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“Fine,” Eliya says with a sigh.
The two of us conjure flames and cry out, “Ignira!”
Two fireballs slam into the mirror. This time the ice melts quicker, and the resulting hole is larger.
I dive toward it. But as I draw near, the mirror freezes.
“Maybe we shouldn’t try that again,” Eliya snorts. “In case next time you lose your fingers.”
I don’t turn to her as she speaks. Instead, I glare at the mirror. Like the door with the braziers, force won’t break it, no matter how much magic fuels our spells.
“How do you think we can solve this one, then?” I ask.
Eliya taps her chin as she thinks. “Well, the only other obstacle I’ve faced so far was a door with a riddle on it.”
“What did it say?”
“What runs around the city, but never moves?”
“Roads?”
“That’s also what I first thought,” Eliya replies. “But apparently that’s wrong.”
“Streets?” I try again.
“Same thing. And don’t try guessing paths, either.”
“Sewers?”
“Still wrong.”
“I give up,” I say with a shrug. Besides, we currently have a far more urgent matter to deal with. “What was it?”
“Walls, of course! Because walls runaroundthe city, whereas roads and sewers runthroughthe city. That’s why they don’t count!”
“Ah, I see.”
Eliya shakes her head at me. “And here I was thinking I was bad at riddles. You’re actually awful at them!”
“Thanks.” I gesture to the surrounding room. “Now, how about you put your amazing riddle skills to use and figure out how we can solve this puzzle?”
“Right, right,” Eliya says, scanning across the room and the mirror.
I take to searching our surroundings. I move aside the books on the shelves and lift the round, embroidered pillows which lounge about on the crimson sofas, hoping to find a clue hidden somewhere. Maybe a scrap of paper with a riddle or instructions written on it. But I find nothing. Not even when I pick up the book resting on the mantelpiece. It’s a biography of Nolderan’s founder, Delmont Blackwood. The pages are old and dusty.
“Wait,” Eliya says as I go to return it to the mantelpiece.
With the book still in my hands, I turn to face her. “What?”
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?” I ask.
“Look, look!” she exclaims, bouncing up and down. She points to our reflection in the icy mirror.
“Where?”
“Look at the table in the mirror.”
