FOLLY IN GOOD FAITH

WHEN SHE CAME TO, she suffered a moment of disorientation. Half of her seemed to be standing up: the other half was upside down. She thought she was going to fall, but something hard held her by the waist.

'We were betrayed,' the Perdon rasped. 'Does this not make you suspicious? Perhaps in Alend the word alliance has another meaning. What better way to fill Mordant with

dissension than by bringing violence to an unprecedented meeting between the lords of the Cares and the Masters of the Congery? This ensures that we will not be strong enough to defend ourselves.'

'My lord Perdon-' Prince Kragen began in a dangerous tone.

'And if we are not strong enough to defend ourselves,' the Perdon snarled, 'where else shall we turn for help, but to Margonal and you?'

'Two of my friends are dead!' the Prince retorted. His diplomatic self-control was badly frayed. 'If I desired dissension in Mordant, I would have one of the lords killed, not any of my men!'

As her eyes squeezed into focus, she saw that she was indeed upright; but her arms and torso dangled towards the floor. The backs of her hands scraped lightly on the cold stone. A forearm clasped about her waist kept her from falling on her head.

'If you must have traitors,' Prince Kragen went on fiercely, 'I advise you to look for them among your fellow lords. Who gains if the Cares are not united against their King?'

'Precisely, my lord Prince,' demanded the Perdon. 'Who?'

'Any lord who can hope to become King directly, without disloyalty to Joyse. The Tor does not mean to return to Marshall. Queen Madin has had considerable time to forge a bond between her husband and the Fayle. Is it inconceivable that the road to power may be shorter if it does not pass through a union of the lords with Alend and the Congery?'

'Are you all right, my lady?' Artagel asked. He was the one holding her.

Now she understood: he had put her in that position because she had fainted. He helped her pull herself upright, and she found that she was able to keep her balance. Watching her closely, he withdrew his hands from her waist. A glance down the passage showed her that he had moved a short distance from the scene of combat. Her clothes still stank; but now she was able to stomach that. She took a deep breath, pushed her hair back from her face, and murmured, 'I think so. Thanks.'

He gave her a fleet smile and at once turned away. 'The alternative, my lords,' he said, striding towards Prince Kragen and the Perdon, 'is that you were betrayed by an Imager.'

'I would like to believe that,' said the Perdon gruffly. He seemed to regard Artagel as an equal. 'But only Master Eremis and Master Gilbur knew the place of our meeting. And it was Master Eremis who brought that meeting about. If he desired disunion among us, he did not need to go to such lengths. All that was required was to leave us

alone.' He paused, then said, 'I cannot speak so positively for Master Gilbur.'

'And I,' said Prince Kragen, 'did not know that Imagery could do such things. Is it not true that such a translation would require a flat glass? And is it not true that translation through flat glass produces madness? Who could have performed the feat we have witnessed?'

No one had spoken to Terisa. She wasn't sure they knew she could hear them. But she replied, 'The arch-Imager. Vagel.'

For a moment, the three men stood still. Then the Perdon growled, 'As Master Eremis said. But who in Orison-or in all Mordant-would be foolish or vile enough to ally himself with that fiend?'

'Let's look, my lords.' Artagel moved past the Perdon and Prince Kragen towards the nearest of the fallen attackers.

Terisa followed, walking warily back into the memory of bloodshed. Artagel was kneeling over the body when she drew near him. He turned it on to its back; she flinched at the sight of the gory wound in its chest. Nevertheless she watched as he pushed aside the cloak in order to inspect the dead man's face and armour.

The hardened leather chestplate was so black that she couldn't make out any of the details Artagel appeared to be analysing. She didn't know what he was talking about when he suddenly tapped the covering over the dead man's heart and said, 'Here.'

'I lack your eyes,' growled the Perdon. 'What is it?'

'A sigil.' Abruptly, Artagel rose to his feet. 'I've seen it before.' His eyes held no expression; his face looked as hard as the stone around him, 'This man is a Cadwal. The sigil indicates that he trains with and serves the High King's Monomach.'

'Gart?' Prince Kragen asked incredulously. 'Here? Was that Gart you fought?'

'I don't know who I fought.' Artagel's voice was like his face, blank and rigid, 'Whoever he was, he beat me. But this man is one of Gart's Apts. The others must be the same.'

'Entrails and carrion!' spat the Perdon. 'An Apt of the High King's Monomach!'

'But here?' the Prince persisted. 'How could such men come here? How could they gain admittance to Orison? They could not simply enter the gates. Castellan Lebbick is not so lax.'

Artagel nodded curtly. They must have come the same way their leader vanished.'

'Vagel?' Prince Kragen scowled in frank dismay. 'Why did we ever believe the story that he was dead?'

The Perdon had no answer. At the mention of Lebbick, he had jerked up his head as if he were reminded of something important. Now he glanced rapidly back and forth down the corridor, trying to watch both directions at once. 'I have a better question. Do we wish to be found here when the Castellan comes?'

The Prince became instantly alert. 'Will he come? Are we not beyond earshot of his nearest guard?'

That spineless fop, the Armigite,' explained the Perdon. His voice dripped venom. 'When we heard the sounds of attack which brought me to your side, he fled in the opposite direction, yowling murder. He must have missed his way, or the Castellan would already be here. In any case, we have little time,'

'He will question me, whatever I do,' mused Kragen. 'My men are dead. But if I am not here, he will not be able to connect me to this bloodshed.' Promptly, he made his decision. 'My lord Perdon-Artagel of Domne-I thank you for my life. But I will not remain with you, to give us all the look of treachery. My lady, farewell.'

