WHAT MEN DO WITH WOMEN

SHE DIDN'T KNOW how she was going to face Saddith again. Fortunately, when the maid brought her supper, old habits came to Terisa's rescue. She responded to Saddith's glow in the same pale, passive, covert way she had so often dealt with her parents; she put on non-existence like a cloak, so that nothing about her called attention to itself or disturbed the flow of Sadditrfs emotions and concerns. As a result, she was able to hear Saddith's hints and elation in safety, as if she felt nothing. And she had no trouble fending off the maid's cheerful, leering attempts to find out how she had spent her day.

It seemed quite possible to her that she did feel nothing. How would she have known if an emotion of any importance had taken hold of her?

Unfortunately, the habits which saved her exacted a price. The sensation that she was fading began to steal over her. A bad night loomed ahead-and she had no mirrors with which to defend herself.

After the maid had cleared away the tray and left for the night, Terisa took another bath, using the cold of the water and the warmth of the fire to create the illusion of physical actuality. Then she spent some time meticulously rearranging the lamps in the room, trying to bring out a reflection from the glass of the window. But the black night outside stubbornly refused to give her image back.

She was tempted to give up, let go of herself and take the consequences. But she had been fighting this battle for years. What did Master Eremis have to do with her, anyway? He hadn't created her problem. Surely she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could

cure it?-that his touch on her body could restore what she lacked? Then why was she wasting her time feeling so miserable about him? Why was she-

-trembling in the middle of the room with her heart in an uproar simply because someone had knocked on her door?

She knew the answer to that one. Tonight was the night when Master Eremis and Master Gilbur were supposed to meet with the lords of the Cares.

For a moment, she wanted to ignore whoever was outside her door. But the knock was repeated, reminding her that she really had no place to hide. Mustering her scant resources of courage, she went to answer the door.

Master Eremis stood there grinning,

The way he looked at her still had too much power: effortlessly, it banished all question of fading, made her real in front of him -real for him. After all, what harm had he done her by making love to Saddith? His eyes promised that his attentions were worth having. Who else did she know who could kiss her with just that combination of ardour, experience, and glee?

And if he lost interest in her, she could bring him back by telling him about Adept Havelock and Master Quillon.

In self-defence, trying to take a stand against him, she said, 'I don't want to go.'

He came easily into the room, as if he knew her better than she did herself. 'My lady,' he said in a teasing tone, 'you must.' 'Why?' The effort not to lose herself in his bright gaze and his smile made her light-headed. 'It doesn't have anything to do with me.'

'Ah,' the Master replied, 'now there you are wrong.' His manner became slightly more sober. 'You must come with me as a demonstration of my good faith. You may be unaware of the ill repute which King Joyse has placed upon all Imagers. Either we are the creatures of his will, honest only as far as he is honest

-or we retain allegiances to Cadwal and Alend which make us treacherous-or we are the source of the present peril. We are regarded in this way because the Congery was created by force rather than volition. I must persuade these unruly lords to trust me, and that can only be accomplished if I am honest with them. I must show you to them so that they will grasp what the Congery has attempted in the past-and what we mean to do now.

'My lady, this has a great deal to do with you. If you do not come with me, I will gain

nothing from this meeting'-he made an attempt not to look too cheerful-'and all my efforts to save Mordant will be undone.'

His hands twitched the ends of his chasuble playfully.

She remembered his hands. She had just begun to learn what they could do. Her heart was beating in her throat. She almost said, AH right. I'll go with you. If you'll take me back to your rooms afterwards. The words came so close to utterance that she felt giddy. She had to swallow more than once before she became able to nod her head.

He reached towards her. 'My lady,' he drawled as he took hold of her arm, 'I was confident that you would understand.'

The guards stopped him as he closed the door after her. They wanted to know where he was taking her. Castellan Lebbick's orders. Even though-she was only vaguely aware of this- Geraden was never questioned when she left with him. Master Eremis replied acerbically that the lady Terisa of Morgan had agreed to join him and several other Masters for a quiet supper in the mediator of the Congery's quarters. Then he steered her away,

The set of his jaw showed that the guards had made him angry.

Holding her arm, he took her down out of the tower and through several of the main halls. She nearly missed her balance and stopped when she spotted the man in the grey cloak again. But he disappeared almost immediately: she lost sight of him before she could point him out to Master Eremis. Smiling apologetically to excuse her awkwardness, she walked on. The man in the grey cloak didn't reappear.

Master Eremis made no obvious attempt at stealth, but he moved along a route calculated to confuse the few guards they passed. Nevertheless, it soon became clear that he wasn't taking Terisa anywhere near the Congery's private section of Orison. Nor was he moving towards the complex rooms and passages of the laborium. Rather, he was descending, circuitously but steadily, into a dank, disused part of the castle which resembled the place where Adept Havelock had his rooms-a place among the foundations of Orison. For a moment, she was struck by the wild thought that Master Eremis had something to do with Master Quillon and the Adept. But though the passages Eremis chose were cold, empty, and untended, they were still public enough to be lighted: lanterns hung from the walls at distant intervals. The side-corridors and chambers seemed to indicate that this part of the castle had once been inhabited. Perhaps Orison had settled as it was built higher. Or perhaps the foundations had begun to leak. Whatever the reason, these halls and rooms had clearly been abandoned for drier quarters on some other level. Master Eremis' boots splashed through ice-scummed

puddles on the floor, and the sound echoed wetly. Terisa could hear water dripping in the distance.

She hugged her arms against the cold and tried to remember the way back, so that she wouldn't get lost.

Without warning, a dark shape seemed to materialize out of the wall. She flinched involuntarily. The nearest lantern was twenty or thirty feet away, and its dim light made the figure look as bulky and dangerous as a bear.

