Mireia in the Room of Stairs

Moving her head slowly up, she followed the many winding staircases with her eyes. It occurred to her that this room was also a labyrinth--although a different sort than the one outside. Looking at it's complexity, she began to wonder about the mind of the man who'd made it. It would take a kind of genius to make it, she decided. Perhaps an evil genius, but a genius none-the-less. She supposed there was nothing else to do but go through it, although she suspected that Michael would have been better at this one than she was, what with all the angles and scientific sort of illusions, instead of magical ones. Cruel fate! she thought, waxing Shakespearic. We've each been put in the wrong labyrinth.

Time to get started. She looked at the two staircases leading away from the small area in front of the door. Right or left? Well, left hadn't done her a great deal of good the first time, so she supposed right was just as good a choice as any. It annoyed her that Michael would probably have had a perfectly calculated idea of which way to take, while she was relying purely on a whim. On the other hand, he was currently captured by a vague something in Jareth's Labyrinth and probably wasn't enjoying himself, either. She refused to let herself think too deeply about that. It would do no good to get weepy about her little brother.

She trotted down the stairs, looking around at the options that presented themselves, and keeping well away from the edge. Falling into nothingness was not appealing. When she'd started up another staircase, it occurred to her to look back and check where she'd come from. That turned out to be a mistake because the door she'd come through was now mysteriously upside down. Nothing for it but to go on until I get to another door, she thought, annoyed. So she kept on with the staircase she was climbing--or was it descending?, occasionally aiming towards a new distant door and turning off on a new stairway, only to find that the door had suddenly gotten behind her somehow. Before twenty minutes had gone by, she was cursing Jareth's name roundly.

"Damn evil geniuses," she muttered. "So caught up in their own cunning that they make dumb rooms like this. Stairs should lead either up or down, not both on one side!" By that point she'd stopped aiming for doors altogether and decided that maybe if she just wandered arbitrarily she'd eventually get to one by accident. It was certainly worth a try. So she watched her feet go up and down the stairs and gave herself up to finding new and insulting names for a certain Goblin King.

Luckily she had the presence of mind to stop abruptly when she found that she was standing on one of the flat places found only in front of doors. She looked up and saw a beautiful sight: a big, grandly wooden door. Eagerly, she grabbed the handle and yanked. It refused to open. She looked at the door a little more closely and realized with a great sinking feeling in her stomach, that is was the very same door she'd entered by.

"Idiotic Goblin Kings obsessed with their own importance!" she said loudly as she gave the door another vicious pull.

"Why, what frightful sentiments," said a smooth British voice. Mireia whirled around and saw Jareth himself standing a few staircases above her.

"They're all true!" she said, glaring, not caring at that point if he had the power to turn her into a goblin instantly.

"I'm not so very idiotic, you know," he chided, not bothering to deny the rest. "For instance, I knew you'd run to this room when the goblins finally started their little rebellion. It seems to draw you all."

"'You all' who!" she asked, not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed. "And do you mean to tell me that you knew there was going to be a rebellion?" She peered across the room at him. He smiled silkily.

"All the girls who have visited my domain find themselves in this room eventually. I have no idea why, even though I'm the one who created it." He brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off of one sleeve. "As for knowing about the goblin rebellion--of course I knew." His tone became mildly insulted. "What kind of king do you think I am? They stage a rally every couple of years at least. I simply wait for it to fizzle out, and then come back to continue ruling. Without the rebellion I would never get a holiday. And most of them are too hung over by the time I return to remember anything at all, much less that they challenged my rule. At least, they're smart enough not to say they remember it."

"For your information, I only came here because I'm left handed and decided to take the left-hand door," Mireia informed him haughtily, absorbing his bazar ideas about revolutions and putting them away for later examination. The more politely calm he got, the more haughty she felt like being. "And what were you going to do with me? Leave me to the goblins? The drunken goblins? What a horrible thing to do!" Mireia was warming back up to her original anger.

"Well, yes," said Jareth in reasonable tones. "You'll be one shortly yourself. And in case you've forgotten, I'm not generally known for my sterling humanitarian qualities. I've been called much worse than 'horrible' during my rule."

"But you weren't really mean before!" Mireia blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Oh no?" he asked, quirking an elegant eyebrow. "I've obviously failed in my duties. Tell me, where was I lacking?"

"Well," she said slowly, embarrassed by her outburst. "You gave me a globe. And you offered to teach me magic if I could figure out how to start on my own. And I know you keep your word--to the letter if not the spirit--or no one would ever get through your Labyrinth." A slow smile curved across his mouth, and his eyes seemed to glint in amusement.

"I believe that you are the first to have noticed that last." The smiled faded a bit. "But I'll never have to teach you magic, because you'll never figure out how to start." He stopped speaking and began walking towards her, sometimes seemingly walking away or coming upside down, but eventually he alighted next to her. "Now, since you have utterly refused the company of the goblins, you are stuck with mine. I do not, however, intend to spend my holiday in here. Would you care to accompany me out of this room at least?"

"See," Mireia pointed out. "That was a nice offer."

"Nonsense. This room is monstrously hard to clean, and the Goblins can't be trusted to do it without getting lost. Cleaning magic is very tiring. So it's really selfishness that compels me to get you out of this room before you can tromp up and down all of the staircases."

"Oh," said Mireia. He offered his arm, and she took it very gingerly, by her barest finger tips.

"Now, do try and keep up. If you let go, you'll get lost quite quickly." He set off up the first flight of stairs without waiting for a response, forcing her to trot after him quickly for fear of letting go of his sleeve.

The stairs didn't exactly straighten out when Jareth walked them, but somehow they weren't so confusing anymore. Mireia was inclined to feel chagrined at how disarmingly easy the paths to the doors all looked now. Then, annoyed with herself for feeling embarrassed, she forced herself to remember how hard it had been before, wandering around for the better part of an hour. There was obviously some trick to it. She seemed to vaguely remember this staircase...hadn't it led over to that middle one instead of to the wall?

"Stop thinking about how confusing the room is, please, or I shall be forced to leave you here in order to save myself," said Jareth sternly, without turning to look at her. He didn't break his stride.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Mireia demanded. "Can you read minds?" She asked that last with a twinge of unease. Magic powers were one thing, she reasoned, but if your enemy could read your mind, you were screwed. He could then just preemptively block all attempts she might make to get out of his clutches.

"No, I can not read minds, least of all yours," he replied, patiently. "But this room requires a certain positive frame of mind, if you will, and you are twisting it around again. Stop it at once." Mireia said nothing, but felt contrite, which annoyed her even more than feeling chagrined had. To distract herself from twisting the room again, she decided to ask Jareth a few questions. And this time he couldn't just go fly off in owl form when he didn't feel like fielding her inquiries.

"So who's made it through the labyrinth besides Sarah?" she asked conversationally. She'd had that question for years. She slanted a glance up at his intent profile.

"Why do you wish to know?" he asked, his steps even and rhythmic.

"Because I already know Sarah's story by heart. I want another Labyrinth story."

"I'm afraid you'll find them dreadfully tame after that one." There was a note of amusement in his voice.

"Please?" Mireia found that she wasn't above begging--but only for stories. "I like the Labyrinth. I want to know about the other challengers. Pretty please?"

He was silent for so long that Mireia thought he wasn't going to answer. And then he began speaking, his even, melodic voice, transformed to a story teller's tones. His sentences fell into hypnotic, seductive, slantly rhyming sentences, and Mireia was lost in the winding tale just as surely as she'd been lost in his room of stairs, and as surely as Michael was lost in the outer labyrinth. The man obviously had a talent for mazes...