Brandel supplied them each with a room and a warm bath-which the cats declined-and Morwen made certain that the others were settled in before she retired herself.
The following morning, Morwen rose early. Even so, Telemain was up before she was. She found him in the topmost room of the tower, sitting in front of the dead ashes of the fire and staring at Brandel's magic mirror with an expression of concentration on his face. On the far side of the room, Killer slept with his head down and his oversized wings flopped awkwardly across his back.
"Good morning," Morwen said as she climbed the last few stairs.
"How are your magic levels?"
"Much better," Telemain said absently. "Morwen, how much do you know about these old universal-application units?" He waved at the mirror.
"Using them or enchanting them?"
"Using them."
"(Quite a bit," Morwen said. "Forty years ago they were standard equipment for witches, and learning to use them is still considered part of a witch's basic education. Why?"
"How universal is the universal application?" Telemain asked.
"It depends on the mirror. Can't you figure it out from looking at the underlying enchantment?"
Telemain frowned. "Probably, but it's not a good idea to take a working antique apart unless you absolutely have to. They're old and fragile, and if I popped one of the main core links it could take days to repair."
Morwen suppressed a sigh of irritation. There was no point in snapping at Telemain when he was in this mood. He wouldn't notice. "It would help if you told me what you want to do with it."
"I was considering the possibility of using the mirror as a locating device," Telemain said. "If the universal-application portion of the enchantment is truly universal…"
"... then we can use it to find Mendanbar's sword," Morwen said.
"What an excellent suggestion. I should have thought of it myself.
Back at the castle, perhaps, when it would have saved us some time."
"It wouldn't have done any good then." Telemain bent over the mirror, oblivious to Morwen's sarcasm. "The enchantment on the castle mirror is limited to animate, sentient beings, and while Mendanbar's sword is occasionally temperamental, it is neither animate nor sentient. Now, if you'll just show me where the external connectors are, I'll hook this to a low-level identification spell and-" "If all you want to do is find Mendanbar's sword, you shouldn't need an identification spell.
The mirror is quite capable of handling the whole thing itself, if it's approached correctly."
"Who's approaching what, and why do you have to be correct about it?"
Cimorene asked, climbing the last few stairs into the room. Trouble, who seemed to have been escorting her, bounded over the last step and stopped dead in his tracks. Cimorene did not quite trip over him, but it was a near thing.
"Telemain wants to use Brandel's mirror to find the sword," Morwen said, giving Trouble a reproving look. Trouble looked away and wandered casually toward Killer, who raised his head and blinked sleepily at the cat.
Dubiously, Cimorene examined the mirror. "Can it do that?"
"I see no reason why not," Morwen said. "You heard what it said last night about hunting for the fairest in the land. If it can do that, it ought to be able to look for a sword."
"Good," said Cimorene.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call."
Nothing happened. "What's the matter?" said Cimorene. "Is it broken?"
"Possibly," Telemain said. "Antique spells are easily disrupted."
"They're also cranky," said Morwen. Stepping forward, she tapped the mirror briskly on the left side.
Immediately, the mirror turned white, as if someone had thrown a large bucket of milk at the reverse side. "Now what?" it said, sounding extremely cross.
"I want to see where Mendanbar's sword is," Cimorene told it.
"Too bad," said the mirror. "I told you yesterday, that has to be specified in the verse. Get it right, or don't bother asking. I really can't make any more exceptions." Without waiting for an objection, the mirror turned its usual blotchy silver.
"Come back here!" said Cimorene, but the mirror remained obstinately silver.
"Hmph," said Morwen. "I suppose I should have expected this. My first magic mirror used to be irritable in the mornings, too."
"What can we do about it?" Cimorene asked.
"Give me a minute to think."
"I could constrain a certain level of performance," Telemain said, frowning. "However, the accuracy of the information obtained might leave something to be desired. On the other hand-" "Better think fast," Trouble said to Morwen.
Footsteps sounded in the stairwell. "You're all up early," said Brandel.
"Would you like some breakfast?"
"I'd like your blasted mirror to cooperate," Cimorene muttered under her breath.
"Got it," Morwen said. "Move over, Cimorene."
"Mirror, mirror, on a hook, Where's the sword the wizards took?"
As the mirror's surface reluctantly faded to white, Telemain stared at Morwen in disbelief. "You call that a spell?"
"It rhymes and it scans," Morwen said. "What more do you want at this hour of the morning? And on the spur of the moment, too."
"I agree with him," the mirror said. "That was a lousy couplet."
"If you'd found us the sword to begin with, you wouldn't have had to listen to it," Morwen said, unperturbed. "Do your job."
Cimorene leaned forward. "And this time, please don't-" Whirling colors filled the mirror, and a soft but penetrating off-key hum echoed through the room.
"-hum," Cimorene finished, half a second too late. "Bother!"
"As long as it finds the sword for us, I don't care if it sings an aria backward," Morwen said. "If it annoys you that much, put your fingers in your ears."
Trouble jumped onto the window ledge and curled his tail around his feet. Two seconds later, Scorn and Horatio tore out of the stairwell and raced around the room, startling Killer into wakefulness. A loud bray drowned out the mirror's humming, and Brandel winced. As the cats settled onto various pieces of furniture for their morning wash, Cimorene nudged Morwen's side. "Look! It's working."
Morwen turned back to the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. The glass had cleared to show a large, ramshackle house with two chimneys and a steeply pointed roof. The windows were made up of small glass rectangles, and ivy covered most of them so thickly that it seemed unlikely that anyone could see out.
"That's the central office of the Society of Wizards?" Cimorene said.
"No," Telemain replied. "Apparently I was wrong, and they aren't keeping the sword at the central office. It's a good thing I thought to check."
He sounded extremely smug. "Now all we have to do is find out where that house is."
"It's about five miles past the edge of the swamp," Brandel said.
"Right outside the town where I grew up. But I don't think knowing that does you much good."
"Why do you say that?" Morwen asked.
"Because you said the Society of Wizards stole this sword you're after.
That house belongs to Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist."
"What?"
"You mean it's the wrong place?" Cimorene said. "After all that?"
"It is not the wrong place? the mirror said indignantly. "I've been a magic mirror for one hundred and forty-seven years, and I haven't made a mistake yet. Look here!"
The scene in the glass swooped and whirled dizzyingly, and then the view plunged through one of the ivy-covered windows into a dimly lit room.
Inside, two men sat at a dusty table, drinking black coffee and contemplating a shiny sword lying on the table between them. One of them was bald and sharp faced, while the other"That's Antorell!"