The Mirror of Her Dreams (82 page)

Terisa tried to swallow another sigh. 'Yes,'

'And you are not translated by them?'

'No.'

The lady rose to her feet. Facing the hearth, she cupped her hands under her elbows, holding her forearms across her midriff as if to restrain herself from an outbreak of emotion. 'You insist that you are an ordinary woman. Perhaps that is true in your world. But is it possible that you are translated and do not know it-or take it for granted? Here, we are told that any man who faces a flat glass in which he sees himself facing himself will be lost in a translation which never ends. But what if you-if all the people of your world-possess a power which we lack? A power to master the most dangerous manifestation of Imagery? You might be unaware of it-and yet it would be fundamental enough to alter all our preconceptions.'

'No.' Terisa denied that idea as she had denied everything like it from the beginning. 'Where I come from, mirrors are just
things.
They aren't magic.' In an effort to shorten the discussion, she faced what she took to be Elega's point. 'I really
do not
know why the High King's Monomach wants to kill me.'

Her eyes flaming, Elega turned from the fire. That is not possible.'

Terisa raised the towel to her cheek to hide her anger. 'It's still true.'

For an instant, Elega was on the verge of a shout. Then-' But at once she caught herself; calculations ran behind her eyes so clearly that they were almost legible. Then you must be protected.'

'Protected'?'

The King will not do it. He will not understand the need. And because the King will not understand the need, the Castellan
cannot
do it. He is too hampered. He has known that he cannot even limit Gart's access to Orison.

The lords of the Cares are useless to you. The Tor has become an old drunkard. The Armigite's foppishness shames the memory of his father. The Fayle does not know where his loyalties should He. And neither the Perdon nor the Termigan is
here.

'As for the Congery'-she made a dismissive gesture-'the Masters are too divided among themselves to protect anyone. They all resemble Master Quillon, who is too timid to take risks -or Master Barsonage, who is too concerned for the reputation of the Congery to take action-or Master Eremis, who is too self-absorbed to take interest.

Terisa-' Elega seemed to hesitate, as if doubting whether she should finish what she had started to say. But hesitation wasn't a prominent part of her nature. Distinctly, like an avowal of faith, she said, 'You must let me protect you.'

Terisa was so startled that she stared.

Tor the present, I admit,' Elega hurried on, 'I can do little more than hide you. But that I can do very well. My knowledge of Orison's secrets is extensive. Soon, however, I will be able to protect anyone I choose.

'I can provide you safety, if you will entrust yourself to me.'

Though she wanted to think clearly-it was important to think clearly-Terisa's head whirled. She believed that she understood Elega. On the other hand, she would gain more information if she pretended ignorance. At the same time, however, her cheek hurt, and she was worried about Artagel and Geraden, and she feared that Elega was too cunning for her. And she was still angry-

With difficulty, she managed to ask, 'How?' instead of losing her temper. 'I've heard you complain about how left out you are. How little you have to do with what's going on. How are you going to protect me?'

Elega met Terisa's gaze steadily. 'I can provide you safety,' she repeated, 'if you will
entrust
yourself to me.' Then she added, Terisa, I have shown you nothing but friendship. I desire only your well-being-and the preservation of Mordant-and an end to evil in the realm. But if you will not trust me I can do nothing.'

You surely have some idea why Cart is here to kill you.

It was too much. 'You're going to have power,' retorted Terisa harshly. 'Where are you going to get it? I can only think of one place. From your father. But he won't just give it to you. That isn't the way he does things. You're going to betray him. You're going to cut his throne out from under him somehow. You and Prince Kragen.' She barely stopped herself from saying, And Nyle. You've even turned Geraden's brother against him. But the shock in Elega's face warned her that she had already gone too far. 'I don't want to have anything to do with that.'

'And why not?' Ire mounted through the lady's surprise. 'Do you have any alternative? Are you so pure that you can conceive some answer to Mordant's need which does not require betrayal?'

'
He's your father. That ought to make a difference.'

Elega drew back her shoulders, straightened her spine. The violet flash of her eyes made her look regal and certain, like a woman who was within her rights. 'I assure you, my lady,' she said austerely, 'that it does 'make a difference'. You understand me so well that I am sorry to find you understand me so little.'

Giving Terisa a bow as correct and defiant as an offer of combat, the lady Elega left the room.

Terisa watched the door long after it closed. She had made a serious mistake: she had just ruined her only chance to learn
how
Elega and Prince Kragen intended to take Mordant away from King Joyse. In disgust, she tried to swear at herself. Her heart wasn't in it, however. After all, what Elega had offered her made no sense.

To keep her hidden. For how long? Until the end of winter? Until the Alend army arrived? Until Orison fell to siege? Twenty or thirty or forty days?

It made no sense.

She didn't want to think about such things. They were either irrelevant or impossible. She wanted to know what was happening to Artagel and Geraden.

And she wanted to know what made her so valuable that people were willing to risk their lives over her. What was there about her that made her worth Gart's hate and Artagel's blood?

Outside, the sun shone warmly, as if it were immensely pleased with itself.

If she had been required to wait long alone, she might have done something foolish. That is to say, she might have done
something',
and she felt sure that anything she decided to do would be foolish. Fortunately, while she was still unable to make up her mind, Geraden arrived at her door.

