One of the mirror-Alices turned around. Alice’s voice caught in her throat. It looked exactly like her, of course, down to the last detail; but where her face ought to be, there was a blank white mask, as smooth as porcelain.

“Hello.” It was Alice’s own voice, echoed back at her.

Alice raised a hand tentatively. All the mirror images moved with her, except for the masked figure, which stood absolutely still.

“It has been a long time since we had a guest.” The voice was still Alice’s, still had the quality of an echo, but it spoke words she never had. The mirror image bowed elaborately, hair falling around her masked face. “It can be quite lonely up here. Be welcome.”

“Thank you,” Alice said. “I’ve come a long way to find you.”

“I can imagine,” the mirror image said—Alice thought she was speaking, anyway, though the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once now. “But where are my manners? We must show a guest proper hospitality.”

The image in the mirror shifted and swam. The masked Alice was suddenly standing in a grand ballroom, ablaze with the light of crystal chandeliers and sumptuously decorated with exotic hardwood and gilt. A table beside her was heavily laden with food and drink, platters of carved meat steaming gently beside potatoes swimming in butter, pies and sugary confections, fruit and nuts and cheeses. The mirror-Alice’s clothes had been replaced with a gown the likes of which Alice had never seen, all green silk and blue lace and long, elegant folds. Her hair was perfectly coiffed into a neat wave, and diamonds sparkled at her ears and on her wrists. Only the mask was the same, as blank as an empty sheet of paper.

Alice looked over her shoulder. The ballroom was repeated, over and over, mirrors multiplying on forever. Every Alice but her was splendidly dressed; when she moved her arm, a thousand images moved with her in delicate folds of lace. But, she realized with a start, each of the others was different, each a new variation of cut or color more spectacular and beautiful than the last. She looked down at herself, still wearing her scuffed, practical leathers, and felt a little out of place.

Curiously, she reached out a hand toward the banquet table. It looked close enough to touch, and all the other Alices reached with her. But her fingers found a pane of cold glass, inches from the food. When she looked around, every other Alice had picked up something from the table and begun to eat.

“I apologize,” the masked figure said. “All we have to offer, truly, is tricks of the light. But we do the best we can.”

“Thank you,” Alice said, thinking it was best to be polite. “It’s beautiful.”

The mirror image inclined her head. “We are so very glad of your company. What brings you here, from far away?”