The Mirror of Her Dreams

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  “This is outrageous, boy.” The Master’s grip on the back of Terisa’s neck tightened. “Have you lost your mind? Do you seriously mean to accuse me – me! – of being in league with the High King’s Monomach?” Beneath his scorn ran an undercurrent of mirth.

  Still Geraden kept his hard gaze on Terisa, away from Master Eremis. “He’s one of the few people who knew where you were that first night. He’s one of the few who know about that secret passage. And he’s the only one who could have set up that ambush for you after the lords met Prince Kragen. He’s the only one who knew you would be there. He took you.

  “He put you right in front of the champion so you might get shot. You were together – but he escaped. He could have taken you with him. He could have stopped me. Why didn’t he?”

  The fires seemed to be dying. The suite was filling up with gloom.

  Geraden, help me. He’s going to break my neck.

  “Geraden,” said the Master casually, “this is inexcusable. You have gone beyond insult.” The pressure of his fingers began to make Terisa light-headed. “You cannot place the blame for your own crimes on my shoulders. I will not carry it.”

  Geraden shifted his glare to Eremis.

  “All of this is silly supposition except the question of Gart’s attempt on her life after the meeting of the Lords. And that you could have arranged as well as I. Your brother Artagel was following her. You knew at all times where she was. It is only good fortune that Gart did not come upon all the lords together. Some of them would surely have died.”

  “Let her go,” the Apt said in a voice like a piece of granite. “If you have to have a hostage, take me. I’m a lot more dangerous than she is.”

  At that, Master Eremis laughed like a splash of acid. “Oh, you flatter yourself, boy. You flatter yourself.”

  Before she could try to twist free, she heard the sound of someone thrashing his way through clothes. In a sudden flurry, her wardrobe disgorged most of its contents, and a man burst out from the hidden passage.

  His cloak and leather armor were so black that he seemed like an incarnation of the darkness behind him; he moved like a shadow. But the long steel of his sword caught reflections of fire and scattered them in front of him. His nose jutted between his yellow eyes like the blade of a hatchet.

  He sprang into the room, coiled for bloodshed.

  Nevertheless he was unmistakably surprised to find Master Eremis, Terisa, and Geraden all in front of him. Despite himself, he checked his attack. The aim of his sword wavered.

  “Gart!” Master Eremis shouted. “Whelp of a dog! Your timing is miraculous!”

  So quickly that his movement staggered her, he released Terisa and bounded to the bed. While Gart swung into motion, Master Eremis snatched down the peacock-feather canopy and flung it over Gart’s head.

  At the same moment, Geraden grabbed Terisa and jerked her away, thrust her into the sitting room behind him. She stumbled toward the fire, barely caught her balance.

  With a wet sound like water on hot iron, Gart’s sword swept the canopy to shreds. Feathers settled to the floor on all sides: their eyes watched everything.

  Master Eremis jumped up onto the bed.

  As he faced the Monomach, firelight glared across his features. The red flash gave him a look of almost ghoulish glee as he pitched a pillow at Gart.

  Snarling, Gart separated the pillowcase from its stuffing with the tip of his sword so fiercely that the pillow appeared to explode. Feathers billowed toward the ceiling and came snowing down on him.

  Instantly, a second pillow followed the first.

  This one, however, he caught on the flat of his blade. Swinging his longsword like a bat, he sent the pillow back at Master Eremis.

  It hit him in the chest hard enough to knock him against the wall.

  Gart turned on Geraden and Terisa.

  “Guards!” roared Master Eremis before the High King’s Monomach could strike. “Guards!”

  For the second time, Gart was startled enough to hesitate. He stopped the driving swing which had carried him into the sitting room – the swing which would have carried Geraden’s head from his body. Swiftly, the Monomach gauged the distance past Geraden to Terisa; he looked at the door as the latch lifted; he glanced over his shoulder at Eremis.

  With his left hand, he reached to his belt and produced a keen iron dirk.

  As the door pounded open and the first guard started into the room, Gart cocked his arm.

