The Palace of Glass (18 page)

The great eye shifted its gaze, pupil narrowing. Alice turned her head, an effort that was almost too much for her, and heard the tiniest sound. A
snap,
like a twig breaking underfoot.

There was a crack at the bottom of the mirror. It was only a few inches long, crooked like a bolt of lightning.

Wake up.
The voice grew fainter.
I will see you again.

The eye closed, leaving only darkness.

Alice stared at the tiny crack. She took a deep breath, what felt like the first real breath she'd taken in ages. Something was falling away from her mind, like she was pushing herself up from under a heavy sheet. She was still unutterably tired, but her lassitude was replaced by sudden fear, and her heart broke out of its lazy rhythm and slammed in her chest.

They were
pulling her into the mirror
. Very slowly, inch by inch. The mirror-Alices had gathered around, taking hold of her arms, her legs, her hair, and bit by bit they were lifting her up and taking her into their domain. It felt like slipping into a very cold bath—her left hand was already inside, and her fingers tingled and then went numb.

She jerked her right hand, but there were too many of the mirror creatures, and she was too weak. Desperately, she scrabbled for her threads, but she didn't have the mental energy to hold on to them, and they slipped through her grasp as though they were made of the same slick glass as the mirror.

“Ours,” the mirror images whispered in her ear. The mouths on their porcelain masks had twisted into broad, toothy grins. “Ours, ours, ours forever.”

Alice jammed her right hand into her pocket, pulling
hard against the grip of the mirror images. Her fingers found the silver watch, fumbled past it, and took hold of the last of her acorns. She put all the energy she had left into a grab for the tree-sprite thread, and for a bare moment she had it. She let its power stroke the acorn.

Grow,
she told it.
Just grow.

Then she flicked it, between finger and thumb, at the base of the little crack in the mirror.

The back of her head tingled as it passed through the glass. Cold hands were on her face, playing over her cheeks, poking at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Curious fingers traced the pale scar, barely visible now, that the Swarm had left on her cheek during their first encounter.

“Sleep.” The whisper was right in her ear now, cold breath tickling her neck. “Sleep, and dream, behind the glass . . .”

The acorn split. A green shoot wound up from the broken seed, following the path of the crack in the mirror. When it reached the end, it hesitated for a moment, pulsing with the unstoppable energy of life. There was a moment of strain, and then, with a sound like a gunshot, a spiderweb of fractures raced through the mirror. A section of glass fell, shattering on the marble with a merry tinkle.

“What?”

“What?”

“How?”

The hands pulled away from Alice, and she pushed herself forward. She came free of the mirror with an effort and a soft sucking sound, as though she'd been stuck to a bed of taffy. Mirror-Alices raced around the courtyard, painted mouths gaping wide with triangular teeth. The growing tree's roots burrowed down between two marble slabs, thickening as they reached the soil underneath. The tree shot upward, twisting as it grew, slamming a branch into the neighboring mirror and smashing it into fragments. Glittering shards of glass filled the air.

“No!” The mirror image's voice rose to a shriek, no longer resembling Alice's. “No, no, no!”

“Kill her!”

“Kill her!”

Alice stumbled to her feet. The tree smashed another mirror, but the slivers of glass didn't shatter against the flagstones. They curved through the air instead, homing in on her like a cloud of bees. She snatched up the book and pressed it against her chest, pulling as hard as she could on the Swarm thread to harden her skin. Then she ran, eyes squeezed shut against the slashing fragments,
pounding down the marble staircase at a breakneck pace. Behind her, the mirrors shattered, one after another.

“It's been too long.” Flicker's voice.

“It has not been that long,” said Erdrodr.

“It's nearly night.”

“What are you saying? That we should leave her?”

“I'm saying that we should go up there,” Flicker said. “I—”

“The boat!” Alice shouted, as soon as she could manage a breath. She sprinted down the stairway, book clutched tight in one hand. Her clothes hung off her in tatters, sliced to ribbons by flying glass. “Get in the boat!”

