The Ancient Mirror
By
RD Larson
By
RD Larson
Kira stepped out of the taxi into a driving rain at Fifth and Market and ducked under the overhang of the nearest building. She glanced at her watch, as she pushed a wet strand of dark hair back from her face. She had a golden alabaster skin that made her beautiful. Her hair was pulled back with a silver clip and her eyes held great curiosity in them. She shook the rain from flaps of her tan trench coat and glanced around.
She was an hour early for her appointment with her attorney so she might as well shop in the neighbor hood. She noticed an antique store on the opposite side of the street. She didn’t remember seeing it last month. Not many cars were around this early in the morning. She dashed over to it. Wei Loo's Antiquities, she read above the door. The windows had various statues and boxes stacked in them. Nothing unique or original, but still she had an hour to wander. A smell of mould and old papers mixed with a smoky berry smell seeped from the ill-fitting door.
She pushed the red door. It held but then gave way so quickly that she stumbled over the door sill. Kira entered the dim shop which was mostly lit by spotlights accentuating the artifacts from various Dynasties.
Temple dogs and dragons lived side by side in the antique dust. Masks and tassels hung from drawer pulls. Kira noticed a small old man sitting in a pool of dim light from a banker's lamp on a central table. A sweet aroma rose from his pipe.
She bowed toward him. He raised his head. "Good morning, my granddaughter ."
"Good morning, Grandfather,” Kira replied, using the respectful title. “I hope you are well."
"I am well. May I assist you?" His black eyes were hard and bright while wrinkles stitched his old face together. His hair was pulled back into a greyish queue.
"I'm just looking -- until my appointment. If something calls to me, I will ask you . . ." Kira let her voice trail away.
"Perhaps, something old will be of interest to you because you are young." The shopkeeper chuckled softly.
Kira smiled at him and continued her tour of the store. Each item was a story of the past. There were some replicas though. As she came up to a heavily lacquered chest, she notices a small drawer stood partly open. She pulled the tassel gently to open the drawer.
A bronze mirror lay in the drawer. Drawn ancient figures and designs covered the back of it. In the center stood a small knob. Augury? Some sort of omen? She gently took it out, admiring the fine work and beautiful details of the gods.
“Is this a replica of the mirrors from the Western Han Dynasty?” She turned to look at the old grandfather. He appeared to be asleep on his stool. A small pipe resting in a bowl gave a plume of scent to the room.
She held the mirror in both hands, turning it carefully. There were four gods on it. A tortoise and a snake drawn into one black creature represented the north. The second god was a red phoenix, the third one was a white tiger and the fourth was a the lucky blue dragon. The mirror felt warm in her hand.
“You don’t want that; it’s a poor copy,” said the grandfather shopkeeper, apparently having awoke. He drew in a breath through his porcelain Kiseru pipe. “It is similar to those of the Han Dynasty. Nevertheless, a poor copy. Who knows when it was made?”
“It’s very attractive all the same. I could never afford a true antique. What is the price?” Kira held the mirror against her body.
“I would sell it for only $6,000, since it’s a mere copy,” he said opening a local newspaper written with Chinese characters. “It won’t bring you luck, you know, because it isn't a true antique. Please look further, granddaughter.”
“To me it is a happy omen.”
Shock spread over the old man’s face. He had spoken too soon. He grunted and picked up an abacus. When they had finished their business, they bowed politely. Kira went away with her treasure wrapped in tissue in a plastic bag.
A thudding thrill hit her chest, nearly making her cry out in glee. It wasn’t a copy; it was authentic. Buyer, beware, she thought. Through the sleet-like rain, she stalked down the short block to her attorney’s office.
Bartoli and Sons was a typical city office on the seventh floor of an old building with a refurbished elevator and marble entry. Bartoli and his two sons were deadly serious and very devoted. No wonder her father had used them for everything. For his accusing foes and his many wives as well as his final will, the Baroli’s law firm stood for the time and the precision of the law. Her father, an honorable man, understood their philosophy just as they understood his.
