ROMANTIC NOTIONS

SHE WAS SHIVERING. The temperature of the air seemed to drop rapidly-although that was just reaction, she knew, just her body and mind suffering the consequences of what she had been through. Her grey gown, so warm and self-effacing earlier, now gave her no protection at all. Granite dust coated every fibre of the material, covered every inch of her skin, made her hair feel like ruined wool.

On the other hand, she was able to understand why Geraden had fainted.

But someone thrust a rude, soldier's goblet in front of her face. She took it and swallowed deeply because she thought it contained wine.

The liquid turned out to be harsh brandy. A spasm knotted her chest. When she was done coughing and gasping, however, she felt better. More dirt had been washed from

her eyes, and her lungs were clearing. She felt warmer.

Geraden remained unconscious. Artagel had stretched him out on the rubble, and a man in a grey doublet and baggy cotton breeches was examining him. After listening to his chest and feeling his pulse, the man sponged the dirt from his face, noticed and cleaned the wound on his temple, then took a vial from a leather satchel and poured some liquid between his lips.

Rising to his feet, the man announced quietly, 'He sleeps.' Apparently, he was a physician. 'He does not appear seriously hurt. Take him to his bed-let him rest for an hour or two. Then awaken him for a bath and food. If he has any complaint-or if he is difficult to awaken-I will come at once.'

Artagel nodded, and the man turned to Terisa. 'Are you hurt, my lady?'

She tested her arms and legs. They felt unnaturally stiff, and she couldn't stop shivering; but nothing was damaged.

The physician watched her analytically. 'Bruises and headaches must be expected. But if you discover any deep pains or swelling

-or if you suffer dizziness or prolonged faintness-you must send for me.' Taking his satchel, he left the chamber.

Artagel scooped Geraden into his arms. Take care of him,' Terisa murmured. He gave her a smile and moved away, carrying his brother easily.

'Come, my lady.' Master Quillon was still supporting her. 'We will return to your rooms. You, too, will profit from rest, a bath, and food.'

'Yes,' sighed Master Barsonage. 'We must all rest. And think. We must find some way to combat this champion. Now that his proper glass is broken, we have no good weapon against him.'

Leaning on Master Quillon because her legs seemed to have developed ideas of their own, Terisa let him help her out of the meeting-hall.

As soon as they gained the relative privacy-and the warmer air-of the corridors leading out of the laborium, she asked the question which was uppermost in her mind. 'Is Geraden safe now? Do his enemies have any reason to kill him now?'

He hesitated momentarily. 'My lady, let me first explain that I do not know what the

enemies of Mordant hope to gain by the presence of this champion. For that matter,' he added, 'I do not know what we hoped to gain. I abide by the decisions of the Congery because I am an Imager-but that decision I do not understand. He appears to be a danger without aim, allegiance, or purpose. As such, his actions will be random in effect. Perhaps they will aid our enemies-perhaps us.

'Nevertheless,' he continued, 'it is clear that Geraden's immediate peril is now less. If you were to tell him everything you have heard, what action could he take which would threaten those who do not wish him well?

'And yet, my lady,' he said pointedly, 'the reason for his peril

-I have never been able to say what that is. I do not know what it is which makes him a threat to his enemies, and so I cannot claim that their malice against him has been made less. The reason for his peril remains.'

Master Quillon's words drew a shudder from her; but she accepted them. She needed to keep her mind moving. Since he seemed willing to talk, she asked, 'Why didn't King Joyse stop them? Why did he wait so long before sending Castellan Leb-bick?'

The Master cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'My lady, the Fayle tried to warn King Joyse, but he was not heard. The King refused. Castellan Lebbick had no orders to intervene. He acted upon his own initiative, after the Fayle spoke to him.'

'But why?' she pursued. 'I thought King Joyse opposed that kind of translation. I thought that was one reason he created the Congery in the first place-so he could have all the Imagers in one place and make sure they didn't do any more involuntary translations.'

Master Quillon gave a snort of exasperation. 'If I were in a position to explain our King's actions and inactions, Mordant's need would be very different than it is now.'

