VARIOUS ENCOUNTERS

'WHY ISN'T IT POSSIBLE?' She sounded small and weak, and her head was spinning.

Exaltation had taken hold of Geraden; he didn't seem to be aware of her distress. 'Nobody knows how to change Images. It isn't possible. The Image is part of the glass. But you've just done it. You're the augured champion.'

He didn't know what she had seen in the other mirror. His mirror. He didn't know she had proof that she didn't exist. Her hands made unselfconscious warding gestures, pushing ideas away. The implications were horrifying.

On the other hand, she didn't feet horrified. She felt distant, as if she were floating off. The sensation that she was fading grew stronger. Or perhaps she was now more acutely sensitive to it. She had no idea why she was still present in the room with him.

The mirror which had brought her here showed Images that weren't real.

'You said it's a real place. Didn't you? But I've never seen that place before.' Her voice had a brittle edge to it, a tinny pitch of hysteria. She was struggling to recover the sense that she existed. 'I've never been there. I can't change Images if I don't know how.' She hugged her elbows and tried to sound calmer. 'Otherwise it would be easy to get back to my apartment.'

That argument reached him in spite of his elevated state. He thought about it, frowning intently. 'But you must have done it. If you didn't- That only leaves me. I can't even do simple translations. I've never been able to do anything like that.'

'Have you ever tried?' Whatever she said no longer mattered. Her life was growing farther and farther away.

He stared at her: for a few seconds, he seemed to take her question seriously. Then he shook his head. 'No, of course not.

It's nonsense. An Image is a fundamental part of the glass itself. That's why mirrors have such limited range. They can't be focused away from what they are.' Abruptly, he peered more closely at the glass. 'But this one was,' he muttered in bewilderment. 'It changed while we were right here in the room. So it isn't nonsense. One of us must have done it.' He stepped back, his manner abstract and intense with thought. 'Unless there's somebody in Orison who has that much power. And he's here.'

That is absurd, Apt Geraden,' a crisp voice commented. The impossible is the

impossible. There must be another explanation.' Geraden whirled.

Terisa turned also, floating around from far away. In one of the doorways stood Master Eremis.

He wore the same jet cloak under his chasuble which she had seen the previous day. Again, she was struck by how little conventionally handsome he was: his large nose and narrow, sloping cheeks made his face look like a wedge; the thick, black hair perched on the back of his skull emphasized the baldness of his high forehead. But in his case the conventions lost their usual meaning. He was tall, lean and strong; his pale eyes shone with intelligence and humour; the smile on his lips promised secrets. And the way he looked at her made her hold her breath.

She had been told that he might consider her lovely.

Without warning, her pulse began to beat with excitement in her skin. Inexplicably, the sensation that she was fading lost its urgency.

As grateful as if she had been rescued, she waited to find out what he would do.

For a moment, he looked at the changed mirror, frowning in concentration. 'Yes,' he murmured, 'that is impossible.' Then he turned his attention back to Terisa and Geraden.

'Freshen my memory, Apt. Perhaps I recollect incorrectly. Did or did not Master Barsonage command you to give no knowledge away to the lady?'

Geraden glared at the floor and didn't respond.

Insouciantly, Master Eremis came forward. Before she had moved into her own apartment, Terisa had seen a variety of men who were reputed to be powerful, her father's guests; but none of them had projected the commanding confidence Master Eremis did. Only her father's presence had been comparably effective-and his manner had been considerably less attractive. He had lacked the sparkle of play or passion that would have made her mother's marriage to him comprehensible. As Eremis approached, he spoke to Geraden; but the interest gleaming in his eyes and smiling on his lips was directed at her.

'Well, no matter. I think it a stupid command. The first rule of good courtesy is to deny beautiful women nothing. Nevertheless you are fortunate that the rest of the Masters are too interested in their debate to be vigilant. Master Barsonage might well strip you of

your place, if he learned what you have done. But he will not learn it from me.'

Thanks,' Geraden muttered ungraciously. The Master's sudden appearance seemed to reduce him to the stature of a sullen boy.

Eremis glanced at Geraden. 'My forbearance does not please you? I wish I could persuade you that you have no truer friend on the Congery than I am. You know that I opposed the decision to let you attempt an approach to our chosen champion. Do you believe that I did so because I despise either you or your abilities? You are wrong. The champion is dangerous. I was arguing for your safety, Geraden.'

'I might have an easier time being grateful if I understood,' Geraden said through his teeth, still glaring at the floor. 'What good is my safety to you?'

'Shame on you,' laughed the Master. 'Bitterness is not becoming.' He moved behind Geraden and put his hands like a fond parent on the Apt's shoulders. From that position, he gave Terisa a conspiratorial grin. 'Your safety is no 'good' to me personally. But I value your intelligence-and your stubbornness. It would not please me to see those qualities wasted.

'Also'-he squeezed and patted Geraden's shoulders-'the fact that you are safe means that you can now give me formal introduction to this'-his gaze left hers and went down to her neckline, resting there deliberately for a moment before returning to her face-'delectable lady.'

Stiffly, Geraden said, 'I'm sure you know her name by now.'

'Ah, but I have not heard it from you. You are her translator. As Master Barsonage observed, you are responsible for her.' The particular way he looked at Terisa made the weakness she felt seem more pleasant. 'I want you to introduce me to her properly.'

Geraden flicked a glance at her. His mouth was twisted into a snarl. Nevertheless he complied. 'My lady, may I present Master Eremis. His home is Esmerel, one of the now renowned manors of Tor.' He was as rigid as an iron bar. 'Master Eremis, this is the lady Terisa of Morgan.' Then, in a tone of muffled ferocity, he added, 'She is a guest of King Joyse and under his protection. Castellan Lebbick has her well guarded.'

Once more, Master Eremis laughed. 'Geraden, you are as graceless as a child.' He gave the Apt's shoulders another pat and moved away from his back. 'But I mean to show my friendship in a way that will surprise you.

'Now,' he went on, returning his attention to the mirrors, 'there is the question of how Images can be changed. I doubt that a substitution has been made.' He stroked the flat

glass lightly with his fingertips. 'At the same time, a more fundamental change is inconceivable. This requires thought.'

He didn't appear to be interested in thinking about the question at the moment, however. 'In the meantime,' he said unexpectedly, facing Geraden again, 'I naturally wonder what inspired you to bring the lady Terisa here. Your glass and Gilbur's are uncovered. This leads me to suspect that you had some aim of enabling her to leave us- or of proving to her that departure is impossible. I dismiss the first. It is absurd. Even you, Apt, would not risk your life, your future with the Congery, and the survival of Mordant, only to undo everything the next day.'