“Alice!” Flicker said, getting to his feet. “What—”

“Get in the boat!”
she shouted, jumping down the last few steps. Erdrodr had already stepped aboard, and Alice took Flicker's hand and dragged him over the side. The little craft rocked dangerously, and Flicker went still, his hair flaring red. But Erdrodr already had the spear in her hand, steadying them against the dock and then shoving them out onto the river. A quick slash cut the rope, and the current took them.

The mountain seemed to
writhe,
mist swirling with a thousand flying splinters of glass that shattered against
the marble columns and sliced the branches from the trees. Alice watched them curve and dance in the air above the dock, shredding the surface of the water to a froth.

“Alice?” Flicker said. “Are you all right?”

He only uses my name after I nearly get killed.
“Can the shards reach us?”

Erdrodr peered over the back of the boat. “I do not think so. We are leaving them behind.”

“Good.” Alice let her eyes close, squeezing the book tight.

The cover tingled against her fingers, and there was a faint sound, like a tiny crackle of static.

FAREWELLS

A
LICE
WASN
'
T
SURE
EXACTLY
when she'd fallen asleep. She'd fought it as long as she could, but somewhere on the long, dark trip downstream, fatigue had caught up with her. The mirror-things had been draining her life, sucking her down to a husk before pulling her into the mirror to do . . . who knew what. Her dreams were dark, full of toothy grins and huge, slitted eyes, and a static buzz that seemed to fill the world.

She woke up in a bed, which was a definite improvement. It was in a stone room, with blue-green lanterns hanging on the walls. Even without these clues Alice would have guessed she was back in the giants' fortress; the bed was big enough to sleep half a dozen human adults.

When she sat up, she found that she wore only her underthings, which had been mended with surprisingly delicate stitches. Underneath, the slashes she'd gotten from the flying glass were sealed up under what felt like scabs made of ice, the cold pleasantly numbing the wounds underneath. The rest of her clothes were neatly folded by her feet, with
The Infinite Prison
and the silver watch sitting on top of them.

Erdrodr was sitting in a chair beside the bed, charcoal in hand, focused on her sketch pad. Alice cleared her throat, and the giant girl looked up.

“You're awake!” She set her slate aside. “How do you feel?”

“Remarkably well,” Alice said. Her mind felt wonderfully clear. She leaned forward and clicked open the watch.
Thirty-six hours left!
“I've been asleep for
two days
?”

“You weren't injured that badly,” Erdrodr said. “But you wouldn't wake up.”

The mirror-things took too much of my energy.
Alice let out a long breath. She had thirty-six hours to make the trek back to the portal-book near the fire-sprite village.
I can make it.

“You haven't opened the book, have you?” Alice said. “It might be dangerous.”

“We know better than to investigate any book carried by a Reader,” Helga said from the doorway. “And do you feel entirely yourself?”

“Mother!” Erdrodr said. She turned to Alice and shook her head. “She insisted on keeping you under guard while you slept, ‘just in case.'”

“The Palace was dangerous, but I believe I escaped mostly intact.” Alice inclined her head, the best bow she could manage from her sitting position. She felt an almost irresistible urge to be up and moving.
The Infinite Prison
was right there, her revenge against Geryon almost within her reach.
Just a little further.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Helga waved a hand. “You have been to a place of legend and survived. It honors us to have you.” Her eyes went to Erdrodr. “And you kept your word about keeping my daughter safe.”

“The nation has given me a name!” Erdrodr said in the excited tones of someone who couldn't keep quiet any longer. “Erdrodr the Artist.”

“That's wonderful.” Alice was no expert on ice giant
society, but it clearly meant a great deal to Erdrodr. “I'm glad I could help.”

“I'll never forget this,” Erdrodr said.

“Nor will I,” Alice said. “Where's Flicker?”

“Downstairs.” Helga took Erdrodr by the shoulder. “Come, daughter. Give the Reader a chance to dress. And there are still many who wish to congratulate you.”

Erdrodr waved to Alice, then followed her mother. Alice climbed out of bed, wincing a little as the skin stretched around her ice-covered cuts, and put on the rest of her clothes.
The Infinite Prison
gave a tiny crackle when she picked it up, like a momentary growl of static. She opened her pack and shoved the book way down at the bottom.

