stood facing her in the old tarnished mirror. Kate's own image was gone.
What Marak was, Kate didn't know, but he couldn't be a human, not with that big, bony head and tough, wiry body. The slightly bowed legs and large, knotted hands conveyed the idea of strength without grace. He was wearing a black shirt, breeches, and boots, but he had left the riding cloak at home, and his high, twisted shoulder showed to advantage. His face and hands were a ghastly pale gray, and his lips and fingernails were dark tan--the colors, Kate thought, shuddering, of a corpse pulled out of the water. His dull, straight hair fell, all one length, to his twisted shoulders. Most of it was a very light beige, but over one eye a coal-black patch grew back from the forehead, the long black wisps overlaying the pale hair like a spider's legs. His ears rose to a sharp point that flopped over and stuck out through that rough hair like the ears of a terrier dog.
Most striking of all were Marak's deep-set eyes. The left eye was black; the right, emerald green, and they gleamed at her as if lit from within. Marak's dull hair drifted into his face where the cowlick didn't push it out, so his black eye shone through a pale curtain.
This grotesque vision rendered Kate incapable of action for a minute. As her wits began to return, a grim resignation came with them. Em and the aunts were weaker than she was. She would have to face him alone. She took a step toward the frightful image and groped for the bench, seating herself unsteadily before the mirror. The monstrous reflection moved as she did, sinking down upon its own bench. Those odd eyes watched her attentively and shrewdly, and Marak grinned at her. Kate stared in fascinated revulsion. His teeth, small and even, were a dark silver-gray, and they were sharper than proper teeth should be.
Everything about this creature was inhumanly freakish, inhumanly ugly, and she was very grateful that it was not in the same room with her. The mirror was between them. Or--was it? Suppose he could just grab her with those corpse's hands? She held her breath and reached out to feel the mirror, and the figure beyond slowly reached out its hand as well. They came closer and closer together until Kate felt something cold brush her fingertips.
A second later she was on her feet by the bed, gasping for air, the overturned bench hitting the floor in front of her. Marak sprang up to copy, but he failed in the pantomime. Instead, he clung to the bedpost, whooping with laughter.
"You should have seen your face!" he hooted. "I had no idea that touching glass could be so alarming!"
Kate drew long breaths, her fright giving way to indignation. Yes, that was this creature's other characteristic, she remembered with disgust. Inhumanly ugly and, as far as she could tell, inhumanly rude.
"I never saw anyone move so fast! You should have seen yourself!"
Kate eyed him balefully, furious at being laughed at. This is the last time, she vowed firmly, that I give him that satisfaction. She righted the upset bench as calmly as she could and sat down shakily. Marak moved to do the same, not bothering to copy her this time. He just pulled the bench up and sat down as if they were across a normal table instead of across magical dimensions. Then he propped an elbow on his dressing table and leaned his cheek on one big, knotted hand, looking out at her expectantly.
"Yes, I should have seen myself," said Kate, finding her voice with an effort. "I'm looking in a mirror, aren't I? I want my reflection back where it belongs."
"I'll be your reflection," Marak teased. "You'll come and sit before me, and I'll tell you how beautiful you are. I'll tell you thatthere's no woman in the whole land to compare with you, just like magical mirrors are supposed to."
Kate decided to ignore his impertinence. It was the only ladylike thing to do. "Why did you come here?" she demanded angrily. "Why are you bothering me?"
"I'm here tonight for the same reason