The Mirror of Her Dreams (46 page)

He tried to compose himself, but the effort only made him harsh. 'He got to see the King. Being the Domne's son is good for that, at least. I just didn't let anybody say no to me. But King Joyse didn't-'

Then his throat closed on the words, as if they hurt too much to come out. For a moment, his features knotted. He glanced rapidly at the guards on either side of the door. 'Please, Terisa. I can't talk about it out here in the hall.'

Her heart was beating double-time. 'Come in,' she gulped. 'I'm being stupid, I didn't mean to keep you standing there.'

With her hand still on his arm, she drew him into the sitting room.

If he hadn't been struggling so hard to contain himself-and if she hadn't been so awkward-they might have hugged each other. But he looked untouchable in his distress, and she had to step away to close the door. When she turned back to him, he was standing with his elbows pressed against his sides and his hands in fists over his heart. 'Oh, Geraden,' she murmured again. 'Geraden.' 'I don't know what's going on.' His voice was still harsh, clenched. He was trying to shore up something inside himself. 'I swear I don't understand it.

'It wasn't hard to get in to see him. All I had to do was ignore the guards at the door when they told me the King was busy. Under the circumstances, they weren't likely to stand in the Tor's way,

'King Joyse and Adept Havelock were playing hop-board. You probably guessed that. What else,' he asked acidly, 'would make him too busy to see the man who got him started on the road to becoming King of Mordant? But he didn't seem to resent the interruption. When I barged in, he left his game to welcome us. And he smiled the way he does-the way that makes you want to lie down in front of him so he can walk on you.

'Then he saw what the Tor was carrying. I told him who it was.

And for a few moments there I thought I had finally done the right thing. For once in my life, I had
finally
done the right thing.

'He seemed to remember his strength and call it back from somewhere. Suddenly, he was taller, bigger, and his eyes flashed. 'How was this done?' he demanded. The Tor couldn't speak, so I said, 'Imagery. Some kind of strange wolf.' Gambling that I knew what I was doing, I said, 'Look at his face.'

'King Joyse lifted the cloth.' Geraden shuddered. 'It was terrible. But it would have been worse, if the body hadn't been frozen for ten days while the Tor was on the road.

'When King Joyse saw it, he seemed to stand up inside himself. He took the body out of the Tor's arms. He raised his head as if he was going to howl. There was so much outrage and hurt in him that it practically shouted from his face. I thought that finally-
finally
-he was going to get angry enough to do something-

'I was wrong.'

Geraden made no effort to muffle his pain. 'Adept Havelock chose that moment to say, 'Joyse, it's your move.' Like he didn't know anyone else was in the room.

'And King Joyse just collapsed.

'His face crumpled, and he started crying-softly, almost not making a sound. 'Oh, my old friend,' he said. 'Forgive me. Forgive me.' Then he fell to his knees-he couldn't hold up the weight any longer.' Geraden was weeping himself, with his elbows hugged to his ribs and his hands across his chest. 'As carefully as he could, he rested the Tor's son on the floor. For a while, he bowed over the body. Then he got his feet under him again'- Geraden had to grip his determination in both fists in order to say the words-'and went back to his game.'

For a while, Geraden stood still, fighting to regain control of his emotions while Terisa ached for him and the Tor and King Joyse and said nothing.

'After that,' Geraden resumed with a shuddering sigh, 'he didn't respond to anything. He didn't give any orders for the funeral. He didn't answer any questions. Maybe he forgot we were there. Eventually, he moved one of his pieces. As far as I could see, it improved Havelock's position.

'All this time, the Tor hadn't said a word. He looked too stunned, too hurt, to say anything. I thought he was going to fall on his face. But now he pulled himself together a bit, 'My son is dead,' he said as if maybe King Joyse had failed to notice that detail. 'Is this the best you can do?'

The King still didn't respond. Adept Havelock said, 'Close the door on your way out.''

Geraden shrugged. 'Then Castellan Lebbick made us leave. Two of his men had to move the Tor by main force. But I was actually grateful. He did us a favour by getting us out of there.'

Abruptly, the Apt ground the heels of his palms into his eyes to force down his tears and his pain and his weakness. When he looked at Terisa again, his glare was red-rimmed and lost. Certainty had deserted him. More than anything now, he resembled a young man who was being broken by his involuntary instinct for disaster.

'Castellan Lebbick was right,' he said. 'It would have been better if the Tor had been kept away. All I did was make his misery worse.'

'I'm sorry,' Terisa whispered, hating herself for her inability to help him, heal him. But there was nothing she could do for him except say, 'I'm sorry.'

Later that day, alone in her rooms in the middle of the afternoon, with nothing to do except brood, she was standing at one of her windows and musing out towards the road when more riders appeared.

This group was larger than the Tor's, more military in character. A trumpet announced the approach of the riders to the gate of Orison; Castellan Lebbick greeted them with an honour-guard equal to the one which had met the Tor. Then they dispersed into the castle. But she still couldn't make up her mind.

Saddith brought news with her supper. 'Have you heard, my lady? Both the Fayle and the Armigite have come to Orison. Both have demanded audiences with King Joyse. And both have been refused.' The maid was proud of her information, as if it came from some high, secret source. 'It is said that the Fayle carries messages from Queen Madin and the lady Torrent. And yet he has been refused.