That was the best answer she was able to get out of him.

He took her through frightened, tense, and curious crowds in the direction of her tower. When they reached her suite, they found that the doors were unguarded.

'Wonderful!' he muttered angrily. 'By the stars, this is perfect.'

Confusion had begun to creep like fog through the cracks and crevices of her brain. Her reaction to what had happened was growing stronger. Like a woman with a head full

of cotton, she asked, 'What's perfect?'

The guards.' He stopped and cocked his fists on his hips; his head made twitching movements as his gaze darted in all directions. They were all called to dig in the rubble. You are unprotected. If that butcher who desires your life should choose this moment to attack again, you are lost.'

Obviously, what he was saying was important to him. Yet somehow she had missed the point. Carefully, she inquired, 'How do you know about that?'

He looked at her sharply, his nose wrinkling. 'My lady, you need rest. And I suggest a quantity of wine. But you are unprotected.'

'I mean it.' It was difficult to speak aloud. I didn't tell anybody. Artagel didn't. I'm sure Prince Kragen and the Perdon didn't. 'How do you know I was attacked last night?'

'Last night?' Surprise made his voice squeak. 'You were attacked last night? By the same man?'

She nodded dumbly.

'Ruination! By the pure sand of dreams, why does Lebbick bother to train the dead meat he uses for guards?' With an effort, Quillon controlled himself. Facing her squarely, he asked, 'My lady, how did you survive?'

'Artagel saved me. Geraden asked him to keep an eye on me.'

Thank the stars,' Master Quillon breathed fervently, 'for that impetuous puppy's interminable interference!' Almost at once, he demanded, 'Why did you tell no one?'

She blinked at him, unable to fathom his distress. This was going on too long. She wanted to lie down. To make him stop, she asked, 'Who do you expect me to trust?'

For just a moment, he looked as miserable and desperate as a soaked rabbit. Then he shook his head and scowled. 'I take your point, my lady. You are not in an easy position. Someday it will improve-if you live that long.

'Go to your rooms,' he continued brusquely. 'Bolt the door. I will guard you until Lebbick's men return to duty.

'As soon as I can, I will have your maid bring food and wine.' The fog was growing thicker. She stared at him blankly.

His expression softened. 'Go, my lady.' He took her arm to urge her towards the door. 'You need rest. And if you remain standing here your mistrust will become unbearable to me.'

Somehow, his strange mixture of concern and sorrow was enough to move her. She entered her rooms, and he closed the door behind her.

After that, however, the capacity to act abandoned her. She forgot to bolt the door. Standing in the centre of the room, she looked at her windows. They were blinded by the storm. Snow mounted on the ledge outside the glass; snow caught the light from the room and reflected it back. Flakes swirled and swirled forward like bits of light, but behind them everything was dark, as impenetrable as stone.

After a while, she realized that she was lying on the rug. She felt weak and light-headed, but clearer, less fog-bound.

Cautiously, she got to her feet and located the decanter of wine. It had been refilled, a fact which gave her a sensation of detached surprise until she realized that her bed had also been made, her fires rebuilt, her stores of firewood replenished-until she remembered that a long time had passed since she had left her rooms this morning. Plenty of time for Saddith to do that part of her job.

Because Master Quillon had told her to do so, she poured a goblet of wine, drank it, and poured another.

The wine seemed to increase her detachment as well as make her feel steadier. Now she wasn't surprised when she heard voices outside her door.

'How is she?' a woman asked.

'Quiet, my lady,' replied Master Quillon.

'I do not like it that she is alone.' The woman seemed to be hesitating. 'But if she is resting a knock may disturb her.'

'Try the door,' the Master suggested. Terisa couldn't gauge his tone through the wood. 'I think she did not bolt it.'

'Thank you, Master Quillon.'

The latch lifted, and the lady Myste let herself into the room.

She bolted the door before she turned and saw Terisa.