Geraden met the Master's gaze without flinching; but the muscles of his jaw knotted.

'I conclude, therefore, that her departure is now impossible. Some change has taken place within the glass, closing the door which you opened-somehow!-to bring the lady Terisa here.

'Yet that, too, is impossible.' He smiled as if the idea pleased him. 'We have impossibilities everywhere. Here is a challenge for you, Apt. As I hope I have made plain, I appreciate your intelligence. Your capacity for disaster exerts itself in practice rather than theory. Consider this question: is it theoretically possible to project or transpose the Image of one mirror onto another?' He sounded like a teacher raising issues to which he already knew the answers. 'Would that explain the impossibilities which seem to surround the lady Terisa?

'Study the matter and let me know your conclusions. For my part, I will take up the question with the Congery. You will advance yourself much if you reach an answer more promptly than the Masters do.'

Before Geraden could reply, Master Eremis shifted his concentration to Terisa. 'And now, my lady,' he said, resuming his previous manner, 'perhaps you will do me the kindness to accompany me to my chambers. The space which Orison allows me is not lavish, but I can offer you hospitality and comfort.' At once casual and intent, he moved closer to her. There are many matters that I think we can profitably discuss.'

His smile and his nearness seemed to have strong male implications which made the blood rise in her face. She studied his expression until her breathing quickened and she couldn't look away.

'We will not bore you, Apt, by requiring your attendance,' the Master murmured over his shoulder. 'You have more pressing responsibilities to pursue.'

With one hand, he reached out to her. His fingers were long and slim, artist's fingers,

their knuckles delicate, their tips made to stroke and probe and know. His index finger touched the skin of her shoulder at the edge of her gown and gently traced the fabric down into the hollow between her breasts.

'My lady, shall we go?'

Involuntarily, her lips parted as if they were waiting for him. She felt too hypnotized and malleable to move, transfixed by his magnetism and the light in his eyes. But if he had put his arm around her, she would have gone with him anywhere.

'Master Eremis'-Geraden's voice so tight that it cracked- 'what is the Congery debating? If the Masters are trying to make a decision about the lady Terisa, all three of us should be there. I know a lot more about her than I did yesterday.' He sounded at once desperate and angry; yet he kept himself under control. 'And she might want to speak for herself.'

The Master raised an eyebrow: one corner of his smile knotted. 'Apt Geraden,' he said softly, without looking away from Terisa or removing his finger from the V of her gown, 'this is insufferable. I have dismissed you. If you find yourself unable to grow up, return to Houseldon and ask the Domne to put you back among your toys and nursemaids. Orison is no place for children.' 'Master Eremis.' Geraden's tone made Terisa look at him. In his face, she saw an inchoate hardness, a capacity for strength that hadn't come into focus. 'I've been wrong about a lot of things. I make any number of mistakes. But I've never served the Congery wrongly.' A secret ferocity mounted behind his words. 'Something impossible has happened in this room. The Masters need to know what I've learned-what the lady Terisa can tell them. What are they debating?'

Tinct and silver, boy!' Eremis wheeled away from Terisa sharply. 'Are you blind as well as deaf?' An instant later, however, he restrained himself. 'Oh, very well,' he growled. 'Perhaps if I answer you you will be content to leave us alone.

'Because they are muddled and ineffectual, those pompous Imagers will today arrive- with much protestation, consideration, expostulation, and inspiration-at the astonishing conclusion that it is not possible to arrive at a conclusion concerning the lady Terisa of Morgan. You cannot explain whether you came upon her by accident or power. Therefore you cannot possibly know whether the power was yours or hers. And nothing she may say for herself can be trusted. If she is real in her own existence, and not a creation of Imagery, then she will have her own reasons for any answer she gives. Her motives will most assuredly not be the same as ours. And if she is in fact made by the glass-as seems apparent to me-then all her reasons and answers will be shaped by the Imager who caused you to find her. By someone who chooses to remain secret because he is the obvious enemy of the Congery and Mordant.

Therefore intelligent decisions concerning her cannot be made as matters stand. I anticipate that the Masters will achieve this remarkable insight in another hour or two- well before Master Barsonage is in danger of missing more than one meal.

Tomorrow they will debate what action should be taken in this dilemma. And by that time I will have spoken to them concerning the lady Terisa's latest impossibilities. 'Apt, are you satisfied?'

Once again, Geraden didn't meet the Master's gaze. His strength appeared to have deserted him. With his head down and his shoulders sagging, he looked like he might begin to kick his boots against the stone in chagrin. But he didn't retreat. Terisa noticed particularly that he didn't accept his dismissal and leave the room.

'You can forget about accidents,' he said, his voice muffled by the way he held his head. The mirror that brought her here has been closed. There's power at work. And it has something to do with the lady Terisa.

'She says she's not an Imager. She says there are no Imagers in her world. She uses the word 'magic'-there is no magic in her world. And when I was there I saw evidence that she didn't draw me to her. But that doesn't mean she has no power here.'

Terisa winced at this argument. When Master Eremis turned his attention away from her, she began to recover some of her ability to think. As a result, she wished that she could have told Geraden what she saw in his mirror before he tried to argue with anyone. Her proof might have saved him from making a fool of himself.

Unfortunately, it was too late to save him now. 'I believe,' he went on, speaking more slowly and tensely, 'that there's something crucial about her. We need her. I know I don't have any kind of undiscovered talent. I would not have found her if she weren't vitally important.'

Then he did look up at the taller man. He appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek to steady himself. His expression was anxious and abashed; but his gaze didn't falter. 'Master Eremis, I believe she's too important to become just another one of your women.'

'You insolent puppy!' spat the Master. For an instant, he seemed to grow taller, as if he were cocking himself to deliver a blow.

Suddenly, however, he burst out laughing. 'Oh, Geraden, Geraden!' he chortled. 'Is it any wonder that I wish you well? You are beyond price. Tell me, boy.' His voice took on an edge of glee, as if he were playing at outrage. 'Is it actually possible for you to look at this lady'-he indicated Terisa with a broad sweep of his hand-'and believe that she could

ever be 'just another' woman to any man?' Throwing back his head, he laughed again, loudly and thoroughly.

That was what was wrong with her father, of course. He never laughed. In an odd way, Master Eremis' mirth filled her with sadness. It represented a loss. If she had grown up in a family where people laughed, things might have been entirely different. She might have been entirely-

Almost inevitably, this sorrow brought back the sensation that she was fading.

It had remained with her despite the Master's gaze, his touch. Now it was growing stronger and changing: safety was being transformed into danger. It made her turn her head as if she knew what was happening.

In quick horror, she saw that the flat glass which Geraden had uncovered was shifting.