'If the reports are true, he bears his disappointment stoically. Not so the Armigite. I have heard him. He wanders the halls, accosting whoever will listen and explaining his indignation.' She tittered. 'I am inclined to question his virility, my lady.'

When Saddith left, Terisa found that she had reached her decision. King Joyse was unwilling to meet with the lords of the Cares: he was unwilling even to receive a message from his wife. He was too far gone. Master Eremis was right. Mordant could only be saved now if someone else took charge of events.

She would have to go to him, talk to him, tell him what she knew.

It was possible that she would have to tell him about her secret conversations with Master Quillon and Adept Havelock. Not to betray them, but to help him; the information might make him more effective.

She made this decision because she wanted to do what was right. She didn't mean to remain passive for the rest of her life. Her presence here made no sense-but as long as she
was
here, she had to make some effort to help. For Geraden's sake, as well as for Mordant's. He was too paralysed-and too hurt-by his devotion to the King; he wasn't able to see past his dislike of the Master. He was blind to the one fact she saw clearly: Master Eremis was the only man who had any chance of uniting the Congery and the lords against Mordant's enemies.

But she wasn't thinking about Geraden-or about Mordant- when she finally reached her decision. She was thinking about the way Master Eremis had kissed her and touched her.

So the next morning-after a restless night-she got up early. She bathed. She washed and dried her hair. When Saddith brought her breakfast, she found that 'she couldn't eat it. Instead of risking nausea, she asked the maid to help her put on the gown she had chosen the previous evening-a confection of mauve silk which clung to her thighs and made the hollow between her breasts look deep and desirable. Then she dismissed Saddith for the rest of the day, saying that she meant to spend it with the lady Myste.

Saddith winked at this obvious fabrication, grinned her approval, and left as if she had plans of her own.

When the maid was gone, however, Terisa remained in her rooms for quite a while. She told herself that she wasn't hesitating -precisely. She was waiting for a decent hour. But the truth was that she had lost her confidence. Master Eremis was too much for her-too experienced, too adept, too powerful. Geraden had accused him of trying to manipulate her. He had certainly manipulated the Congery. The explanations he gave for what he did weren't entirely satisfying. And apparently he was no longer interested in her.

Nevertheless in the end her resolve held. Around midmorning, she went to her door, unbolted it with an unsteady hand, and left her rooms.

One of the guards whistled at her softly through his teeth; she ignored him.

Descending from the tower, she panicked for several moments because she wasn't sure of the route back to Master Eremis' quarters. She hadn't paid close enough attention on the one occasion when she had visited those rooms. And she thought she saw a man following her-

She glimpsed him three or four times, on different levels of the castle. He seemed to disappear as soon as she spotted him. But he was tall-he looked strong. A grey cloak hid his clothes and covered his head, but didn't conceal the end of the longsword jutting down near his boots.

On the other hand, he didn't seem to be the man who had attacked her in her rooms. He wasn't wearing black. And he didn't keep after her. Instead, he seemed to forget her after a while. She didn't see any more sign of him.

After worrying about him probably more than he deserved, she put him out of her mind, concentrating her attention again on the problem of finding Master Eremis' quarters.

What she remembered of Geraden's tour helped. Eventually, she found her way into the section of Orison which had been set aside for the personal use of the Masters. After that, all she had to do was locate the polished rosewood door with the full-length bas-relief carving of Master Eremis.

As soon as she reached it, she raised her hand to knock -and stopped. She was breathing too hard: she needed a moment to become calm. But the carving on the door was really quite extraordinary. The eyes seemed to see everything, and the mouth promised pleasures which she might not like. He was much too much for her. If she had any sense left, she would admit that. She had no business taking a risk like this.

So she didn't knock. Gripped by the demented logic of the obsessed, she put her hand on the latch and eased the door open more quietly than the thudding of her heart.

Exactly as she remembered it, she saw the sumptuous room in which the Master had held her and kissed her. She saw the crimson of the uppermost rug made even more dramatic by the blue of the furniture and the yellow of the drapes. She saw the filigree-cut brass urns from which perfumed lamps provided light and warmth. She saw the tapestries which covered the walls with scenes of seduction. She saw the divan-

Master Eremis was on the divan. Fortunately, he wasn't facing in her direction. He was lying forward, his attention focused on the woman under him. The long, clean muscles of his bare back and buttocks bunched and released to the rhythm of his movements.

The woman's legs were locked around his hips. Her arms clenched his back. She made moaning noises deep in her throat.

Her clothes were scattered across the floor. Terisa recognized them. But she didn't need the confirmation.

The woman was unmistakably Saddith.

She had seen something like this once before. Her parents had had separate rooms. After her mother's death, she had begun using her mother's room as a hiding place, a retreat, as if her mother were a more comforting presence dead than alive. Of course she hadn't told her father; he probably had no way of knowing what he was doing when he took one of his women to her mother's bed. She had watched for a while before she had realized what she was seeing.

Now she closed the door softly. Hugging the cold ache in her heart, she returned to her rooms. Careful not to tear it, she finally worked her way out of the silk gown and put it away. Then she got dressed in her old clothes and went to the window to stare out at the wilderland of winter.

She was still there near sunset when yet another group of riders approached the castle. Like the one she had seen the previous afternoon, it was larger than the Tor's retinue-and less funerary. Again, a trumpet saluted the riders as they approached the gate.