Mordant's Need

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  ‘My lord Prince.’ King Joyse swung away from Terisa and Geraden; the keenness in his stance intensified. ‘Master Barsonage.’ He looked ready to leap in any direction, haul out his sword at a moment’s notice. ‘Captain Norge.

  ‘I have said it before, but I will gladly say it again. We are well met.’

  ‘My lord King.’ The Tor tried to reach his feet against the physician’s restraining hands. His voice sounded as thin as a light breeze in cornshucks. ‘I must speak.’

  At once, King Joyse turned toward the Tor; but he kept his back to the tent wall, away from Prince Kragen. ‘Speak sitting, my lord,’ he commanded. ‘And speak as little as possible. Your life is precious to me.’

  Muffling a groan, the Tor sagged.

  ‘If we are here wrongly, the fault is mine alone,’ he said in a deathbed whisper. ‘Master Geraden and the lady Terisa have discovered their talents. Already they have worked miracles of Imagery. Norge has become your Castellan, at my command. He leads the forces of Orison.’

  With a visceral shiver, Terisa realized that the Tor was struggling to prepare King Joyse for his encounter with the Prince.

  ‘Master Barsonage and the Congery have devised means of supply and defense, in accordance with your strictures. We would not have come so far without them.

  ‘Prince Kragen is here with six thousand Alend soldiers because he is an honorable man.’

  King Joyse put a hand on the Tor’s naked shoulder, mutely urging the old lord to conserve his strength. ‘“An honorable man,”’ he echoed distinctly, as if he had doubts on that point. Almost without transition, he appeared to become someone different – a figure of barely suppressed anger, spoiling for conflict. Facing the Prince again, and speaking mildly, but with a bright threat in his eyes, he asked, ‘Does my old friend mean that he and the Alend Monarch have formed an alliance?’

  ‘No.’ Prince Kragen studied the King warily. The excitement which had brought him here was alloyed with a long-standing distrust; but his posture made it clear that he wouldn’t back down from his own desires. ‘He means that he has explained to the Alend Monarch his intention to place his head on Eremis’ cutting-block and die rather than submit to a war of attrition he cannot win. And the Alend Monarch sent me to accompany him with the bulk of our force because we have no other way to determine whether the Tor’s intention is mad or brilliant. My instructions from my sovereign are to join the Tor or to flee, according to the things I learn here.’

  ‘Margonal is crafty,’ commented King Joyse with deceptive nonchalance, ‘and apparently he has grown in courage. Well, now you are here, my lord Prince. What have you learned?’

  Prince Kragen allowed himself a noncommittal shrug. ‘I have learned that we are indeed trapped. All our heads are on the cutting-block, and Alend will stand or fall with Mordant, regardless of my instructions.’

  ‘I think not,’ King Joyse retorted with the air of a man pouncing. ‘I think you will turn against us at the last and join Cadwal, to preserve your father’s true cowardice.’

  At that, Kragen’s head jerked back; a flush of fury darkened his cheeks; he closed his fist on his swordhilt.

  In response, both Ribuld and Norge braced themselves to draw their blades. The cloaked figure against the tent wall started forward, then retreated. Geraden edged closer to Terisa, moving to protect her from the danger of swords.

  No, she thought urgently, you don’t understand, Prince Kragen is here with us, with us.

  The Tor repeated hoarsely, ‘He is honorable. Honorable.’

  ‘My lord King,’ the Prince said between his teeth, ‘because you are the King, and because I have been told at length why I must trust you, I will assume you have reason to accuse me of such a betrayal.’

  ‘I have reason,’ snapped King Joyse. ‘During my absence, I saved Queen Madin from her abductors. It will not surprise you to hear that when at last I found her she was across the Pestil. In Alend, my lord Prince. Her abductors were Alends, and she was being taken by the most direct route toward Scarab.’

  Prince Kragen’s mouth tightened under his moustache. His dark eyes burned with old enmity, with decades of violence, generations of bloodshed. He looked willing to gut King Joyse on the spot.

  Yet he contained his outrage. And he didn’t draw his sword. ‘And you persist,’ he demanded, ‘in the mad belief that I am capable of such a vile act?’

