“But suppose it wasn’t conditional.”

Dina sighed. “Let me think. Casting Javan’s Restorative on the victim should work.”

“Would the victim need to cooperate for that?”

“To the extent of being present and not interfering in the preparation, yes-though it might be possible to use his true name instead.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t want to try it that way, though; it’s a seventh- or eighth-order spell, and I don’t like improvising at that level. It can be put in a potion or talisman, though, and if the victim drinks the potion or invokes the talisman…”

“I don’t think that will work in this case, Dina. Are there any other countercharms?”

“I don’t know. A Spell of Reversal might do it. They say that works on almost anything.”

“Spell of Reversal? I don’t think I know that one.”

“That’s because the only difficult ingredient in the usual version is hair from a stillborn child; everything else is simple, basic stuff like candles and water and shiny stones that nobody would bother to pay your prices for. Besides, it must be tenth-order or worse; I can’t do it, and not many wizards can.”

“So how does it work?”

“It reverses a process or undoes a spell, so if you’re quick enough and a good enough wizard you can undo some of your worst mistakes. There are rumors it’s even been able to raise the dead if the timing’s just right. You can make a broken jar unbreak itself, a knife unrust, blood flow back into a wound, or a river run uphill. But it doesn’t reverse it permanently-after half an hour or so it wears off and the natural flow is restored. If you’ve reversed it back to before the process started you can try to prevent it happening again-put the jar somewhere safe, keep the knife dry, bandage the wound-but the natural order returns, and that river’s going to run downhill again, the wound is going to bleed, and you can’t stop it.”

“So how would that work on Lugwiler’s Haunting Phantasm?”

“I’m not sure it would-but if it did, and you used it quickly enough, you might be able to undo the spell, reverse the process to before the mirror was enchanted, and make it as if it was never cast. Or at least make the victim not have looked at the mirror, or whatever.”

Gresh nodded thoughtfully; that sounded like a stupendously useful spell. The ability to reverse anything? That could have a thousand applications.

Tenth-order, though-and it probably took hours to prepare…

“Can it be put in a potion or talisman?”

“Not a potion; you cast it on a process, not a person, so a potion wouldn’t work. Maybe it would work in a talisman or a powder; I don’t know.”

Gresh was about to ask who might know more when the doorbell jingled. He glanced over toward Twilfa, who was opening the door, and her expression prevented him from continuing the conversation. He rose.

“Tell your master that Kaligir of the New Quarter is here to see him,” said the new arrival, as he stepped across the threshold.

The Spriggan Mirror

A Legend of Ethshar

Gresh arranged his features into his most welcoming smile as he crossed the front room to greet the thin man in elaborate robes. The wizard was almost as tall as he was, even without counting the shiny black cap he wore.

“Master Kaligir!” he said. “What a pleasure!”

The wizard looked at him, then cocked his head to one side and said, “I was going to question that, but on further consideration it probably is a pleasure for you-my presence means we haven’t rejected your terms out of hand.” He glanced around, and nodded at Twilfa. “Your assistant?”

“Yes-my sister, Twilfa of Ethshar.” That was the name he used for her when talking to patrons. At home or in other contexts, she had always been Twilfa the Helpful.

“And is that Dina the Wizard? One of your customers?”

“Another of my sisters, Master.”

Dina rose and bowed. “I can go if you would prefer, Guildmaster.”

“Stay. Sit. We may need a neutral party.”

Dina sat. Gresh kept smiling, but did not like the sound of Kaligir’s words.

“Shall I go?” Twilfa asked, gesturing toward the passage to the kitchen and looking back and forth between the two men.

Gresh looked questioningly at Kaligir.

“It’s your house,” the wizard said. “I’m sure you have a way for her to listen in, and of course you might just tell her everything afterward, so please yourself.”

“He brought others with him, Gresh,” Twilfa said. “Several others.”

“They’re waiting in the street,” Kaligir confirmed. “I didn’t see any need to crowd everyone in, and if I can’t intimidate you without them, then you’re clearly mad.”

“Twilfa,” Gresh said. “Would you see if any of our guest’s escort would care for a mug of beer while they wait?”

Twilfa dropped a quick curtsey, and said, “Or I can make tea.”

“Beer will do for now.”

She nodded, then hurried to the kitchen to find a tray and fill a pitcher.

Kaligir watched her depart, then turned back to Gresh. “I am not sure,” he said, “that you understand the situation.”

“I think I do,” Gresh replied. “You want me to retrieve the mirror that Tobas of Telven lost six and a half years ago. The mirror has a botched form of Lugwiler’s Haunting Phantasm on it-one that was botched in a completely new way, unlike any previous casting of the spell. It’s the source of all the spriggans in the World, and you want to put an end to the production of spriggans before they become a real danger. They’re already a serious nuisance, and the Guild has realized that they don’t die of natural causes and that their number is increasing steadily. Do I have that much correct?”

“You do.”

“You have come to me because all previous attempts to locate the mirror have failed, and I have a reputation for being able to find anything.”

“Not exactly. Tobas and his wives came to you because of this; the Guild did not, and I did not. We merely ordered Tobas to deal with the problem and agreed to fund his efforts.”

“And he dealt with it by coming to me, for the reasons I stated.”

“Yes.”

“And because of this, because I appear to be your last hope to find the mirror without sending hundreds of treasure-hunters searching through the Small Kingdoms for it and possibly making matters even worse, you told Tobas that you would pay any fee I might ask, but when I asked for eternal youth, you balked.”

“No.”

Gresh blinked. “No?”

“No. We did not balk. However, the price you set has changed the situation. We agreed to provide Tobas with funding, not unlimited magic, and your price is not mere money. Tobas cannot pay it. While he has a suitable spell in his book of spells, he is not yet capable of casting it and won’t be for years. It’s far too complex for him.”

“Very well, then, Tobas balked, not you.”

“No, Tobas did not. He came to me, in my role as the Guild’s representative in Ethshar of the Rocks, and explained the situation and asked if the Guild could pay the fee you had set, since we had said we would finance him.”

“And the Guild declined to do so?”

“No. The Guild has agreed. Your fee will be a successful casting of Enral’s Eternal Youth, to be paid as soon as we are convinced that the mirror will never again produce spriggans. You may need to provide the ingredients for the spell, however-some of them are difficult.”

“Of course,” Gresh said, unable to repress a smile. “I’m sure I can do that.”

“If not, your reputation is undeserved,” Kaligir said dryly.

“But if you agree to my terms-why are you here? Why not just send Tobas back with a contract?”

“Because you are not going to be acting for Tobas. We have decided, given your terms, that if you accept this commission you will indeed be acting for the Wizards’ Guild itself. That alters matters. We’ve agreed to your fee, but that doesn’t mean everything is settled.”