Today they would read to her from her father’s will. Perhaps it would be Angelo. As the elder brother, he often took time to see her whereas his father had always seen her father. Generational law, he laughingly called it. Kira already knew that her father had left her all of his assets and nothing to his brother or his ex-wives. There are benefits to being an only child, she thought.
She waited impatiently as the receptionist took her name. She didn’t bother to sit, as she knew one of the Bartoli lawyers would not keep her waiting long.
“Kira, my dear, I would have sent a car for you. It’s pouring out there,” said the man as he opened the door. Anthony Bartoli at more than seventy had great dignity with erect posture and silver hair.
“Well, thank you for seeing me.” Kira offered her hand. His warm grip made her think of her own father. Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away.“Damn, I’m sorry. How silly of me.”
“No, not silly. You still miss him after seven months. I do, too.” Anthony said, putting an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward his office. “And the legal problem with the will has been exhausting for you as well.”
As they went through the tall panelled door, Kira saw that both Angelo and Rocco stood in the office. They greeted her and offered coffee, which Kira eagerly accepted.
When the steaming mug began to warm her hand, she sat down in the brown leather chair. Chitchat is over, she thought. Get on with it.
“We can read the outcome to you but we’ll send the papers with you if you like.” Rocco raised his bushy brows. Kira nodded. “In that case, we’ll tell you the results. The attorneys for your father’s brother and his ex-wives have offered to settle for three properties. Moreover, after taking it under advisement for the last three months, the plaintiffs have decided to not proceed further in their case. So your father’s fortune comes to you just as he wished.”
“Uncle Gai? How is he taking it?” Kira looked at them, trying to read their three swarthy faces. Oblique eyes crinkled at the edges.
Rocco said, “We’ve just heard that your uncle has had the misfortune of being diagnosed with dementia and will have to have twenty-four hour care. I spoke to his wife early yesterday and she told me that not only he is abusive to her but he has taken to walking away. She is afraid that he’ll be hurt.”
“Good Lord, he is a terror. They’ll have to put him in a strait-jacket!” Visions of her Uncle Gai’s six-foot frame restrained made her slightly hysterical. Laughter bubbled in her chest.
“I gather he told his wife he would send her back to Manchuria. Mrs Sung has already filed the paper work. He will be taken to Dunn’s Gateway Home.”
“I can’t believe it. He’s always had such personal power, such fierceness,” Kira said, her eyes looking at her hands. “Like my father but far more selfish, less respectable. I wondered sometimes if he skated around, you know, legally.” When Kira looked up, Paolo smiled at her.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sung, the poor old fellow has lost his mind. You’re not going to have to deal with him any longer.” Paolo, the younger of the brothers, had always fancied her, even once asking her to dinner.
Kira stood. “As I have a noon meeting, I really need to go. You will continue to represent me as you did my father. Thank you and let me know when the funds have been transferred to my bank.”
“Yes, of course, Miss Sung.” Old Anthony stood as she did and walked with her to the door. Kira patted his upper arm and murmured a low thank you. With great relief, she walked through the reception room and into the hall.
As she stepped into the elevator, she remembered her shopping bag, and peered into it. There was her wonderful mirror, bought and paid for, her very own piece of the past. She whispered softly, “I respect you, ancestors.”
She drove to her condominium, parking in the underground garage. As she took the elevator up to her floor, she thought about the generosity of her father. He had never offered her money. She had paid her own way through college and bought her own car. She had finally bought this condo just last year. Although she knew he loved her, he told her many times that life could be hard and that he wanted her to be independent.
As she unlocked the door and went in, the back of her neck prickled as the hairs stood up. She looked around carefully. She had learned to trust her instincts in the art-dealing world. Liars abound wherever money changes hands, she knew. Nothing seemed amiss.
