“He’s a wizard,” Gresh said. “He’s supposed to be accustomed to magic.”

“Getting turned into a dragon is hardly normal even for a wizard.”

“I suppose not.” Gresh glanced at the dragon’s tail, then back at the witch. “But you and he have been involved in some odd adventures before this-trapped in a magic castle, slaying a dragon, defeating the false empress…”

“I know.” She shuddered slightly.

“Even just being married to someone with another wife must be a bit awkward at times.”

“Oh, yes.” She sighed. “I told Tobas before he married Alorria that I wasn’t the jealous type, and I’ve tried not to be. I knew Derry had other women sometimes, and that didn’t bother me, so I thought I could handle it. Ali knew what she was getting into, too-I was married to Tobas first, after all. She wanted to marry someone, certainly. She had five sisters. Her parents weren’t going to find princes for everyone, and that meant a hero, so she didn’t have a great many choices. Really, she didn’t have any choice; her parents gave her to Tobas as his reward for killing the dragon, bribing him with her dowry. But she did like him and admire him. She can be very sweet. We all thought it would work out.”

“Well, it has worked out, hasn’t it?”

“Mostly-but I must admit, Ali is not who I would have chosen to live with for the rest of my life. I’ve tried not to be jealous of her, but she hasn’t always done the same for me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“She feels outmatched. I’m a witch, so I know she does, I’m not just guessing. She sees that I’m a fellow magician for Tobas and four hundred years older than she is, with vastly more experience. She also thinks I’m more beautiful, though Tobas doesn’t, nor most of the other men we meet.”

“I think I’d agree with Alorria on that one.”

“Well, thank you, but most men don’t. They think I’m too skinny, too flat-chested, too dark, too aloof, too tall, too intimidating-whatever. Ali’s just as pretty in the face and anything but flat-chested, not to mention nicely rounded elsewhere. Men may admire me, but they lust after her-not that she believes it. And Tobas-I don’t know how he does it, but most of the time he really doesn’t prefer one of us over the other. It’s amazing. Not that Ali believes that, either, even though we’ve both told her it’s true. Even though she agrees we should be equal partners, she’s always demanding attention, trying to compensate for the advantages she imagines I have.” She sighed. “She’s been especially sensitive ever since she got pregnant with Alris. Sometimes I think I should get pregnant, as well, just to stay even.”

Gresh knew that ordinarily female witches could control whether or not they conceived; he wondered whether Karanissa had actively avoided bearing children, or merely let nature take its course.

And really, she wasn’t an ordinary witch; she was four hundred years old. Even with an eternal youth spell, was she still fertile? Did she know?

It wasn’t any of his business; she had already told him far more than he had any business knowing, and far more than he would have asked, though he had not been surprised when his remark elicited so detailed a response. He had been fairly certain that she would be happy to find receptive ears. Many men professed to find women incomprehensible, but after growing up with his numerous sisters, Gresh thought he had a reasonably good understanding of the female mind. He had provided a sympathetic and non-threatening audience, and Karanissa had taken advantage of his presence to say things she could not tell her husband, her co-wife, or anyone in Dwomor. He understood that perfectly. He had, in fact, planned it. He liked Karanissa, more than he liked Tobas or Alorria, and had welcomed the opportunity to create a bond.

It was probably a foolish thing to do, though. She was a happily married woman, even if she was not completely satisfied with her co-wife. Once their business with the mirror was done, he would never see her again.

She threw him a sharp glance, and he realized neither of them had spoken for several seconds. He wondered how much of his thoughts she had heard. “Nothing to say about the wisdom of giving my husband another child?” she said.

Apparently she had not heard everything he had thought; she had probably been too caught up in her own concerns. “It’s not any of my business,” he said. “I would think that your situation is complicated enough, though. And you have plenty of time, with your eternal youth spell; no need to hurry.”

“Tobas doesn’t have an eternal youth spell.”

“I hardly think that’s an issue at this point. He’s a young man.”

“So are you, but you’re concerning yourself with eternal youth.”

“I’m not as young as he is, and I know I won’t always be young unless I do something about it.”

“Tobas didn’t think of that.”

“Or didn’t want to deal with it. I’m sure your marriage is complicated for him, too, and obtaining eternal youth just for himself would surely make it worse, while getting it for both Alorria and himself-well, he may not feel ready to extend the current situation for hundreds of years.”

Karanissa stared at him. “Do you believe that’s it? I didn’t intrude, and I believed him when he said he just didn’t think of it.”

“You’re a witch, and you know him far better than I do.”

Karanissa continued to stare at him, and Gresh thought he read speculation in her gaze. Was she, perhaps, thinking that Tobas and Alorria might never find a youth spell, and that someday, fifty or sixty years from now, she would be a widow-and if Gresh was successful in his errand for the Wizards’ Guild, he would still be around and still be young?

Or was he just flattering himself?

Her intense gaze became uncomfortable, and he looked down at the mirror. “The half-hour must be almost done,” he said.

Her gaze dropped, as well. “It is; it’s changing right now. I can feel…”

She didn’t finish the sentence; instead she stared silently at the mirror.

So did Gresh. The glass had gone black, and then something began to thrust itself upward out of the mirror-but it was no spriggan. It was neither green nor brown, but glossy black-covered with lush black hair, Gresh realized.

It was larger than the mirror. Some of the fatter spriggans might have had to squeeze a little, but this creature, whatever it was, was somehow forcing itself through an opening much smaller than its own dimensions.

The hair parted on one side as the thing continued to rise up out of the mirror, revealing a brown forehead. Gresh realized that a human head was emerging from the spriggan mirror. The face was turned away from him, toward Karanissa, who was staring at it in shocked horror.

More hair, a pair of ears, a nose-definitely human.

Then came the neck-that was relatively quick, as it did not need to be magically squeezed as much-and then a pair of shoulders, shoulders clad in red fabric…

“Oh, no,” Gresh murmured. “Let me…” He stepped around the mirror and stood beside Karanissa, where he could see the face as the creature continued to force its way up out of the far-too-small mirror.

It was a woman’s face, a dark-skinned oval. Gresh recognized it immediately. After all, he had been looking at it for the past half-hour and more.

It was Karanissa.

Gresh looked up and saw the original Karanissa still standing there, looking down at her duplicate. This wasn’t Karanissa, then; it was a copy.

And the copy had her hands free of the impossibly small glass now and was pushing herself up, just as the spriggans had, except that she was somehow emerging from the mirror despite being much larger than it. Even the slim Karanissa was far more than five inches across.

The mirror was doing something strange to space, obviously.