  ‘No!’ Terisa protested. ‘Eremis did it. He told me so.’ What was the matter with King Joyse? How could he suddenly be so wrong-headed? ‘It’s just a trick to keep you and the Prince from joining forces.’

  Before she could go on, King Joyse pointed a forbidding finger at her. ‘That proves nothing.’ The command in his stance forced her to be still. ‘Master Eremis has a pact with Cadwal. Why not with Alend?’

  ‘Because,’ the cloaked figure cried, ‘he is honorable!’

  ‘You do not trust him.’ Elega swept the hood back from her head as she advanced, and her vivid eyes flashed in the lanternlight. ‘Is the Tor wrong? Are Terisa and Geraden?’ She called every gaze to herself, a cynosure of indignation and passion. Bright as a flame, she challenged her father. ‘He held Orison in the palm of his siege for days and days. He could have taken you apart stone from stone. Yet he withheld. Does that mean nothing to you? He allowed you time to prove yourself. And you dare accuse him of dishonor? You dare that to my face?’

  King Joyse looked at her as if he were stunned.

  ‘No, Father!’ she raged. ‘The only dishonor in this tent is yours! It was you who refused to support the Perdon, you who refused to hear the Fayle. It was you who humiliated Prince Kragen in the hall of audiences, you who allowed Terisa’s attacker to roam Orison freely, you who drove Myste away. You have no right to doubt the Prince. There is no alliance between Alend and Mordant because no one is able to trust you!’

  Emotions throbbed under the King’s old skin: outrage; alarm; disbelief. And vindication? She carries my pride with her wherever she goes. For a moment, no one moved; he didn’t move. Elega met his stare as if she were prepared to outface the world.

  All at once, King Joyse burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, very well, my lord Prince,’ he chortled while the people around him stared. ‘You are honest, and your father is honest, and I must apologize. If I do not, she will take the skin from my bones.’

  Geraden’s mouth hung open. Prince Kragen clenched his jaws as if he didn’t dare speak.

  ‘It was not wise to bring her with you,’ King Joyse went on, ‘a woman in battle, a useful hostage if Eremis should capture her. But it was honest. If you intended treachery, you would have left her with Margonal. And she would not love you if you had such treachery in you. I know that about her.

  ‘My lord Prince, please accept my regrets – and also my thanks. If we can be saved, it will be because of your courage, as well as your honor.’

  As King Joyse spoke, the excitement came back to Prince Kragen, the strange new eagerness which had led him into risks no Alend had ever hazarded before. His mouth twisted up the tips of his moustache. Slowly, he produced a smile to match Joyse’s humor.

  ‘Why do you think the decision was mine? Have you ever been able to tell her what to do?’

  In response, the King laughed again; kindly, happily. He grinned like a new day. ‘Tell her what to do? Me?’ Elega glared at him in confusion, but he didn’t stop. ‘I am only her father. Tell her what to do? Most of the time, I am hardly allowed to make suggestions.’

  Then he sobered. ‘One thing, however, I will tell you, my lord Prince. Heed me well. While this war lasts, you will obey my orders.’ Now his tone admitted no argument: his command was as clear as a shout. ‘If we do not work together, we are doomed.’

  Prince Kragen only hesitated for a moment; then, still grinning, he nodded once, briefly.

  Still ignoring the surprise and consternation and hope around him, King Joyse turned to Elega.

  ‘As for you, my daughter,’ he said gladl
y, ‘you are pride and joy to me.’ Taking her hands, he raised them to his mouth and kissed them. ‘No one could have done better. The Queen herself could not have done better. Alone and without power or position, you have made an alliance where none existed.

  ‘Oh, you please me!’ Abruptly, he swept his gaze around the tent, swung his arms expansively. ‘You all please me! If we cannot save our world now, it will be because I have failed you, not because any one of you has failed Mordant. You have all given me better than I deserve.’

  In sheer joy, he kept on laughing; and after a moment Geraden joined him. Then, surprising even himself, Prince Kragen began to chuckle. Elega’s smile grew softer and easier as it spread.