But Master Eremis chuckled through his teeth; and a moment later she made out a profile with a bald head, thick eyebrows, and a shaggy moustache. The man was wrapped in a fur cloak the same dark, wet colour as the shadows. He probably presented such a bestial shape because he was still wearing his palettes and gorget under the cloak.

Now that she looked harder, she saw the faint outline of a doorway behind him. He must have been waiting concealed there for Master Eremis to come along.

'Master Eremis,' the man breathed. His greeting steamed in the cold. They are all foregathered-even that hunchbacked dog you say we must endure to reassure the Congery. You are not what I call prompt.' Terisa could see only half his face in the lanternlight, but the one eye on that side glared at her. 'Why do you bring a woman?'

'My lord Perdon,' the Imager replied, 'it is not as easy as you imagine to arrange for a meeting like this to take place in secret.' The softness of his voice muffled his sarcasm. 'Lebbick watches everything-or thinks that he does. A number of plausible lies must be placed in a variety of ears. I will explain the woman.'

The Perdon glowered at Terisa a moment longer.'Explain her well, Master Eremis.' Then he shifted his gaze to the Imager.

'When you persuaded me to this meeting, I promised that I would gather the other lords as quickly as possible. But the task of sending summons and receiving answer across such distances at this season seemed likely to take at least fifteen days. You assured me, however, that less time would be required. I must confess that I did not entirely believe you. Now I am astonished that you were right to such an impossible degree.'

In surprise, Terisa nearly said aloud, Fifteen days? He told us six. He told the Congery you promised six.

The Master's grip on her arm kept her quiet. Imagery has its uses,' he commented enigmatically.

'Doubtless it has,' said the Perdon. 'And doubtless you will explain them, also-when you see fit. But one answer you must give me. I am troubled by the Tor's presence among us.'

Troubled, my lord Perdon?'

'Yes, Master Eremis.' A clenched fist showed between the edges-of the Perdon's cloak. 'I do not trust him here. He has been too steadfastly the King's friend. I agreed to summon him only because I believed him too old-and too fat-to make the journey. His presence now alarms me.'

At that, Master Eremis cocked an eyebrow. 'Now you begin to alarm me. I begin to suspect, my lord Perdon, that it is not the Tor you distrust. It is I.'

The Perdon's scowl didn't waver.

This distresses me.' Eremis let a glint of anger into his voice. 'When you spoke of fifteen days, I knew that the time would be less because the Termigan was already on the road to Orison. I have a flat glass which chances to show his seat in Sternwall, and I saw him depart.

'When the Tor arrived, I did not hesitate to include him. Has no one spoken to you, my lord? Has the Tor himself not told you why he is here? He came to demand a response from our brave King because his eldest son was killed by some instance of vile Imagery. And the King has refused. He refuses even to hear the demand-as he has also refused audiences to the Fayle and the Armigite.

The Tor loves his sons,' Master Eremis concluded. 'I believe he will be our ally now.' 'Well,' the Perdon murmured. 'Well.' He had turned his head: all his face was in

shadow. 'He has been the King's friend for forty years. But perhaps grief will make him bitter. Perhaps it is worth the risk to have him with us.'

'My lord Perdon,' said the Master drily, 'you have already implied that I am late. If we do not go to them soon, the other lords will become restive, and then we will have no one with us.'

The Perdon's eye came flashing back into the light. He stretched out his fist and touched the Imager's chest lightly. 'Be warned, Master Eremis,' he whispered. 'I am the lord of the Care of Perdon. I do not like manipulation-or abused trust. And I suspect that my fellow lords have similar prejudices.'

Then he turned and strode away down the corridor, his heels loud against the stone.

For a moment, Master Eremis held Terisa where she was. 'Some day,' he said in a musing tone, 'that rash lord really must be taught to be more careful with his threats,'

Almost involuntarily, as if the question were forced out of her, she asked, 'Why did you lie to the Congery? You told them it was the Perdon's idea to meet tonight.'

At once, he raised a finger to his lips. 'My lady,' he whispered, 'I have already explained that some of my fellow Masters do not like or trust me. They only accepted the risk of this meeting because they believed it to be based on the Perdon's honour rather than on my foresight. Now I advise you not to utter a word until you are once again safely in your rooms.'

Still holding her arm tightly, he drew her after the Perdon.

They followed the hard echo of his bootheels until they had passed another turn; then she saw light streaming from an open doorway ahead. The door wasn't guarded: apparently, the lords of the Cares still believed they were safe in Orison. The Perdon strode through the doorway, and Terisa heard low voices greet him. A moment later, Master Eremis took her into the light-There he released her arm and gave her a small nudge forward. She had the impression that he had stepped back-that he was using her entrance to provide some kind of distraction.

The door opened on a room as plain as a cell and not much larger. The light came from several lanterns set on a long, crude wooden table which filled at least half the space. The heavy chairs around the table made the chamber crowded.

As soon as she entered the room, Terisa noticed Master Gilbur: he sat at the far end of the table; his features were clenched in an acid scowl, as if he had been trading insults with someone.

The Perdon was still on his feet, but the other lords were seated. She recognized the Tor, of course. He sat near Master Gilbur. Out of direct contact with the winter, his skin had more colour; but his face still looked like a handful of mealy potatoes, and his eyes were glazed. There was an enormous flagon on the table in front of him.

Opposite him was a man whom Terisa took at once to be the Armigite, simply because of Saddith's description. The softness of his face made it appear fleshier than it really was, and his expression was petulant; his hair was darkened and pomaded into elaborate curls; his clothes were rich in a way that somehow suggested a lady's bedroom. He was the only man in the room who looked younger than Master Eremis: clearly, he had inherited his place rather than earning it in Mordant's wars.

Like the other lords, he was armed, but the slim blade at his side seemed essentially

decorative.

The man next to him was a strong contrast: he appeared to have been chipped from a block of flint. Every line of his face, every glance of his eyes, every gesture of his hands looked like it had been made sharp by blows, hammered to a cutting edge. His skin had a dusty tinge that suited his flat eyes. His eyebrows seemed to have no colour.