Retrieving his sword, he slapped it into its sheath and ran. Swiftly, the sound of his strides receded into the distance.

'I will leave you also,' the Perdon said to Artagel. 'I do not know what role this woman means to play in our doom, but I will not risk an accusation of treason to protect her.'

Muttering angrily, 'Cadwals! Horsepiss,' he rushed away after the Prince.

Terisa looked at Artage! and saw that the gleam was back in his eyes; he was smiling again. In reply to her gaze, he bowed humorously. 'For my part, my lady, I haven't got anything worth hiding. Whatever happens, all Orison will assume I had something to do with this many dead bodies. I'm afraid I have that kind of reputation-I don't know why. In any case, I have a better opinion of Lebbick than most people do. But there's no reason why you should have to spend the rest of the night listening to him sneer at you.' He gestured down the passage. 'Shall we go?'

Again, she said, Thanks.' She wished he would take her arm: she needed the support. 'I don't think I can face him. He doesn't like me.'

'Nonsense.' As if guided by inspiration, he slipped his arm through hers and braced her

companionably. His tone jollied her along. 'You don't know him as well as I do. Our good Castellan only insults the people he likes. And if he likes you a lot, he becomes positively scathing. His wife-rest her soul-was the only person in Orison who was ever able to get civility as well as affection out of him.'

Together, they moved through the gloom towards the next lantern. Almost at once, they heard running feet.

He was undismayed. Still grinning, he drew her into a side passage and along a different route back towards the inhabited levels of the castle. With apparent ease, he avoided encountering the guards. In a shorter time than she was expecting, he brought her to the tower where her rooms were.

By then, she had recovered at least some grasp on the situation.

Artagel had saved her life. Because Geraden had asked him to keep an eye on her. Now he was taking her away from a session with the grim Castellan, in which she would have to lie and lie and lie to protect Master Eremis, Prince Kragen, and the lords of the Cares. She should have started thinking about gratitude some time ago.

Off the top of her head, she couldn't imagine many ways to thank Artagel effectively. At least one small one was clear to her, however. So far, they had been fortunate: they hadn't been seen closely enough to expose the mess which blood and dirty water made of her clothes. But to reach her rooms she would have to pass within arm's reach of the .guards outside her door-

At the foot of the stairway, she stopped and disengaged her arm. A bit awkwardly-she wasn't accustomed to making decisions in this way, with a tall, strong man smiling at her quizzically-she explained, 'I can make it alone from here. We've been lucky so far. I don't think you want to be seen with me.'

He cocked an amused eyebrow, 'I don't, my lady?' The events of the evening hadn't seriously ruffled his self-confidence. 'Well, I admit you aren't as clean as you should be. But I don't choose my friends on the basis of accidents like that.' He chuckled. 'If I did, poor Geraden would be at the bottom of my list.'

His smile was disarming, but she persisted. That's not what I meant. The guards are going to notice'-she twisted her mouth in disgust-'the way I look. And someone is going to realize that a woman covered with blood must have something to do with all those dead men. If you're seen with me, you'll be implicated.

'I know you aren't worried about that. But you should be. How are you going to

explain it to the Castellan?'

He was unpersuaded: Lebbick didn't worry him. And she couldn't ask him to lie, either for herself or for Master Eremis. So she shifted to a different argument. 'Do you know what he did to Geraden the last time he caught him trying to give me independent protection?'

At that, Artagel frowned thoughtfully. 'You have a point, my lady. He tried to explain why he doesn't trust the guards, but I didn't understand all of it. It had something to do with the orders King Joyse gave the Castellan? Or the way he interprets those orders?' He shrugged. 'Geraden has always had a subtler mind than I do. Is it true that the guards don't even ask where you're going when you leave your rooms?'

Terisa felt a new touch of panic. So she wasn't imagining it: the guards did treat Geraden differently from the other people who came for her. She nodded mutely.

That doesn't make sense,' Artagel commented. Then he shook his frown away. 'But I'm sure it will eventually. That's Geraden's only fault. I mean, aside from clumsiness. He's too impatient. Things always make sense eventually, if you don't think about them too hard.'

Smiling again, he added, 'But you're right. I don't want to get him in any more trouble. I'll leave you here.' For a moment, his expression grew sober. 'I'm still going to keep an eye on you. I take him seriously when he's that worried. And this time he has good reason. The High King's Monomach is training his Apts better than he used to. If you need me, I'll usually be somewhere nearby.'

He put on a jaunty grin. With a graceful and humorous bow, he saluted her. 'Rest well, my lady.' Then he strode away.

She smiled at his departing back. As soon as he was gone, however, she began to shiver again, as if she had brought the chill of the lower levels up with her. Shock and reaction were setting in.

She was alone. She would have no defence if more men in black appeared suddenly out of nowhere to attack her.

She was going to have to face Castellan Lebbick by herself.

She wanted to sit down. Her knees felt too weak to hold her. But she put her feet on the stairs and forced her legs to take her upward.

When the guards at her door caught sight of her, they became immediately tense with

concern. One of them said, 'My lady, are you all right? Do you need any help?'

She couldn't meet their eyes. As firmly as possible, she said, 'No, thanks. I'm fine.'

Trying not to hurry, she went into her rooms. At once, she bolted the door. Then she checked to be sure that the entrance to the secret passage was still blocked.

After that, she kicked her moccasins away and flung off her clothes in a rush of revulsion, alarm, and determination, unable to bear the touch of drying blood against her skin any longer.

First she took a bath, splashing icy water over herself as though she thought she could sting or shock herself into being brave enough for what she had to do. Next she scrubbed her clothes thoroughly, almost brutally, and set them out to dry in front of the fire.

