She wanted the Master – and was afraid to face him with her refusal to take his part against Geraden. Opposing desires made her forehead ache. As soon as Saddith closed the door, she rushed to give herself a quick, intense bath, trying to get ready. But then she forced herself to put on the dingiest gown she had, as if she wished to be unattractive. Master Eremis. Geraden. She yearned for both in different ways and had no idea what to do about the contradiction.
But Master Eremis didn’t come.
She had thought she was going to find out who she was. But neither of the men who tried to claim her had given her an answer. She had risked accompanying Geraden to Vagel’s translation point for nothing more than the sensation of thin, sharp cold – a sensation that made no difference. And she had known all along that Master Eremis could have any woman he wanted.
Apparently, he didn’t want her.
Perhaps for that reason – perhaps simply because she couldn’t have him – she found that she wanted him badly.
NINETEEN: THE ADVANTAGES OF AN EARLY THAW
Four days later, the weather broke.
By that time, Terisa had forced down the pain of Master Eremis’ implicit rejection. She continued to function, which meant that she spent as much time as possible with Geraden – talking, trying to understand. Nevertheless the knowledge that she didn’t have anything better to do, anything more constructive to offer, wore on her constantly. She couldn’t shake free of a gray depression that took the edge off everything she thought and felt; her behavior resembled her former existence more than anything she had done since she had come to Orison. As a result, her conversations with Geraden were like many of the sessions she had had with Reverend Thatcher.
But now the underlying futility was on her side rather than on anyone else’s.
She had lost her fragile sense of purpose, of direction. The conclusions she was occasionally tempted to draw from the appearance in the Congery’s augury of the riders of her dream had never seemed so foolish. She had no reason for being where she was. And she didn’t seem able to invent one. The real point of her long conversations with Geraden was not to shed any light into the dark corners of her situation, but rather to keep him with her, so that he wouldn’t fade from her life like Master Eremis.
So while snow as sharp and brittle as ice rattled against her windows and lorn wind keened past the edges of the tower and all Orison seemed to fall into a kind of static calm, frozen not by peace but by waiting, she did essentially nothing except eat, sleep, and sit in her rooms, talking with the Apt whenever he got free of his duties.
He brought her news from around Orison. The Masters were involved in a fierce and apparently endless debate, trying to decide what to do about their champion – and about their own vulnerability. Castellan Lebbick’s guards and every stonemason available were busy using the rubble of the champion’s departure to build a wall across the breach in Orison’s side. And Argus and Ribuld were doing what they could to keep an eye on the lady Elega.
The rest of the time, Terisa and Geraden talked about their circumstances.
On his side, this meant fighting a steady but subdued, almost covert struggle to raise her spirits. As if he knew that any despondency in him could hurt her, he practiced good cheer. As if he knew that the sore places in her weren’t ready to be touched, he preserved a tactful emotional distance. As if he knew that she wasn’t strong enough to be pushed, he urged nothing. With a delicate gentleness that made his physical mishaps look like they belonged to a completely separate person, he cared for her.
Even though he needed care himself and wasn’t getting it. His enemies were as savage as hers, wanted him dead as badly – and for as little reason. But if he was afraid, he kept his fear to himself.
At one point, he asked rather wistfully, “Did you feel anything at the translation point? Could you tell it was there?”
A touch of cold as thin as a feather and as sharp as steel. That was something she didn’t want to talk about; it frightened her too badly. “It was so cold down there, and I was so scared. Just before those” – she shivered involuntarily – “those men appeared, I seemed to get even colder and more scared.” She already knew that she was never going to mention it to Master Eremis. “That’s probably all it was.”
He looked at her hard before glancing away.
“What about you?” she countered. “That would explain a lot. If you have that kind of talent, and Master Gilbur got a hint of it while he was teaching you, we would at least have an explanation for why you were attacked.”
He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Wouldn’t that be fun? I would love an explanation. But all I can remember is thinking that it was a silly idea. I was dragging you and Artagel around in the cold and damp for an empty theory. I didn’t even see the translation start.”
She sighed morosely.
Several times, they both returned to the matter of their strange session with Adept Havelock. “What was all that about, do you suppose?” he wondered. “Why did he want to tell you all that? Why those specific details?”
She had no idea. “He’s crazy. Maybe what he calls ‘lucidity’ just means he’s able to put a few sentences together in order.”
But that explanation didn’t satisfy either of them. Eventually, an old resolve crumbled, and she found herself telling him about her first night in Orison. She described how Adept Havelock had fetched her to his chamber, what Master Quillon had told her of Mordant’s history, and how the Adept had saved her from the man in black.
He listened in mingled astonishment and incomprehension. When she was done, he breathed, “They already knew. The first night you were here, they already knew you were in danger. Master Quillon has been busy.” He scowled wryly. “If you told the rest of the Congery about this, they wouldn’t believe it. Master Quillon? Trying to change what happens to anyone?” Then he said more seriously, “At least now we know who my enemies are. Master Gilbur and arch-Imager Vagel.”
She nodded. She could feel herself sinking deeper into gloom.