He must have been the Termigan: Terisa reasoned this because he wasn't old enough to be Queen Madin's father. The lord across from him-beside the Tor-was much more likely to be the Fayle. This man was at least the Tor's age; the sparse white hair on the back of his skull was cut short; he was as lean as a whippet. His face was so long, and had so much jaw, that he might have looked lugubrious if his eyes hadn't been so bright, blue, and precise. The way he sat-upright in his chair, with his arms crisply folded over his thin chest-implied the stoicism Saddith had attributed to him.

With the exception of the Tor-whose attention was fixed on his flagon-everyone was looking at her. The Fayle's keen gaze betrayed nothing; but the Termigan regarded her indignantly, the Armigite's face wore a sneer, and Master Gilbur's customary scowl was black and stormy.

The men and the lanterns made the room considerably warmer than the corridor.

No one offered any introductions. As soon as Master Eremis came into the room, just a moment or two after Terisa, the Perdon announced sourly, 'Master Eremis says that he will explain her.' The red hair of his eyebrows and ears bristled as he took a chair beside the Termigan.

'I would like an explanation,' Master Gilbur growled at once. 'What sort of legerdemain will you use to make us swallow her presence, Eremis?'

Under so much hostile scrutiny, Terisa felt her face growing hot. Anybody who looked at her closely would notice the sweat trickling down her temples. How had she become the linchpin of Master Eremis' plans? Why did everything he wanted in this meeting suddenly hinge on her?

'My lady'-his tone wasn't especially courteous-'be seated.' He gestured her towards the chair beside the Fayle, Then he sat down himself, at the head of the table opposite Master Gilbur. His leanness, the thatch of black hair behind his high forehead, and the way his cheeks sloped like the sides of a wedge from his ears towards his large nose gave him the appearance of an exotic bird. In some ways, she had never seen him look less serious. The sparkle in his eyes counterbalanced the grim set of his mouth. His hands he folded together on the table in a conspicuously unsuccessful effort to appear

grave.

'My lords,' he said briskly, glancing at each of them in turn, 'the problem is time. If we were not in haste, I would not have presumed to make decisions without your knowledge and consent. It is true that this winter may not break for another thirty days, or even fifty. But it may break in ten. In ten days, an army of considerable size may begin to march against us from Cadwal. And only a few days have passed since wise King Joyse saw fit to reject a proposed alliance with Alend, humiliating the ambassador to seal his refusal. The forces of Margonal will not be far behind those of the High King.'

That is true,' the Armigite said with boyish bitterness. 'If King Joyse had granted me an audience, I would have told him that MargonaFs army musters not half a day's march from the Pestil. My commanders say that they cannot stand against it. When Alend decides to attack, I will be swept away. And King Joyse refuses to hear me!'

He would have gone on; but Master Eremis cut in smoothly, 'Worse than armies, however, is Imagery. And Imagery does not wait for spring. All Mordant is already assailed. Strange wolves have slaughtered the Tor's son. Ghouls harry the villages of Fayle. Devouring lizards swarm the storehouses of the Demesne. Pits of fire appear in the ground of Termigan-almost within the fortifications of Sternwall.'

The Termigan nodded bleakly. That's why I'm here. I'm a soldier. I'm weaponless against pits of fire in the ground.'

'We have no time, my lords,' Master Eremis concluded. Tor that reason, I have presumed to do what I have done.'

He paused; and Master Gilbur growled, 'Get on with it, Eremis. What have you done?'

Master Eremis' dour expression nearly broke. Suppressing himself stiffly, he said, 'I have invited someone else to our meeting.' Before anyone could react, he called over his shoulder, 'My lord, you may come in now!'

Terisa gaped as Prince Kragen strode into the room, accompanied by his two bodyguards.

His bearing showed that his self-assurance hadn't been dampened. He no longer wore his ceremonial brass helmet, breastplate and sheath. Black silk garments emphasized the darkness of his skin; his moustache gleamed. But once again he had a strong sword belted to his hip. His bodyguards were armed for use rather than show.

Seeing him, the Armigite blanched. The Termigan thrust back his chair and sprang to his feet, hauling at his sword. Master Gilbur's face darkened apoplectically. The Tor took

a swig from his flagon and belched.

This is surprising,' commented the Fayle in a voice like the rustle of dry leaves. 'You are not presumptuous by half measures, Master Eremis.'

'Have you lost your mind?' the Perdon snapped at Eremis. 'I warned you that we will not be manipulated. Will you admit the son of the Alend Monarch to our secret counsels?'

One of the bodyguards braced himself between Prince Kragen and the Termigan. Before the man could draw his sword, however, the Prince stopped him. 'My lords,' he said with a placating gesture, 'hear me. You are surprised-but you are not threatened. Indeed, I am grateful that Master Eremis has provided me this opportunity to meet with you. After my treatment at the hands of your King, I was minded to depart Orison at once. But that would have ensured war between Mordant and Alend. And the Alend Monarch strongly desires peace. It is his greatest wish to form an alliance against the perils of Cadwal and Imagery. Therefore when Master Eremis asked me to remain in Orison, promising me a chance to speak to you, I allowed myself to be persuaded.

'My lords, I have been denied an alliance with Mordant's King. But surely the same end may be achieved by an alliance with Mordant's lords?'

'Alend is my enemy,' the Termigan spat at once, still holding his sword. 'I've had too many brothers and friends killed by Alends who thought it was their right to own our freedom. I didn't realize, Master Eremis, that you called us together to discuss treason.'

'Oh, treason, forsooth.' The Armigite fluttered his delicate hands, quickly recovering from his initial fright. 'For myself, I am delighted to see Prince Kragen on grounds of friendship. What is your loyalty, my lord Termigan-to King Joyse> or to Mordant? You know what our King has done-and not done- to meet our need. I call it treason to obey him further. Mordant,' he added piously, 'is a higher service.'

