“Show me Galen Hesper,” I beg the hand mirror I discover on my nightstand.
Jude was right about the lanterns in my bedroom—they stay on. Oddly enough, I can’t seem to control any of the lights, but there’s just enough to find my shadowy reflection in the small mirror. A reflection I willneverget used to.
The mirror darkens and swirls, murky. Nothing happens.
Any chance of making a deal with Jude vanishes from my mind as I realize something else:If he finds out who I am, whose daughter I am, I won’t be the only one in danger.
I need to warn Galen.
“Galen,” I try again, but still nothing. If Players can hear prayers through the mirrors, theremustbe a way to speak to the outside world.
As I slam the mirror back down, swearing, it occurs to me—Galen hates mirrors even more than I do. Growing up, he shattered every last one we owned and threw out the pieces. My brother won’t be anywhere near one.
Another stroke of bad luck. I grit my teeth, about to fling the damn thing across the room when a murmuring stirs at the edges of the glass. It hums around my hands as I grip the mirror, like secrets shared between old friends.
A new idea takes shape in my head—along with the image of a small, cracked mirror, one I’ve seen a hundred times, never in the hands of a family member but in the hands of…
“Haris,” I whisper to the mirror, moving forward, picturing his face. “Show me Haris.”
The glass brightens and shifts cheerily this time, as if welcoming a request it can grant. Then it goes black.
Through the mirror, I hear the muffled sounds of weeping. The whoosh of Theatron wind. A distant horn of the Diolkos Railway. The sounds of the District.
“Haris?” I call into the darkness. The weeping on the other side stops. “Haris, it’s me. It’s Riven.”
Nothing.
Then, quietly, “Riven?”
“Yes!” I call with relief. “Yes, it’s me!”
Silence pulls between us. Then light washes across my mirror, and Haris’s weathered face fills it, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
I’m not sure how much time I have. The words fall out of my mouth at record speed. “Haris, I need you to listen to me. I’m in the Playhouse and—”
“THE PLAYHOUSE!”You’d think I just told him I stumbled across a lifetime of riches. Awe fills his face, his scream drowning out my frantic explanation. “It’sgone,Riven.” He rakes his fingers down the glass, as if trying to claw his way through it. “The Playhouse isgone.Vanished.”
“Haris,”I hiss, desperate to shut him up before someone hears. “Stop it.Quiet down.”
“Show me the Players!” he shrieks. “Show them to me, Riven.Show them, show them, show—”
Maybe this wasn’ta good idea. “I’ll make you a trade! I’ll make you a trade, Haris,” I call over his wailing.
Gods, I’m making allsortsof deals tonight.
“I’ll bring you something. I’ll bring you—uh—” I dip my hand into my pocket, fishing out Jude’s Finders Keepers ring. I pinch it between my fingers and show it to him. “This! This belongs to Player Jude. It’s yours if—”
“Jude!”Delirious joy fills his voice, his eyes widening, his gaze turning hungry as he watches the ring in my fingers.
“This is yours on one condition.” I try to keep my voice steady, but it’s shaking now. It may be paranoia, but I can’t escape the feeling that Jude could be listening in on every word of this. “Haris, I need your help.”
Act I: Scene XVI
By morning, I have the beginnings of a plan. A bad one, but a plan nevertheless.
It begins with tracking down that rogue gold-tipped arrow from last night.
As the sun rises through stained glass windows, I discover a pair of scarlet pants about a hundred times nicer than the ones I wandered in with, along with a silk blouse that laces at the sides. Both look like they might have been neatly folded before being tossed through my mirror and landing in a heap on the floor. Along with a note.