She intended to be ready for Castellan Lebbick when he came. But she couldn't stop trembling.

He came early the next morning, a barely polite interval after she had finished breakfast. She was wearing her dove-grey gown because a cowardly instinct told her it would make her look more vulnerable, less deserving of abuse. But she met him in her sitting room as bravely as she could.

As always, he wore the symbols of his office-the purple band around his cropped grey hair, the purple sash over one shoulder across his mail. But his real authority was expressed in the glare of his eyes, the stiff swagger of his movements, the thrust of his jaw. If he had held no position in Orison at all, he would still have commanded the room when he entered it.

'My lady.' His tone was as subtle as an iron bar. 'I trust you slept well after your adventures last night.'

She was determined to lie to him. It would have been better to face him squarely, but that great display of courage was beyond her. After all, she had never lied to an angry man in her life. 'What adventures?' She cursed herself for sounding so small and weak; but perhaps that would work to her advantage in the end.

Castellan Lebbick, however, appeared to be unsympathetic towards small, weak women. 'Don't be coy with me, my lady. I do my duty under a number of disadvantages, but stupidity isn't among them.'

'I'm not being coy.' That was true, at any rate. She was doing everything in her power to refrain from running into the next room and hiding under the bed. Or from blurting out the truth. 'I went out with Master Eremis. I came back alone. We didn't have any adventures. You can ask him. He'll tell you the same thing.'

'My lady'-he feigned a tiredness which didn't show in his eyes-'I have no taste for manure this morning. Whatever you were doing, my night was longer than yours, and when I went to my bed it was cold. Do me the courtesy of being honest.'

Her resolve was crumbling: she could feel it. The promises she had made to herself were all very well-but what did any of this have to do with her? Her father hadn't raised her to be strong. 'I am being honest,' she said without conviction, already flinching in anticipation of his retort.

It came quickly. 'Dogshit! You haven't spoken a true word since you arrived. By the stars, woman, you will answer me! The Armigite came squalling out of the abandoned foundations of Orison-where he never should have been in the first place- and insisted there was a battle going on. Naturally, he had no idea who was involved. He has rotten fruit for brains. But an investigation was required, so it was done. We found two men dead-Prince Kragen's bodyguards, by some towering coincidence-and enough blood for a small war. But we found no explanation.'

For two or three heartbeats, her mind went completely blank. Two men dead? There should have been six. Four Cadwals. She was on the verge of crying out, I'm sorry I didn't mean it it wasn't my fault. What happened to the four Cadwals?

Fortunately, Lebbick didn't pause. 'I questioned Prince Kra-gen. He put on righteous indignation and accused someone of having his men murdered. Someone, he said, wants to provoke a war. Someone'-the Castellan's reference to King Joyse was unmistakable-'wants to be sure he returns to Alend with every conceivable provocation. On top of that, those bodyguards were friends of his.'

He clenched his fists. 'My lady, I know how to get the truth from men like him. Some of the old engines of torture have been preserved. Unfortunately, he's an ambassador. I can't touch him.

'You are another matter.'

Abruptly, her head cleared. She didn't become less afraid; but a sense of urgency made what she was thinking sharp and precise. Four bodies were missing. Someone had taken them. Probably in the same way her attacker had vanished. So Castellan Lebbick didn't know there were Cadwals in Orison. He had no inkling of the truth. Master Eremis was

safe. Artagel was safe. If she didn't lose her nerve.

Her voice was almost steady as she asked, 'You mean you're going to torture me?' Instead of answering directly, he snarled, 'After my discussion with Prince Kragen,

imagine my surprise when I learned that you had returned alone'-his tone was pure vitriol-'from your supper with Master Eremis and the mediator of the Congery- and that you were covered with blood.'

He cocked his fists on his hips. 'Do you want me to believe that Prince Kragen's bodyguards killed each other in a contest for your affections? Will you ask me to credit that you happened to wander down to that part of Orison-and you happened to find those two bodies in all the miles of corridors down there- and you happened to slip and fall while their blood was still warm -all by the most monumental coincidence? No, my lady. I won't have it. You returned here alone and covered with blood. But you told no one what had happened, when the common sense of a small dog would have led you to report it to the guards. Therefore you want to keep what happened secret. You have something to hide. I'll have that, my lady.'

The lash of his outrage brought up an unexpected anger from among the secrets of her heart. How much sarcasm was she expected to swallow in one lifetime? 'Your guards must have been mistaken,' she retorted. 'Maybe the shadows fooled them. Or maybe they were half asleep. I wasn't covered with blood. I've never been down there. I don't know what you're talking about.'

When she was done, she wanted to give out a crow of joy which would announce to the world what she had achieved.

But the Castellan behaved as if she hadn't spoken-or as if he hadn't heard her. Lowering his voice until it sounded like the thongs of a flail being stroked between eager fingers, he said, 'I'm the Castellan of Orison and commander of the King's forces in Mordant. Do you wonder how I came to this high position? It's simple. Midway through his wars for Mordant's freedom, King Joyse found me prisoner in the stockade of an Alend garrison near the borders of the Care of Termigan. I was hardly more than a boy, but I had been wed'-his throat knotted-'for nearly ten days. Our families were farmers and peasants of Termigan, and those folk wed early. So I had been a married man for ten days-and of those ten I had spent six in the stockade. As it happened, the garrison commander had ridden across my little farm, noticed my wife, and taken a fancy to her. Because I was foolish enough to resist, I was imprisoned.