While she gaped at it, the impossible Image of the Closed Fist modulated as though the mirror were a kaleidoscope of winter. Bleeding out of itself, the stream became roads; the pillars stretched limbs and spread out as trees; the sloping virgin snow slumped into ruts and mud. After only a moment, the scene became unmistakable: it was the intersection outside Orison, where the roads from the Cares came together; it was the mirror's original, real Image.

This time, however, there were riders on the northeast road. At least ten men on horseback flailed their mounts and the snow as if they were frantic to reach Orison-

-as if they were being pursued.

'My lady,' breathed Geraden in astonishment. Then he gasped, 'Glass and splinters!'

Master Eremis also gazed at the mirror, his eyes bright; but he said nothing.

From out of nowhere, a black spot sprang like a predator at one of the riders. It was small, hardly larger than a puppy by comparison, too small to hurt him. Nevertheless it communicated force and fury like a shout across the distance. The rider flung up his arms and plunged from his horse as if he were screaming.

None of his companions turned back to help him. They only goaded their mounts harder, straining towards the castle. His horse veered off the road and fled with a frenzied gait, disappearing past the edge of the glass.

A cold fist clutched at Terisa's stomach and twisted it hard.

She was so frightened she failed to notice that she was no longer fading. Another black spot appeared out of nowhere.

The whole scene seemed to jump towards her as the spot sprang. Geraden had moved to the edge of the mirror: he was adjusting its focus, bringing the Image closer. Now she could see that the spot was a gnarled, round shape with four limbs outstretched like grappling hooks and terrible jaws that occupied more than half its body. Bounding from whatever invisible perch it had launched itself, it struck a rider in the chest. At once, its limbs took hold; its jaws opened and began ravening.

The mirror showed the man's agony distinctly as he toppled backward in a useless effort to avoid having his heart torn out. It showed the exact shape of the stain his blood made gushing into the snow.

Pointing at one of the riders, Geraden cried, The Perdon! He'll be killed!'

'Perhaps not!' countered Master Eremis. They have fled this attack for some distance. If they can outrun the range of the mirror which translates those abominations, they will be safe.'

Terisa couldn't tell which one of the riders was the Perdon. All of them looked the same to her, clenched by cold fear and riding for their lives; the eyes of all their horses flashed white panic. She was holding her breath in unconscious alarm, trying to brace herself for the next black spot which would spring out of the empty air, trying to bear the sight of those jaws.

But Master Eremis was right. From that moment until the riders passed out of the Image, out of this flat glass's reach, no more of them were attacked.

Geraden stood with his fists knotted at his sides, panting between his teeth. Thank the stars. Thank the stars.'

Pressure in her chest made her draw a shuddering breath. Abruptly, she wanted to throw up. She couldn't find enough words to ease her nausea. 'What were those things?'

Master Eremis shrugged. Translated things such as that have no names for us. I have a more interesting question.' The fire in his eyes was eager, avid. 'At last report, the Perdon refused to leave Scarping because he believed that matters along the Ver-tigon required his constant attention-rumours from Cadwal, sneaking spies, hints of armies, forays by bandits. Yet now he is here. What has happened to drive him from his Care?'

Without waiting for an answer, he took hold of Terisa's arm. Brusque with concentration, he drew her away from Geraden and the mirrors. 'Come. I want an explanation.'

Geraden followed with a bleak expression on his face.

Hurrying, Master Eremis' long legs set a rapid pace; she had difficulty keeping up with him. After a moment, however, he seemed to notice that she was struggling. He shortened his strides a bit, smiled at her, and tucked her arm through his so that she could support herself on him.

Even then, she was glad he didn't try to talk to her. Most of her attention was consumed by the necessity to fight down nausea.

He guided her up out of the dungeons, across the unused ballroom, and into the main halls of Orison, along Geraden's route of the previous day towards the tower in which King Joyse had his quarters. In a large chamber like a waiting room in front of the stairs upward, he stopped. Only a few people occupied the chamber, and most of them had the needy and inward look of petitioners-a look which she recognized almost automatically because she had seen so much of it in the mission. But there were more guards here than she remembered. They told Master Eremis readily enough that the Perdon was already with King Joyse; they also made it clear that no one else had been invited to attend that meeting.

Almost at once, Castellan Lebbick strode into the room, heading for the stairs.

Master Eremis detached himself from Terisa and accosted the Castellan. 'Can it be true, Lebbick?' He towered over the shorter man; his intent curiosity couldn't conceal an air of superiority. 'Is the Perdon here? This is strange news. What crisis could possibly inspire that bulwark of Mordant to abandon his domain to the Cadwals?'

'Master Eremis,' Castellan Lebbick replied trenchantly, 'that is the King's business.' Attacking the stairs, he climbed out of sight.

The Master glared after him. 'Unconscionable lout,' he muttered to no one in particular. 'I require an explanation.'

Terisa glanced at Geraden. He stood a little distance away, his good face marred by a mixture of alarm and bitterness. If he had an answer for Master Eremis, he didn't offer it.

No one else in the waiting room had anything to say. The guards stood motionless, apparently meditating on their duty- or perhaps on their lunch. The petitioners were

absorbed in themselves. Terisa steadied her respiration and tried to push gnarled, round shapes with terrible jaws out of her mind.

The Imager's impatience mounted visibly. He seemed to have trouble holding himself still. Abruptly, he announced as if everyone around him were eager for his opinion, 'There is a crisis in the Care of Perdon. That much is obvious. But I doubt that it is the crisis itself which brings the Perdon here. He is not a man who would readily flee trouble-or admit weakness. No, I think it is our illustrious King's response to the crisis which forces the Perdon to Orison. I will wager a dozen gold doubles that he hazarded this journey because he was furious. And he will be more so when he departs.'

As if on cue, a shout echoed downward, a roar of anger:

'No!'

Clattering metal, a man appeared on the stairs. He was big and brawny, and made bigger by the iron palettes on his shoulders above his breastplate, the gorget around his neck, the brassards about his arms. On one hip, he had a longsword that appeared heavy enough to behead cattle; on the other, a fighting dagger. His head above his eyebrows was perfectly bald; but his eyebrows themselves were red and thick, red tufts of hair sprouted from his ears, and his wide moustache was so shaggy that food and drink had stained the fringe over his mouth black. The haste of his arrival showed in the spattered mud on his legs.

His blunt face knotted like a club, he pounded downward as if he were looking for someone to attack.

Behind him hurried a woman. Her sky-blue gown and resplendent jewellery marked her as a high lady; but she moved as though she had no interest in the dignity of a long dress or the good manners of necklaces and earrings. Framed by her pale skin and the short crop of her pale blonde hair, her violet eyes flashed vividly.

