The Spriggan Mirror. Lawrence Watt-Evans
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there anyone else I should find for you?”
Gresh took a moment to think. He saw no obvious use for a warlock or a demonologist, so there was no reason to call on Difa or Shesta. He had already spoken to Chira. Pyata was the family theurgist; Karanissa had mentioned the odd fact that the gods couldn’t perceive spriggans at all, just as they sometimes couldn’t see warlocks or demons. Pyata had once said the same, so she wouldn’t be any help in dealing with the little nuisances, but she might be able to advise him about travel plans—the gods were usually reliable at predicting the weather, for example, and this time of year he wasn’t sure what temperatures to expect in the mountains.
That was hardly urgent, though, and besides, Tira’s husband Dar was a theurgist, as well, and could handle such simple matters.
He didn’t need any new clothes, nor any sort of expertise with fabrics or sewing, so there was no reason to talk to Ekava. Neva was at sea somewhere, not due back for a sixnight. The city guard had no business in the Small Kingdoms, so Deka would be no help. He would probably be bringing some healing herbs and perhaps a few interesting intoxicants along, but he would need to check his own stocks before troubling Setta, the herbalist. Her husband Neran the ship chandler might have some useful supplies if Gresh needed to climb around in the mountains, but that could wait until his plans were a little more advanced.
That left Akka, the ritual dancer, four years younger than Gresh.
“Don’t go out of your way, but if you see Akka or her husband, you could tell her I could use a dance of good fortune.”
“If I see Akka, maybe. If I talk to Tresen he’ll want to know what you’re planning and whether he can help.”
“Good point. Don’t tell Tresen anything, then, but if you see Akka…”
“Right. Anything else?”
“You might ask Dar about the weather in Dwomor for the next few sixnights when you get home.”
“I’d be happy to. It’s off to Wizard Street, then. Take care, little brother.” She rose from the table, and with a wave over her shoulder she headed for the back door.
Gresh and Twilfa watched her go. Once the door was closed, Twilfa leaned over and asked, “Why is she being so helpful? She wasn’t this morning.”
“Didn’t you hear her? I’m going to save the World. I think she likes the idea. You know what witches are like, always looking for ways to do good and insisting they don’t care about money. Here’s a chance for her to help her greedy brother do something really useful, instead of just fetching oddities for wizards.” He grimaced. “Not to mention that even witches are getting fed up with the spriggans.”
“Oh. Oh, I suppose so.” Twilfa glanced at the door just as the front bell jingled. She hopped up to answer it.
Gresh did not rise. Twilfa could handle ordinary business, and she would call him if he was needed. Right now he wanted to think about what he should bring to Dwomor.
He had already decided that Dwomor would be the first stop; that seemed to be where everything had started. He intended to travel by flying carpet, if the one Tobas had was large enough; that would be much faster than anything else available. If it wasn’t large enough, well—he would deal with that if it became necessary. That meant he could not bring very many bags, and it also meant he couldn’t travel alone. Tobas would, of necessity, be coming with him, since Gresh did not know how to operate a flying carpet and could hardly expect Tobas to trust him with it in any case. That was not a problem; Tobas would probably be useful, and it shouldn’t be very hard to distract him on any occasion Gresh did not want company.
He would not bring anything wizardly, then—that would be Tobas’s responsibility. He would want to discuss that with him and make sure the wizard had all the ingredients he needed for any spells he knew that might be helpful.
He would have Chira’s talisman to help him spot movement. Now, were there any other sorcerous devices he might bring? He had a handful in the shop, but half of them were not functioning. After some thought he decided that the other half didn’t have any obvious applications for this expedition.
He would need to bring money and his usual assortment of tools, and since he was undoubtedly going to be dealing with spriggans, he thought some snares would be useful. He would also bring a bag of candy—he had heard that spriggans liked honey-drops.
He had a set of snares and nets intended for catching rabbits or hawks, but they should serve well enough for spriggans.
Were there any particular trade goods that might be useful in mountainous country? Nothing came immediately to mind.
He mulled over possibilities for several minutes, until Twilfa called him to help a customer whose needs were somewhat esoteric, and who did not trust a teenaged assistant to meet them.
Trade was brisk for the next hour or so, and he became so involved in conducting his normal business that Dina’s arrival caught him by surprise. “What can I get for you?” he asked, before he remembered that he had sent for her.
“A less troublesome brother,” she replied.
He smiled crookedly and gestured for her to follow him to the chairs by the fire. “Well, I’m afraid the supply is limited, and we’ll just have to see if we can modify the one you have, rather than replace him. I’m sorry, Dina; thank you for coming. I hope the transmutation spell went well?”
“I haven’t done it,” she said. “It takes eight hours, so I have to do it at night, when I won’t be interrupted. I don’t have an apprentice to stand guard, not since Inria made journeyman.”
“Oh, of course. I hope it will go well, then.” He gestured for her to sit.
She remained standing. “What did you want me for, Gresh?”
Gresh glanced around. Twilfa was making change for the last of the other customers over at the far side of the shop. The vault was standing open, and the fire was burning low, but otherwise everything was in order. No one appeared to be listening in—though of course someone might be using a scrying spell on them. The shop was warded against such spells, but no ward was perfect.
“Have a seat, please, Dina; I have some questions I need to ask you.”
“What sort of questions?”
“To begin with, tell me everything you know about Lugwiler’s Haunting Phantasm.”
“Lugwiler’s…? You know the basics, don’t you? It’s a third-order invocation requiring a mirror, black sand, spider’s ichor, a rat’s eyeball, three crow feathers, the long outside bone from a bat’s left wing, and the wizard’s own saliva.” She made a surreptitious gesture indicating that there was another ingredient she was not listing, which did not surprise Gresh. He knew that most spells used the wizard’s dagger somehow, and that for some reason this was not ordinarily mentioned. She settled into the chair, still speaking. “It’s generally used as a minor curse and has no obvious other use, though it’s always possible someone might think of one. It’s handy in that it doesn’t require anything from the intended victim, not even a true name, though in normal usage it won’t take effect until a line of sight is established between the victim and the enchanted mirror. It can be triggered by a command from the wizard when he sees that connection, or set as a booby-trap for the next person who happens into the mirror’s effective area. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I’ve been asked to retrieve a mirror that was used in a failed attempt at it,” he said, taking the other chair. “Are there known ways it can fail?”
“Well, yes, of course—it can dissipate harmlessly, or attach the curse to the wizard instead of the intended victim, or detonate the mirror, which wouldn’t leave anything to retrieve.”
“Detonate?”
“Explode. Shards of glass or metal everywhere. One of Dabran’s apprentices did that once and almost took out her own eye, not to mention smashing