She had on a bulky cloak the colour of old snow, too heavy and warm to be worn around Qrison. Held closed by her arms, it covered everything from her neck to the floor and made her look like she was trying to conceal the embarrassment of having suddenly gained forty or fifty pounds. The flush of her cheeks and the perspiration on her forehead showed that she was in fact too warmly dressed. But she smiled, and her eyes seemed to sparkle with accuracy, as if she were seeing things in good focus for the first time in years.

'Terisa,' she said, studying her quickly, 'you are well. You need a bath'-she grimaced humorously-'but you are well. I am pleased.' Her pleasure was unmistakable. 'All Orison knows what you have suffered today. Taking that into consideration,

you are impossibly well. Have I not tried to tell you that you are more special than you realize?'

This reaction left Terisa nonplussed. She was sure that she wasn't special. On the other hand, she was glad to see Myste. Although several days had passed since their last conversation, she remembered that the King's daughter wanted to be her friend.

Awkwardly, she asked, ' Would you like some wine?'

The lady's smile became laughter, then faded to seriousness. 'I would love some wine. But first'-she faltered as if a touch of fear made her stumble-'you must agree to hide me.'

Terisa's detachment wasn't equal to the challenge. 'Hide you?'

'Just until tonight,' said Myste quickly. 'Until after dark. Then I will be gone, and no one will know that you have aided me.

'If you will not,' she went on, 'I have no time for wine. I must go at once, hoping that I will be able to hide myself.'

'Wait a minute.' Terisa began to feel faint again. 'Wait a minute.' She made a warding gesture with both hands. 'What do you mean, no one will know? Master Quillon already knows. He knows you're here.'

'Yes, but who will he tell? The guards? Your maid? The Masters of the Congery are not inclined to tell such people anything. And if we manage matters properly, he will not realize the significance of what he knows until I am safely gone.

Then'-the lady's expression was pained, but she held Terisa's gaze-'I will ask you to lie

for me. When Master Quillon tells what he knows-and you are asked what became of me-say that I left again shortly after I arrived, and the guards failed to notice me. Or say only that you do not know where I have gone.

Terisa, I would not ask this if I had any choice.'

'No, wait a minute,' Terisa said again. 'I don't understand. Where are you going?' Myste started to reply, then suddenly gestured for silence.

Terisa heard Saddith's voice. 'Is my lady all right? I came as soon as I heard that she had been rescued.'

'She will be all right,' replied Master Quillon. 'Before you see her, go call the guards who are supposed to be here, I have better things to do than stand outside doors for the rest of the afternoon. And bring food and wine.'

'Yes, Master,'

As Saddith moved away, Myste lifted her shoulders in an I-told-you-so shrug. 'She'll be back,' Terisa hissed urgently. 'Where are you going?'

The King's daughter looked uncomfortable, a little sad-and yet excited, burning inside with a personal fever. 'If I tell you, you will be able to stop me. You must promise that you will keep my secret and not interfere.'

Terisa stopped. Her mind had cleared enough to grasp that she was being asked to do something she couldn't evaluate, something which would have consequences she couldn't predict. She hesitated because she didn't know what to say.

Her silence deepened the pain in Myste's face. 'Forgive me,' the lady said softly. 'I should not demand so much of you. Your own burdens are already severe. I will go at once.'

'No!' Startled out of her uncertainty, Terisa answered, 'Don't do that. I won't tell anybody where you're going. I'll hide you. I just want an explanation.

The Masters translated their champion, and he went berserk. Geraden and I were buried alive. People are being killed. They appear and disappear. Everybody is betraying everybody else.' Geraden thinks I'm going to save Mordant. 'I feel like I'm falling apart. I would like to understand something.'

To her relief, Myste at once gave her a smile and a nod. 'I will gladly explain as well as I can. It would ease my heart. If you were Elega'-her smile became a wry grimace-'you would believe that I have lost my mind. Doubtless this is another of what she calls my 'romantic notions'-the worst of a bad lot. But I hope you will understand it. May I have some wine?'

'Of course.'

Half flustered and half pleased, Terisa filled a second goblet and handed it to the lady. At the same time, Myste opened her cloak, shrugged it off her shoulders, and set it aside.