'My lord Perdon!' she protested, demanded, as she descended. 'You must try again! You must not give up. Surely it is just a failure of understanding. You must explain it to him again. We must explain it to him until he grasps its importance. My lordr

'No!' he repeated, his voice like the shout of a breaking tree. From the stairs, he stamped into the centre of the chamber, then whirled to face her. Shaking his fists at the ceiling, he roared, 'He has given his answer! He will not command it!'

The force of his anger made her halt. Her skin was so pale that it might have been drained of blood. Yet she didn't flinch. 'But he must!' she replied. 'I say he must. Some attempt must be made in Mordant's defence. I am certain that Castellan Lebbick tries to

reason with him even now. Return with me, my lord. It is vital that you do not fail.'

The Perdon clamped his hands together in front of him, holding down his fury; his brassards gave out a muffled clang against his breastplate, 'No, my lady,' he said thickly. 'I will not endure it. Let him play hop-board until the realm crumbles!' His fists made a fierce hammering motion, pounding hope to the floor. 'I fought at his side for ten years to make Mordant what it is. I will not grovel asking him for what he should volunteer.

'You tell him this, my lady. Every man of mine who falls or dies defending him in his blind inaction, I will send here. Let him look to their wounds, or their bereaved families, and explain why he will not'-he couldn't contain himself-'command itr

'My lord Perdon.' Master Eremis sounded suave and easy- and authoritative enough to catch the attention of everyone in the chamber. 'I gather that our admirable lord, King Joyse, has done something foolish. Again. Will you tell me what it was?'

His tone made the blonde woman flush; but she bit her lip and didn't retort.

The Perdon turned. 'Master Eremis.' For a moment, his eyes narrowed, gauging the Imager. Then he spat, 'Paugh! It surpasses belief. I would not have believed him capable of it.

'I will not speak of the horrors that befell my men within the hour-horrors hardly a stone's throw from the gates of ''our admirable lord'. They are Imagery, and I am sick of such things. I fought with King Joyse in part so that the abominations of mirrors would be ended.

'I will not speak of them because there is nothing to be said' -his hard gaze glittered-'except by the Imager who causes them.

'But you must know that our borders have been raided for some time now. I have not kept the matter secret. All along the Vertigon, from end to end of Perdon, North and South, bands of marauders have ridden out of Cadwal despite the season to strike and burn whatever they happen to find. Then they flee. My protests to that fop Festten's regional governor have been met with shrugs. The marauders damage him also-he says. Since its wars with Mordant, Cadwal no longer has the strength to control banditry-he says. And I, Master Eremis'-he hit his breastplate with one fist-'I am left to guard every mile of the Vertigon with enough men for no more than a small fraction of the job.

'Lacking support or counsel from Orison,' he went on with massive sarcasm, 'I set out to solve this problem as best I could.

'Among my patrols, I included riders who were trained as scouts and spies, so that

when marauders were found-or sign of them was found-they could be followed in secret. I wanted to know where those pieces of rabble went to ground. If I could discover their camps, I would not mind raiding a bit into Cadwal myself, to rout some of those bandits from their holes.'

Master Eremis nodded. 'Sound thinking, my  lord Perdon. But I gather you were surprised by what you learned.'

'Surprised?' the Perdon growled. 'Death's hatchetmen, Master Eremis! We are speaking of Cadwal. I should not have been surprised.

'Nevertheless,' he went on darkly, 'I was not altogether prepared in my mind for the reports which eventually came to me. Some of my scouts were lost-doubtless because they let what they were doing be discovered. Others were gone so long that I gave them up before they won home. But those that lived all told the same tale.

'It was natural, I trust, that I had believed these marauders to be petty bandits and butchers. Their bands were not over-large. They wore the rags and equipage of men who have grown poor enough to be careless of bloodshed. They struck in motley fashion, as though they meant to overwhelm opposition or be slaughtered without discipline or forethought. They were only a serious trouble to me because they came from Cadwal. And because they were so many.

'But I was wrong, Master Eremis.' His fists bunched, and his anger rose again. 'I was wrong. Will you believe it? After forays of two or four or even ten days, all the bands which my men followed rode at last to the same camp.'

Terisa glanced at Geraden and saw that his face was losing colour rapidly.

'And in this camp,' the Perdon continued, 'they mingled freely with Festten's soldiers, men plainly wearing the uniforms of Cadwal. The supply wains bore the High King's sigil. The tents where the officers and supplies and support were housed were of Cadwai design.'

'Indeed,' murmured Master Eremis. 'Perhaps your surprise is understandable, my lord Perdon. I am astonished.' He didn't sound astonished. 'How large was this force?'

'Estimates vary. My scouts did not observe it under favourable conditions. And some of them were inclined to panic, where others remained too phlegmatic. But I am convinced that it could not have numbered less than fifteen thousand fighting men.'

One of the guards in the chamber let out a low whistle; Terisa didn't notice who it was.

'All this in winter,' snarled the Perdon. They mean to throw themselves at our throats as soon as the weather shifts.'

'You see how the matter stands, Master Eremis,' said the blonde woman. The King

must be made to admit reason. This threat cannot be ignored.'

'Between North Perdon and South,' the Perdon rasped, 'I have little better than three thousand men. To my certain knowledge, Orison has at least five thousand, all sitting idle in their camps under the command of Castellan Lebbick.'

'More nearly eight thousand, I think,' Master Eremis commented.

'Eight? Yet when I asked for support'-the Perdon ground his teeth to keep himself from shouting-'the King refused. He has refused repeatedly, but at first I could not believe it. Finally I came in person to demand help. I lost seven men along the road -within sight of his walls. And still he refused.' The brawny lord shook his moustache. 'With an invasion force poised on his eastern border, waiting to take advantage of the chaos of Imagery which assails us from within, and doubtless more peril being plotted in Alend, he refused.'

'It is inconceivable,' the pale woman breathed to herself. Her violet eyes looked distracted and urgent. 'He must command it. How can he not?'

Geraden was frowning hard, deep in thought. What he was thinking made him look sick.

'For ten years, I fought beside him,' finished the Perdon. 'I trusted him. Now I learn that to him it means nothing.'

Master Eremis studied the armoured man. Then perhaps,' he said quietly, 'it will not amaze you to learn that I have the same problem.'

Both Geraden and the blonde lady showed their surprise. The Perdon arched his red eyebrows. 'You, Master Eremis?'

'Indeed.' Glancing around him casually, Eremis moved to the Perdon's side and placed a hand on the palette protecting the Perdon's shoulder. 'Our plights are remarkably similar, my lord. Will you accompany me to my quarters? The battles of Perdon will not be fought in the next hour or two, and I have some excellent Domne ale. Commiseration will benefit us both.'