'But I wasn't mistreated. No harm was done to me.' He bared his teeth. 'I was merely held spectator, so that I had to watch the great variety of things which were done to my

wife, by the commander as well as most of the garrison.

Then King Joyse surprised the garrison. We were released.'

The Castellan's voice sank as he spoke. 'When he observed the zeal with which I took revenge upon the commander, he gave me work which would put that zeal to good use. And when I displayed a talent for that work, I rose in his service.

'Now he has lost his mind'-Lebbick was barely whispering- 'and it's my duty to preserve his life and power for the day when he may recover himself and need everything he entrusted to me. Don't tell me any lies, my lady. If you don't give me the truth, I'll tear it out of you.'

Terisa's throat had gone dry. She had trouble finding her voice. 'The King told you to leave me alone.'

'My lady'-a touch of the whip-'I'm rapidly losing patience for the instructions of a madman. My King was in full possession of his wits when he made me his Castellan and commander. That's the responsibility I intend to fulfil.'

In a strange way, he frightened and moved her at the same time. But she couldn't afford to feel either fear or sympathy. She had to find some way to defend herself.

'I'm sure you will,' she said as if her small fund of anger were equal to his. 'But I think you learned your moral sense from that garrison commander. I've told you what I did. Before you call me a liar, you ought to find out if I'm telling the truth. Look at my clothes. They're clean. Ask Master Eremis. Ask him. Or have you already decided he's a liar, too, without bothering to check what he says? You want to do your job the easy way, by bullying the weakest person you can find. If you did a little work, you might learn something different.'

Then she stopped and held her breath while her heart shook.

A look of pain clouded his glare. 'That's enough, woman,' he said thickly. 'When you've suffered as my wife did, I'll permit that imputation. Until then, you don't have the right. You're an enemy of Mordant and King Joyse, and you don't have the right.'

She wanted to babble, I know I don't I didn't mean it that way. The pressure to give up everything and tell him what he wanted to know was maddening. Somehow, however, she kept it under control. Instead, she replied, 'No, I'm not. I'm nobody's enemy. Not even yours. We have one thing in common. I'm just a spectator. I don't have anything to do with any of this.'

For a moment, his jaws clenched, and his eyes darkened, and she thought he was going to let out a blast which would rip her to the bone. Yet he didn't. He was more dangerous than that: he knew what to do with his anger.

'Have it your way, my lady. I'll talk to Master Eremis-I'll check your story. I'll persuade'-the word was a snarl-'that pig-brained Armigite to go over every step of his tale with me. I'll talk to every guard in Orison who may have encountered Prince Kragen's bodyguards-or seen where you were going with Master Eremis. I've already studied the place where those men died. They could not have shed so much blood. And at least four people walked through the blood while it was wet. One of them had feet the size of a lady's.' Though the threat was unmistakable, he emphasized it by raising one hand and cupping it lightly over her cheek. 'I'll have the truth. I don't care how.'

Turning sharply, he strode out of the room. The door slammed behind him hard. He was capable of hitting her like that. If Master Eremis didn't somehow convince him that she was telling the truth, she would be at his mercy.

But she had kept her promises to herself. She had done it, done it: she had fended Lebbick away from the truth. There was still hope for Mordant. Because of what she had done. She, Terisa Morgan: a woman who had never learned how to believe in herself. She had made a difference. The idea made her want to take up singing. She imagined herself going to the window, flinging open the casement, and shouting out to the world below her-the muddy courtyard, the roofs clogged with snow, the smoking chimneys, the guards patrolling the battlements-'I did it! I lied to the Castellan!' The vision struck her as so ludicrous that she started to laugh.

She was having such fun that the quick knock at her door didn't interrupt her. 'Come in!' she called without so much as pausing to wonder who might be there. It was Master Eremis. He had Geraden with him again.

The Apt wore a baffled expression: he didn't know why he was there. Nevertheless Terisa was instantly glad to see him. Although she couldn't tell him what she had just accomplished, she was free to smile at him, and she did that with unfamiliar pleasure.

He grinned back through his confusion, then shrugged in the direction of Master Eremis.

The Imager was scowling as though he wanted no one to realize that he had never been happier in his life.

Closing the door quickly, he strode towards her in a hurry. He seemed to give off an electricity of excitement and urgency, so that simply being in the same room with him

made her nerves tingle and jump, ready to go off in any direction. The Castellan,' he demanded in a rapid half-whisper as he crossed the peacock rugs. 'He was just here. Why?'

The question closed her throat like a hand clamped around her windpipe.

She knew immediately what he was after: he wanted to know how much of his night's activities had been betrayed to Lebbick. But she didn't know how to answer. Geraden was staring at her, perplexed and alarmed by her consternation. She had been warned to keep everything secret from him. How could she reply without putting his life in danger- and without exposing what the Master was trying to do?

Eremis reached her and caught hold of her shoulders, gripping them so hard that he nearly lifted her from the floor.?. Tell me!' he hissed furiously, his eyes sparkling. 'Why was Lebbick here?'

She felt his power so strongly that for just a moment, perhaps no more than one or two heartbeats, she was nearly overwhelmed by an irrational desire to say, Why did you leave me last night? I wanted to go back to your rooms. But he needed more than that from her. And Geraden was watching. He needed better- and didn't deserve to be hurt.

Meeting the Master's strange gaze, she said as clearly as she could, 'He doesn't know anything.'

'Nothing?' He cocked an eyebrow, eased his grip on her shoulders. 'Then why was he here?'

At that, her tension increased to the level of fright. Suddenly, a new dimension of uncertainty was added to the situation.