  Master Barsonage shook his head, laughing as well. Terisa squeezed her eyes hard to keep herself from weeping foolishly; but she didn’t start to laugh until she realized that the Tor was snoring as if nothing had happened.

  *

  They talked together for a long time, King Joyse and Prince Kragen, Terisa and Elega, Geraden and Master Barsonage, with Castellan Norge looking on as if he would have found a good night’s sleep far more interesting. Guards brought supper, cleared it away when it was done. Ribuld helped the physician put the snoring Tor to bed. For the most part, King Joyse and Prince Kragen and Elega listened, asking an occasional question, while Terisa and Geraden and the mediator recounted and explained. Little of what was said was news to the Prince or Elega, but King Joyse listened intently, emitting concern and curiosity and approval like benefactions.

  His friends and supporters had done well: he said that repeatedly. His unwilling allies had done well. His smile shone on everyone until the tent was full of warmth; he seemed to take every sad or hurtful thing onto himself, so that no one around him felt blamed or criticized for confusion or distrust or failure. The time passed in a glow, and Terisa understood at last why so many people had loved and served him for so long. She no longer wondered why the Perdon had sacrificed himself and all his men for a King who had abandoned him, or why the Tor had come to her in the dungeon to beg her to save herself for the King’s sake, or why the Domne was able to view the destruction of Houseldon without recrimination against his old friend, or why Queen Madin’s first reaction on hearing of her husband’s peril was to rejoin him. Terisa felt that way herself now, would have done those things herself.

  She felt that she had come through hate and defeat to something else, to a kind of settled commitment, a mood in which all things were possible. She wasn’t exactly eager to face the coming day – but she wasn’t afraid of it, either.

  For his part, Geraden was eager. His eyes shone at his King, and he took every occasion he could find to look toward Terisa and smile, as if he wanted to say, See, I told you he’s worth serving.

  He didn’t come down from happiness until the talk turned to battle plans.

  Master Barsonage described the Congery’s resources, and King Joyse gave him instructions for the Masters. The King and Prince Kragen devised chains of command, ways to convey messages; they made the best arrangements they could to treat the injured and feed the well; they deployed in their minds the forces of horse and foot. And gradually Geraden’s expression turned somber.

  ‘What troubles you, Geraden?’ asked Prince Kragen eventually.

  Geraden shook his head, staring at nothing.

  ‘Say it, Geraden,’ King Joyse urged mildly. ‘Words will not hurt us.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my lord King, my lord Prince.’ Geraden tried to force a happier look onto his face, without much success. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get rid of the feeling that Terisa and I don’t belong here.’

  Oh, good, Terisa thought dimly. This again.

  ‘Why?’ inquired the King. ‘Where else should you be?’

  Geraden grimaced in exasperation. ‘I have no idea.’ Almost at once, however, he added, ‘But it’s obvious we’re useless where we are. The Congery doesn’t really have mirrors to spare for us. And if we had mirrors, what could we do? We don’t know where Eremis’ stronghold is. We don’t know’ – a more crucial point – ‘what it looks like. We have all this talent – and Eremis presumably thinks we can hurt him, or why would he try so hard to hurt us? – but there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do.’

  Prince Kragen frowned studiously; Elega nodded as if she understood the problem. But for some reason King Joyse seemed unable to take Geraden’s concern seriously. ‘Well, Geraden,’ he said in a tone of confidence, ‘you can hardly expect advice from us. Those talents are yours, not ours. You are the only judge of what you can and cannot do.’

  ‘True,’ put in Master Barsonage. He seemed glad that he wasn’t responsible for whatever Geraden and Terisa did.

  ‘You will think of something in good time,’ concluded the King comfortably.

  Before anyone could object, he began to dismiss his companions so that they all could get a few hours of sleep.

  Terisa made sure that Geraden came with her when she left the Tor’s tent. He wasn’t actually reluctant to accompany her: he was simply so caught up in King Joyse that he had trouble tearing himself away. The King insisted, however; and she and Geraden went out into the snow to find their bedroll.

  She had no intention of sleeping. In fact, she couldn’t imagine sleeping, under the circumstances. She just wanted to have Geraden to herself for a while.

