“Gladly.”

Gresh nodded. “Then get Kaligir to agree to a payment of a hundred and ten percent of all my expenses and eternal youth, a contract with no trickery or ways of weaseling out of it, and we have a deal.”

Tobas and both his wives smiled at him.

The Spriggan Mirror

A Legend of Ethshar

“My little brother is going to save the World,” Tira said, as Gresh and two of his sisters seated themselves at the kitchen table.

“I might,” Gresh said.

“And get eternal youth in exchange!” Twilfa said.

“That’s the plan, yes.”

“Jealous?” Tira asked.

Twilfa turned to glare at her. “Aren’t you?”

“Oh, maybe a little-but death is a natural part of life, and if everyone lived forever the World would fill up with people instead of spriggans.”

Twilfa did not reply to that, but Gresh did not need even a witch’s limited ability to hear other people’s thoughts to know she thought Tira was mouthing foolish platitudes. “I’ll probably trip and break my neck a sixnight after they perform the spell,” he grumbled. Then he turned to Tira. “I take it you heard everything.”

“Yes.”

“And they’re telling the truth?”

“Well, the witch is; I’m not absolutely sure about the wizard. You know reading wizards is tricky. And the other woman, the mother, is so caught up in her own concerns I couldn’t tell you a thing about what she actually believes.”

“She didn’t say much, in any case,” Gresh said. “But the witch was telling the truth? Spriggans don’t die?”

“She certainly believes it. Whether it’s a fact I can’t be sure.”

“And Tobas?”

“He seemed to be telling the truth. He felt surprisingly forthright for a wizard. Usually they’re so bound up with worrying about keeping all the Guild’s secrets that they can hardly be honest about anything even when they try. This one, though-I think it may be because he’s still young, and he’s been lucky, and that’s made him over-confident, but so far as I could tell he wasn’t trying to mislead you at all. The only time he held anything back, he told you.”

“Maybe it’s because he really, really wants that mirror,” Twilfa suggested.

“That could be it, actually. He might have been so focused on getting the mirror that he wasn’t worrying about anything else.”

Gresh frowned. “Do you think Kaligir will agree to my terms?” he asked Tira.

“How should I know?”

“Did they think he would?”

“Yes-but I don’t think they know him very well.”

“Hmm.”

“So how will you find the mirror?” Twilfa asked. “That spriggan you talked to didn’t know where it is.”

“That’s not the only spriggan in the World.”

“That’s sort of the point,” Tira remarked.

“You know, there must be some way to kill them,” Twilfa said. “Maybe not a natural one, but magic can do almost anything. Couldn’t a demon eat one, or a warlock’s magic squash one?”

“Maybe,” Gresh said. “And there may well be wizardry that can destroy them-but the cure might be worse than the disease. Maybe that spell that killed Empress Tabaea could kill spriggans, but from what I’ve heard the spell could have destroyed the World if it hadn’t been stopped. Even if we knew how to kill them, if they don’t die naturally and that confounded mirror keeps spitting out more… I want to find the mirror and put an end to it, so we don’t wind up in the middle of an everlasting war against the little pests.”

Twilfa shuddered.

“So when you find the mirror, what are you going to do with it?” Tira asked.

“I don’t know,” Gresh admitted.

“Will you give it to Tobas?” Twilfa asked.

“I told you, I don’t know. I barely know the man.”

“Does Dina? Being a wizard and all.”

“I don’t know-and I want to talk to Dina, in any case. I need to know more about the magic involved. Maybe she can give me some idea what Tobas has in mind. Twilfa, could you…”

“I’ll go,” Tira said.

Gresh looked at her in surprise. “I thought you and Dar had business this afternoon.”

“It can wait.”

“Well, that’s…that’s very generous of you. I can certainly use Twilfa here at the shop. I’m going to assume that Kaligir will agree to my terms. I’ll start my preparations for a trip to the Small Kingdoms.”

“Is there anyone else I should find for you?”

Gresh took a moment to think. He saw no obvious use for a warlock or a demonologist, so there was no reason to call on Difa or Shesta. He had already spoken to Chira. Pyata was the family theurgist; Karanissa had mentioned the odd fact that the gods couldn’t perceive spriggans at all, just as they sometimes couldn’t see warlocks or demons. Pyata had once said the same, so she wouldn’t be any help in dealing with the little nuisances, but she might be able to advise him about travel plans-the gods were usually reliable at predicting the weather, for example, and this time of year he wasn’t sure what temperatures to expect in the mountains.

That was hardly urgent, though, and besides, Tira’s husband Dar was a theurgist, as well, and could handle such simple matters.

He didn’t need any new clothes, nor any sort of expertise with fabrics or sewing, so there was no reason to talk to Ekava. Neva was at sea somewhere, not due back for a sixnight. The city guard had no business in the Small Kingdoms, so Deka would be no help. He would probably be bringing some healing herbs and perhaps a few interesting intoxicants along, but he would need to check his own stocks before troubling Setta, the herbalist. Her husband Neran the ship chandler might have some useful supplies if Gresh needed to climb around in the mountains, but that could wait until his plans were a little more advanced.

That left Akka, the ritual dancer, four years younger than Gresh.

“Don’t go out of your way, but if you see Akka or her husband, you could tell her I could use a dance of good fortune.”

“If I see Akka, maybe. If I talk to Tresen he’ll want to know what you’re planning and whether he can help.”

“Good point. Don’t tell Tresen anything, then, but if you see Akka…”

“Right. Anything else?”

“You might ask Dar about the weather in Dwomor for the next few sixnights when you get home.”

“I’d be happy to. It’s off to Wizard Street, then. Take care, little brother.” She rose from the table, and with a wave over her shoulder she headed for the back door.

Gresh and Twilfa watched her go. Once the door was closed, Twilfa leaned over and asked, “Why is she being so helpful? She wasn’t this morning.”

“Didn’t you hear her? I’m going to save the World. I think she likes the idea. You know what witches are like, always looking for ways to do good and insisting they don’t care about money. Here’s a chance for her to help her greedy brother do something really useful, instead of just fetching oddities for wizards.” He grimaced. “Not to mention that even witches are getting fed up with the spriggans.”

“Oh. Oh, I suppose so.” Twilfa glanced at the door just as the front bell jingled. She hopped up to answer it.

Gresh did not rise. Twilfa could handle ordinary business, and she would call him if he was needed. Right now he wanted to think about what he should bring to Dwomor.

He had already decided that Dwomor would be the first stop; that seemed to be where everything had started. He intended to travel by flying carpet, if the one Tobas had was large enough; that would be much faster than anything else available. If it wasn’t large enough, well-he would deal with that if it became necessary. That meant he could not bring very many bags, and it also meant he couldn’t travel alone. Tobas would, of necessity, be coming with him, since Gresh did not know how to operate a flying carpet and could hardly expect Tobas to trust him with it in any case. That was not a problem; Tobas would probably be useful, and it shouldn’t be very hard to distract him on any occasion Gresh did not want company.