Under the cloak, she wore a heavy leather jacket with a masculine cut, pants stitched of the same material, and boots clearly made for travelling. The bulk which the cloak covered was caused by a number of sacks-apparently full of supplies-

slung over her shoulders on a strap like a bandolier. Knives hung at her belt, a long fencing dagger and a short poniard.

She asked permission to sit. Terisa nodded at once and gladly took a chair herself: her knees seemed to be growing weaker rather than stronger.

'Terisa,' Myste began after a long draught of wine, 'I believed from the first that you would be willing to help me. I believe you will understand. But I do not willingly impose what I mean to do on anyone. I truly have no choice.

'Are you aware,' she asked slowly, 'that Orison is riddled with secret passages?'

Taken aback, Terisa said before she had a chance to think, 'Yes. There's one in the bedroom.'

Myste smiled inwardly, and the focus of her eyes drifted into the distance. 'You have been among us for hardly ten days, and already you have learned so much. I would not have done as well. I have always been a woman who could live for years without learning such things. But Elega has a different spirit. By the time she was twelve, exploring secret passages had become her favourite pastime.

'She could not interest Torrent in this, so she often urged me to go with her.

'If you were to characterize us when we were girls,' she commented, 'you would say that Elega was bold-Torrent, timid- Myste, dreamy. In a sense, I found secret passages more exciting than Elega did. She would say that I found them 'romantic'. But in another sense I did not need them. I explored them with her enough to please my imagination. Then I was satisfied. Eventually, I began to ignore her urging. But I had learned enough

for what I mean to do now.

Terisa, you may not know that all the passages do not connect. They were built at different times, for different purposes. Most provide admittance to only a few locations in Orison.

'My knowledge of the passages is not extensive. The only entrance I am aware of to the one I need-the passage which goes where I need to go-is from the wardrobe in your bedroom. That is why I had no choice but to come to you.'

Terisa was about to ask, You mean you want to go where Adept Havelock lives? But she remembered that the passage had several branchings and kept her mouth shut.

'If I have not forgotten what Elega and I learned together,' Myste said carefully, 'if I am not confusing imagination and memory, a branch of this passage leads down into the laborium, near the meeting-hall of the Masters.'

Terisa couldn't help herself. 'Why do you want to go there!'

Firmly, the lady answered, 'From there I may be able to leave Orison unseen through the breach in the wall. I know of no private exits, and Castellan Lebbick watches the public ones better than most people realize. If I do not get out unseen, I will be brought back involuntarily, and what I must do will come to nothing.

'Of course, the breach will be watched. But that duty will be new to the guards. They will be watching for enemies who desire to enter, not friends who wish to leave. And if this snowfall continues, it will cover me. Perhaps it can be done.'

The sensation of fog began to fill Terisa's head again. She needed sleep-a bath, a meal, and sleep, in that order. Slowly, as if she were becoming stupid, she asked, 'What do you want to do? What's so important that you have to sneak out in this kind of weather?'

Articulating each word precisely, like a woman controlling an impulse to rush, Myste said, 'I mean to find that poor, lost man whom the Masters call their 'champion'. He needs help desperately.'

'Help?' Terisa nearly choked, 'He needs help!' Myste made a warning gesture, urging Terisa to lower her voice.

'He could have burned this whole place to the ground,' she whispered intensely. He almost killed me, 'and you think he needs help!' He almost killed me. Even though he said, I don't shoot women.

'He could have,' the lady returned promptly. 'He could have killed us all. But he did not. Does that not say something important about him-something crucial to an understanding of him and his plight?'

'Yes!' Terisa hissed back. 'It says he doesn't want to waste his power until he knows what kind of mess he's in-how many people he's going to have to slaughter to stay alive.'

Suddenly, Myste was angry. She rose to her feet. 'Perhaps you are right,' she retorted. 'Perhaps he seeks only to ration his capacity for slaughter. Do you think that Castellan Lebbick's soldiers will teach him restraint? No. They will harry him from murder to murder, searching for their opportunity to kill him in turn. If he is to be stopped, it will only be by someone who cannot harm him.'