'My lord Termigan,' Prince Kragen continued, 'you must understand the Alend Monarch's position. As I have said, his desire for peace is strong. We have known peace since you fought so powerfully for our defeat-and we have learned that peace is better than war. But your King has not been content with peace. He has created the Congery.

'My lords,' he said generally, 'the Congery represents great danger. While your King held it strongly, so that it served the causes of peace, we were able to bear the threat. But now your King has become weak. Mordant is under attack by Imagery- and Imagery is not used in your defence. How are we to explain this? Either your King has gone mad and no longer cares to defend what he fought so long to win. Or he has gone mad and

now wields the Congery against his own land, preparing his strength'-Master Gilbur started to protest, but the Prince overrode him-'so that in time he will be able to destroy us all!'

'That is a lie!' Master Gilbur barked, pounding the table. 'Of course King Joyse is mad. But he does not use the Congery! By the balls of the arch-Imager's goat, we are not the cause of this peril!'

Prince Kragen didn't take offence. 'You speak for yourself, Master Gilbur,' he said mildly, 'and for yourself I believe you. That the Congery desires our meeting augurs well for its honesty. To my mind, Master Eremis has proven himself true by bringing us together-and by gaining the Congery's permission to tell us what the Masters mean to do in Mordant's defence. Sadly, however, that changes nothing. Your King has become weak. Therefore Cadwal aspires to possession of the Congery. And therefore Alend must fight. We cannot permit so many Imagers to become a weapon in the hands of the High King.

'My lord Termigan, you have lost much in war against us. We also have lost much. But Mordant and Alend together will lose a great deal more if Festten becomes the ruler of the Congery.'

'Well said!' cheered the Armigite. 'Well said!'

The Perdon was looking hard at Master Eremis. After a moment, he said softly, 'You are wiser than I realized, Master Eremis. If I had known that you are so far-sighted, I would have come to you for counsel sooner.'

Master Eremis' eyes glittered, but he didn't permit himself to smile.

The Prince's argument was enough to make the Termigan reconsider. He lowered his sword; frowning in thought, he stared at the table.

Unexpectedly, the Tor banged his flagon to the table. 'Oh, sit down, my lord Termigan. So much upright anger makes me tired. Let us learn what more surprises are in store for us.'

'Before we go farther,' the Fayle said drily, 'perhaps Master Eremis will explain why he has brought this young woman to hear what we say and decide.'

Taken by surprise, Terisa's heart started to pound again.

Abruptly, the Termigan slapped his sword back into its sheath and sat down. His flat eyes looked at no one. 'Yes, Master Eremis. Account for the woman. You ask us to

accept too much too quickly.'

Master Eremis opened his mouth to answer, but Prince Kragen was faster. 'My lords, she is the lady Terisa of Morgan. I know nothing of her. Yet I am in her debt. During my audience with your King, she did all she could to spare me humiliation. For that, the gratitude of Alend is hers.' He gave Terisa a formal bow. Then, his voice at once velvet and iron, he added, 'My lords, I must ask you to treat her with respect.'

Master Gilbur snorted softly.

The Tor peered past the Fayle at her through a blur of wine. 'You were with that boy of the Domne's,' he said thickly. 'Geraden. When I arrived.' Without warning, his eyes filled with tears. Blinking furiously, he leaned back in his chair, then slapped his hand down on the table. 'Take my gratitude as well. Prince Kragen and I will see that you are treated with respect.'

Gulping from his flagon, he slumped to the side as if he had lost consciousness.

'Very touching,' the Armigite murmured without quite looking at Terisa. 'What will we have next? Offers of marriage?'

The other lords, however, seemed to think better of the Tor than of the Armigite: they didn't acknowledge his sarcasm. Instead, they fixed their attention pointedly on Master Eremis, and Termigan said, 'I'll respect her well enough when I understand why she's here.'

'My lords'-Eremis spread his hands in an expansive gesture -'I will tell you. Will you be seated, my lord Prince?'

Thank you.' Smoothly, Prince Kragen moved to a chair beside Terisa, between her and the Fayle. His eyes gleamed at her. 'May I sit at your side, my lady?' he murmured. He didn't wait for her permission, however. As he sat down, she noticed that his hands were well-manicured; but there were ridges of callus on his palms and fingers.

His bodyguards stationed themselves behind him.

'As you have heard,' Master Eremis resumed at once, 'she is the lady Terisa of Morgan.

She was brought among us by Imagery.'

No one reacted to this announcement: perhaps it was self-evident.

'Beyond that, you already know as much of her as I do- certain secondary details aside.' He couldn't resist a leering grin that made the Armigite snigger. But he

suppressed it quickly. 'She reveals nothing. She has no discernible talent for Imagery. I brought her here so that you will understand what the Congery has done in an effort to answer Mordant's need-and what we now propose to do.

'My lords, our dilemma is yours, and we are not blind to it. Mordant is in great danger. And King Joyse has lost his senses. Therefore we have done what Imagers have always done. We have cast an augury.

'A great amount of time was required to do this. It is not a simple thing to create the glass needed for such specific augury. But when the glass was done, the augury was cast. As best we can, we have acted on what we learned.

'I will not trouble you with lengthy explanations of augury. It is enough to say that the matter of interpretation is difficult. Put simply, our augury shows Mordant's peril. It shows an alien figure of great power. It shows scenes of victory. And it appears to imply a connection between the figure of power and the Domne's youngest boy, Geraden.

'As it happens, this same figure of power is visible in one of Master Gilbur's most celebrated mirrors.' Master Gilbur gave the room an indiscriminate glare. 'We came to the conclusion,' Eremis continued, 'that this figure was the champion who would save Mordant-if he were translated in the right way. And we agreed-not without some debate- that it must be Geraden's task to perform the translation.'