Maybe Master Eremis didn't know what had happened after he left the meeting. If he didn't, she should tell him, make him aware that Apts of the High King's Monomach had the power to appear and disappear in Orison. But again she couldn't talk about such things in front of Geraden.

Geraden was watching her with frank worry. If he felt any personal pain over the fact that she and Master Eremis were sharing secrets, it was secondary to his direct concern for her.

She had to say less than she meant. Striving for nonchalance, she replied, The guards told him I went out with you'-she darted a glance at Geraden-'and came back alone. That made him curious.'

For a second longer, the Master studied her, searching for the truth behind her words. Then he let her go, turned away, and started laughing as if he were having the best time of his life. 'Curious?' he chortled. That old lecher. I will wager gold doubles to coppers that he was more than curious. He must have been avid.'

Geraden looked away. A dull flush spread over his face. All at once, Terisa was ashamed of herself.

Fortunately, Master Eremis' mirth was quick to subside. 'Well, the stars have smiled on us,' he said, resuming his haste. 'I am certain that the Fayle spoke to King Joyse. So it follows that the King said nothing to Lebbick. Either our illustrious sovereign has lost the capacity to understand what he hears-or he does not believe it-or he is unable to achieve a decision. We must act while he leaves us time.'

Immediately, he started for the door. Over his shoulder, he said, The Masters are gathering. Come.'

Terisa remained where she was. This was too fast. She still felt obscurely ashamed.

And she hadn't told Master Eremis all the things he needed to know.

For that matter, why was the Congery in such a rush to meet? Hadn't Master Eremis stopped it from summoning the champion last night? What had changed since then?

But Eremis wasn't prepared to wait. From the doorway, he snapped, 'Geraden, bring her!' and stalked out of the room.

That brought the Apt's gaze back to hers. In a hurry himself, he whispered, Terisa,' as if the words were being wrung from him, 'what is going on?'

'I can't tell you,' she replied. She was trying to make sense. 'I want to. It's too much for me.' But what she really wanted was to reassure him. 'I don't know what he was laughing about. I didn't spend the night with him.'

He looked away. At first, she thought he was still in pain. Then she realized that he was just trying to hide his relief. When he turned to her again, his expression was clear.

'We ought to go.' He tried not to smile. 'He told me to bring you. I won't be an Apt much longer if I start disobeying commands this simple.'

He made her feel better. 'All right,' she said. 'I really don't know what the Congery is going to do. But we might as well not get ourselves in trouble.'

Enjoying his helpless, idiotic grin, she took his arm. Together, they went after Master Eremis.

On her way down the stone stairs, she missed her moccasins. They were warmer and protected her feet better than the delicate buskins Saddith had recommended. But her discomfort wasn't enough to make her go back.

When she and Geraden left the tower and entered the main halls, they caught up with Master Eremis: he had stopped to talk to someone. His stance briefly obscured who that someone was; as her angle of vision changed, however, she recognized Artagel.

That's Artagel,' Geraden whispered quickly. 'I've mentioned him. He's one of my brothers. I asked him to keep an eye on you-give you some extra protection. I would introduce you if we weren't supposed to be in a hurry.'

His words left a trail of electricity across her mind. So Artagel hadn't told Geraden about last night. And if he hadn't told Geraden, he probably hadn't told anybody. There was a real chance that Master Eremis didn't know she had been attacked.

Artagel was leaning casually against the wall, a smile on his lips, his sword prominent on his hip. He seemed to be sneering politely at something the Imager had said.

Master Eremis shook his head. 'Artagel, Artagel,' he murmured sadly, 'I thought that we were friends.'

'So did I.' Artagel's smile might have been an insult. 'But Geraden assures me you're no friend of his-so I'm no friend of yours.'

The Master turned a gaze Terisa couldn't interpret on Geraden. Then he looked back to Artagel. 'Do you always let him choose your friends for you?'

Artagel laughed easily. 'Always. He's my brother.'

For a moment. Master Eremis stood motionless. His back was to Terisa; the only face she could see was Artagel's, Somehow, the confident mischief in his eyes increased his resemblance to his brother. Abruptly, Eremis strode away. As he left, he said, 'Geraden is mistaken, I am a better friend than he knows.'

Artagel glanced past Geraden and Terisa and shrugged eloquently. As if he were speaking to the air, he commented, 'He wants to hire me. He thinks he needs protection. In Orison, of all places. I wonder what he's afraid of.'

Geraden snorted. 'Probably his friends.'

Artagel went on smiling. 'Speaking of friends, did you know Nyle is here?' 'No.' Geraden sounded surprised.

'I met him by accident. He didn't seem especially pleased to see me. But I got him to admit that he's been here for eight or ten days now. I have no idea why he made a journey like that in the dead of winter. He said he just wanted to get away from Houseldon for a while.'

'Sounds like one of your expeditions,' Geraden muttered. Then he added, 'He must be hiding. Otherwise I would have run into him. Do you suppose he's in some kind of trouble?'

That's what I thought.' Artagel pushed himself away from the wall. 'You should go. I don't think Master Eremis is feeling patient today.

'My lady.' He gave Terisa a bow and sauntered off down the hall, heading away from the laborium.

At once, Geraden tugged her into motion. 'He's right. We better hurry.'

She went with him as quickly as her skirts permitted; but her brain was spinning. After a moment, she asked, 'Isn't Nyle one of your brothers? Why would he come here in the middle of winter and then not try to see you?'

He shrugged without looking at her, as if the question were painful.

She let it go. Instead, she asked, 'What kind of 'expeditions' does Artagel go on?'