For a moment, the Perdon stared at Master Eremis as frankly as Geraden and the lady did. His blunt mouth formed the word, commiseration, as though he had never heard it

before. Then his expression closed. Carefully, he said, 'I thank you. Your offer is kind. I could drown my anger in a hogshead of good ale, if you have it.'

The Master laughed. 'I have that-and a great deal more, which I think will please you.' His face blank, the Perdon replied, Then I am yours, Master Eremis.'

'Good!' At once, Eremis bowed to the blonde woman and Terisa. 'With your permission, my ladies.' His salutation was abrupt: he was clearly eager to leave. As soon as the Perdon also had bowed, Master Eremis steered him out of the chamber.

Slowly, as if involuntarily, Geraden and the lady in blue looked at each other. They both appeared stiff, awkward. She had more self-possession, however. After a few moments, she asked, 'Now why would he do such a thing, Apt?'

Geraden shifted his weight uncomfortably, though he refused to drop her gaze. 'I don't know, my lady. The Perdon has the heart and soul of a soldier. And he has fought Cadwal too long. Master Eremis knows he doesn't trust any Imager.'

She looked away. Cupping her hands about her elbows, she gripped them tightly. 'I

hate it when he looks at me like that. He smiles and jests, but all I see is scorn.'

'I don't exactly love it myself,' muttered Geraden. 'But that doesn't explain what he thinks he has in common with the Perdon.' They fell into a discomfited silence. Now that he didn't have to meet her gaze, he scanned the stone floor. She watched the corridor down which Master Eremis and the Perdon had departed as if she wanted to run after them and demand an answer. Considering Geraden and the lady, Terisa thought suddenly that they had known each other for a long time. The lady was about his age and seemed to Terisa to be a fitting companion for him. The intensity of her violet eyes, especially, seemed appropriate to his awkward intensity of spirit.

Abruptly, the lady gave a start of embarrassment. Turning to Terisa, she said, 'Oh, I am sorry. How very rude of me. You have been standing here all this time, and I have not been courteous enough to speak to you. You must be the lady Terisa.' She produced a smile which appeared genuine, if somewhat tentative. 'I know the gown,'she explained. 'If the Apt's manners were any better than mine'-the glance she cast in his direction suggested a scorn of her own-'he would have introduced us. I am Elega. King Joyse is my father.'

'Oh, yes.' Terisa recognized the name. Because she had never met a king's daughter before and had no idea what kind of salutation was expected, she said what she had so often heard her mother say: 'How nice to meet you.' Then she winced internally because her voice sounded just like her mother's.

Fortunately, the lady Elega hadn't known Terisa's mother. 'Myste and I,' she continued, 'have wished to meet you since we first heard of your-shall I call it your 'arrival'? The present circumstances are not of the best. Matters which you have overheard leave me somewhat distracted, I fear.' Despite her words, the way she regarded Terisa implied that she found something to compensate her for her father's distressing treatment of the Perdon. 'But I would be pleased'-she smiled-'and Myste would be delighted, I think, if you would visit us in our rooms. You may be unaware of the interest you have aroused in Orison. My sister and I are always eager for new friendships. And-I tell you frankly, my lady'-she lowered her voice as if she were imparting a public secret-'Mordant is a man's world. We women are not often given enough to occupy our talents. So your acquaintance would have a special value to us.

'My lady, will you come?'

Terisa was momentarily frozen. Then she shook herself in disgust. Why did she feel threatened when she was asked for the simplest statements and decisions? It was her mother in her. Her mother would have said, What a nice idea. When would you like us to come? I'm sure that would be lovely. My husband is so busy these days. Shall I call you next week? For that reason, Terisa gazed at Elega as straight as she could and said, 'I'm not doing anything right now.'

A second later, she realized how that would sound to Geraden, and a sting of chagrin turned her face crimson. He wasn't looking at her: his expression had gone flat, like non- reflective glass. Only the slight, stretched widening of his eyes betrayed that he had heard her.

Now she remembered why it was natural to fear even simple statements and decisions.

They caused trouble.

Apparently, however, the lady Elega considered the assertion a natural one to make in Geraden's company, even though Terisa might be presumed to have come here with him for some reason or another. Her smile seemed as unconstrained as her earlier dismay allowed. 'Thank you, my lady. Have you eaten? We can have a quiet lunch together. I am certain that we have an enormous amount to talk about.'

Yet she stiffened when she turned to Geraden. In a tone of dutiful politeness, she asked, 'Will you join us, Apt?'

The corners of his jaw bunched. He shot a glance at Terisa and murmured, 'No, thanks.' His voice was studiously neutral. 'I think the lady Terisa has had enough of my company for one day. Give the lady Myste my greetings.'

Abruptly, he sketched a bow towards her and headed out of the waiting room.

As he passed through the doorway, he bumped into a doorpost with his shoulder and stumbled until he caught his balance. Several of the guards chuckled at his departing back.

The lady Elega put a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. 'Poor Geraden.' Then she shook her head, dismissing him. 'We must go upward, my lady.' She gestured towards the stairs and started Terisa in that direction. 'My sister and I share rooms a level above the King's. We are told that we must live there so that we will be at least as safe as our father. But I believe,' she said cynically, 'the true reason is so that anything of importance will reach him before it reaches us-and stop.' Trying to blunt the edge of her words, she added more humorously, 'As I said, Mordant is a man's world.'

In a small voice, Terisa said, 'You should call me Terisa.' But the suggestion was abstract: her heart wasn't in it. Part of her remained with Geraden. It pained her that she had hurt him. He was the only one she knew here who made sense to her. And part of her was still nauseated. Had the Perdon told King Joyse about those fatal black spots? Of course he had. He must have. And still the King refused to act? If he had only seen-

Terisa. I will,' the lady said with satisfaction. 'And you must call me Elega. I hope that we will be great friends.'

'Have you known him long?' asked Terisa. That was better than the memory of jaws and blood.

'Apt Geraden?' Elega laughed, but her mirth sounded brittle. 'You will hardly believe it, but he and I were once betrothed.'

'Betrothed?'

'Yes. Astonishing, is it not? But his father, the Domne, although no fighter-unlike the Perdon-is one of my father's oldest and most trusted friends. Because of-a hitch in Elega's voice unexpectedly made Terisa think that the King's daughters might also have been warned against revealing too much-'of his wars, my father wed late. Though I am his eldest, I was born only a year before Geraden, who is the Domne's seventh son. Later, during a difficult period of those wars, my father sent all his family to the Care of Domne for safety. I spent several seasons in the Domne's manor in Houseldon, and Geraden and I were natural playmates.' The memory didn't amuse her. 'For that reason, thinking us well suited, our parents arranged a match.'