The lady would have gone on: she plainly had more to say. But she stopped at the sound of voices,

The Castellan sends his apologies, Master.' Saddith's tone was pert and insincere: apparently, she didn't aspire to Master Quillon's bed. 'He regrets that you have been held so long on guard duty. You will be relieved shortly.'

She gave the door a saucy rap.

'Will you hide me?' Myste breathed.

'I said I would,' Terisa retorted softly. Then she admitted, 'I don't know how.'

The lady picked up her cloak. 'Let her in. I will conceal myself in one of the wardrobes.' She didn't forget her goblet. Try to keep her here for a while-long enough so that the guards will relieve Master Quillon. They will not know that I am here, so they will not expect to see me leave.' Her excitement had returned. 'But do not let her bring you clean clothes from the wardrobe. If she finds me there, she will surely talk about it.'

Without a sound, Myste left the room. Saddith knocked again.

For a moment that felt like an icicle in her stomach, Terisa was unable to move. This was worse than merely telling lies: this was active subterfuge. She had to trick Saddith. And she felt too weak and befuddled to so much as stand up, never mind trick anyone. The cold paralysed her.

But the next instant a leap of imagination told her what was about to happen. Saddith would knock again. If there was no answer, she would turn to Master Quillon and ask

him what to do. And Master Quillon would be concerned. He would say something like, 'The lady Terisa may be asleep. But the lady Myste is with her. She should answer.' Then Myste would be lost.

Stung by panic, Terisa got her legs under her and hurried to the door.

When it opened, Saddith sailed grandly into the room like a yacht on show, the lower buttons of her blouse straining to contain her breasts. Her demeanour made it clear that she didn't think very highly of Master Quillon.

She carried a well-laden tray to a table while Terisa closed the door. That man,' she said as if she intended to be overheard, 'ought to be more civil. I can perform my duties very nicely without the benefit of his instructions.'

Putting down her tray, she surveyed Terisa.

Her immediate reaction was a gleam of mirth and a quick giggle. 'My lady, you look awful!' At once, however, she made an effort to swallow her amusement. 'My poor lady, how terrible! To be buried like that. And to be recovered in such a state, with all those men around-' She frowned. 'What a shame that this dull gown was not damaged more. A few strategic tears would have done much to make your appearance more appealing.'

The maid continued to babble, apparently controlling her desire to laugh by saying whatever came into her head. Until that moment, Terisa had had no idea what to do. But the sense of weakness which made her want to simply fold at the knees and forget everything came to her rescue like a flash of inspiration.

'I need help,' she murmured. 'I'm so weak.' Her voice sounded wan and distant in her ears. 'I want a bath, but I keep passing out when I try to get undressed.' She had left enough dust on the rug to make that statement credible. 'I can't seem to get warm.'

Through the fog in her head, she felt remarkably clever. No one could say that she was really lying. And she would gain precious time while Saddith arranged to have hot water brought to her rooms.

But her imitation of frailty was perhaps a little too convincing. With increasing sympathy, Saddith came to her and took hrr arm. 'My poor lady, lean on me. You should sit down.' Gently, she moved Terisa towards a chair. 'It will take me only a moment to begin heating water. Then we will remove that foul gown, and I will bathe you.'

Unable to raise a reasonable objection, Terisa allowed herself to be seated.

Saddith went into the bathroom; Terisa heard running water; then the maid emerged

carrying the tin bucket, which she set in the fireplace as close to the grate as possible. As she added wood to the fire, she announced, 'It is too cold in the bathroom. I will bathe you here.'

Pushing back the rug, she made room in front of the fire. Then she brought the tub from the bathroom and positioned it next to the hearth. After that, she began unfastening Terisa's gown.

For the first time since childhood, Terisa had the experience of being undressed and washed like an invalid. It made her acutely self-conscious.

