in disapproval. “Oh, but we were not expecting such noble company. Were we, Sharde.”

Apparently that was Igor’s name, because he shambled closer and said, “No, mistress. ‘Tis a pleasant surprise.”

“Forgive me. You must give me a moment to tidy up.”

The mirror mender clapped her flat, hinged hands together.

An explosion of light rippled outward from her, filling the great room with brilliance. And when it faded, all the dust and cobwebs went with it. The chandelier blazed to life, transforming the gloomy cavern to a breathtaking showplace of a palace, dripping with luxurious reverence. Gleaming marble, polished wood and brass, silk banner draped from the ceiling and over the rails of the upper balcony. The frozen silhouettes around the edge of the room were mannequins—male and female, eerily lifelike, and wearing the kind of outfits I’d only seen in movies. All dolled up for the royal ball.

Standing there made me feel underdressed, even though I’d never cared about formalities like that in my life.

“Wake up. Wake up, everyone.” With strangely graceful movements, the mirror mender drifted around the borders of the room, touching a select few of the exquisite female mannequins.

Each one she touched came to attention, stepped off its pedestal, and followed the royal tailor as she added more attendants to the parade.

“Oh, fantastic,” Uriskel groaned. “Nymphs.”

The last mannequin she brought to life was a male, dressed in a midnight blue suit with long coattails over a white shirt with frilled lace cuffs, open at the throat. She returned to the center of the room, facing us, and the small army gathered behind her.

“Please. Step into my parlor,” the mirror mender said in her droning, machine-like voice. “We have so much to discuss. And as fortune favors us, it happens to be tea time.”

I was too fascinated to even think about refusing.

C
HAPTER 31

T
he parlor was just as decadent as the great room, and I felt even more like a scrub.

Four cushioned chairs, arranged in a semi-circle, were somehow waiting for us when Sharde showed us into the room. Taeral had started to flag and stumble, and Sadie helped him into the second chair before settling in the first. She hadn’t said a word since the appearance of the mirror mender, and she still looked half-stunned.

I sat beside Taeral, and Uriskel reluctantly took the last seat. “I’ll not escape this, will I?” he said, leaning forward slightly to look across me at Taeral. “You
know
what she’ll demand as payment.”

“Aye, and I hope you’ve something to give her,” he replied. “I’ve not set foot in Arcadia for thirty years, now.”

Uriskel huffed and folded his arms. “Splendid. I suppose I’ve no choice, then.”

I frowned. “What are we supposed to pay her with?”

“Her most valued coin in trade,” Taeral said with a sidelong smile. “Royal gossip.”

Before I could think too hard about that, the mirror mender swept in with a cloud of nymphs at her heels—well, her tail. Two of them pushed a wheeled silver cart in front of us, laden with…tea things. A large ceramic pot, a collection of lidded canisters, stacks of delicate porcelain cups and saucers, a bowl of glittering sugar cubes.

Uriskel actively tried to disappear into his chair.

The mirror mender glided to the other side of the cart, emitting a strange, tuneless hum. “What shall we serve. Primrose. Bluebell.” She lifted various lids from canisters and put them back. “No. Blackthorn and wild thyme. Quite fitting for the occasion.”

And she went to work.

All of her arms moved at once, almost faster than I could follow. One of them produced a steady jet of fire beneath the teapot while the rest placed cups on saucers and measured powders into cups, preparing four of them in a complicated dance of clicking, clattering metal. Her torso bobbed up and down rhythmically, and the tuneless hum evolved into a series of chirps and fluttering trills, like a whole flock of songbirds.

The instant the teapot whistled out steam, her extra arms snapped back into place. She picked up the pot with her front hands and serenely poured water into the cups, one at a time. “Wonderful. Wonderful,” she said. “The tea is ready.”

Four pincer arms snaked from her back. With perfect synchronization, each of them dropped a lump of sugar in a cup, picked up a spoon and stirred the brew, and extended a cup and saucer to each of us—except Taeral, who only got a cup.

“Thank you,” Sadie and I murmured at the same time, while Taeral offered a slow nod and a smile. Uriskel just glared a lot.

I figured it couldn’t be as dreadful as Uriskel insisted it was. It was only tea, after all, and there was sugar in it. So I blew on the steaming liquid for a minute, took a tentative sip—and damn near gagged.

Okay, it was worse than dreadful. The stuff tasted like hot, sugary dirt.

The mirror mender flashed her eyes at me. “How is your tea, young master.”

“Delightful,” I managed to squeak out. I’d just stop blowing on it and drink it fast. Maybe that way it’d burn my tongue, and I wouldn’t have to taste it.

Taeral’s eyes held restrained amusement. Somehow he drank normally without choking, and then raised his cup in a salute. “Refreshing, as always,” he said smoothly. “I do enjoy a good spot of tea.”

Sadie shot a glance at him and sipped from her cup. Then she closed her eyes for a long moment. “It’s sweet,” she finally said with a slight cough. “And…earthy.”

Everyone looked at Uriskel.

He made a low sound deep in his throat, and tossed the entire cup down like a shot. “I’ve a friend who would call this bloody fantastic,” he rumbled, and added under his breath, “Though I’d not.”

The mirror mender bobbed her head and managed to look pleased. “Splendid. Splendid. Another cup then, Prince Uriskel.”

His lip curled as he extended the cup and saucer toward her. “It would be my pleasure,” he forced out.

“Marvelous.” Her many arms whirled into motion again. “I have already planned the perfect outfit for each of you. And if I may be so bold, I should like to confer with the prince and the lord to discuss payment. Sharde. Please allow our young master and mistress to explore the grounds.”

The expression on Uriskel’s face clearly said
kill me now
.

I hadn’t even seen Sharde come back into the room. But suddenly the butler, or whatever he was, stood beside the chairs with his hands behind his back. “If you’ll kindly come with me,” he said. There was no request in his tone.

Sadie and I both got up, and two metal arms whisked our cups away. “Thank you. Thank you,” the mirror mender said. “Sharde will of course summon you, when your garments are ready.”

She was still madly preparing tea as we followed Sharde out.

“How much longer do you think they’ll be?”

Sadie sat next to me on the ground beneath a leafless, silver-white tree, fidgeting nervously with the moonstone. It’d been hours since Sharde showed us through a back door into a vast, meticulously tended yard with multiple gardens and rolling stretches of grass. Whatever the mirror mender had done to transform the inside of the castle, the same thing had happened outside. Now it was all gleaming white stone and fertile landscape.

We’d already walked a full circuit of the stone wall surrounding the castle grounds. Beyond this oasis, the rest of the Autumn Highlands appeared gray and lifeless. A lot of rocky ground, buckled canyon-like passages, and distant fog. Even the moon didn’t seem to shine as brightly here.