  A third pillow thumped against his shoulder and spoiled his aim. He missed Terisa.

  Master Eremis let out a cackle of laughter.

  Now the Monomach had no time for hesitation. Cursing vehemently, he met the first guard’s blow with his sword, then kicked the man’s legs out from under him. While the second struggled to avoid trampling his comrade, Gart retreated into the bedroom.

  Without a glance at Master Eremis, he dove into the wardrobe.

  “After him!” Eremis yelled at the guards. “That passage leads to Havelock’s chambers! Go! I will summon reinforcements!”

  Terisa saw the guards falter distinctly before they plunged into the wardrobe. Perhaps they didn’t want to face the High King’s Monomach in a narrow place. Or perhaps they were reluctant to intrude on Adept Havelock’s private domain – especially if, as Master Eremis seemed to suggest, the Adept were in league with Gart.

  With a bouncing stride, Master Eremis left the bed and came into the sitting room. The glow of the fire and his own mirth lit his face, but Terisa thought he had never looked more dangerous. Briskly, he approached Geraden and stabbed a finger at the Apt’s chest.

  “I intend to call a meeting of the Congery.” Despite his humorous expression, his tone was savage. “You will answer me for this in front of the Masters, boy.”

  “No, I won’t,” Geraden replied unsteadily. “They’ve disbanded themselves.”

  Master Eremis snorted. “Again you are mistaken. Quillon holds them together with the King’s authority.”

  Flourishing his chasuble like a threat under Geraden’s nose, he left the room.

  Geraden’s features twisted as if he had just been kicked in the stomach.

  Terisa sat straight down on the floor. The noise of the guards’ boots echoed dimly out of the wardrobe, but she heard nothing that sounded like the clash of swords.

  TWENTY-FIVE: MASTER EREMIS IN EARNEST

  “Are you all right?” Geraden asked. His tone wasn’t sympathetic.

  Sitting cross-legged on the rug, Terisa clamped her hands to the sides of her head to keep her mind from flying apart. She didn’t understand: none of it made any sense. Master Eremis. Gart. What were they doing to her?

  “Terisa?”

  And why was Geraden so angry at her? He was her friend. Why was he suddenly blind to her pain?

  “Did he hurt you?”

  He was her friend. He must have a good reason for snarling at her as if she had broken his heart. She struggled to concentrate. The room was full of disaster. She had to think.

  Heavy boots hammered the stone. Three guards burst into the room with their swords out. Master Eremis had certainly gotten their attention. Once in the room, however, they hesitated, waving their blades warily, until Geraden snapped, “There’s a wardrobe in the bedroom with a passage behind it.” Then they charged away. The boards of the wardrobe resounded as they went through it.

  How many different kinds of pain were there? There was the dull ache where Master Eremis had gripped the back of her neck. There was the grief that seemed to throb in the secret places of her heart. There was the sharp strain around her chest which grew tighter every time Geraden spoke to her in that clenched and bitter tone. There was the belabored sensation inside her skull, as if her mind had been beaten with clubs.

  And somewhere else – somewhere indefinable – there was a new certainty as pure as a knife. It needed a name. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much: because she had no name for it.

  Dully, she said, “At least
now we know he and Gart aren’t working together.”

  “Terisa.” That word would have sounded like a cry if Geraden hadn’t whispered it so softly.

  Before she could reply, another voice intervened. “Don’t torture yourself, Geraden,” Castellan Lebbick said from the doorway. Four more guards clattered past him on their way to the wardrobe. “She isn’t worth it.”

  She scrambled to her feet so that she wouldn’t appear so defeated in front of the Castellan.

  Geraden stood with his back to the wall, his arms folded like fetters across his chest. His face looked like a stone mask from which all the joy had been chipped away. Firelight reflected out of his eyes, as dry as fever.

  “Save your insults, Castellan,” he rasped quietly. “We don’t need them.”

  Castellan Lebbick cocked an eyebrow. “All right. I’ll be civil. You be cooperative. For a change. What happened?”