He leaned back and indicated Terisa with a nod. 'She is the result. In some way which we cannot explain, Geraden's translation went awry.' Then he paused to enjoy the perplexed frowns and muttering of the lords.

The Tor twitched in his seat. 'I know that Geraden,' he rumbled. 'He is a good boy. A true son of his father.' Absent-mindedly, he yawned and took another pull from his flagon.

After a moment, the Armigite said in a tone of rising indignation, 'Do you mean us to believe, Master Eremis, that Mordant is to be saved by this'-he slapped the back of his hand in Terisa's direction-'this womanT

'No, my lord Armigite.' The Fayle's voice was as dry and brittle as ever; but it held an unexpected authority. 'Master Eremis would never ask that of a man who has no wife and no daughters. He means us to understand the decisions which the Congery has made because of the lady Terisa's translation.'

'Exactly, my lord Fayle.' Despite his stern expression, the laughter in Master Eremis' eyes implied a comment on the Armi-gite's embarrassment. 'It is my hope that seeing the lady Terisa will enable you to grasp why we have determined now to turn our backs on

the obvious interpretation of our augury.

Though he figures prominently in the augury, we have decided to forgo Geraden's assistance, Master Gilbur will perform the translation as soon as you wish him to do so.'

Terisa thought the room was getting colder. But-she protested. But-that wasn't what the Congery had decided. Master Eremis was going too far.

The Tor made a soft snoring noise. The other men were more attentive, however. The Termigan stared at Master Eremis. The Armigite's mouth hung open. Prince Kragen's gaze darted watchfully around the room, gauging what he saw. The Fayle moved his lips as if he were talking to himself. In the surprised silence, Terisa could hear the creak of the bodyguards' leather as they shifted on their feet.

All at once, her sense of the situation changed. Despite his strange manner, Master Eremis had the ability to amaze her. Now she understood what he was doing. He was trying to forge an alliance, trying to place all three of the forces here-the lords, the Congery, and Alend's representative-into positions from which they would find it impossible to refuse him. Lacking the strength of the King, or even the authority of the mediator of the Congery, he was forced to resort to these subtle ploys. But the point of his manoeuvring was to save Mordant.

Abruptly, Prince Kragen slapped his hands down on the table and crowed, 'Bravely done, Master Eremis! You are audacious and resourceful, and you have my admiration. This is the union you offer us-Alend and the lords of Mordant and the Congery. I would not have believed there to be a man anywhere bold enough to make such a proposal-and clever enough to make it possible by bringing us together.'

'Master Eremis is indeed audacious and resourceful,' said the Fayle. 'Our reward for forming the union he wishes is the chance to employ the Congery's champion as if he were our own.'

'You say a 'figure of power',' the Termigan put in brusquely. His tone suggested distaste, but his flat eyes revealed nothing. 'What do you mean?'

'A moment, my lord Termigan,' the Fayle insisted mildly. 'I must claim precedence.' The Termigan closed his mouth.

'Amend me if I am mistaken, Master Eremis.' The Fayle's blue eyes glittered like a bird's. 'Has not King Joyse forbidden any translation which deprives its object of volition?'

'He has,' snapped Master Gilbur. The greater our need for Imagery, the more he strives to paralyse us.'

'And is he aware that your champion will be brought among us involuntarily?'

Master Eremis spread his hands like a shrug. 'My lord, that is one of many reasons why we must meet in secret. Our wise King will not lift his hand in Mordant's defence. But he will take Orison stone from stone to prevent a forbidden translation.'

'I see,' the Fayle replied. 'Forgive my interruption, my lord Termigan.'

Tor my part,' said the Perdon fiercely, 'I favour anything which will keep Festten's butchers on their side of the Vertigon. I have sworn to send King Joyse my dead and wounded if I am attacked-and I will do it.'

The Armigite looked like he was going to be sick.

The Termigan hadn't shifted his gaze from Eremis. Softly, he said, 'Tell us about this 'figure of power', Master Eremis.'

'What is the need?' Gilbur demanded sourly. 'He is augured. We must have him.'

But Master Eremis answered, 'He has weapons which hurl a destructive fire. His armour protects him from all attack. Seeing him in battle, we cannot imagine how even an army would be able to stand against him. Surely he will be proof against wolves and ghouls and devouring lizards. Pits of fire will not harm him. He will be able to fight this vile Imagery at its source.'

'Better and better.' Prince Kragen's smile shone like his moustache. 'What is that source, Master Eremis?'

'I believe,' Eremis replied as grimly as his private excitement allowed, 'that he is the arch-Imager Vagel.'

The Tor made a snorting noise. He raised his head, glanced around blearily for a moment, then heaved himself to his feet. 'My lords, I must go to my bed. I have become too old for so much carousal.'

'Do not go, my old friend,' the Fayle remonstrated gently. 'You must help us to a decision.'

The Tor blinked hard. 'What decision? I have none to make. I will not return to Marshall. I am old, I say. These questions are too much for me. If King Joyse means to

destroy Mordant, I will be here to assist him. I will stand at his side to the end.' He made a small chuckling noise. 'He deserves me.' Then he began to shuffle his bulk towards the door. 'My son always said I was a fool and a coward for not giving him more than two hundred men when he first set himself to become King. Now my son is dead. I should not have been so cautious.'

Slowly, he lumbered out of the room.

To Terisa's surprise, the Armigite said, 'The Tor is right. We should all go to bed. A decision like this should not be made quickly.' His eyes showed white, and there was sweat on his upper lip. 'What if we are discovered? What if Castellan Lebbick comes upon us? We need time-we must choose with care.' His voice cracked. Struggling for dignity, he concluded, 'I do not like decisions.'

With considerable asperity, the Perdon snapped, 'My lord Armigite, your father is groaning in his grave. Did he fight so many bloody-handed battles against'-he flicked a glance at Prince Kragen-'against foes of every description, simply to surrender his Care to a half-man who does not like decisions?'

