The Universal Mirror (30 page)

The man stood at the shore in thought as the shadows lengthened around him.  A sharp wind blew in from the ocean and he lifted his head to breathe in the salt air, yearning for it.  His hair whipped against his face, falling into his eyes so that they stung with tears.

“Soames.”  Felix’s voice interrupted the silence.  He didn’t turn but instead, blinked at the water in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to come,” was all he said.

“You were never going to.”  The older man stepped in front of him, breaking his view of the sea.  Asahel noticed that he still had a slight scar from where the illness had taken him, next to his left ear.  Felix reached up to touch it, conscious of where his gaze had landed.

“I’m sorry,” Asahel said, miserable.  “I didn’t have the right to do… what I did.  Any of it.”

“I was going to die regardless, you do realize.”  Felix replied.  His hand dropped, resting on the hilt of his sword.  There was a faint crackle of magic as his skin touched the steel, no longer afraid to channel energy through the weapon as vessel.  “If I had to die, it might as well have been in the service of good.  Think of the songs that could have been sung.  Pity that they won’t be now.”

“Besides,” he added.  “You apologize too much, Soames.  I think we’ve discussed this before.”  His shoe dug into the sand and kicked a little up at Asahel, spattering the edge of his tunic.  It earned Felix a scowl in spite of Asahel’s intention to apologize, followed by a laugh from the older man.

“Laughing about it won’t make things any better,” Asahel said quietly, walking over to sit down on a log washed up on the shore.  A crab scurried out from beneath the driftwood, hiding beneath a rock.  Felix eyed it uneasily but joined Asahel, sitting an arm’s length away from the other magician.

“No, it won’t.  Only time can do that.”

“Quentin doesn’t know it was me.”  The words came from him in a gulping sigh.  Asahel longed to have the excuse of wind for why his eyes suddenly stung and his cheeks reddened. 

“He doesn’t need to know,” Felix said, tracing a circle in the sand with a lazy toe.  “If you want to punish yourself, live with that.  Let him be, let him think that I was the one.  What does it matter, in the end?”

“He’s my friend.  I ought to tell him the truth.”  He pressed his hands against the log, the sand on it gritty against his palms. 

“No.”  Felix shook his head.  “We’ve enough to deal with in the coming months without asking that of him as well.”  He glanced over at Asahel.  “You listened to me once when I gave bad advice.  Perhaps you ought to give me a second chance.”

“You’ve given me a few,” Asahel said slowly, his eyes meeting Felix’s.  “I’ll run out.”

“Eventually,” he allowed, leaning back on the log.  “But people can forgive more than you think.  You don’t have to keep walking away.”

“I’m not walking,” Asahel protested.  Felix lifted a single eyebrow.  “I’m… taking a boat.”

“A boat?”  Felix tilted his head, pondering it.  “I’ve always wanted to sail.”  Asahel blinked as Felix laughed.  “Come on then.  You can’t be the only magician to leave these shores—who knows what other trouble you’ll find yourself in?”  He tapped his sword.  “It’s time that I put my own talents to use for a good cause.”

Asahel rose, his feet carrying him to the water’s edge.  Only a few ships floated ahead, white sails billowing in the autumn winds like clouds drifting through the mists.  The waves remained calm in spite of the wind, sun shining off the dark water.  His fingers clenched as he thought of what might lie ahead if he were to consider Felix’s offer and his own dreams of taking the healing magic that Quentin had discovered to foreign shores.  It’s a fool’s dream, but then again, he thought as he looked at Felix, we’re both fools in our way.

“There’s no sailing in winter,” Asahel said with a smile.  “We’d better get started, aye?  There’s a lot of world to cover.”

No novel is created in a vaccuum and this is especially true of The Universal Mirror.  Writing this book was done with the support, love and friendship of a great many people, especially:

My family—Laura, Amaranth, Nynaeve, and Oisin, as well as my grandmother Karin, Amanda, Ann, Troy, and Yvonne—for always being there to listen, whether that be about writing or any one of a great many things.  It takes a great deal of patience to put up with a writer and I appreciate theirs.  (Not to mention their creativity and senses of humor!) 

All of the good friends (and great writers) who have helped me along the way:

·
       
Cortney, for having put up with my scribblings and chatter since middle school

·
       
BriAnne, for listening and providing constant encouragement in spite of my occasional rantings

·
       
Caitlyn, for throwing ideas back and forth with me constantly (as well as too many other things to name here)

·
       
Amy, Jason, Nichole, Cait and Matt, for being my readers when I needed it and giving me great feedback

·
       
Stephanie and Joan, for being not just fantastic colleagues but friends, always there with support and inspiration.

I'd like to thank Enggar for a book cover which so perfectly represents my own image of my characters and story. 

And a very special thanks goes to my publisher, Frank, for not only believing in The Universal Mirror enough to publish it but for being incredible to work with every step of the way.  Thank you for helping me make my dreams a reality.

Gwen Perkins is a museum curator who finds constant inspiration among the artifacts and ephemera of everyday lives. Although presented in a fantasy setting, the characters and events of The Universal Mirror were heavily influenced by her historical research.  Gwen lives in Tacoma, Washington with her partner and their three children.  This is her first novel. 