One flight of stairs took them to the level of the King's suite; Elega passed his high, carved door and took another stairway upward. 'I would have been better pleased with

one of his brothers,' she continued. 'All women seem to favour Artagel, and Wester would be more loved if he were more known. But both lack ambition. Nyle is more to my taste. Sadly, women are often given little say in these matters.'

'What happened to your betrothal?'

'Oh, I flatly declined to marry him. He is quite impossible, Terisa.' Elega made no effort now to conceal her scorn. 'It is bad enough that he cannot be trusted to walk out of a room safely. But in addition he is such a failure. He has already been serving the Imagers for three years longer than any other Apt since the Congery was founded, and he is no nearer a Master's chasuble than he was when he began.

'His determination must be respected-and his desire to better himself. But I am the daughter of Mordant's King, and I do not mean to spend my life cleaning sheds in the Care of Domne, or sweeping broken glass after Geraden's disasters.

'Do you know?' She giggled suddenly. 'The first time he was to be formally presented to my father-we had all ridden out to visit the Domne, some twelve or fourteen years ago now-he was so eager that he had no better sense than to attempt a shortcut across a log which spanned a pigwallow. When he reached us, he was carrying more filth on his person than he left in the wallow.'

Terisa nearly laughed. She could imagine him as clearly as if she had been a witness: mud caked to his hair, his face, his clothes; water and fruit rinds dripping off him. He was exactly the sort of person to whom something like that would happen.

A second later, however, her emotions turned until she was close to tears. Poor guy, she murmured to herself. He deserves better.

'No, Terisa,' Elega concluded. 'Apt Geraden will make an honest husband for some dull woman with her mind in her belly, a strong passion for motherhood, and much tolerance for accidents. But I will not have him.'

In silence, Terisa replied, That's your loss. She never said such things aloud.

From the top of this flight of stairs, they approached another door as high as the King's, which may have been directly below it. But this one wasn't guarded: there was apparently no other way up to this level of the tower, and so whatever protected the King would also ward his family.

Then Terisa remembered the secret passages. Maybe no place in Orison was safe from anyone who knew them well enough.

Smiling, Elega went to the door and swung it open to admit her guest. 'You are welcome here, my lady Terisa of Morgan,' she announced formally. Then she turned and ushered Terisa into the suite of rooms where she and her sister lived.

In a small way, Terisa was surprised to see that these rooms weren't as richly furnished as the ones King Joyse used. The thick, woollen rugs looked more like the work of villagers than the creations of artists-rugs for use rather than display. The divans, chairs, and settees had sturdy frames which emphasized their expanse of cushion rather than their maker's craftsmanship. Some of the endtables in the first room had the look of having been built for children to stand on; the dining-room table which she glimpsed through another doorway had seen better days.

Her own background being what it was, she couldn't help wondering why King Joyse kept his daughters in this less luxurious style. But Elega was already explaining that detail. 'Formerly, these rooms were those used by our family, while the ones below were reserved for the private business of the kingdom- receptions, small audiences, discreet parties, and the like. The Queen, my mother, had no taste for personal ostentation, but she recognized the importance of visible wealth in the craft of governance. For that reason, the public rooms were designed for show rather than comfort.' This arrangement clearly suited her, as far as it went. The way she wore her jewellery revealed that her interest in her father's affairs had nothing to do with wealth or luxury.

Terisa started to ask why the King had moved downstairs-or why, for that matter, the Queen (had Saddith said her name was Madin?) no longer lived in Orison. But asking personal questions wasn't one of her strengths; and before she was ready to take the risk, a woman wearing a flowing gown of yellow silk came out of the back rooms.

'Ah, Myste.' The look Elega gave her sister was at once fond and a bit condescending, as if she loved Myste but didn't hold her in very high esteem. 'I have brought a treat for us. This is Terisa-the lady Terisa of Morgan. She looks well in your gown, does she not? We will have lunch together. Terisa, may I introduce my sister, the lady Myste? She is perhaps the only person in Orison more avid'-she stressed the word humorously-'to make your acquaintance than I am.'

This made Myste blush. She was, as both King Joyse and Saddith had observed, very nearly the same size as Terisa, although slimmer in certain dimensions. In much the same way, she very nearly resembled her sister, although she lacked the contrast between Elega's vivid eyes and her pale skin and hair. Standing together, they were outdoor and indoor versions of each other. The deeper blonde of Myste's hair might not have looked like fine gold by candlelight, but it had a burnished richness in sunshine. The tone of her skin promised that it would tan well. At the same time, the less dramatic colour of her eyes seemed suited to peering across distances under bright light rather

than to penetrating the secrets hidden in corners and conversations.

The faraway quality of Myste's gaze was apparent when she entered the room: her thoughts might have been in another world. But it was strangely emphasized when Elega introduced her to Terisa. All at once, she did look avid, so poised for wonder that she was almost trembling-and yet her eagerness seemed to pass through Terisa in order to fix itself on something behind her, some set of possibilities which she cast like a shadow. This impression was so strong that she instinctively looked around, half expecting to find someone at her back.

'My lady.' Myste bowed to the floor in a pile of yellow silk as if both to honour Terisa and to hide her blush.

Terisa almost panicked. Helpless and alarmed, she cast a mute appeal towards Elega.

In response, Elega put a hand on her sister's shoulder. That is well done, Myste,' she said somewhat drily. 'Nevertheless it appears that so much homage makes Terisa a little uncomfortable. I call her Terisa by her own request. Surely she will want you to do the same.'

'Please,' Terisa begged immediately. This time, she was acutely sincere.

The lady Myste rose. Apparently, her blush was a sign of excitement rather than embarrassment: she didn't show any shame or self-consciousness. Her gaze, however, now seemed to be better focused on Terisa. 'You are very welcome here, my lady,' she said in a kind voice. 'I am sure I will be able to call you Terisa in a moment-when I have calmed the beating of my heart.' She laughed in a way that immediately reminded Terisa of King Joyse's smile. 'Forgive me if I have discomfited you. Perhaps you do not realize the honour you do us. I have so much that I wish to ask you.'

'It is an honour,' Elega put in before Terisa could protest. 'By the standards of Mordant, we are merely two women living with our father because he has found us unmarriageable. The lords and personages who pass through Orison do not feel obliged to call upon us or keep us informed. It was only by chance that I happened to be with the King when-'

More urgently, she went on, 'Myste, you will not believe it. Father has outdone himself.' In a few scathing sentences, she told her sister about the Perdon's audience with King Joyse. Then she concluded, 'Fifteen thousand men, Myste. The Perdon has but three thousand. And yet father will not reinforce him.

'He has gone too far. This must stop.'