  They found their bedroll at the edge of the light cast by the guards’ lanterns outside the Tor’s tent. The snow was still falling, although less heavily; but the bedroll was wrapped in a waterproof canvas sheet, with one large end propped up by sticks to form a kind of miniature tent, letting air into the bedroll while keeping snow off its occupants. The only trick, Terisa soon discovered, was to get into the bedroll without tracking too much snow—

  Shivering, she and Geraden swaddled themselves in their blankets and hugged each other for warmth.

  ‘Have you got any ideas?’ he asked; his mind was still on King Joyse and battle.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but they don’t have anything to do with Imagery.’

  With her hands and her lips, she persuaded him to think about her instead. She wanted her whole body and her heart to be full of him, as if he were an antidote to Master Eremis and violence.

  After that, they found it easier to relax.

  Nevertheless they got up a few hours later – a long time before dawn – when King Joyse emerged to begin readying his forces.

  The snowfall had stopped. It covered the ground deeply, shrouded the tents and bedrolls of twelve thousand men; it melted off the backs of the horses; it muffled every sound, absorbed even voices, and kept the campfires all across the valley small. King Joyse himself looked small in the face of so much snow and darkness. The way he rubbed his hands together suggested that the cold had brought back his arthritis. Nevertheless his eyes gleamed with blue. Gusting steam into the lanternlight, he demanded of Castellan Norge in feigned vexation, ‘Where’s that slugabed Prince?’

  Norge shrugged with so little show of enthusiasm that the King chuckled. ‘Make an effort to stay awake today, Castellan,’ he joked. ‘Our lives may become quite stimulating.’

  The Castellan allowed himself a wan smile.

  Through the light, Prince Kragen appeared with several of his captains and the lady Elega.

  Together, he and King Joyse moved away to visit as much of their combined army as possible, ostensibly to explain their plans and reassure their men, but primarily to make King Joyse’s presence – and his alliance with Alend – as widely felt as possible; to give every soldier and guard as many reasons for hope as possible.

  At the same time, Master Barsonage and the Congery began to unpack mirrors. The Imagers needed time to get into position – and to conceal themselves. Several hundred men went with them to defend them, and their mirrors.

  At the tentflaps, Terisa and Geraden learned from Ribuld that the Tor was still sleeping. They left the old lord.

  With Elega, they watched the army
prepare.

  The mediator and his comrades translated more food from Orison. Horsemen delivered supplies throughout the camp and brought bedrolls and tents by the thousands back to the Masters. Huge stacks of hay appeared and were carried away for the mounts. The entire valley seethed with motion – dimly seen by firelight from the higher ground where the Tor’s tent had been pitched – as thousands of men visited the brook and the latrines and the cooking fires.

  ‘What do you think our chances are?’ Terisa asked to ease the cold anxiety gnawing inside her.

  ‘We’re well bottled in this valley,’ Geraden muttered. ‘That’s bad. On the other hand, it looks like we can only be attacked from one direction. The defile is too narrow. They can’t send enough men through it fast enough to hurt us seriously. That’s good. So what they’ll try to do is drive us toward the walls. If we get too close, they can drop all kinds of things on us.’

  ‘If Eremis has a mirror with Esmerel in the Image,’ Terisa said, ‘or any part of this valley—’

  ‘Then,’ Geraden finished for her, ‘he can attack us any way he wants.’ Abruptly, he turned and looked at her hard. ‘But he won’t. He won’t risk it. He’ll be afraid of you. If you shattered his glass, he wouldn’t be able to see what’s going on. What you did back at the crossroads is going to save us. If you hadn’t done that, we’d probably all be dead by now.’

  She didn’t know how true that was. Nevertheless the fact that he said it loosened a knot inside her. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured to him privately.

  ‘And there are other hopes,’ the lady Elega commented. While darkness still filled the valley, her indoor beauty clung to her, and in the lanternlight her eyes seemed luminous with knowledge. ‘The world is full of strange things, which our enemies do not understand. Master Eremis comprehends only fear and power. He is blinded by his contempt. He does not grasp how far valor may go against him.’