This proved to be a safe topic, 'Didn't I tell you about him? He says he's too lazy to be a regular soldier, but the truth is that he hates to take orders. So he does what you might call piece-work for Castellan Lebbick. Whenever he's in the mood, he volunteers for something. The Castellan sends him all over Mordant-and probably into Cadwal and Alend, too, but nobody says that out loud. He just came back a few days ago from stopping a smuggler who was selling our crops to High King Festten's army suppliers.

'When I heard he was here, I couldn't resist asking for some help. Did I tell you he's the best swordsman in Mordant?'

She shot a glance of concern and sympathy at him which- fortunately-he didn't notice. His brother may have been the best swordsman in Mordant, but the man in black was better.

The idea that Artagel could be beaten by a man who appeared and disappeared in Orison at will gave her a shiver of trepidation.

Shortly, she and Geraden crossed the vacant ballroom to the corridor which gave entrance to the laborium and descended the stairs into the former dungeon. Soon they were walking along the passageway which led to the Congery's meeting-hall. Ahead of them, Eremis and another Master entered the chamber. The guards saluted correctly-they certainly betrayed no sign that King Joyse or Castellan Lebbick knew what the Imagers had in mind. Nevertheless Terisa felt a tightening in her chest as she and Geraden followed Master Eremis.

Two or three more Masters arrived after her and Geraden; then all the doors were closed and bolted, and the Imagers gathered around the curved circle of benches within the pillars. She was starting to recognize more of them by sight: all the familiar faces were there. Except Master Quillon. That surprised her. She expected-no, there he was, already seated partway around the circle from her. He nodded at the floor as though he were half asleep,

He was the only man in the hall who wasn't staring at Geraden, Terisa, and Master Eremis with some degree of confusion, curiosity, or indignation,

The light of the oil lamps and torches flickered, making the Masters appear hot-eyed and hollow-cheeked, spectral.

Then Terisa's attention was drawn to the open centre of the chamber. Some of the Masters in her way sat down; others stepped aside to make room for Eremis. She saw the tall mirror which had been set ready on the low stone dais.

The mirror of the champion.

The scene in the glass had changed: the spaceship was gone. But hadn't Geraden told her that mirrors focused on places, not on people? Had the ship taken off? Or was it simply out of sight? The alien landscape certainly seemed unaltered, despite the shift of details: it was stark, red, and dim, composed of jagged old rocks and sand under the light of a dying sun.

The metallic figures were clustered in the centre of the Image

-and they were fighting for their lives.

Black flame as liquid as water and as flexible as whips licked at them from all directions. Three or four bodies sprawled around the scene, their machinery and flesh still smoking from great, ragged gashes. The remaining men used the rocks for

protection as much as possible and struck back at the black flame with the incessant fire of their guns.

The champion was distinct among them. His gestures directed the fire of his companions, and his huge rifle gave out blasts which chopped the edges of the landscape into new configurations.

He conveyed an impression of desperation which Terisa hadn't seen in him before. For the first time, she realized that he, too, was someone who could be beaten.

But Master Eremis took a different view of the matter. Rubbing his hands together vigorously, he said, 'Excellent! Whether he exists in his own right or is a creation of the glass, he will have no cause to complain of our translation.'

'Master Eremis, you presume too much!' The mediator of the Congery stood beside the mirror, his fists braced on his large girth and his pine-coloured face mottled with anger. Apparently, his fear of what Master Gilbur and the others proposed had concentrated into ire. 'Your arrogance is offensive. You call us together in urgent haste-you have this glass brought before us

-and once again you bring Geraden with you without permission

-as if our course were already decided. Our course is not decided. You were deputized to speak for us before the lords of the Cares. You have not told us the outcome of that meeting. You have not told us what was said-what position the lords take. Our course cannot be decided until we have heard a full report, both from you and from Master Gilbur.

'Also the lady has no place in this,' he added grimly. 'Correct your presumption by sending her and the Apt away.'

'Oh, presumption!' the guttural voice of Master Gilbur growled before Eremis could reply. 'It is not presumption. It is survival. We must act or die. Stop trying to shirk the situation, Barsonage. The woman does not matter. But look at Geraden!' He made a chopping gesture with one powerful hand. Every eye in the chamber turned to the Apt. 'He is fumble-footed and disastrous. But he has never been stupid. Look at him.'

Geraden appeared unaware of the way he was regarded. He was chewing his lower lip and thinking so hard that the effort made his eyes look wild.

'Where else would you have him? You have already blurted out all the information he needs. In a moment, he will guess the import of what we propose-and then he will be on his way to inform the King. Here, at least, he will have no one to tell.'

As if to prove Gilbur right, Geraden abruptly faced Terisa. At that moment, no one else in the room seemed to exist for him. What he was thinking filled him with dismay.

'Is that what you couldn't tell me?' he whispered. They've decided to call the champion? And Master Eremis had some kind of meeting with the lords of the Cares?' An instant later, he went further. 'But they waited until after the meeting. Master Eremis went to suggest some kind of alliance. The Congery and the lords against King Joyse?'

She couldn't help him. Her heart pounded in her throat as she felt the danger suddenly thicken around him; but there was nothing she could do.

'I've got to warn him.'

So quickly that she had no chance to try to stop him, Geraden headed for the nearest door.

With unexpected speed, Master Gilbur pounced after the Apt. In an effort to reach him, Gilbur struck him from behind. The blow made Geraden trip, so that he slammed against one of the pillars and sprawled to the floor.

At once, Master Gilbur knotted one great fist in the back of Geraden's leather jerkin, and wrenched him to his feet. 'No,

whelp,' he grated. 'You have heard too much. Now you will hear it all.'