'Elega, he is our father,' Myste demurred. 'Of course we do not understand his intent. How can we, when we know so little of what he knows and fears?' Unlike Elega, she didn't complain of her ignorance: she was simply stating a fact. 'But we must not be quick to judge him. High matters are abroad in Mordant. It appears that war is near. A chaos of Imagery threatens us. And the lady-' She glanced at Terisa, blushed again momentarily, and forced herself to say, Terisa.' Then she gave Terisa a sweet grin. Terisa has come to us out of a mirror. It is rumoured that she comes in answer to augury. We must not be quick to judge.'

'Myste, you are incurable.' A small frown pinched Elega's forehead. 'If the High King's Monomach broke in upon us, butchered me before your eyes, and raised your skirts with his sword, you would say that we must not be quick to judge him.'

'I trust,' the lady Myste said gravely, but without irritation, 'that the High King's Monomach has more honour.'

'Oh, you are a fool!' cried Elega softly. Her violet eyes flashed in her pale face. But at once she put her arms around her sister and hugged her until her own vexation faded. When she stepped back, her social graces were restored. 'Yet even a fool and a great lady from another world'-she smiled to show that she was playing-'must have lunch. I will summon it.'

She went to a nearby bell-pull and gave it a tug. Then she retreated to another room.

A short time later, Terisa heard her speaking softly to someone, probably a domestic. And not long after that a maid laden down with trays appeared in the dining room and began to set the table.

In the meantime, however, Terisa was alone with Myste. The particular quality of Myste's gaze-and attention-made her nervous. She found that she liked Myste readily; but she didn't want the lady to look at her. The way Myste seemed to see things which existed through or behind or beyond Terisa gave her the impression that she was starting to fade again. Involuntarily, she remembered that the mirror which had brought her here was false.

There's so much about all this I don't understand. Why is the King-your father-why is he being so passive? What reason could there be for not supporting the Perdon?'

'Ah, my la-Terisa. There you touch on a question which has sundered this family to its heart, and still we have no answer,' The lady gestured towards a divan. 'Will you sit?'

They sank deep into the comfortable cushions, and Myste went on, 'You have not been among us long. And it appears to be our policy that we must not reveal too much of

ourselves to you.' Her frown expressed her disapproval as effectively as her admission itself did. 'You may be unaware that our father has three daughters. Our middle sister, Torrent-accompanying our mother, Queen Madin-no longer lives with us. They make their home in Romish-or in a manor just outside Romish, I believe -for I have not been there-with mother's family among the Fayle.

Two years ago, that was not true. We were together then. And I was glad of it, though I cannot say that we were happy.'

Terisa remained still, said nothing. She sensed what kind of story was coming. The mission had taught her how to listen to stories like that.

'I think you would like our mother, my-Terisa. She is a woman who knows her own mind-a fact which upon occasion gave our father no little exasperation.' Myste smiled at the memory. 'If you listen to Elega, she will lead you to believe that there are not five such women in all Mordant. But it is my opinion that she misjudges. It is my opinion that women simply lack the courage to follow their dreams.' As she said this, her gaze seemed to be aimed through the opposite wall as if the stone were translucent. 'Nevertheless, none would deny that Queen Madin is one of the few who know themselves enough-or are brave enough-to insist upon their own wishes.

This accounts, I think,' she commented as a digression, 'for the fact that she permitted Elega to break her match with Geraden of Domne, though the King himself had made it. Our mother was glad to have a daughter who knew her own mind.

'Now Madin,' the lady resumed, 'loved Joyse from girlhood- long before he became King of Mordant-and he loved her. In fact, it is said only a little in jest that he began the campaigns which led to his kingship in order to rid himself of the obstacles that thwarted his passion for her. Therefore when he had established the Demesne under his rule, and had brought the Care of Fayle to freedom in his service, he threw himself at her feet and begged that she would enter his possession, as her father the Fayle had done.

To his astonishment'-Myste smiled again-'she refused him. She did not deny that she loved him utterly, but she would not have him for husband or for lover. He had set his hand to war as a farmer to a plough, and he must not release it until his fields were furrowed and planted. But while his grasp was upon that handle, his time and his life belonged to bloodshed. She was prepared to share him with many things, she said, but not with a mistress as avaricious as warfare, where every spear and arrow and blade of his enemies hungered for the riches of his heart. If his will did not change-and if he were still alive-let him only send word to her when his wars were done, and she would come to him anywhere in all the world.

'Well, he is a man. Of course he was furious. But he is also a good man. When he had been furious for some little while-a time which he describes in days, but which she reports as a little while-he laughed loudly and long. He avowed that there was no other woman alive to suit him as well as she did, and he swore on his oath that whatever happened her own steadfastness would provide her a minimum estate of his. Then he rode away, bragging-as young men will-that he meant to conquer both Cadwal and Aiend before the next winter.

'Sadly, he did not fulfil that boast. Many years passed before he could call himself King without fear that the title would be ripped from him in the next day's battle. And when that was accomplished, he turned himself to a different kind of warfare, the struggle to unify all Imagery in the Congery. Upon occasion, he visited her so that she could see he had not changed towards her. But his wars were not done.

'At last, she had had enough. Departing Romish on horseback with no other companionship or protection than her maid, she rode the hills and forests of Mordant until at last she found where he fought. He and his men, Adept Havelock among them, had just ended a battle with a malign Imager, and he was covered in ash from head to foot. Yet she rode up to him-as he tells it- as though they were being presented to each other in the audience hall of Orison, and she said, 'My lord King, how much longer will this go on?'

'He looked at his men, and he looked at her. For a moment, he says, he was tempted to make some foolish retort. She was a woman riding abroad with no one but a maid beside her, and five of his men had just been slain. But he thought better of it. Instead, he handed her down from her mount and took her into his tent and explained to her all that he was doing and all that he had left to do.

'When he was done, she said, 'My lord King, this may occupy another ten years or more.'

'He nodded. Her estimate was accurate.

'That is too much,' she said. 'I have had enough of waiting. Is there any man in your camp qualified to perform a wedding service?'

'My father says that he gaped at her for fully an hour before he understood, but she insists that he did not appear to have lost his mind for more than a moment or two. Then he let out a yell and embraced her so boisterously that the tentpole broke and the tent collapsed upon them.

'Nevertheless it was he who insisted that they return at once to Orison for a full and

elaborate marriage-rite. He says that she deserved no less. In her view, however, he wished primarily to take her away from the danger of battles to the safety of his Demesne.