The Armigite flushed, but was too nauseated to retort.

'My lords,' the Perdon went on, 'Armigite is bordered on the east by Perdon-on the west by Fayle and Termigan- on the north by Alend. We are enough. The Armigite cannot oppose us all. He will permit us to make his decisions for him.'

There was a moment of silence while the Armigite squirmed and the Perdon looked hotly around him. Then the Fayle said,

'Be explicit, my lord Perdon.' He sounded like a dry husk. 'What is the decision you propose?'

'I propose the union Master Eremis has offered us,' replied the Perdon at once. 'I propose that we join together to draw up a plan of battle-against Cadwal as well as against these attacks of Imagery. King Joyse we will ignore. When Prince Kragen has had time to ready his forces'-he spoke as though he could hear trumpets, and his bald head seemed to gleam with enthusiasm- 'the lords of the Cares will march with him and the champion of the Congery for the preservation of the realm.'

Master Eremis sat very still, trying not to smile. Down the table from him, Giibur had covered his face with his heavy hands.

'That's eloquent, my lord Perdon.' The Termigan's tone betrayed neither approval nor sarcasm. 'I'm considered a loveless man. Certainly, I've got little use for any of you, my

lords-and none for King Joyse. But Termigan is my Care, From the depths of its copper mines to the expanse of its wheat fields and the heights of Sternwall's towers, it's mine.

Tell me this. When Cadwal is beaten-and the Imagery has been defeated-and Joyse is deprived of kingship-who is going to rule Mordant and Termigan? Who is going to have authority over my Care?'

Prince Kragen replied with surprising promptness, The lady Elega.'

Elega? Terisa thought as if she had been kicked.

'She is your King's eldest daughter, his rightful heir. And I have had the pleasure of her acquaintance in recent days. She understands power and rule better than you know.' He paused. 'And she is not Alend.'

'A woman,' groaned the Armigite, apparently seeking to regain lost stature. Then you will marry her, and Margonal will become king over us.'

Kragen's eyes glittered dangerously, but he didn't deign to retort. Instead, he asked the Termigan, 'Is she acceptable to you, my lord?'

'My lords,' interposed the Fayle. For the first time, he unfolded his arms and put his long, thin fingers flat on the table. The veins in the backs of his hands bulged crookedly. This must stop.'

At once, every eye in the room was on him.

'I have heard enough.' He sounded old and tired; yet there was an undercurrent of firmness in his voice. 'If you mean to accept this alliance, you must be content to do so against my opposition. Fayle will support the King.'

In an apologetic tone, he added, 'You must understand that I am the father of his wife. Queen Madin is a formidable woman. Whatever choice I make here, I must justify to her.'

'Women and women!' The Perdon was on his feet, his features clenched in anger, 'Must Mordant be destroyed because you cannot stand before your own daughter? Or because Prince Kragen is enamoured of Elega? Or because'-he brandished his moustache at Terisa-'Master Eremis desires to bed this product of Imagery? My lords, such questions are not important! Our ruin musters against us while we debate petty considerations. We must-'

'No, my lord Perdon.' Though the Termigan didn't raise his voice, he made himself

heard through the Perdon's ire. 'You'll do what you want. But you'll do it without me. My lord Fayle is too polite to say what he thinks. I'm not so courteous. There is some plot here. My lord Prince agrees with all this too easily. I know the Alend Monarch. When he closes his hand around Mordant, he won't release it-not unless the lady Elega has already agreed to become his proxy.'

He got to his feet. 'Make all the alliances you can. I trust no Alend or Imager.' Roughly, he strode from the room.

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. The Termigan's unexpected declaration appeared to have shocked everyone. Terisa was reeling at the sudden collapse of Master Eremis' plans. He looked like he wanted to laugh; she interpreted that as fury.

'One thing more,' said the Fayle. He, too, was standing. 'Master Eremis-Master Giibur- you must not translate this figure of power.'

Master Eremis only cocked an eyebrow. The Armigite looked like he was trying to shrink down in his seat, so that he would be ready to duck under the table. But the Perdon stared accumulated outrage at the Fayle. And Master Giibur demanded in quick anger, 'Not?'

'You will violate the King's express commands. And more- you will violate the purpose for which the Congery was conceived. You must not do it.'

That purpose is Joyse's, not ours!' retorted Gilbur. 'We will not allow some doddering old fool to tell us our duty.' Abruptly, he hit the table so hard that the Tor's abandoned flagon toppled to the floor. 'We mean to survive!'

Then,' murmured the Fayle sadly, 'I must tell the King what you intend.'

Terisa felt a sting of panic as she saw everything Master Eremis had tried to achieve backfire.

Prince Kragen was on his feet with his bodyguards.

The Perdon faced the Fayle across the table. 'Do you mean to betray us, my lord Fayle?'

'No, my lord Perdon,' the Fayle answered as though he were grieving. 'I will say nothing of this meeting. I mean only to prevent the Imagers from betraying their King.'

He should have looked foolish as he left the room: he was old and thin, and his erect carriage emphasized his peaked shoulders, his ill-proportioned head. The men he

opposed were younger, stronger, handsomer. But he didn't look foolish. To her astonishment, Terisa considered him admirable. His loyalty touched her. She could imagine Geraden greeting the Fayle's exit with applause.

When the old lord was gone, Master Eremis threw back his head and let out a sound like the cry of a loon.

'Oh, control yourself, Eremis!' growled Master Gilbur. The hunchbacked Imager was plainly furious. 'I warned you that this would happen. These lords forget every lesson of the past, but they remember that they do not trust Imagery. I have said from the beginning that we must take our own action and let the Cares fend for themselves.'