Chapter 1

Andraste sat whittling on the battlements, overlooking the thick forests of Nymphia. The elf flicked her ears back. All elves could move their ears- similar to the way cats do, in order to better perceive sounds, and Andraste was no exception. The sharp footfalls confirmed that someone was coming, and from how loud they were, Andraste had a feeling she knew who. Turning back to the piece of wood in her hand, she began carving again.

“Andraste, I know you're up there! I'm not
that
blind.”

Andraste knew that voice well; the bards would probably liken it to that of a nightingale.
That’s Radiance. Curses!

Radiance came to stand beside her on the battlements. The elf’s curly red hair blew in her face as she stood with her hands on her hips. Andraste stood, too, her brown and silver hair flying in her face, and she tried to shove it away from her eyes. Radiance looked at her with her brownish-green eyes and that smug look she had in her left eye. It was the “I’m not letting you get out of this” look. Her right eye was blind, and she usually took care to cover it with her bangs to keep people from asking why it looked the way it did, but the wind was blowing too hard for that to work. Instead, her hair flew all over the place, like autumn leaves did in the wind. Actually, her hair
was
almost the color of autumn leaves when Andraste thought about it. Or maybe copper was a better comparison. “Andraste, you’re up here whittling.”

Andraste shrugged, glancing at her half-finished phoenix before tossing the wood away. Someone else- most likely one of the guards- would probably pick it up and finish it later. “Your power of observation is incredible,” she replied.

“Don’t be so sarcastic. Aunt Xandrina says that’s a teenager thing, and you’re not quite there yet.”

“Two more years.”

“Well, Xandrina says we need to get ready for the party tonight,” Radiance stated. “And she told me to come find you.”

“I can’t pretend to be sick?”

Radiance laughed. “No, you were sick at the last one. I don’t know why you hate these parties so much.”

“Oh, yes,” Andraste ranted sarcastically as they walked down the battlements. “Because listening to a foreign dignitary drone on and on is so fascinating.”

Radiance laughed again, a high-pitched sound that made Andraste mentally wince. Radiance’s voice might be like a nightingale, but her laugh was more like a mockingbird. “Oh, come on! Every male that comes has his eye on the famous Warrior Princess Andraste and her ‘intense amethyst eyes’.”

Andraste blushed. “Wasn’t that Lord Vigilance who said that? If I remember correctly, I dumped a glass of wine over his head.”

Radiance nodded. “Yes, you did, and I was busy talking to the Prince of Invaria, who was
very
fair, I’ll have you know. He looked slender with hair the color of wheat during the harvest and eyes like copper.”

The two were almost at the palace entrance. Radiance reached a hand out before they were even at the door, and Andraste pursed her lips. It was small signs like that that showed Andraste the flaws in her cousin’s eye sight. Radiance half-smiled and took a step forward before her fingers brushed the door. “That arrow did a job on my vision, didn’t it?” she asked. “I envy Brilliance; she’s still beautiful.”

“It’s just a small flaw in your vision,” Andraste said.

“Well, I have plenty of beauty to compensate for
that
, but still… I wish both my eyes at least
looked
the same,” Radiance said.

“Narcissist,” Andraste teased.

Radiance scowled at her. Andraste pushed the door open and entered the palace behind her. “Radiance…you know Aunt Xandrina would dismiss you from the warriors if you desired that, don’t you?”

“And?”

“Well…I mean, it’s a very small flaw in your vision, but you’d never have to fight again. Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

Her cousin shook her head. “I might be half-blind, but I’m still a Nymphian, Andraste.”

Andraste privately thought that ‘being a Nymphian’ was a poor excuse, but she understood what Radiance meant. “So-o,” Radiance said, dragging out the word longer than necessary. “I was looking at the guest list.”

“Oh no,” Andraste replied, suddenly focusing her attention on the embroidery of a tapestry. “The weavers did a good job on this, didn’t they?”

“I thought you might want to know Luminous is sending representatives.”

“Are they really?" Andraste asked, her ears tilting back. “Who are they sending? Is my mother coming?”

Radiance shook her head. “I'm sorry, Andraste. It’s an ambassador of theirs.”

“Oh.”

An elf in a silver gown came around the corner, her brown hair arranged into large curls atop her head. The woman walked gracefully with her head up in traditional, regal arrogance. Her steel-blue eyes looked vaguely distant as she spoke to the shorter elf beside her. “All right, as long as we have enough. That is all that matters-Andraste! Great, I was looking for you!”

“Radiance told me,” Andraste mumbled.

The elf sighed. “Dear, you need to get ready. It’s your duty.”

“I know, but I don’t have to
like
it being my duty,” Andraste replied. “It’s just boring!”

“Oh, Guardians, I know!” the elf agreed, throwing her arms in the air in a very un-queen like manner. “How do you think I feel having someone ask me every few seconds how the war is going, or if he can court you, or if I’m looking for a new mate? Oh, and do not forget those... those pompous Glishian representatives! All they talk about is their
wine
. It’s not even that good, and they treat it like it is some gift from Oishea herself!”

Andraste sighed.
She has a point,
the elf thought. “Do I have to wear a gown?”

The elf half-smiled. “Yes, you do. Ebhlin sewed it just for you, Andraste. Radiance has one, too.”

“Yes!” Radiance squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! Thanks, Aunt Xandrina.”