Their union'-Myste glanced at Terisa as she continued, and Terisa saw both happiness and sorrow in the lady's face-'was what some have called 'gleefully contentious'. Certainly both of them knew their own minds with a vengeance. To those who observed them, each compromise they achieved seemed to be twenty years in the making. But we also saw how his eyes shone behind his bluster when she contradicted him. And we heard the warmth and loyalty with which she always spoke of him when he was absent. I call it a good marriage, Terisa.

'Its ending,' she sighed, 'was both slow and sudden.'

'What happened?' Terisa was thinking about her parents, trying to find some point at which their relationship had had anything in common with what she had just heard.

Sadly, Myste said, 'He became passive. The spark faded in him. More and more of the time which should have been occupied with governance, he spent closeted with mad Havelock, playing -so he said-hop-board. Fewer and fewer decisions were made. Perils and signs of peril were ignored. His people were not given justice. Not all at once, but over a period of years, he became what some men call him, 'an old dodderer'. He retains only enough of his rule-and of the loyalty of his followers-to guard that he will not be usurped. The rest he has let go.

This has been a grief to us all, but for our mother it has been a blow to the heart. As she valued her own mind, so she prized his. Yet now he only argued with her over trifling matters, such as whether his daughters should be taught hop-board in place of needlepoint. This she bore until she had had enough. Then she confronted him.

''Old man,' she said-by her wish all her daughters were present-''this must stop. There is evil Imagery at work. Your enemies gather as thick as jackals at your heels. Unrest grows close to rebellion among the Cares. And while all this transpires, you play hop- board with that fool Havelock. I say it must stop.'

''My dear,' he replied as though she had wounded him unjustly, 'you refused to marry me for years because I was at war. Do you wish me to go to war again?'

'I was young then, and unwed,' she retorted. 'Now by my own choice I am your wife. As King of Mordant, you are my husband. I have accepted your kingship, and I expect you to do all that your kingship demands. The duty is yours and must be met.'

''As it happens,'he answered with a touch of his old hardness, 'I am King of Mordant,

And no one but the King is fit to tell me where my duty lies. I have already consulted myself on the subject, and I follow my own advice exactly.'

'At this, our mother rose from her seat. 'Then you will follow it without me. I love you as utterly as death, and I cannot bear to watch the ruin which you are making of yourself and everything that you once held precious.'

'My father watched her go. When she was gone, he wept fiercely, as though he had been torn out of himself. But he did not say one word to explain himself, or to reassure her, or to call her back.

Torrent went with her because she believed her to be in the right. Eiega remains here-'

By this time, the lady Elega had returned. 'I remain here,' she interrupted, her eyes flashing, 'because something must be done for Mordant-and it will not be done in Romish. Whatever action may be possible to save the realm, it will be taken in Orison. I mean to be a part of it, if I can.

Tor her part,' she continued, barely muffling her scorn, 'my sister remains here because she dreams that the King will one day rise up to defend his kingdom-if only we are willing to trust him long enough.' Myste sighed again. 'Perhaps.'

At once, Elega became apologetic. 'Forgive me, Myste. I should not speak so harshly. His treatment of the Perdon has upset me. Perhaps the true reason you remain here is so that whatever happens he will have the comfort and company of at least one woman who loves him.'

Or perhaps, Terisa thought, she does it because at least one member of his family ought to be willing to witness what happens to him. Her own mother had stayed with her father until her death; but there hadn't been any steadfastness in that: steadfastness required decision, and her mother had been incapable of it. She had simply been chosen by her husband, and she had accepted his right to do so. That may have been the only way she knew how to believe in herself.

Then Elega turned to Terisa. 'But we did not invite you here to tell you such stories.' She forced herself to sound more good-humoured. 'As my sister has said, there is so much that we wish to know of you. And lunch has been set for us. Shall we eat as we talk?'

Almost without thinking, Terisa replied, 'I really don't have much to tell you.' The contrast between her own background and the story she had just heard shamed her somehow, like a demonstration of how insubstantial she had always been. Against the threat of violent death she had no reality at all. 'You're being very kind. But I'm only

here by accident. I'm not an Imager. We don't have Imagers-where I come from. Something went wrong when Geraden made his mirror. Or during his translation.' Again, she found herself sounding like her mother. But what else could she say? 'I don't know why I ever let him talk me into coming with him.'

Then, so that it would all be said and done with, she concluded, 'I would have gone back already. But the mirror changed somehow. He can't make it work any more.'

She stopped. Her heart beat in her throat as if she had just uttered something dangerous, and the strange desire to weep which had touched her when she thought of Geraden in the pigwallow returned.

Gaping through her as though someone a few rooms away were performing a prodigious feat, Myste breathed, 'Is it possible? Oh, is it possible?' She seemed to think that what she had just heard was more marvellous than any other revelation could have been.

In contrast, Elega flung her head back as if a menial had slapped her face; and her eyes flared. Slowly, her voice under rigid control, she asked, 'Do you mean to say, my lady, that you have no reason here? No purpose? That you have not come to play a part in Mordant's need? Do you wish us to believe that you are nothing more than an ordinary woman? That this 'accident', as you call it, should not have happened to you?'

Terisa didn't want to answer. The thrust of Elega's demand was hurtful. She had created this situation for herself, however, and she mustered her courage to face it. In that way, at least, she could try not to be like her mother.

'I'm not a lady. I'm a secretary in a mission.' She held her back straight and her head up. They need me. Not many people can afford to work for what they pay me. But I'll lose my job if I don't get back soon. Rev Thatcher can't take care of everything alone.

That's all. I live in an apartment. I eat and sleep. I go to work. That's all.'

For a moment, she thought that Elega would scorn her. Myste was whispering, That's wonderful. It's wonderful.' Her gaze was coming into better focus on Terisa. 'I had no idea such things were possible.' But Eiega's face was made feverish by the intensity of what she felt, and she had drawn herself up as if she meant to spit acid.

'You should have gone after the Perdon,' Terisa said dully. 'He and Master Eremis are the ones you want.'

In response, the lady tried to smile.

It was a sickly expression at first; but Elega mastered her features and forced them to serve her. With an effort of will, she softened her posture. 'My lady, this is unnecessary. We belong to none of the factions of the Congery. We have no secret allies among Mordant's enemies. We will not manipulate or betray you. We are women like yourself, not self-serving men hungry for power. We can be trusted. We are perhaps the only people in Orison whom you may safely trust. This pretence is unnecessary.'

Myste looked at her sister at once. 'Elega, Terisa has no reason to lie to us. I am sure that she has not. It is not a pretence.'

With a savagery that would have done Castellan Lebbick credit, the lady Elega flashed out, 'It must be.'

An instant later, she recollected herself. Once again, she tried to smile. Now, however, she looked like a woman bravely suppressing an impulse to throw up.

'I'm sorry,' Terisa said, T'm sorry.'