The mirror room.
A workshop cabin full of glass sheets, silver, an oven, and a bunch of things whose use I didn’t understand. Put them together, and what do you get? Mirrors. Lots of mirrors.
Use of mirrors is one of the few things Eastern witchcraft and sorcery have in common. Glass with a silver backing reflecting light is used in all manner of things. For necromancy? Well, form a connection with the Halls in order to create a link with a higher plane, then bounce it off mirrors to symbolically reflect it through the manor; the odd backwardness in places, where things were on the wrong side of the hall, or up when they should be down, was just a side effect of the spell.
Well, so what? I mean, I’d already tried to hit one of the damn things, and all I’d gotten was a numb hand.
“Lady Teldra, Boss,” said the brains of the outfit.
Damn.
“That could be interesting. When did you think of it?”
“First time you hit the mirror.”
“Why didn’t you mention it then?”
“Because it could be interesting.”
Straight ahead to the ballroom, then up—a stairway up that actually went up. Around the edge of the balcony, and there was the mirror room. I pulled the door open.
Was I really going to do this?
“Ready, Loiosh?”
“Not really, Boss.”
Of course I was going to do this. I drew Lady Teldra. She had her most usual form, the thin, very long knife or very short sword. Without giving myself time to consider consequences, I picked out the nearest mirror, thought, Verra, I hope this doesn’t kill me, and gave it a good, hard, backhand cut right across the middle.
This time, the transition was not smooth. It wasn’t subtle, either. I felt like my teeth were about to rattle themselves out of my head, the room spun, there was a roaring in my ears, and then I was facedown, still holding Lady Teldra.
I opened my eyes. The floor was a hard, manufactured substance of pure white. I turned my head, and there was a wall next to me that seemed to be made of the same thing.
“Hello, my dear. Would you mind terribly putting that away?”
I knew that odd, weird, echoey voice.
I raised my head. “Goddess?”
“Whom were you expecting?” said Verra. “Please be so kind as to sheathe your weapon, my love.”
“Where are Loiosh and Rocza?”
“They didn’t come through whatever strange device brought you to me.”
I got up on my knees, stared at Lady Teldra, then sheathed her.
“Thank you,” said Verra. “So, little Vladimir, what brought you to me today?”
“Yeah,” I said. I stood up slowly. I seemed to be all right. “Yeah, that would be my first question. But don’t worry, there are others. A lot of others.”
“Goodness,” she said. “Well then, be comfortable.”
We were sitting—her in a big chair on a raised dais, me in something padded and comfortable. I’m not even talking about the sudden travel without teleport, just suddenly appearing somewhere else. I was getting bored with it.
“Let’s start,” said my patron goddess, “with how you got here. What happened?”
“I hit a magic mirror with a Great Weapon in a house that travels from the past to the future and contains halls that exist necromantically across worlds, including the Halls of Judgment—you know, like you do.”
“Ah,” said Verra. “I see.”
“Good. Then explain it?”
“You refer to a magic mirror. What is the enchantment?”
“Goddess, what in the world would make you think I’d know that?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She looked thoughtful. “You meant it, when you said past and future?”
“I know about the past, I’m pretty sure about the future.”
“Connected by hallways.”
“And doors, yeah. Mostly doors.”
“So someone did it.”
“Yeah, someone did it. Did what?”
“Something the Vallista have been attempting for thousands of years. Tens of thousands. But someone managed it. Now, of all times. Was it a Vallista?”
“Yeah. What do you mean, now of all times?”
“I’ve suspected, my beautiful young Vladimir, but I didn’t know.” She smiled. “We should celebrate.”
“Celebrate. Right. Yes. Let’s celebrate. What are we celebrating?”
A table popped into existence next to me, then a glass cup formed like a flower. She also had one, and a bottle.
“Come,” she said.
“All right.”
I got up and went over to her, climbed the dais, and let her pour the wine, then I went back and sat down again.
She raised her glass. “The end of an era.”
“What era?”
“A very, very long era.”
“And, it just ended today?”
“No, no. It ended more than two hundred years ago. I just wasn’t sure until today.”
“Well, good then. I guess all of my questions are answered.”
“Vlad, your sarcasm grows wearisome. If you continue, I won’t give you any more wine.”
“Fine, fine.”
I raised my cup and drank some. “Dear Goddess!” I said.
“Yes?”
“Uh, this is, this is really, really good.”
“Yes. I’ve been saving it.”
“I mean, really good.”
“Shut up and drink.”
“Yes, Goddess.”
I drank some more, trying to commit it to memory. It was sweet, very sweet, but without the annoying too-much that usually comes with sweet wine. It was like drinking light, like drinking purity, and all of it was doing a dance on my tongue that defied me to pull the pieces apart.
“That is, well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, ah, just what are we celebrating?”
“Don’t think, Vlad. Concentrate on the wine.”
Yeah, that was a good plan. I did that. I would kill for wine like that. Okay, I guess that’s not saying much, what with all the things I’ve killed for. But you know what I mean.
The wine took up all of my thinking for three cups, at which time, alas, it was gone. But if I die tomorrow, I’ve had that. It was almost enough to make me forgive the goddess for, well, everything else she had ever done.
“All right,” I said, putting my cup down. “What exactly have we just celebrated?”
“The end of an era, as I said. And that, I’m afraid, is as much time as I can spare. This is big, my dear Vlad. There are things I must do, things I must prepare, gods in whose face I must laugh while crying in my best theatrical voice, ‘Told I thee not so?’”
“Uh, what?”
“I should bring you back to where you were. Mmm. That may be difficult. I think I can manage it by—”
“Goddess!”
She tilted her head and looked at me. “Yes, little one?”
“What is going on? How did I get here? What’s Devera doing there? Why—”