"Failed experiments, maybe? They were trapped inside another room, and I literally tripped a lever that released them." Two of them had now advanced into the room, their mouths working soundlessly as they dragged themselves across the floor, eyes focused on the humans crouched in the corner. They circled around Belize's table, more joining them every moment. One crawled upon the table, snatched up an ink pot, and stuffed it into its horrid maw, crushing it. Another, a half-headed human with the hind legs of a dog, took up a quill and scratched at Belize's spellbook. Not one made a move toward Guerrand and Esme.

"I don't get it." Guerrand's brow was furrowed as he watched the creatures swarming over magical equipment, sending beakers and books crashing. "They don't seem to be interested in us, only in destroying Belize's laboratory."

"Are we just going to wait for them to remember us?" asked Esme. "Maybe we should make a move to get around them now, since I can't run with this stupid leg." She tested it anyway, sending bolts of pain to the break beneath her knee.

Guerrand's lips pursed. "We'd have to wade through them."

Excuse me, Rand, said Zagarus at his shoulder. I think I'd like to get back into my mirror now, where it's safe.

"Yeah, sure," Guerrand said distractedly, reaching into his pouch. His fingers froze around the mirror's cool surface, and he let it drop back into the bag. Leaping to his feet, he leaned over the steps at the edge of the platform, eyes searching for the large mirror from which Belize had broken his shard. They would be safe in there.

Guerrand moved back to where Esme and his familiar waited. "Zag," he said softly, "what do you think about when you enter my shard?"

The sea gull was startled by the question. I just dip my head and push my way in.

Esme grabbed at Guerrand's trouser leg. "What are you thinking, Rand?"

Guerrand swept the young woman up, arms under her legs, mindful of her broken one. His heart skipped a beat at her cry of pain. "We're all going into the mirror," he said. "Please, Esme, just close your eyes and trust me."

She searched Guerrand's face for only a moment before she hugged his neck and did as he asked.

Pulling Esme tight to his chest, Zagarus at his feet, Guerrand rushed down the steps. He followed the right wall, behind the shelves, until he came to the dusty, leather-edged looking glass. Mumbling a prayer to Lunitari, he instructed his reflected image to lift his right leg toward the mirror. His limb slipped through more easily than through water, and his foot found the ground within the mirror world. Straddling the glass, a foot on each side, Guerrand could see the milling monstrosities reflected behind him. Nestling Esme more tightly, he held his breath and stepped into the mirror without further hesitation.

His left foot landed on solid ground next to his right one. Cold, chilling mists roiled in semidarkness just past his waist, tickling at Esme's nose near Guerrand's chest. He settled her higher and began walking forward blindly, afraid the creatures might understand how to follow into the mirror, afraid to tell Esme of the fear.

"Zag?"

I'm here, Rand, the bird said reassuringly.

"Where are we?" Esme whispered.

"I don't know."

The young woman stiffened in his arms. "The herbs are wearing off. My leg aches like it's on fire."

Guerrand shifted her again. "I'll get you out of here soon," he promised, not sure how he would keep the vow.

What do you suppose would happen if we leaped into the shard in your pack? proposed Zagarus.

"Is this," Guerrand asked, "what it looks like inside my mirror?" Zag's beak bobbed. "Then I suspect we'd end up right back here. Belize's magical looking glass seems to be a portal to a mirror world."

So how do we get out?

"How do you get out?"

Zag cocked his head, as if in exasperation. You know how-you call to me. I simply follow your voice through the mist to the wall where it sounds the loudest. Then I just step through, knowing I'll come out of the shard.

Guerrand sighed. "We don't have anyone to call to us."

Esme was getting only half the conversation, since she couldn't hear Zagarus, so she was looking at Guerrand in frustration. He quickly told her what Zag had said.

Her brows knit. "You called this a 'mirror world,' which implies a vastness of scope. If your voice acts as a kind of map marker for Zag to follow, we'll just have to make our own sign that marks the way out."

An idea began to form in Guerrand's mind. "You visualize the shard as you step out, knowing you'll exit there?" he asked Zag for confirmation; the bird nodded. Hope fluttered in Guerrand's chest. He mentally ran his theory through from beginning to end and could find no real flaws. The apprentice had the same confident feeling as he did whenever he mastered a new spell.

"Esme, apply our lessons on visualization to the mirror in the peristyle of Villa Rosad. It's one even Zag has seen." She looked puzzled. "If the idea works, you'll understand."

"My leg hurts enough to try almost anything," she said weakly, her cheek on his shoulder.

"Picture the mirror in your mind, every detail," he continued. "You, too, Zag. Let your memory take you beyond the mirror to the walls around it. Keep it there. Think of nothing else."

Man, woman, and bird stood in the mist with closed eyes, every thought, every nerve on the task. Within moments, a high droning sound, like the steady thrumming of gnomish machinery, rose nearby. Locating the exact spot on the mist-shrouded wall from which the noise rose, Guerrand held his breath and stepped forward.

His foot met with no wall. The grayness simply vanished, and Guerrand and Esme leaped into the peristyle of Villa Rosad. The cool marble walls and greenery surrounded them, reflected in the full-length mirror behind them. Guerrand nearly swooned with relief.

A heartbeat behind the apprentices, Zagarus emerged through the looking glass. Well, I'll be a pelican's beak!

Chapter Sixteen

Justarius stood near the small reflecting pool in the peristyle, plucking the dead heads from his prized hibiscus plants. He was having a little trouble with spots on the peach-colored flowers, but was hoping for a second blooming from the reds. He slipped the withered, trumpet-shaped blossoms into a burlap sack. They would be made into a bitter tea that he found greatly aided his digestion.

Tugging the sack's strings to close it, he turned unconsciously toward the southeast doorway that led to the villa's bakery, where he would dry the hibiscus flowers. To his mild surprise, his apprentices burst forth from the mirror near the doorway at the end of the row of columns that comprised the colonnade. Justarius had been master to enough apprentices to be unfazed by their unusual modes of travel. However, he was concerned to see that the young woman in Guerrand's arms was obviously injured. They both looked frightened and more than a little disheveled, standing in the midst of the potted palms on either side of the mirror. Guerrand's sea gull familiar squawked a hasty arrival on their heels. Upon seeing Justarius, the bird took wing and flew into the blue sky above the peristyle.

"That was quite an entrance," Justarius said calmly. "What, may I ask, have you two been at?"

Guerrand's face burned as he kicked a path through the thick palms to set Esme gingerly in a chair near Justarius.

"I can explain-" began Guerrand.

"No, let me," interrupted Esme.

Justarius silenced her with a look. "I would like to hear Guerrand's explanation first, Esme." He tapped his bearded chin, then glanced at her broken leg in the makeshift splint. "That needs immediate attention. You may go with Denbigh now." Justarius snapped his fingers, and the enormous, shaggy owlbear shuffled into view as if by magic, which it very likely was.