'Yes, Master Gilbur,' said Eremis. 'You did indeed warn me. You warned me often.' With a sudden push, he left his chair. Speaking rapidly, urgently, he said, 'My lord Prince, my lord Perdon, you must excuse me.' He ignored the Armigite. 'Despite Master Gilbur's warning, I did not anticipate this outcome.' His face was so knotted that Terisa couldn't read it. 'Our fellow Masters are already at work, preparing the champion's translation. We must go to them at once, before the Fayie is able to bring down the King's wrath. If they are caught in the act of a forbidden translation, I fear that our kind King will reinstitute the practice of execution.

'My lord Prince, will you see that the lady Terisa is returned to her rooms?'

Without waiting for an answer, Master Eremis said, 'Come, Master Gilbur,' and hurried away.

Master Gilbur followed as quickly as his bent back allowed.

Terisa sat where she was, too confused to move. Why did she admire the Fayle, when he and the Termigan had ruined Master Eremis' efforts to save Mordant? And why was the translation already started? The Congery had agreed to wait for the outcome of this meeting.

'It is too bad, my lord Prince,' the Armigite was saying, 'that the courage to accept our offer of alliance is so scarce. I would be willing to discuss a private union. I would require protection against reprisals. In exchange, I would-'

His voice trailed away; no one was listening to him.

'My lord Prince,' said the Perdon stiffly, 'please forgive the failure of this meeting-and the insult. I can only assure you that Master Eremis and I meant well. It will not be wise to linger here. Shall I relieve you of the lady Terisa?'

'No apology is needed, my lord Perdon.' Prince Kragen didn't appear as upset as Terisa expected, 'It is true that my mission has met little success. Frankly, I do not see how Mordant and Alend can now be saved from war.' He gave Terisa a sparkling black glance and grinned. 'But perhaps my fortunes will improve. I am in the lady's debt. I will happily escort her.'

'As you wish.' The Perdon bowed brusquely, pulled his cloak around him, and left.

Almost at once, the Armigite scrambled after him as though the younger lord were afraid to be left behind. When he reached the corridor, Terisa heard him call out to the Perdon, asking for company. She didn't hear the Perdon's answer.

'My lady.' Prince Kragen had his hands on the back of her chair. 'Will you come?' He was bowing slightly over her and smiling. 'As the Perdon has said, it is not wise to linger.'

She didn't know how to interpret his smile. It reminded her to some degree of Master Eremis'. At the same time, it suggested that the Prince was a better diplomat, better able to conceal his feelings. His self-assurance was as good as a mask.

She rose in compliance. She had learned her manners from her father and other self- assured men.

He pulled the chair out of her way, then took her arm, holding her closely, but without undue intimacy. With one bodyguard ahead of him and one behind, he guided her from the room.

Almost without transition, the temperature of the air dropped. The sound of dripping water seemed to creep around her.

'Are you warm enough, my lady?' the Prince asked softly. 'You are not warmly dressed.'

She should have murmured some noncommittal reply. But she had lost the ability to be as compliant as she appeared. In instinctive self-defence, she answered with a question of her own. 'Do you really know Elega?'

She felt him stiffen. He was silent for a moment. Then he said politely, 'My lady, it is customary to address me by my title.'

'My lord Prince.'

He let an easy laugh into the dank passage. Thank you. Yes, it has been my great

pleasure to make the acquaintance of the lady Elega. I have had considerable leisure since the debacle of my audience with King Joyse.'

The boots of the bodyguards made crisp crack-and-spatter noises as they strode through puddles of water thinly crusted with ice. When the light of the lanterns was right, she could see her breath steaming. Without conscious boldness, she asked, Then why are you interested in me?'

Again, he fell momentarily silent, as though he needed time to digest her question and marshal a reply. 'My lady,' he answered finally, 'if another woman asked that question, I would know better how to respond. Can you be unaware that you have a face and form that would interest any man? Perhaps you can. Yet I suspect that your question had another meaning.

'If you are not a coquette-if your question is not meant to entice me-I will answer frankly. I am much impressed by the lady Elega. King Joyse has done more than he knows in producing such a daughter,'

Terisa breathed an almost audible sigh of relief.

There was a hitch in the leading bodyguard's stride, a flicker of hesitation. Then he resumed his steady pace.

A chill reached both hands through Terisa's shirt.

Tew Mordants clearly understand, I think,' Prince Kragen went on with apparent irrelevance, 'that the rule of Alend is not hereditary. When my father, the present Alend Monarch, dies, I will not automatically assume his Seat in Scarab. Rather, the new Monarch will be chosen by contest from among all those who wish to vie for rule.

'Incidentally,' he commented, 'it is this method of choosing rulers which has preserved the confederacy of the Alend Lieges. Those unruly barons remain faithful to Scarab because they know that they or their families will always have another opportunity to win the Seat.

This contest is not formal, of course. It has simply evolved. In former times, it was primarily a test of ruthlessness. Whoever butchered, poisoned, or terrified enough of his opponents into submission became Monarch.

'Peace has its benefits, however,' he continued. His voice formed a murmuring undertone to the damp echo of bootheels. 'And the Alend Monarch is devoted to wisdom, as I have said repeatedly. Now people who desire to rule Alend are not allowed to fester in private, scheming murder. They are publicly acknowledged, and they are

tested in the service of the kingdom. Put simply, they are given opportunity to demonstrate that they are fit for the Seat.' He chuckled briefly. 'One mad old baron put his son forward in recent years-and then went privately about the business of trying to slaughter all opposition. His son was given the test of bringing the baron to justice.

'As it happens, he succeeded admirably.

'My lady,' he said ruefully, 'this mission is a test for me. And it does not provide much hope. You could safely wager, I fear, that I will not be the next Alend Monarch.'

At once, however, he assumed a more cheerful tone. 'But we were discussing the lady Elega. I mention all this so that you will understand me when I say that if she were an Alend the Seat of the Monarch would not be closed to her. I believe that she would stand high among the powers of the Kingdom.'

