Gemma Silvestre's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The Mirrorstone sat on Gemma's workbench, wrapped in a cloth. For three days she had refused to look at it. The face inside still moved on its own. It turned, it searched, it watched doors she had not opened. She could not hang such a stone in her school. Students would see it and run. She needed to know what the face wanted before the gem could teach anyone. She unwrapped it at dawn and watched. The face pressed close, as if against glass. Its mouth moved. No sound came. Gemma leaned nearer and studied the shape of the lips. The same two motions, again and again. She had read lips before, with cheating merchants across loud market stalls. She watched until she was sure. The face said: let me out. Gemma set the stone on the sill. Outside, a pink flying hamster darted past the window and landed on the ledge, wings buzzing. It pressed its small paws to the glass and stared at the Mirrorstone. Then it chirped, loud and sharp, and would not stop. The face inside the gem turned toward the sound. For the first time, it smiled. Gemma understood then. The face was not trapped by poison or by magic she could scrape away. It was answering living things. It had watched the door for whoever drew near. It had smiled at the hamster. The stone did not want freedom. It wanted company. It mirrored not her face, but the heart of whatever stood closest. She tested it. She fetched a spotted rabbit from the yard, a bright dancing thing that never held still. She held the stone before it. The face inside began to dance too, loose and glad, matching the rabbit's hops. Then she brought the stone near her own chest and thought of her school, of students bent over gems. The face grew still and careful, eyes narrowed in work. It showed her back to herself. Gemma laughed out loud. This was no curse. This was the finest teaching stone in the realm. A gem that showed each student their own focus, their own joy, their own distraction, in a living mirror. No lecture could do what this stone did in a glance. She polished it clean and fixed it to the center of her dress, the last empty setting filled at last. The face settled into her reflection, calm and steady, matching her resolve. She could use it now. She would open the school. But as she turned from the window, the face in the stone shifted. It looked past her shoulder again, toward the road. Its eyes widened. Its mouth moved, fast now, urgent. Gemma followed its gaze. Far off on the road, a dark carriage rolled toward Birchrot, drawn by pale, bony horses. Someone was coming for the stone. And the stone knew it before she did.