Blood trickled from Geraden's temple. The impact of his head left a small red stain on the pillar. For a moment, he struggled as though his heart were breaking. But he couldn't twist away from Gilbur's powerful grip-and his jerkin refused to tear. The fight went out of him, and he sagged into submission.

Terisa wanted to rage at Master Gilbur. The fact that she thought Geraden was wrong made no difference. In misery, she met his dumb pain. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault,' he replied dully. 'Somebody told you I would be killed if I knew what was going on. Whoever that was, it's his fault.'

Terisa looked around quickly. Master Quillon hadn't raised his head. But Master Eremis' face showed an instant of honest surprise.

He recovered rapidly, however. Frowning, he said, 'She was told the truth, Geraden. You will not believe it-but I brought you here to save your life. Now that you cannot leave, you will live.'

Immediately, he turned to face the rest of the Imagers.

'Masters, if you will sit down and compose yourselves long enough to hear me, I will tell you what happened to my meeting with the lords of the Cares-and why we must act without delay on our decision to translate our champion.'

His manner was commanding; he emanated urgency. After a moment, Master Barsonage said between his teeth, 'Very well, Master Eremis. So far I will go with you. But there is much that I expect you to explain.'

Scowling dourly, he left the centre of the circle to Eremis.

The other Masters followed his example. Before she could be separated from him, Terisa caught Geraden's arm. Master Gilbur's controlling grip forced the two of them to a seat on the bench. At the same time, Master Eremis strode towards the dais.

Almost at once, he began.

'Master, I can make this quite simple.' His tone was soft; but it seemed to carry an echo to the farthest reaches of the room. 'Our meeting with the lords of the Cares was broken up without useful issue because they do not trust us. They believe that we serve King Joyse and wish only to entrap them. Or they believe that we serve ourselves and wish only to make them serve us also.'

'And Master Eremis is accused of arrogance,' one of the younger Imagers put in. 'Are the lords not arrogant?'

As softly as possible, Terisa whispered in Geraden's ear, 'Don't worry. King Joyse already knows.'

He gaped at her in surprise.

'Of course,' Master Eremis went on with deceptive sarcasm, 'the discussion itself was not so simple. First I must inform you that I have been more 'presumptuous' than you know. When I learned of the outcome of his embassy among us, I invited Prince Kragen of Alend to the meeting.'

At that announcement, several of the Masters stiffened. Eremis had their complete attention now. The mediator glared at him furiously, but didn't interrupt.

'I cannot honestly say that I trust any representative of the Alend Monarch. But he protests that he desires peace. And I am certain that he desires to preserve us from Cadwal. For that reason, I considered that his presence would cost nothing at worst, and

at best would open the possibility of a much stronger alliance than one uniting only the Congery with the lords.'

'The Fayle told him,' Terisa explained to Geraden. 'About the champion, anyway. Not about the meeting.'

Then why-?' For a second, he forgot to whisper. But the sharp glares of the Masters- and Master Gilbur's grasp on his jerkin-reminded him. 'Why doesn't he do something?'

Visibly mollified, Master Barsonage murmured, 'You surpass yourself, Master Eremis. You are entirely presumptuous-but you are not thick-witted. I feared that this gamble would make the lords unwilling to heed you. Was I wrong?'

Eremis sighed. That is the second matter I must explain. The lords were indeed unwilling to heed me-but not because of Prince Kragen's presence. In truth, I think they would have listened to him well if I had not been there. Their hatred of Alends is less than their distrust of Imagers.'

Several Masters expressed surprise. Others muttered angry curses. But Master Eremis raised his hands to ward off their reactions. 'I do not mean to be unjust. Prince Kragen himself was much interested in our proposal. The Perdon was interested, even eager. But as for the others-' He shrugged. The Armigite has too little sense to know his own mind. And the Tor was too steeped in wine to have a mind.'

'Don't you understand?' Terisa returned, trying to make herself clear to Geraden. That's why Master Eremis doesn't have any choice.'

His gaze was dark with pain. Apparently, he didn't want to understand her as well as he did.

'I believe the Termigan could have been persuaded, under other circumstances,' Master Eremis continued. 'With the Perdon, he might have been enough. We would have had a base on which to build. But it is all made hopeless by the intensity of the Fayle's prejudice against Imagery.'

The Fayle?' asked Master Barsonage. 'He has the reputation of a reasonable man.'

Master Quillon was paying close attention now. His eyes glittered at everything he saw.

'Oh, he is reasonable,' Gilbur put in, 'if you call it reasonable that he rejected everything we proposed simply because we mean to call our champion without King Joyse's approval.'

Another Master protested, 'Are you serious? Why did he think you were meeting in secret? Why did he accept your invitation, if the King's approval is so important to him?'

To spy on us,' Master Gilbur growled. 'Why else?' The mediator was staggered. 'Is this true?'

'It is,' Master Eremis said crisply. 'He admitted his intention to inform King Joyse, so that we would be prevented from any exercise of our own judgement or will.'

Startled out of concentrating on Geraden, Terisa thought, That's not really the way it happened. Is it? But it was. The more she tried to remember, the more she had to agree with Master Eremis and Master Gilbur. It was only her personal reaction to the Fayle's dignity which misled her.

'Then why,' Master Quillon inquired unexpectedly, 'has the King done nothing to prevent us?'

Suddenly angry, Master Eremis whirled to face Quillon. 'You ask me to explain his

decisions? If I had that power, I could save Mordant single-handedly.'

'We can't explain them,' an Imager who hadn't spoken before said urgently. 'We've got to act-before Lebbick and his men get here to stop us.'

Geraden's face wore an intent frown, as if he were listening hard.

