“Thank you,” Esmera said, lowering her eyes.

“You’re quite welcome-and I would like to make something clear; I’m doing this not as a father, but as a friend who feels responsible for your situation. I am not your father; we share no blood.” He was fairly certain that as a witch, able to sense his emotions, Esmera would know exactly why he was making this point. She had Karanissa’s memories; she would recall his reaction to that white dress she had worn a few days ago. And Esmera, unlike Karanissa, was not married.

He also thought she would be tactful enough not to say anything about it directly.

She raised her gaze and smiled up at him. “I’m glad of that,” she said. Then she turned and looked at the door. “Karanissa is awake,” she said. “I can sense it. She slept better than I did-her bed was familiar, and her hair didn’t get in the way.”

“Ah,” Gresh said. “Shall I knock?”

“She’s on her way,” Esmera replied.

Indeed, a moment later the door opened without further action on Gresh’s part.

Half an hour later the flying carpet rose from the platform, bearing Tobas, Gresh, and Esmera, as well as Gresh’s bottomless bag and a small chest holding a few of Tobas’s things. It sailed upward, circled the castle towers once, and then headed westward, gathering speed as it went.

They once again ate lunch at the Dragon’s Tail, in Ethshar of the Spices, but since they had so little baggage they rolled up the carpet and took it inside with them, rather than leaving it hovering.

They reached Ethshar of the Sands while the sun was still a hand’s breadth above the western horizon and spent the night in Tobas’s little house near Grandgate. All three slept in the upstairs rear; no mention was made of the tapestry hidden behind the draperies just the other side of the stairs.

While they ate a simple breakfast the next morning, Tobas reported that he had dreamed a reply-his own message about having the mirror secure in Dwomor had been received, and they were to proceed onward to Ethshar of the Rocks without talking to Telurinon. Kaligir would be meeting them at Gresh’s shop to discuss the matter.

“Why did they send a new dream?” Gresh asked. “Didn’t you talk it out in the one you sent?”

“No,” Tobas said. “I used the Lesser Spell of Invaded Dreams, which only sends. It doesn’t receive.”

Gresh blinked. “Why?”

“Because that’s how the spell works.”

“No, I know how it works. I mean why didn’t you use the Greater Spell of Invaded Dreams?”

“To save time and because I didn’t have all the ingredients for the Greater,” Tobas said defensively.

Gresh started to argue further, intending to point out that the only additional ingredients the more powerful spell required were blood and silver. Tobas had certainly had blood available if he bothered to prick his finger, and he ought to have access to a silver bit or two given he was the court wizard and the castle presumably had a treasury or at least a petty cash fund somewhere, but then he caught himself.

It didn’t really matter why; it was over and done. Tobas was right that the Greater Spell took about half an hour longer to prepare than the Lesser, and if he chose to devote that saved half-hour to getting more sleep or saying goodbye to his wives, that was his business. If he didn’t want to cut anyone for a few drops of blood, nor borrow a coin, that was his prerogative, as well.

If the real reason was that he hadn’t felt comfortable using a fourth-order spell when a second-order one would serve, as Gresh suspected, there was nothing to be gained by forcing him to admit it.

They finished breakfast in silence and were soon on their way west and north, toward Ethshar of the Rocks.

It was very nearly noon when the carpet soared between the towers of Eastgate and descended toward Gresh’s shop. The trip had been far more comfortable than the eastward journey, owing to the lack of crowding, greater familiarity with the hazards of flight, and the absence of a baby, but there had still been relatively little conversation, and Gresh was very glad to stretch his legs after sitting for so long.

Twilfa was standing in the open door of the shop, waiting for them. She waved and called a greeting as the three of them climbed off the carpet onto the street.

“Did you find the mirror?” she called as they approached.

“We did,” Gresh replied. “Have you heard from Kaligir?”

“No; should I have?”

“Not necessarily, but it seemed likely, since you seemed to be expecting us.”

“Oh, Dina told me you’d be home about now. I suppose she heard from Kaligir. So you really found the mirror? May I see it?”

“It’s safe in Dwomor; we didn’t bring it with us.”

“You didn’t? But why…?”

“I’ll be happy to explain everything once we’ve had some food, rest, and beer,” Gresh told her.

“Oh!” Twilfa realized she was blocking the doorway and stepped aside. Gresh and Esmera moved past her into the shop; Tobas was rolling up the carpet. Twilfa looked at him, then at the pair inside, and asked, “Where’s the other one, and the baby?”

“I left my wives in Dwomor,” Tobas said, as he hoisted the carpet on one shoulder, picked up his case, and strode to the door. “Both of them.”

“But that’s…” Twilfa turned.

“That’s Karanissa’s sister,” Gresh told her. “Esmera. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

“Sister?” Twilfa stared.

“I’m told the resemblance is strong,” Esmera said, smiling.

“Esmé, I have eleven sisters, and no two of them come close to that strong a resemblance!” Twilfa said. “Are you twins?”

“No, Karanissa is older,” Esmera replied, her smile widening. “Quite a bit older, actually.”

“About that food?” Gresh asked.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Twilfa hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them in the shop’s front room. Tobas looked around for a convenient spot to put down the rolled-up carpet. Gresh closed the front door.

That gave the three of them a little privacy. “It occurs to me-do you want your origins kept secret, or would you just as soon let everyone know you’re only a few days old?” Gresh asked Esmera, as she headed toward the chairs in the corner.

“I think I’d prefer to keep it to myself,” she answered.

“We’ll probably have to tell Kaligir,” Tobas remarked, as he thumped the rug down in front of a large brass-bound chest.

“If you must,” Esmera replied. She sat down in one of the velvet chairs and began undoing her braid.

“What are you doing?” Tobas protested.

“I’m letting my hair down, now that I won’t be flying anywhere, and I don’t need to worry about you confusing me with Karanissa.” She had the braid uncoiled and was untying the ribbons that held it together.

“But I’m still… I mean, people will think you’re her!”

“Tobas, I am not going to keep my hair up forever; I’ve braided it for traveling often enough, but I’ve never worn it coiled up that way before, not in four… I mean, Karanissa never wore it that way, in four hundred years, and I don’t like it any better than she did. I’m done traveling, so I don’t need the braid, either.”

“But everyone…”

“Tobas.” She stopped unraveling the braid and put a hand on his. “I am going to be living here, in this city. People are going to see my face, sooner or later, and whether my hair is up or down, they’ll notice the resemblance to your wife. There’s no point in trying to hide it, or pretending I don’t look exactly like her-of course I do, because I’m her reflection made flesh. You know that, I know that, and Gresh knows that. I’ll be happy to use the twin-sister excuse instead of the truth, just to save a lot of tedious explanation, but I’m not going to ignore the fact that I’m physically identical to her. It would be silly to try. I will try to hide that I have all her memories, to save on explanation, but even that is my business, not yours. Now, calm down, sit down, and wait for Kaligir.”