The leading bodyguard hesitated again. This time, he nearly froze in mid-stride. Cold suddenly licked across Terisa's heart. She thought she heard the same thing he did-a quiet leather sound which reminded her of swords and sheaths.

Prince Kragen snatched at his blade. He had time to snap, 'Beware! Guard the lady!' Then the darkness attacked.

Men charged out of a side passage. How many? She couldn't tell-five or six. Cloaks fluttered from their shoulders like wings. Their leather armour was so black it was difficult to see. Lantern-light glinted on bare iron.

They struck straight for her through the opposition of the Prince and his bodyguards.

Swords rang, echoing in the passage. Baleful red sparks sprayed from the conflict of blades. Violence streaked her vision. She saw the head of the nearest bodyguard lift from his shoulders and away like a ball negligently tossed aside. Then a handful of hot blood slapped her face, and his corpse fell into her, driving her against the wall.

Slipping on blood and ice, she sprawled beside the body.

Two attackers drove Prince Kragen back. He was quick with his sword, stronger than he appeared; but his opponents were expert. He couldn't dispatch two of them at once. The force of their double-handed blows hammered him down the passage.

One of the attackers stretched out on the stone, coughing his lungs into a puddle of water. The other bodyguard still kept his feet-barely. He held one arm clamped to a gushing wound in his side: with the other, he flailed his sword at his assailant.

With a deft toss, the assailant flipped his cloak over the bodyguard's head. Then Terisa lost sight of him. A black figure reared over her, sword poised.

The light caught his face. His nose was like the edge of a hatchet. A fierce grin bared his teeth. His eyes gleamed, as yellow as a cat's.

He was trying to kill her again.

This time, he was going to succeed. There was nothing she could do to stop him, and she still didn't know why he wanted her dead, she had no idea, it didn't make any sense-

'Stop!'

The shout caught him. It echoed in the corridor, wrenching him away from her to protect his back.

A drawling voice said clearly, 'Five against three are coward's odds. But even a coward wouldn't attack a woman.'

Fighting her eyes into focus, Terisa saw the man with the grey cloak advancing along the passage.

The obscure light left his features unclear: she couldn't tell if she had ever seen his face before. But his sword was in his hands. The smile on his lips didn't soften the glint of battle in his eyes.

An attacker drew his blade out of the cloak-blinded bodyguard and moved to join the man threatening Terisa. Her assailant gestured help away, however, sending his companion towards the struggle to kill Prince Kragen.

Black against grey, Terisa's enemy and the newcomer faced each other.

For a moment, they paused. The man in grey commented pleasantly, 'It might be interesting to know who you are.'

The man in black barked a laugh and exploded at his opponent.

Iron flashed and scraped. Blows resounded. The man in black was knocked to the wall. He recovered and countered as if he were immune to pain. With his cloak, he made an attempt to snare the man in grey. The ploy failed. Their swords clashed; caught and held; clashed again. Attacking, retreating, flinging their bodies from side to side, they wove quick sparks about them like fireworks.

The man in grey kept smiling, but his concentration was savage.

Terisa should have helped. She knew that. She should have gotten to her feet, picked up one of the fallen swords, tried to intervene. For Prince Kragen. Or the man in grey. But she didn't move. Instead, she lay on the cold, wet stone with her hands at her temples, terrified by the enormity of what was happening because of her.

She had no idea why. What had she done to deserve such hate? Or to be defended from it?

The man in grey moved with such speed that it was difficult to realize how graceful he was, difficult to follow the way his sword swept and cut as if it were avid in his hands. He and his opponent wove gloom and echoes and hot sparks around each other. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, he blocked his opponent's blade, then dropped one fist from his swordhilt and struck a backhand blow which staggered the man in black.

Smoothly, almost contemptuously, Terisa's attacker brushed aside the onslaught which followed. He gripped her defender's blade with one gloved hand long enough to chop his elbow down on the man in grey's neck.

The man in grey staggered to the floor. He caught himself on one knee, countered a brutal assault, regained his feet. He was still smiling, still smiling. But his opponent had single-handedly beaten Argus and Ribuld. Sweat ran from his face. The lanterns showed a glare of desperation in his eyes.

Shouts rang along the corridor. He made the mistake of glancing to see what they meant.

His opponent responded with a belly-thrust so swift it couldn't be parried. He parried it.

The convulsive effort cost him his balance, however. Although he stopped the next blow with his blade, it was so powerful that it knocked him on his back.

For a fraction of a second, he was as helpless as Terisa.

Then Prince Kragen sprang into the struggle, whirling his bloody blade. The Perdon was only half a step behind him.

The man in black flung a look of yellow hate at Terisa.

An instant later, he leaped back. His hands and sword made a strange gesture.

Without warning, he disappeared. Before the echoes of combat died, he was gone from the passage as completely as if he had never been there.

The Perdon gaped. Prince Kragen dropped his sword in stunned surprise. The man in grey regained his feet, hunting the air as though he thought he might hear or smell some sign of his opponent.

Shivering, Terisa got her arms under her and pushed her chest off the floor.

The Prince was breathing in harsh gasps, near exhaustion; but he went to look at his men. When he saw that one of them had been beheaded, he clenched his fists over his heart, and his face twisted into a snarl. They were my friends,' he rasped. 'I was in your debt, my lady. But now I think I have made repayment.'

The Perdon spat, 'Pigswill!' He wasn't talking to Prince Kragen. 'Who weie they? How could they know we would be here?'

Braced on her hands and knees, Terisa watched her rescuer wipe his sword and sheath it, then kneel in front of her to help her to her feet. He had a nice smile-he was trying to reassure her-and his face was strong. It reminded her of someone. Nevertheless his eyes were clouded with trouble.

'My lady, I'm Artagel. One of Geraden's numerous brothers. He asked me to watch over you. I haven't done very well.

'Apparently'-he grimaced-'someone really wants you killed.'

The smell of blood on her clothes was so strong that she simply couldn't help fainting.