  Geraden seemed to shrink slightly, as if he were being compacted by the pressure of his grip on himself – as if he were squeezing himself down to his essence. “We were attacked. The High King’s Monomach tried to kill her again.”

  A grin pulled the Castellan’s lips back from his teeth. “And you’re still alive? How did you manage that?”

  “Master Eremis saved us. He fought Gart off until the guards could get in.”

  “Master Eremis? What was he doing here?”

  Bitterly, Geraden didn’t look at Terisa.

  With an effort, she met Lebbick’s gaze. “He came to see me.”

  “And do you always receive him dressed like that?”

  In shame, she bit her lip. Shame was yet another kind of pain. Somehow, she murmured, “He came when I was asleep.”

  The Castellan turned back to Geraden. “Apparently, Master Eremis was welcome. In that case, what were you doing here? I doubt that either one of them invited you.”

  “When I arrived,” Geraden said like a piece of the wall where he stood, “her guards said she was alone. Don’t you want to know how he got in? Don’t you want to know how Gart got in?”

  “Go on. Tell me.”

  “Both of them used the secret passage behind her wardrobe.”

  At that, Castellan Lebbick drew a hissing breath through his teeth. “Ballocks! How did they know about it?”

  “Saddith and Master Eremis are lovers. In fact, she volunteered to be Terisa’s maid to please him. She noticed the chair in the wardrobe and told him about it. I presume he told Gart.”

  “Wait a moment. You said Master Eremis saved you. Now you say he is in league with Gart?”

  “Where else could Gart find out about the passage?” retorted the Apt. “Who else knew enough to tell him? There’s just me and Terisa. Saddith and Master Eremis. And you, Castellan. Even Artagel doesn’t know about it.”

  Involuntarily, Terisa remembered that Myste knew.

  Clenching his fists on his hips, the Castellan rasped, “All right. If Gart knew, why didn’t he use it to kill her long ago?”

  “At first,” Geraden said, “he didn’t know. Saddith told Master Eremis where Terisa was, but she didn’t know any more than that. I don’t know when she found the passage. And I don’t know when he got her to tell him about it. I certainly don’t know how busy Gart is. But I think Master Eremis decided he wanted to let her live because he wanted her for himself. He didn’t tell Gart about the passage until the Alend army arrived and they both ran out of time.”

  Abruptly, Castellan Lebbick turned on Terisa. “Is this true? Have you been making it worthwhile for Master Eremis to keep you alive when he really wants you dead?”

  His tone made her wince. She was starting to understand Geraden’s hurt, and his reasons dismayed her. Nevertheless she met the Castellan squarely.

  “He did save us.” And her certainty was precise, if only she could put a name to it. “He said he’s going to make Geraden answer for this in front of the Congery.”

  She wasn’t prepared for the virulence with which Lebbick snarled under his breath, “Bitch!” Fortunately, he swung back to Geraden too soon to see her flinch.

  “I have a few questions myself. I want to know how you suddenly became an expert on what Saddith does or doesn’t tell her lovers. And I want to know some of the things you haven’t told me yet.

  “But as it happens, you’re not my only problem right now. I have the rest of Orison to worry about. I’ll wait until the Congery meets.

  “When my men come back from not finding Gart, tell them to report to me.”

  Brusquely, Castellan Lebbick strode to the door and left.

  Without thinking about what she was doing, Terisa turned toward the fire so that she wouldn’t have to look at Geraden. She was afraid to look at him. He was so hurt— And almost everything he believed about her was true. He had saved her from her own weakness. Master Eremis had claimed her – and she had resisted him so little. Even choosing against him, she had been unable to struggle. Shame seemed to demoralize her; she couldn’t face the accusation of his pain.

  Yet her cowardice disgusted her. He had never let fear prevent him from doing anything for her. At last, she forced herself to turn again and meet his distress.

  “Geraden, I—”

  He hadn’t shifted his stance an inch. Dim gray from the windows and dull red from the hearth lay along the stone lines of his cheeks and jaw, his straight nose, his strong forehead. Not a muscle moved. His hair curled into darkness.