Kira carried the bag with the bronze mirror to the couch. As she sat down, she sighed. She couldn’t believe her good fortune, the blessing of the blue dragon, one of the figures raised on a quadrant of the mirror. Her lucky blue dragon! Her slim finger touched it, calling for good fortune.
Standing, she took a Ming Dynasty plate from its stand on the mantle of the electric fireplace. Kira placed it in the book self with her statues of palace dogs. Then she placed the mirror in the exact center of her mantle. It caught the light from the window and the sliding door that led to her small balcony. The antique mirror held a fractured and shadowed outline of her bamboo plant. She peered at her own image.
Not too young any more. Nor too old. The perfect age, she thought. Then thinking of her inheritance, she knew she would travel now. She had been to Hong Kong and Tokyo Still, many places intrigued her, and not just the art but always the culture. She thought as she stared out at the continuing rain, that she would first go to New Zealand, where it would be summer.
She turned and went into her bedroom. Feminine and flowery with an Asian tone, it suited her. She stepped out of her shoes and dress, walking toward her small bathroom.
As she pushed the door open, she gasped. Then a terrified scream rose from deep inside her body. Before she could let out a sound Uncle Gai had pressed a stiletto against her pale throat, slicing downward. As he pulled the bloody knife away, she cried out. A thin trickle of blood spread down her front. It did not hurt but bled.
“Why? Why, Uncle?”
“You and your dog of a father! Always cheating me out of my own money! Always! Worthless girl. Art! Bah! You couldn’t get a real job.” Uncle Gai pushed her back into the bedroom. His eyes were an evil square, glassy and surrounded by a yellowed white. Kira’s own blood shined slick on the thin blade of the knife.
“If I can’t have my money, do you think I will let you take it?” He stepped closer as Kira backed away. Fearful that he would kill her, she tried to think but only a blur filled her thoughts. His mouth opened, drooling spittle flicked onto her slip and neck. “Daughter of a liar and thief. You will not live to see me suffer.”
She turned, nearly running as his claw-like hands reached out to snatch her slip. She felt herself falling backward and gave a hard push with her feet. As she bounded forward, she pulled him off balance enough to get a few steps away. Yet he was between her and the door!
Uncle Gai laughed, his eyes becoming mere slits. “You fool of a girl. I will make you rue the day of your birth.”
He came at her again. Kira backed away -- away-- from the insane old man. Then quickly past him, she ran into the living room He trapped her by the couch, his stiletto pointed at her throat again. She backed up, reaching blindly behind herself for one of the heavy temple dogs. The knife flashed near her arm. Then near her face. Quickly it cut again at her throat.
The pain made her gasp. “Aieee!”
She fell against the mantle when her Uncle crouched with the knife now pointed at her heart. Flaying her arms behind her, she found the bronze mirror. Without knowing, with only senseless terror, she flung it at him.
The mirror caught him just above the ear with a wide cut. As Uncle Gai fell forward, the pointed knife slid into his gut, drawing a wound that penetrated his bowels, vividly pink and pulsing, which pushed out. He fell heavily to the carpet; blood everywhere.
Kira shrieked and shrieked. As he lay there twitching, she finally was able to control herself enough to call 911. Blood from her neck cuts ran down her torn slip on to her arms and even on her hands. Numbly she saw her own blood smear the numbers on the phone.
“Nine-one-one. Emergency. How can we help you?”
Kira gasped out, “My uncle tried to kill me. He’s here. I’m bleeding; I’ve been cut. He fell on his knife. He’s hurt. Please help me!”
“Medical and police are on their way. Your address?”
“I'm at 209 Green Lantern Lane. Hurry, hurry.” As Kira slipped to the floor, she picked up the bronze mirror with its four gods, not the least of which was the lucky blue dragon. She trembled, shivering as she could smell the aroma of a sweet briar pipe.
As she gripped her unbroken treasure, her Uncle Gai groaned once and died.
End
