The Catswold Portal

Melissa considered this as she moved to the next cell and looked in at the Toad. He lay sprawled on the stone floor, asleep. He was huge, nearly filling the cell. A lumpish beast, his green skin was covered with warts, his pale throat ballooning with each breath. Before she could try to wake him, the Harpy reached around with an icy hand and pulled her away. “If you wake him he’ll blow himself into a stinking air ball. Phew. He won’t speak to you.”

Melissa’s head was beginning to ache. “Are there human prisoners here?”

“Behind that wall.” The Harpy pointed a white finger toward the featureless black interior of the cellar.

Melissa cast her spell-light, picking out barrels and shadowed pillars, and beyond these, a stone wall grown over with moss. “Do you know the spell to open it?”

The Harpy laughed, darting her pink tongue between sharp teeth. “Do you think I’d be in here if could command any of her spells? Do you think I haven’t tried?” And quite suddenly the beast began to cry. Heaving sobs shook her, tears coursed down her white feathers, darkening the brown streaks. When at last the beast stopped crying, her eyes were red, and her voice was sharp with self-pity. “I thought you came to free me, but you didn’t. You wanted the human prisoners. I’ll never get out of this cell. I’ll never see my little mirror again.”

“What mirror?” Melissa asked, frowning.

“My mirror was my only companion, my only legacy from my dead mother, and that bitch queen has taken it from me. If you cannot free me I’ll never see it again. Never.” The Harpy combed distracted fingers through her feathers, and one white feather floated to the cell floor.

Melissa reached through the bars and took the Harpy’s hand, trying to comfort her. “Why did the queen take your mirror?”

“I wouldn’t bring images for her.”

“I don’t understand. The queen fears images.”

“She fears images in the present,” the Harpy said patiently. “My mirror could show the past. There is something in the past she wants to see.”

“Then can you show me my past? I don’t need the Toad. You can tell me who I am.”

The Harpy stared at her cannily.

“I can remember nothing of my childhood,” Melissa said. She considered the beast warily, searching its small cold eyes.

“I cannot bring any image,” the Harpy said assessing Melissa with a keen avian stare. “Unless you steal my little mirror for me.”

“Could you show me my childhood? Could you show me who my parents are? And where I come from?”

“If I had my mirror, I could show you those things.”

“Where does she keep your mirror?”

“It was in her chambers, but not anymore. I can speak to my mirror from any distance. I made it give her images that drove her to nervous trembles.” The Harpy laughed. “She couldn’t rid herself of them. She kept taking my mirror out and looking, like digging your finger into a sore wound. At last she moved it to the king’s chambers.”

“How can you know where it is if you can’t bring visions without it?”

“It calls to me. Every night my little mirror calls to me. Oh, I know where it lies hidden—in a wardrobe in the king’s chambers. But that is not a vision, that is love calling.”

“If I get it for you, will you show me my past?”

The Harpy reached through the bars to stroke Melissa’s arm. “If you bring my mirror, I will give you whatever vision you choose.”

“It would be terribly dangerous to go to the king’s chambers.”

“Two visions. And you will be safe enough; she never goes to his chambers anymore. Nor has the king slept in her bed since the weakling prince was born. The queen blames the king for the child’s illness.” The Harpy smiled. “The king blames her. He was a fool to marry her. Of course, he is still a fool. Go when the queen is at supper.”

“If I were caught thieving in the king’s chambers…”

“Everything in life is dangerous.”

“I could be killed for such a thing. The laws would call it treason, to steal from the king’s chambers.”

“Three visions.”

“As many visions as I choose.”

“You already have the best of the bargain. The king will be no problem; any woman can twist him around one finger. All you need do is climb into his bed, and you can have anything.”

“I do not intend to climb into his bed.”

The Harpy smiled wickedly. “If you did not, that would be an opportunity lost, my dear. Think of it. The right woman has only to take herself to the king’s bed to become the new queen of Affandar.” She clasped her long white hands together. “Oh, I would like to see someone dispossess that bitch.”

“If I steal the mirror, you will give me all the visions I choose.”

“Five visions. That is my last offer.” The Harpy fluffed her feathers, stirring ancient dust. “Someday the Netherworld kings and queens will fall and we will rule again. The Hell Beasts will rule again.”

“Five visions,” Melissa said. “But you must describe to me the queen’s powers so I know them exactly.”

“Everyone knows her powers.”

“I don’t. And I must know them if I am to steal the mirror.”