'Very well.' Master Barsonage rose heavily to his feet. 'I have conceded everything else.' He had an air of defeat: even his eyebrows looked wilted. 'I concede the need for haste also. Be plain, Master Eremis. What do you propose?'

Eremis turned to the mediator. The way he pivoted, balanced himself, and faced Master Barsonage conveyed so much sharp energy that he seemed to give off sparks. His expression was too intense for Terisa to interpret.

Translate our champion,' he said. 'Now.'

Master Barsonage nodded. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he asked, 'Why?'

Master Eremis was ready. To prove our good faith. We are not heeded because it is believed that we have no commitment to anything except ourselves. Or because as the King's tools we have, in effect, lost our minds as badly as he has,'

Now he raised his voice so that it throbbed and thrilled in the chamber, as clarion and

moving as a trumpet. 'We have no way to convince anyone otherwise except by taking single and unselfish action in Mordant's defence. Only by opposing the evil ourselves can we show that we are worthy of trust and alliance.'

That might have been enough to gain what he wanted. It was enough for Terisa: his electricity and passion swept her with him. But Master Gilbur didn't leave it alone.

'In addition,' he rasped, 'we must consider the possibility that Prince Kragen and the lords came to our meeting for an entirely different reason. We were created by Joyse. He set an example for Cadwal and Alend to follow. They think we are to be used as they see fit, and they manoeuvre against each other in order to possess us.' His hands made fierce fists on the railing in front of him. They want to own us as if we were things instead of men.

'We have no swords or soldiers.' His voice lacked resonance, but it had the force to be terrifying. 'We can never protect ourselves unless we show our power!' Through the silence which followed his shout, everyone heard the hammering at the door. It sounded like the haft of a sword or the butt of a pike belabouring the wood.

Everyone heard the command:

'In the King's name, open this door!'

For a fraction of a second, Terisa had time to wonder why King Joyse had changed his mind.

Then Geraden jerked up his head. 'The Castellan' At once, he tried to gain his feet, yelling, 'Castellan Lebbick! Break down the door! Stop them!'

Gilbur jerked him back. With one stone fist, the Master struck him so hard across the side of his head that his whole body flopped suddenly. His eyes glazed.

Terisa froze. Everything was happening at once. King Joyse had finally made a decision. Master Eremis' plans were in danger. Geraden was hurt.

Most of the Imagers were on their feet, shouting at each other frantically; but Master Barsonage sank to the bench. His face had no strength left: he looked lost. 'Then it must be done,' he murmured to no one in particular. 'Or else we will cease to exist.'

'Gilbur!' Master Eremis barked. A grin bared his teeth. 'Do it now!'

Master Gilbur dropped Geraden and hurried into the centre of the chamber, towards the dais and his mirror.

Several of the Imagers cheered. Others dithered in alarm. They all got out of Gilbur's way, however. They crowded past the pillars towards the walls, as far as possible from Castellan Lebbick's hammering and the mirror.

Eremis took Master Gilbur's place, lifting Geraden from the stone and holding both him and Terisa with a grip they couldn't break.

The mirror faced them directly. Geraden plainly had no idea what was going on-he couldn't even hold up his head-but Terisa had a perfect view.

Master Gilbur put his hand on the frame and deftly began to adjust the focus of the glass. After one heartbeat, the champion was centred in the Image: after another, he seemed to sweep forward until he filled the mirror.

The pounding on the door had become a heavy, rhythmic thud. Terisa could hear wood cracking. But the iron-bound timbers were too stout to yield easily. Between blows, Castellan Lebbick shouted, 'Master Barsonage! Imagers! By the stars, I will have this door open!'

Master Gilbur shot a glance towards Master Eremis.

'Translate him!' Eremis hissed.

Geraden stirred, shook his head. Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear his vision.

Master Gilbur braced his hands against the edge of the mirror as though he were preparing to pull the champion through by main force. His guttural voice rasped words Terisa couldn't understand.

'Got to stop him.' Geraden sounded like he was choking. Somehow, he fell forward over the rail. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he stumbled towards Master Gilbur.

Master Eremis was no longer holding Terisa. Had he tried to grab Geraden and missed? Lost his grip on her at the same time? She had no idea: she didn't see him. Her attention was concentrated on Geraden.

Swinging her legs over the rail, she went after him.

He was too late. If he hadn't been stupefied by Master Gilbur's blow, he would have seen that he couldn't reach the glass in time.

In front of him, the surface of the mirror went dark as the champion surged through it.

His armour made him at least seven feet tall. His head showed no face, but only a thick plate which must have been a visor. The metallic skin which protected him was scored black in several places: it had been breached at least twice. Acrid smoke curled from the wounds. He moved as if he were hurt.

But his huge rifle was ready. As he caught his balance on the dais, he aimed the muzzle straight at Geraden's chest.

Terisa got her arms onto Geraden's shoulders. He was so weak and woozy that her weight pulled him to the floor.

The first shot went over them. The Masters shouted. At least one of them screamed.

Trying to pull her legs under her, fighting to stand, she suddenly found herself staring down the barrel of the rifle.

For a period of time as quick and intense as a heartbeat, she watched the champion's metal-clad hand tighten on the firing mechanism.

Then he jerked up the barrel, and the blast hit the ceiling. Broken stone began falling into the chamber.

The champion unclosed one hand from his rifle, gripped her neck and forced her down on top of Geraden. 'Stay there.' His voice blared like a megaphone, but it was barely audible through the thunder of collapsing stone. 'I don't shoot women.'

The next instant, he started firing again. In a rush, the entire ceiling came down.