He had a high spot of colour in each cheek and a slightly glazed look in his eyes; he was frowning as deeply as a cut of pain; his fingers made small twitching movements, though his hands were held pressed to his sides. Nevertheless he had come to her.

Because she had grown up in a household where she was seldom offered comfort-and never asked for it-she didn't put her arms around him, either for his sake or for her own. She invited him in quickly, however, and closed the door and swallowed the congestion in her throat to ask, 'How is he?'

He made an effort to look at her, to pull himself out of his distress and
look
at her. Gently, he reached out a hand and touched her cut cheek with his fingertips. Somehow, he managed to twist his mouth into a smile. 'Does it hurt? It doesn't look too bad. I'm glad you're all right.'

'Geraden.
How
is
he?'

A spasm cracked his control. His smile broke, and his eyes brimmed with tears. 'The physician is doing everything he can. He doesn't know what's going to happen. Artagel's lost a lot of blood. He might die.'

Slowly, he hunched forward, and his arms rose to his chest as if he were crumpling inwardly, collapsing in on himself.

For just an instant, Terisa remained still. Then, as if she were turning her back on everything she had ever been taught about people and pain, she went to him and caught him in a hug as hard as she could.

They stood that way together for a long time.

When she finally let him go, he didn't look at her at first. Rubbing his face, he murmured, 'I don't think I ever told you, My mother died when I was just a kid. A fever of some kind- we never knew what it was, but it dragged on for a long time.
I
thought it was a long time, anyway. I was only five-and I was her baby, so she wanted me with her-and watching her die I thought I was being torn apart. I
swore-
' Slowly, he raised his head, letting Terisa see his grief. 'I was only five, but I swore I was never going to let anybody I loved die ever again.'

Then he sighed, and by degrees his expression cleared. 'I hope Artagel doesn't hold me to it, because there's nothing I can do to save him.'

'I'm sorry.' She didn't know what else to say. 'This is all my fault somehow. I'm the one Gart wants to kill. I just don't understand why.'

He sniffed to clear his nose. 'Don't be silly. It's Gart's fault, not yours.' His frown came back as he tried to reassure her. 'Or you could say it's my fault, since I failed to stop him. Or, if you want to look at it that way, it's High King Festten's fault. After all. Gart is the High King's Monomach. He's just following orders,' His features clenched. 'You could even say it's King Joyse's fault. If he weren't being so detached, the High King wouldn't dare send Gart here.

'In fact'-he tried unsuccessfully to smile for her-'if you look at it right, you're the only one whose fault it
isn't.'

He misunderstood her. What she felt about Artagel's wound wasn't blame, but rather a regret as piercing as iron. The distinction was unimportant at the moment, however. Instead of trying to explain it, she said as if she were still on the same subject, 'I'm not so sure. I think I've done something pretty stupid.'

His incomprehension seemed to warn him to listen to her closely. 'Wait a minute. You mean you think Gart attacked you because you've done something stupid?'

She shook her head. 'Elega brought me back here. She offered to protect me.'

He scowled at her; his jaws knotted. Unexpectedly, she became aware that it might be possible to be afraid of him: the intensity he focused on her was daunting. As if he were holding back an eruption, he said, 'Maybe you'd better tell me the whole story.'

As simply as she could, she described her conversation with Elega and watched his anger mount. Then she concluded, 'As soon as I mentioned Prince Kragen, I ruined the chance that she would ever tell me what she's doing. She's never going to trust me.'

Geraden turned away to hide his face. 'Glass and splinters!' he muttered fiercely. 'Now she's been warned. She'll be more careful. Before long, she's bound to notice Argus and Ribuld. As soon as that happens, they won't be able to follow her any more. We've lost before we even got started.'

This time, Terisa could have said, I'm sorry, without being misinterpreted. But the apology she owed him now was nothing compared to the one he would deserve soon. For a moment, she quailed. Why not keep
this
a secret as well? At least until his unfamiliar rage declined. Who would be hurt?

Nevertheless she knew the answer. She had learned it in this place of secrets. Whenever he discovered the truth, he would be hurt. And the fact that she had kept the truth from him would cripple their friendship.

Taking a deep breath for courage, she said, 'Maybe we haven't lost yet.'

He swung around to confront her.

He looked so extreme and vulnerable that she could hardly speak. 'She left me alone with her seamster. I was finished before she got back, so I left his shop.' Remembering what had happened, a momentary faintness passed over her. 'I saw Nyle.'

Without transition, Geraden's anger disappeared.

'I followed him-I don't know why. I guess I wanted to know why he snubbed you.' A feeling of despair rose in her. Geraden would hate her for this. 'He met someone behind that tent. He didn't see me, but I saw him. I saw who it was.'

She faltered. Geraden looked nauseous with anticipation.

'It was that mountebank. The one we talked about. This time I recognized him. I know who he is. I'm sure of it.' Rapidly, so that she wouldn't break down, she said, 'He's Prince Kragen. He met Nyle behind that tent.'

For a second, Geraden looked as surprised and wounded as she had feared. His love for his family was one of his sovereign passions-and she had just accused his brother of plotting treason. The stark and intimate dismay on his face was more than she could bear.