Flame wasn’t sure how long she’d lain feverish in the little shack. Long enough for the rain to stop. Long enough for the sun to rise and set more than once. Was it two days, three, even four? She didn’t know. But at last the fever had passed. She awoke weak but clear-headed to see bright moonlight steaming into the shack. She was thirsty, though she’d lapped up the rainwater that had puddled just outside the door. She got to her feet, managing not to stagger. She followed her ears, finding a babbling brook not far off. When she’d drunk her fill she turned her attention to her hunger. She knew she needed food, and for her there was one good way to get it. But here in settled lands she wasn’t going to find wild game, she would have to resort to thievery. Her nose led the way this time as she crept silently into a farmyard. Her sensitive ears picked up human snores from the farmhouse, but her attention was elsewhere. Her nose soon led her to a chicken coop. With one dexterous paw she opened the latch as silently as possible. She was glad to see there were plenty of chickens. The farmers wouldn’t suffer too badly for the loss of a few. She didn’t even wake the other chickens as she quickly killed three and carried them out. She paused to latch the door again behind her. That’ll confuse them to no end, she thought with a touch of humor.

Some distance off in a field of corn that was not quite tall enough to completely hide her this early in the year she left a scatter of feathers and a few clean-picked bones. She returned to the shack then. If it had hidden her this long it would hid her a little longer. She knew she’d been a fool to leave the monastery before she was completely recovered. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She would need her full strength to deal with her double, after all.

Three more days saw her feeling pretty much her old self again. She’d recovered enough to shift shape, so it was a mongrel dog that trotted down the road just after sunset with her belly full of stolen chicken. She had realized that the mirror Aidan would probably still have her husband’s sun-protection amulet, so any rescue needed to be after dark. By the time the moon rose she had come within sight of the crumbling castle.

No point in delaying any more now, she thought, and approached the castle’s fallen gates. She took her own form and crept on silent paws through deserted and ruined corridors. Room after empty room was inspected and rejected. There were no signs of life anywhere, just dust and cobwebs and crumbling stone.

Flame Song was passing through a huge hall when she caught something out of the corner of her eye. The ceiling had fallen in at one end of the hall, letting the moonlight into the room. In the dim rafters ancient banners so covered with dust and cobwebs that their designs weren’t visible hung immobile in the still air. A single lonely suit of armor was silently rusting away along the wall. A worm-eaten table that must once have been impressive but was now literally falling apart ran down the center of the room, its surface thick with dust. Flame’s own footsteps stirred up puffs of dust, but the floor wasn’t as thickly covered, as if someone occasionally came through here.

When Flame Song saw the flicker of motion, she spun around, and so her double hit her face on instead of bowling her over from the side. Sharp claws raked across her shoulders and she snarled in pain. She reared back and her own claws came out. The next few moments were a confusion of claws and flying fur in a literal catfight. They were, of course, evenly matched, but the mirror Flame Song was comparatively fresh, while her double was worn out from illness, travel, and blood loss.

The mirror Flame got a further advantage when she shouldered her twin sideways into the big table. It went to splinters, but not before knocking the breath out of Flame Song completely. Her feet went out from under her and she found herself tangled in a pile of wooden debris. Her double loomed over her, fangs bared in a victorious smile. And then something whooshed out of the darkness and thudded into the mirror Flame’s head. She collapsed limply onto the dusty floor. Her snarling feline face was replaced in her double’s field of vision by an unreadable bovine visage. Flame blinked at this unlikely savior. What was a minotaur doing here? And why had it hit the other Flame? She cautiously extracted herself from the ruins of the table. She was bruised, and blood still seeped out of the scratched across her shoulders, but nothing seemed to be broken.

“Who are you?” she asked the minotaur.

“Aldro,” was his brief response.

“Why did you do that?”

“She was not a kind mistress. This was a good opportunity.”

“Oh. But how did you know which one to hit?”

“I knew,” he said. Then he added, “You are looking for Aidan, yes?”

“Yes! For my Aidan, that is.”

“Follow me.”

Flame Song, unable to think of any other response, followed silently. Aldro led the way through deserted corridors and down a set of narrow stone stairs. He went down another corridor and stopped at a locked door. He pulled out a six-sided rod and touched it to a spot on the lock plate. The door swung open. The room inside was dim, and she couldn’t see who was inside clearly. “Aidan?” she called softly. One huddled shape in a corner of the room stretched upward and resolved itself into the familiar form of a young-looking, raven-haired aerian.

He came a few steps closer, moving into the light that filtered in from the hallway. He looked at her suspiciously and she realized he must think she was her double.

“It’s all right, I’m not the Flame from here. I’ve come to rescue you.”

He laughed softly, with a touch of bitterness in it. “How can I be sure you’re not just playing a trick on me?”

“Ask me something. Surely there are things about me that my double wouldn’t know.”

He smiled then and said, “I would, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know them either. You see I’m not your Aidan, I’m the other one.”

She blinked in surprise, unable to think of any response. Why would the mirror Aidan be locked up here? “Where’s my husband then?”

The mirror Aidan gestured to a second huddled form. Flame Song started forward, but he raised one hand and said, “Stop. Don’t go near him.”

She showed her teeth in a feline snarl of suspicion and said, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe.” He closed his eyes for a moment and a shudder went though him. The bloodsmell from Flame Song’s wounded shoulder was dangerously strong. “I’m having trouble restraining the urge to jump on you and drain you dry, and he’s been here a lot longer than I have. He might not harm you, I’ve come to admire his self-control very much, but even he has limits.”

“Well, wake him up or whatever. I’m getting him out of here right now.”

The mirror Aidan nodded. He walked over to where his twin was curled up on his side. He had been spending more and more time in a kind of coma. They had decided it was natural; a method of conserving energy when no food was available, but it was still alarming. When a person doesn’t breathe or have a heartbeat it’s hard to be sure if they are alive. The mirror Aidan reached down and shook his twin’s shoulder. “Aidan, wake up. She came.” But the unconscious aerian didn’t stir.

“What’s wrong?” asked Flame Song from the doorway.

“He’s in some kind of coma, like he’s hibernating. I can’t wake him.”

“Then can you carry him? We need to get out of here!”

“I still don’t trust you. My Flame is a very good actress. I need to wake him to make sure you’re really you. But don’t worry, I have an idea.”

If his twin was hibernating because he had no food, then there was one sure way to wake him up. Aidan brought his wrist to his mouth and tore his sharp fangs across it. Blood welled out sluggishly, teasing sharply at the mirror Aidan’s own huger. He ignored it and held his wrist over his twin’s mouth, letting a few drops fall on his lips. His twin licked them off. Then he opened his eyes. For a moment they were unfocused, with no sign of intelligence in them. Gradually Aidan blinked again and began to come all the way awake. His double put his wrist to his own mouth and sucked off the last few drops of blood, not wanting to waste any. Blood was blood, after all, even if it was his own.

“What…?” asked Aidan weakly.

“Your wife is here, but I need to be sure it’s her. What can you ask her that her double wouldn’t know?”

“Children’s names…” said Aidan.

“Littlespark, Firedart, and Phoenixflare, answered Flame immediately.

The mirror Aidan shook his head. “My Flame could have overheard us talking abut them. I can’t be sure.”

“One more…” said Aidan, his voice a weak whisper. “Mine, not hers. Haven’t mentioned…”

The mirror Aidan looked from his twin to Flame questioningly.

“Damien,” said Flame softly, painful memory casting a brief shadow across her eyes. “He means Damien.”

“Yes, it’s her,’ said Aidan, and his eyes closed again.