“Uh, Moth?”
“Fiona, I wish you could see this! I’ve never seen this constellation before…”
“Moth, look,” Fiona insisted, tugging at his sleeve. “The mirror…”
So far, they’d never seen anything in the mirror except themselves. But now the gleaming surface swirled and churned, distorting the world around them. When it finally cleared, they saw the image of a creature in the glass, something they had never seen before, not in their entire lives.
Something impossible.
THE WOMAN ON THE ROCK
MOTH REMEMBERED ALL of Leroux’s tales vividly. The old knight had always loved telling stories about the Reach and the strange beings he had met in this world. He had once told Moth that the Skylords themselves were angelic beings, so beautiful that any man who looked at one too long would be blinded. The rivers were filled with water sprites, said Leroux, and on moonlit nights unicorns ran through the fields. But Leroux had never once mentioned dragons. Dragons didn’t exist. Even if they did, dragons didn’t smoke pipes. And yet that was exactly what Moth and Fiona had seen in the mirror, clearly and precisely.
It was hard to tell how big the creature was, the mirror being so small. It sat alone in a darkened room, paging through a book with its taloned fingers. Rings of smoke spiraled from its pipe, clenched between pointed teeth. Amazingly, the thing wore spectacles. They were the kind of glasses old people wore, perched on the edge of its nose. Occasionally the dragon ran a tongue across its lips as it turned the page, sipping from a tea cup.
For a long while Moth and Fiona gazed into the mirror, marveling at the dragon’s long tail and yellow reptilian eyes. Then, Fiona had a terrible thought.
“What if it can see us, too?” she said. “What if it knows we’re watching it?”
Moth quickly covered the star machine in its cloth. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was move. The instrument had pointed them toward a range of tall, tree-covered hills. Presuming they would find Merceron there, the pair headed off. But neither could shake the image they had seen from their minds.
“Why did that thing show us a dragon?” asked Fiona sourly. She bent down to pick up a stick, swishing it back and forth as she spoke. “Leroux never said Merceron was a dragon! He said for you to find a wizard.”
“Maybe Merceron is like Lady Esme,” ventured Moth. “Maybe he’s a real person, but he’s been turned into a dragon somehow.”
“Oh, great. Then how’s he supposed to help us? If he can’t even get himself back to normal…”
“I’m just saying, that’s all. If a kestrel can really be a woman, why can’t a wizard be a dragon?”
Fiona stopped walking. “Maybe we should turn back.”
“What? No, we can’t…”
“C’mon, Moth. A dragon? You know what dragons eat, don’t you?” Fiona poked him with her stick. “People.”
“Leroux said the star machine would help us,” argued Moth. “If it wants us to find the dragon, then that’s what I’m gonna do.” He snapped one of the canteens off his belt, but before taking a drink asked Fiona, “You want to go back home?”
“ ’Course not,” said Fiona without hesitation. “But I don’t want to be a dragon’s dinner either.”
“I guess I just trust Leroux more than you do,” said Moth, then took a long drink of water. After a moment Fiona gently pulled the canteen from his mouth.
“Go slow with the water,” she said. “Until we find some more we need to conserve it.”
Moth could tell Fiona was getting tired, because when she was tired she got bossy, too. “Here.” He handed her his canteen. “You better drink some yourself. The sun’s getting hotter.”
Fiona nodded. Even under the trees the day was growing warmer. They’d have to find water soon.
“We need to keep going,” said Moth. “Get to those hills as soon as we can.”
“We won’t make it before dark,” said Fiona as she trudged after Moth. “It’s too far.”
“Then we’ll get as far as we can.”
By noon it was too hot for them to wear their coats. They were knee-deep in wildflowers again, with a clear view of the hills that never seemed to get any closer.
Of the trio, only Lady Esme seemed tireless. She kept a watchful eye on Moth and Fiona as she wheeled overhead, scouting out the landscape. Moth glanced into the perfectly blue sky, wishing for rain.
“How come there’s no birds up there?” he wondered.
“Probably too hot for them.”
“No, really,” said Moth. “There were birds back there in the trees and those hummingbirds we saw, but none in the sky.”
“Maybe Esme scared them off. Kestrels eat other birds, don’t they?”
Moth wasn’t sure about that. Esme had been too spoiled, eating off Leroux’s plate, to bother with anything like hunting. “Weird though, don’t you think?”
Fiona trudged on, already bored with the conversation. “I’m thirsty,” she said. She stopped to take one of the canteens from her coat. “Just a little drink, okay?”
An hour later, they could go no further. A lazy breeze crawled through the valley. The din of crickets and wildlife sounded in the trees. Moth spotted a nook in one of the hillsides, the perfect place for them to rest.
Their stomachs rumbled and their feet ached from walking in their heavy boots. “Let’s stop for a good while, okay?” pleaded Fiona. “Maybe spend the night here.”
Suddenly, Lady Esme called down from the sky. She was flying directly above them now, her loud cries echoing through the valley.
“Is she talking to us?” asked Fiona.
Moth watched as Esme broke her spiral and flew out over the trees. “She wants us to follow,” he said. Together he and Fiona dashed after the bird, clambering over rocks and pushing through the trees. Moth broke through a thicket onto a gravelly slope, losing his footing and falling on his backside. Suddenly he was sliding down, down…
Face first, he tumbled into the water. He rolled himself upright, sputtering, up to his waist in an emerald-green lagoon.
“You all right?” asked Fiona frantically. She came down the slope after him, sending gravel spilling into the lake. Lady Esme dropped down onto Moth’s shoulder.
“Look at this place,” gasped Moth. In Calio, where all their water came from rain, there were no lakes. Moth had never seen one before, but he was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be green. “Look at that color…”
“Come out,” warned Fiona. “I can’t even see your feet.”
Moth cupped up some water. In his hands it was perfectly clear. Yet the half of his body submerged in it was invisible. He put the water to his lips and tasted.
“It’s fine,” he decided. “Better than fine!”
Fiona knelt down at the edge of the lake and fished out his coat. “You forgetting something?”
“The star machine!”
Moth watched as Fiona took it from his pocket, unwrapping it. Her eyes shot up in amazement. “It’s not even wet.”
“You see? Magic!” Moth spun through the water, heading out where it was deeper. “Maybe this isn’t water at all! Maybe it’s all melted emeralds.”
“Or maybe you’re just swimming in slime.”
“It’s not!” Moth shot back. Lady Esme flew from him to land beside Fiona. Moth laughed and fell back into the water, floating on his back. “Come on in, Fiona. Cool off with me!”
Fiona answered, “At least have the sense to take your boots off. You probably can’t even swim.”
“Nope, can’t swim a lick,” said Moth.
Fiona pulled off her boots, tossing them onto the slope with their coats. Moth sloshed toward Fiona, pulled off his boots and threw them into the pile, then put out his hand.