  But his eyes were closed.

  This was her fault: he was in so much pain because of her. Because he had found her nearly naked with Master Eremis. Because he had seen the Master touch her so intimately. Helplessly, she asked, “What’re we going to do?”

  He didn’t open his eyes. Perhaps the sight of her was intolerable. When he spoke, he couldn’t restrain his voice. It shook as if he were freezing.

  “I need to know whose side you’re on. You don’t have to tell me anything else. You have to make your own choices. I can’t tell you who to love. But I’m going to have to stand up in front of the Masters and tell them everything I can think of. They aren’t going to want to believe me. I’ve spent too many years making too many mistakes.

  “You’re my only witness. You’re the only one who can tell them I’m telling the truth. If you’re planning to call me a liar—” He couldn’t go on.

  She wanted to reply at once, but his distress closed her throat. What could she say? Nothing was adequate. He had touched her near the point of her certainty, but she still didn’t know what to call it.

  Yet she was unable to bear his rigid silence. Somehow, she mustered an answer.

  “I didn’t invite Master Eremis here. He came while I was asleep. That’s why I’m dressed like this.

  “He wanted me to choose between you.”

  A muscle twitched in Geraden’s cheek, a knot of pain.

  “I think he’s probably the only man in Orison who has a chance to save Mordant. He has the ability to make things happen.” That was the limit of her honesty. “But I chose you.”

  His eyes popped open. A subtle alteration of the planes and lines of his expression made him appear both astonished and suspicious. His voice continued to shake.

  “Your robe was open.”

  “He did that. I didn’t.”

  For a long moment, he remained motionless – and yet, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t moving, she seemed to see the entire structure of his face being transfigured, the whole landscape behind his eyes and emotions reforming. He didn’t smile: he wasn’t ready for that. But the potential for a smile was restored.

  Slowly, he unbent his arms from his chest. Slowly, he reached out his hand and stroked her cheek as if to wipe away tears she hadn’t shed.

  Unable to hold back, she flung her arms around him and hugged him desperately, as if he could cure her shame.

  The embrace with which he answered her was as tight and needy as hers, as hungry for solace. And somehow, because he wanted so much from her, he gave her wha
t she needed.

  A short time later, nine guards came trooping up out of the passage behind her wardrobe. They had nothing of any use to report.

  ***

  The gray afternoon wore down toward evening. All around Orison, campfires glimmered against the wind. Tents everywhere formed a ripple of hillocks over the bare ground. Even the siege engines looked small in this light, at this distance. Wind thudded without remorse at the windowpanes of Terisa’s rooms, until the atmosphere felt crowded and bitter, full of threats.

  Late afternoon brought her an incongruous visitor: the seamster, Mindlin, come to deliver her new clothes. He wanted to give them a second fitting, to be sure that she was satisfied – perhaps he thought her approval would have some value when the siege was over – but she accepted them and sent him away.

  For the fourth or fifth time, she said, “We’ve got to do something.”

  Geraden sighed. “I know the feeling. But I’m not exactly brimming with ideas.”

  She needed to put her certainty into words, so that it would be good for something. It would come to her, she told herself, if she stopped pushing it. Or if she pushed it in the right way. Abruptly, she shook off her irresolution.

  “You wanted to talk to Artagel, but you didn’t get the chance. Why don’t you do that now?”

  The suggestion surprised him. “What’s that going to accomplish?”

  “It might make you feel better.”

  “And you think I might not get another chance? You think I might have a little trouble getting my brother to forgive me after I’ve been tossed in the dungeon for treachery?”

  She couldn’t suppress a grin. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” In spite of himself, he caught her mood. “I said it for you.”

  “So you did. If you think it’s such a terrible idea” – now she was grinning broadly – “I’m afraid I’ll have to apologize for bringing it up.”

  At once, he waved his hands defensively. “No, no. Anything but that. I’ll do it.” His playfulness faded almost immediately, however. “Do you want to come with me?”

  She shook her head.

  “What are you going to do?”