Thinking back to the mountain made her shiver. It felt like she'd been in a dream, saying things that made no sense in the cold light of day.
I should have run for it as soon as I got the book.
The mirror-things had been inside her head from the moment she arrived, clearly.

The huge, lidless eye, silver and alien,
ought
to have been scary, but it wasn't.
It felt . . . warm. Like it cared for me.

She shook her head. Whatever the mirror-things had shown her, they'd obviously done it for their own
reasons, to keep her busy while they drank her life.
I'd be a fool to believe any of it. I've got the book, and that's what matters.
Revenge on Geryon.
I'm almost there.

She and Flicker said good-bye to Erdrodr, and Alice promised that she'd try to come and visit. Erdrodr fought back tears, and Helga told them they would always be welcome.

“I talked a bit with Helga,” Flicker said as they hiked through the ash wastes. “She's going to bring some of her people to visit the village. I think we could help each other—with the Heartfire getting smaller, we could trade with them for food. They don't have much metal or glass.”

Alice nodded. “That's good.”

“Some of the elders won't like it,” Flicker said. “We've always kept to ourselves. But I think Pyros will agree with me.”

“I think you're right,” Alice said.

For a while, they walked in silence.

“I thought about what you said,” Alice ventured. “About who would protect you, if Geryon fell.”

“And?”

“I don't know,” Alice said. “I need to think harder.” She offered him a wan smile. “But before now I didn't know I
had to think about it. So that's something, I suppose.”

Flicker patted Alice on the shoulder. “Keep thinking.”

Flicker offered to take Alice back to the village to rest, but Alice insisted on going directly to the portal-book.
I can't afford any more detours.
She couldn't bear to think that she'd come so far and found what she was looking for, only to come up short by a few hours. They followed the winding lava tunnels accompanied only by Ishi, who met up with them with a good deal of barking and smoky breath.

“Actinia will be disappointed he didn't get to see you again,” Flicker said when they'd reached the portal chamber. The book, an exact twin of the one Alice had used to get here, sat just where she'd left it.

“I'll be back, I expect,” Alice said. “I hope, anyway.” According to her watch, she had twenty-three hours to go.

“We'll look forward to it.” Flicker frowned, glancing at his feet. “I'm sorry if some of the things I said were harsh. It wasn't fair.”

“It's all right,” Alice said. “I understand. The Readers have hurt you.”

“But
you
haven't. You're just as stuck as we are. I hadn't . . . realized that.”

Alice grinned at him, and he smiled back. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

As she went over to the portal-book, Flicker cleared his throat, a sound like a fire spitting sparks.

“Alice,” he said. “Be careful, all right?”

“I will.” She reached into her bag to touch
The Infinite Prison
one more time. The faint buzz of static set her teeth on edge, but its presence was reassuring.
Almost there.

Alice flipped open the front cover of the portal-book, and read:

Alice had forgotten how awful it was on the other side of the portal . . .

Alice had forgotten how awful it was on the other side of the portal, hot as an oven with the air full of noxious smoke. She ran for the shelves as fast as she could, her boots leaving little patches of burned rubber on the rocks behind her. When she reached cleaner air, she took a deep breath, then slid between the great stone monoliths that guarded the edge. As she wriggled through, space twisted around her, and stone became wood. She popped out from a crack between two bookshelves, back in the library, and breathed the familiar scent of ancient paper and dust.

Ashes was waiting for her, sitting with his paws together and his ears flat. Behind him, Ending's yellow eyes glowed.

“Alice,” Ashes said. “You're okay?”

“Did you retrieve the book?” Ending rumbled.

“I got it.” Alice patted her pack triumphantly, but neither of them seemed to share in her cheer. “What's wrong?”

“Geryon returned this morning,” Ending said. “One day early.”

Alice's hand went into her pocket, gripping the silver watch tight.

“He asked to see you,” Ashes said miserably. “As soon as you returned.”