He didn’t let the idea of his enemies dismay him, however. Smiling, he said, “There’s one advantage to all this, anyway. Now I know how you feel. You don’t understand what everybody thinks you can do. I don’t understand why men like that think highly enough of me to consider me worth killing.”
She was too despondent to be amused. “I want to know whose side Master Quillon and Adept Havelock are on. Not the King’s. Not the Congery’s. Not Master Gilbur’s.” She could have also said, Not Master Eremis’.
How many sides were there?
But that brought them back to their encounter with the Adept – and to the presumed hints hidden in what he had said. Finally, she decided to give up another of her few remaining secrets. She was committed to him – not because she knew what she was doing, but because he was her friend. And Master Eremis didn’t want her. There would be no harm in telling Geraden about Myste.
He listened in close silence. As she explained Myste’s reasons for going after the champion, he held his head up like a salute, and tears stood in his eyes. When she was finished, he remained silent for a long moment before murmuring gruffly, “I always liked her.
“Of course,” he added, “I know Elega better. And Torrent is so sweet she makes you want to lie down on the floor for her to stand on so her feet won’t get cold. King Joyse doesn’t have any unattractive daughters. But Myste—” His voice trailed away.
Begging him not to kill her. Terisa felt like crying herself.
Early in the morning of the fifth day, however, she was awakened from a thin, unrestful sleep by the sound of rain.
Groggy with sleep and surprise, she climbed out of bed and went to the nearest window.
For a moment, she was baffled because she couldn’t see any rain. In fact, the sky was completely free of clouds. The early sun cast a genial light over the walls and battlements, and the heavens were a vital blue, shaded closer to purple than azure. The distant hills seemed soft
er under their thick robes of snow, and the crooked bulk of Orison looked considerably more picturesque than it had the previous day, more like a grand castle in a fairy tale.
Then she realized that the sound came from the melting of the snow.
Water ran thickly from the roofs and towers, streamed off the eaves like a downpour. Already, the courtyard resembled a quagmire: its churned mud lay hidden beneath brown puddles as vast as ponds. Guards and people bustling in and out of the courtyard, to and from the huddled maze of shops and shanties and tents, had to wear cloaks against the runoff and high boots against the standing water; but under the open sky they pushed back their cloaks or doffed them altogether to revel in the new warmth.
The winter had turned to thaw.
A little thrill ran through her as she thought she might get a chance to go outside for a while. It might be possible to stop feeling depressed for a while.
Hurrying, she went to wash her face and put on her clothes.
She wasn’t surprised when Geraden arrived before Saddith had brought her breakfast. His cheeks were flushed with exertion, and he was breathing hard. He must have run up the stairs. At first glance, she thought he was simply eager, caught up in a stronger version of her own reaction. But the way his eyes shone was more complex than that.
“Have you seen it?” he panted as soon as she shut the door.
“Yes.”
They went to the windows together, drawn by the prospect of sun and warmth and springtime after the long, tense winter.
“Glass and splinters,” he muttered while he regained his breath, “this is awful.”
She blinked at him like a startled owl. “Awful?”
At once, he started laughing. “Isn’t that silly? I feel this eager every spring. Like the whole world is coming back to life. The first thaw always makes me want to go out and play like a boy.
“But it’s still awful. Even though I love it.” He tried to sound somber. “Terisa, this is very bad news.”
His laughter drew a smile from her. “It’s a good thing I’ve known you so long. If you were a stranger, I would have to assume you’ve lost your mind. Why is this bad news?”
“You mean, since you know me, you don’t have to assume I’ve lost my mind? You can take it for granted?” He dismissed her protest with a chortle. “Because it’s early. Too early. Right now, winter is about the only thing protecting us. If too much of the snow melts, there won’t be anything to prevent Cadwal and even Alend from marching against us today.
“You heard what the Perdon said. High King Festten has already mustered an army. He can do that because Cadwal gets so much less snow than we do. And you can be sure the Alend Monarch didn’t send his son on a mission as dangerous as a visit to Orison without having an army prepared to support or rescue him. Or avenge him.
“We’re the only ones who aren’t ready,” he continued. “Oh, I’m sure Castellan Lebbick has done everything he can. But we didn’t get ready for war last autumn because King Joyse refused to command it” – now Geraden managed to sound grim – “and we aren’t ready now because he hasn’t been paying attention all winter. Our only hope has been that the snow would last until he came back to his senses.”
Terisa frowned in an effort to concentrate. “If they start marching today, who’s going to get here first?”
Unable to preserve an appropriately dire expression, he flashed a grin. “That’s complicated. Cadwal is closer, especially if they march up through Perdon from the southeast. Alend’s best route comes almost due south through the Care of Armigite. That’s nearly twice as far.
“But South Perdon is mostly hills, some of them rugged. Armigite is almost all lowland. To reach us, the High King’s army has to cross two rivers, the Vertigon and the Broadwine. The Alends only have to ford the Pestil. And the Perdon will fight Cadwal every step of the way. The Armigite, on the other hand—” Geraden sighed. “We would be lucky, I guess, if he fired a few catapults at Margonal’s army while it went by.”
