Queen of Infinite Space

Lost on the high seas and sent down the wrong leg of the Trousers of Time, Viola never ends up in the funhouse mirrors of Illyria. She has no reason to recall the stories her father has told her of that country where nothing is but what is not. As she approaches the castle of Elsinore in her guise of a page she has no way of knowing that the reflections hidden behind its rough-hewn battlements are shadows of motion glinting off polished marble, and two-way mirrors that give all hallways the sterile glare and dim horror of an interrogation cell.

 

The front entrance is clearly only intended for the use of visiting dignitaries and the imposing expanse of wood unnerves her. Telling herself that it is only because she would not wish to inconvenience the doubtless dozens of people it would take to operate it, she moves around to the side, where she finds a door meant for daily use: more extravagant than those used by servants, but less overwhelming than the first. But actually, “daily use” may be pushing it, because this whole lonely place feels like somewhere whose inhabitants rarely leave it, and which hardly ever receives visitors. It is sealed up tight. Still, Viola knocks; her circumstances do not afford her many options.