But Astrid couldn’t make the words come. She was too afraid. And even if she could, it was too late. The convoca was over. Sera was gone. Astrid released Des’s hands.
“Sera’s right,” Des said thoughtfully. “We’ll need every bit of magic we can muster to deal with the Qanikkaaq,” Des said. “It’s the biggest, ugliest maelstrom in all the waters. How’s your stilo spell? Can you throw a decent frag?”
“I’ve got to find Elskan,” Astrid said briskly.
“I’ll go with you.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
Des looked puzzled by her suddenly curt tone. “Hey, Astrid, what’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m cool.”
“Yeah, I’ll say. Like, icy cool.” Des gave her a look, but then softened. “Are you worried about the maelstrom? Is that it? I’m not going to let you do this alone. I’ll help you. We’re in this together.”
Astrid couldn’t look at him. “Sure, Des,” she said. “Thanks.”
Des nodded. Then he started off after Elskan.
He didn’t see the sadness in Astrid’s eyes, or hear her as she softly said, “Yeah, Des, together. Until you find out the truth.”
“ASTRID KOLFINNSDOTTIR…”
“Mmmpff,” Astrid said, turning over in her sleep.
“Wake up.”
“Leave me alone…tired…”
“Time grows short.”
Astrid sat up, angry to be woken by yet another convoca. “Argh! Ever hear of boundaries, Sera? It’s got to be three in the morning! What do you want now?”
But Sera didn’t answer her.
Astrid looked uneasily around the metal shipping container. It was full of gogg furniture, clothing, and trinkets. Both she and Des had found mattresses. Des was sleeping soundly on his. Outside, Elskan was munching contentedly on some seal bones.
Something moved behind Astrid. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. In a flash she was out of bed and reaching for the dagger she kept tucked in her belt.
“There’s no need to be frightened,” the voice said. “I mean you no harm.”
A silvery light shone from the very back of the container. It hadn’t been there when she and Des settled down for the night. Astrid swam toward it now, her dagger in her hand. As she drew closer, she realized that the light was coming from a mirror. It was long and wide, and half-hidden behind a sofa.
A man was standing in the mirror. A human dressed in black and wearing sunglasses. He’d spoken to her once before, inside an abandoned house in a raided village.
“What do you want?” she asked him.
“You.”
“Who are you?” Astrid demanded.
The man replied with a question of his own.
“Where are you going, Astrid? To your friends?” His tone was mocking. “Do you really think it will be different with them? What can you offer them? More importantly, what can they offer you? But I can offer you so much, child. If only you would let me.”
He walked up to the glass and pressed his palm against it.
Astrid backed away, worried that he meant to climb through from Vadus, the mirror realm. But he remained where he was, perfectly still, a half smile on his lips.
Slowly, Astrid moved toward him. She didn’t understand why.
“Blood is strong, child. Stronger than the tides. Deeper than the sea itself,” the man said.
Astrid raised her hand and pressed it to the glass, her palm to his. As she did, she felt a jolt, as if an electric current was moving through her. She saw herself not as she was—weary and silt-streaked—but in a gown of black sea silk, wearing a crown of polished jet, her white-blond hair swirling about her shoulders.
She was songcasting.
She was singing.
The man’s fingers interlaced with her own. His grip was cold and strong. “I have waited for you. For centuries.”
“No,” Astrid said. “No.”
She jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. She was frightened—of herself. The image she’d seen of herself songcasting…she wanted it so badly, she’d nearly dove headlong into the mirror realm and into the presence of a man she didn’t even know.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“The blood knows. The blood calls.”
He smiled, and with a slight bow of his head, turned and walked back into the quicksilver world, down a long hall full of mirrors.
Astrid watched him until he disappeared.
“This isn’t real,” she said out loud. “It’s only a dream.”
As she continued to gaze into the mirror, Vadus dimmed. She saw only her reflection now—the ice-blue eyes, the blond braids, the strong nose and full mouth.
“It’s only a dream,” she said again.
Then she lay back down on her mattress, stared into the darkness, and tried her best to believe it.
Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain,
For we’re under orders
For to sail to old England…