Vandor was still struggling with what to say when Mendel entered.
The avaricious gleam in the crooked figure’s eyes immediately informed the thief that Mendel would have little patience today. His obsession with the crest had grown and grown.
“You have it? You have it?”
“No, Mendel, but-”
His master’s fury shocked even him this time. Mendel roared, unable to even articulate. He raised the staff high and, to Vandor’s horror, struck not at the frame, but this time at the mirror itself. He smashed hard and hard again, without holding back.
“Incompetent! Bungler!” Again the staff struck. “Fool!”
As he raised the wooden staff for a third strike, Mendel caught himself, for suddenly the mage lowered the staff, his eyes wide. Anger barely held in check, he leaned forward to inspect the magical mirror. Vandor, on the other side, was reeling from the blows. Mendel’s foul visage filled his vision.
“No damage. Nuitari be praised,” the old man muttered, apparently not recalling for the moment that his god, like all the others, no longer graced the heavens of Krynn.
Grizt spoke, seizing the moment and praying that his own cleverness would not defeat him. “Master, it is true I do not have the crest, but I think I’m close to its discovery!”
The anger in Mendel’s eyes faded a bit, replaced by a wary interest. “How so?”
Now the lie must be convincing. “When I searched tonight, I came across Prester. He looked very furtive, as if he had just come from some place important, some place deep in his sanctum-”
“Could mean anything.”
“Yes, but he carried with him an object similar to that one you had me steal for you but a month ago. Remember that tiny emerald spider?”
The emerald spider had been an old talisman Mendel had come across by accident. A merchant traveling through the region had been carrying it along with his other goods, gems, and jewelry befitting his noble clientele. Mendel had spotted it and had known it immediately for a magical artifact. With so few competent mages of the old school left, many items such as the spider had fallen into the hands of the unwary and then disappeared forever into their houses.
Two nights later, Vandor had reached out from the glittering reflections of the merchant’s gem collection and taken the spider. Mendel, ecstatic, took only a few minutes to leech the power from the artifact, not great power, but it had enabled the vulturish man to cast modest spells for several days.
“Did the artifact he carried appear to mask an inner fire, buffoon? Did it evince life?”
“If it once did, Prester no longer cared. As I watched, he discarded it into a rubbish container.”
Mendel rubbed his chin. “So he had already drained it of its magic, then.”
“Yes, that is what I supposed, but the important thing is he brought it from another place of hiding, where there must be other magical artifacts. You see? You were right as usual, Mendel! Prester must have the Arcyan Crest! Now I know it’s only a matter of time until I find it!”
“No.” The crooked figure stared down the ghostly thief. “It is only a matter of one night. One night, Grizt! I’m tired of waiting! Bring me the Arcyan Crest tomorrow morning or you’ll discover I’ve been merely gentle with you so far. . ”
Vandor swallowed hard. “One night?”
“I tire of these delays. . and your excuses!” Mendel shouted.
Vandor appeased him quickly. “I’ll find it, Mendel. I promise!”
A calculating look formed in Mendel’s dark eyes. “If you do, you might even get your body back. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dandy? To walk as a living, breathing bit of flesh again? I won’t really have much need of you any more once you find me the crest. I could let you go this time. . ”
Despite knowing that he could never bring Mendel the artifact in question, the thief could not help but feel hopeful. “Freedom? You’ll grant me my freedom?”
“First find me the Arcyan Crest.”
Mendel turned, dismissing both the mirror and the thief within. Vandor watched him go, knowing that the black-robed figure was already busy plotting uses for the legendary artifact. Mendel shut the door to the chamber, all but forgetting Vandor.
How could he give his master what no longer existed?
He had one desperate idea. Perhaps Vandor could find something, another precious object, that might fool the mage, that might fool him long enough for Mendel to bestow his reward, releasing Grizt’s body and allowing him to regain life. Once human again, Vandor could conceivably escape before Mendel learned the truth. It was far-fetched. It was dangerous. It was the only hope he had.
The day passed unmercifully slowly, interrupted by only two brief appearances from his master. The night came at last. Vandor waited for Mendel, for only Mendel had the power to compel the mirror to send him on his tasks.
Finally the mage stalked in, left hand clutching the cursed medallion. “Well? Why aren’t you off yet? You will go to the home of the red robe Prester, you will go only there, and you will search all night if need be! You will find the Arcyan Crest! Understood?”
“Yes, Mendel, I understand.” Released by the medallion, Vandor wasted not a moment more, darting into the mirror realm. He had to find some object he could use to replace the one he had let be destroyed, something that might fool Mendel. Unfortunately, it would have to come from Thorin Prester’s domain; Mendel had commanded he go only there, and thanks to the magic of the medallion, Vandor had to obey that command.
Within seconds, the thief of mirrors entered the former red robe’s house. He darted from one reflective surface to the next, searching Prester’s home from top to bottom. . room after room. . leaving the child’s chamber to the last. Vandor feared to go there, feared that the young girl with magical gifts might catch him again.
What a fool he was! What a fool! Why had he ever lied to Mendel? Doing so would only make matters worse for Vandor in the end. The black robe would punish him not only for losing the legendary artifact but for trying to lie about it as well.
One possible place where there might be other valuables was Prester’s own room. Vandor had searched it before, but now he knew he must search it again.
Prester still slept deeply as Vandor searched his bedchamber one more time, appearing and reappearing in one reflective surface after another. Reaching out of the large mirror overlooking the man’s desk, Vandor hunted through the small wooden chest he had noticed on previous visits. Unfortunately, the chest contained nothing the thief needed. Time was running out. There were few places left to search. Vandor grew frantic.
He suddenly sensed eyes watching him. They belonged not to Prester, for that one still slept solidly, but rather to a smaller, unfortunately familiar presence.
“I knew you’d come back.”
The sun could only be a few minutes away from rising. Vandor had no time for little girls with frightening abilities. He immediately dove back into the mirror.
That is to say, he attempted to do so. The thief of shadows struggled, head and arms trapped on the outside of the glass. He eyed the young wizard fearfully, not knowing any longer whether he feared her or Mendel’s wrath more. “I don’t have your brooch any more!” Vandor desperately explained. “Let me go, please!”
The child glanced at her father, who still slept soundly despite all the commotion. Her gaze returned to Vandor, and she said, “You’ll bum again.” When her prisoner said nothing, she frowned. “If you stay outside the mirror, will you burn again?”
“Yes! By blessed Shinare, yes!”
“I’m sorry.”
A gust suddenly hurled Vandor completely into Prester’s looking glass. He tried immediately to flee but could not move.
The girl came over to the mirror. She stared into it, giggling. “I can see myself standing next to you!”