Although the air outside was obviously much warmer than it had been, it wasn’t balmy: when he leaned close to the window, his words left small, brief ovals of condensation on the glass. “But it’s even more complicated than that. How long has Prince Kragen been gone? Six days? I presume he’s riding hard, but he won’t be able to go very fast. Not even today. This much snow will take days to melt off. So he’s still a long way from home. Will the Alend Monarch do anything without him? I don’t know.
“Giving you my utmost wisdom” – he grimaced – “I would say at this point anything can happen. With our luck, it probably will.”
“Well, that’s all right,” she murmured. “ ‘Anything’ is what’s been happening ever since I got here.”
He responded with a chuckle and a bow. “My lady, you have an enviable gift for understatement.” Then he added, “We’re probably lucky. If it stopped happening, we might get confused.”
“Speak for yourself,” she replied. “Confusion is my natural state.” She feigned puzzlement. “Or I think so, anyway.”
He laughed. “A kindred spirit. No wonder I like you.”
Gazing out at the thaw, he sighed happily, “This really is terrible.”
***
Sometime later, there was a knock on the door.
“I am sorry to be late, my lady,” Saddith said as she entered the room carrying a large breakfast tray. “The guards told me that Apt Geraden was with you – already.” She winked. “So I went back for more food.”
Feeling light-headed and impervious to discomfort because of the thaw, Terisa asked foolishly, “How is Master Eremis this morning?”
Saddith glanced down at her tight bosom. “He has been very busy. Or so it is rumored. But he is well.” When she looked up, her face wore a deliberate veil of blandness, but the corner of her mouth quirked. “Or so it is rumored.”
Terisa realized that she didn’t feel quite as cheerful as she thought.
Geraden watched her with a quizzical expression; however, he made no comment. He had apparently decided that he didn’t want to know what her present relationship with the Master was.
When the maid had left, Terisa tried to recover her good humor by eating a big breakfast. Nevertheless her mood had turned restless. She wanted to do something, wanted to go as far away from this room – and from herself – as she could. Abruptly, she demanded, “Let’s get out of here. Today. This morning.”
He stared at her with his mouth full. “Get out? You already know I can’t—”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant, out of this room. Out of Orison. Outside.” Trying to make sense, she urged, “Maybe we could rent some horses. I don’t know how to ride, but you could teach me. Anything. I just want to get out for a while.”
He struggled to understand. “I’ll do anything you want. What is ‘rent’?”
For no very admirable reason, she thought it might be fun to scream at him. Or maybe not fun, exactly. Maybe satisfying?
Fortuitously, someone chose that moment to knock at her door.
Swallowing her baser impulses, she called, “Come in.”
On command, a guard opened the door formally and announced, “The lady Elega.” Then he stepped aside and bowed the King’s eldest daughter into the room.
She was dressed as if for an excursion in a warm, high-collared fur robe and ornately tooled leather boots.
Geraden jumped to his feet. Instinctively, Terisa did the same.
Elega studied both of them. “I am sorry,” she said with an ironic smile. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“Guilty secrets,” Geraden replied promptly. “You know me, my lady.” His smile was no more innocent than hers. “I’m always plotting something.”
The lady measured him with a glance. Then she turned to Terisa. “Whatever he plots, Terisa,” she said, “I hope you will not let him entangle you in it. I do not know what he has in mind, of course. But surely he plots in the same way he does everything else.” She grinned
around the word: “Notoriously.”
In response, Geraden bowed. “You’re too kind, my lady.”
Instead of shouting, Cut it out! Terisa asked Elega, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Thank you, no.” The King’s daughter accepted the change of subject smoothly. She comported herself as though she were ready for anything. “I have breakfasted. What I would like – if it would please you – is to take you shopping.”
Shopping? Terisa gaped helplessly, struck as much by the familiarity of the word as by the strangeness of hearing it from Elega.
“I fear it will not be a very elegant experience. Because of the mud,” explained the lady. “But this thaw is wonderful. If it lasts as much as a day or two, it will open the roads around Orison enough to permit the merchants to replenish their stores. This late in the winter, the shops have become too depleted to be worth visiting. Now they may be resupplied.
“Terisa, I would like to take you to buy cloth and engage a seamster, so that you can have clothes made” – she hesitated almost imperceptibly – “to your own fit and fashion.”
“Clothes?”
“Whatever clothes you like. Of course,” said Elega firmly, “I will offer you advice as to weather and custom. But what I wish is to help you please yourself.”
“But” – it was the first thought that came to her – “I don’t have any money.”
The lady raised a delicate eyebrow in surprise. “You are a friend of the King’s daughter. Why do you need money?”
Terisa couldn’t find the words to protest. Fortunately, Geraden was sensitive to the particular character of her ignorance. “The lady Elega is right,” he said, supplying more reassurance than the situation superficially required. “As long as you’re with her, any merchant or artisan in Mordant will give you anything you want. That’s one of the privileges of the ruling family.
The Mirror of Her Dreams Page 53