The result was undeniably pleasant, however-sitting in the tub before a hot fire while Saddith poured warm water through her freshly scrubbed hair. The relief of being clean and warm compensated for the embarrassment of Saddith's comments on her body. When she heard the unmistakable sounds which indicated that guards were now on duty outside-unmistakable because Master Quillon complained peevishly about the delay as he left-she felt almost equal to her next trick, which was to get rid of Saddith without allowing the maid to bring her any clothes.

This feels wonderful,' she murmured. 'I think I'll just soak here for a while,' it'll be all right for you to leave, 'and then go to bed.'

Saddith nodded approval. 'I will bring you a robe.'

'No, thanks.' Terisa barely escaped betraying her fright. 'I don't need one. The fire's warm, and I have plenty of towels.' Hoping it would help, she added shame-facedly, 'I don't wear anything in bed.'

'Nonsense, my lady,' replied the maid. 'What if you change your mind and decide to eat something before going to bed? You must not risk a chill.'

Before Terisa could stop her, Saddith walked into the bedroom.

Terisa nearly fell out of the tub. Water splashed and steamed on the hearth as she scrambled to her feet.

But Saddith returned almost immediately with the burgundy velvet robe in her arms and a puzzled expression on her face.

'What's the matter?' asked Terisa, her heart hammering.

'Nothing, my lady.' Saddith shook her perplexity away. 'I cannot remember leaving your robe on the chair when I cleaned the room this morning.'

Terisa felt so light-headed with relief that she almost collapsed. Myste was more quick-witted than she would have believed possible. 'I got it out'-she seemed to hear herself from far away-'when I thought I was going to be able to undress myself.'

'My lady,' Saddith said reprovingly, 'you must not stand there wet.' As calmly as if she were levitating, Terisa reached for a towel.

Saddith wound a second towel around her hair while Terisa dried herself. When she was done, she stepped out of the tub and let Saddith lift the robe onto her shoulders. 'Thanks,' she said again. 'You can go now.' She had lost the capacity to be subtle. 'I'll be all right.'

The maid studied her for a moment. Then she winked. 'I believe,' she said mock seriously, 'that I recognized the voice of one of your guards. He has a good reputation in these matters. You may find it restful-and rewarding-if you ask him to warm your bed. If I had come so close to death, I would be eager to remind myself-she moved her hands suggestively down her thighs-'that life is worth living.

'He is the tall one with the green eyes,' Saddith added, laughing happily as she let herself out of the room.

Immediately, Terisa rushed to the door and bolted it.

When she turned around, she found Myste standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

The lady's face wore a distracted and thoughtful expression.

'That was close,' breathed Terisa. 'I don't know how you can think so fast.'

'Hmm?' Myste murmured. Her mind was obviously elsewhere. 'Oh, the robe.' With a shrug, she dismissed the subject. Terisa, I think it is not a good idea to leave that chair in your wardrobe.'

'Why not?' Surprise and reaction gave Terisa's tone a note of asperity. 'I don't know where those passages go. I've got to do something to keep people out of here.'

A smile quirked Myste's lips. 'I see your point. The precaution is tempting. The difficulty is that the position of the chair announces to anyone who sees it that you are aware of the passage. I want to ask how you chanced to notice it-'

Terisa held her breath.

'-but you owe me no explanations. We must simply hope that your maid will not

volunteer what she knows to the wrong ears. I assure you, however, that your life will become much more burdensome if Castellan Lebbick sees a chair in your wardrobe.'

'Oh.' Terisa let the air out of her lungs in a sigh of self-disgust.

'You're right.' Why wasn't she able to think of things like that for herself?

At once, Myste became reassuring. 'I doubt that you have any cause for worry. Your maid has already told everyone she is likely to tell. And Castellan Lebbick has had no reason to search your rooms.'

'I hope so.' Terisa made an effort to relax. Of course the Castellan had no reason to search her rooms. She was probably safe. And Myste's kind refusal to pursue the question of how she had become aware of the passage was another relief.

By degrees, she began to feel that her bath had done her a lot of good. And a tray of food was waiting for her. When she sniffed it, she discovered that she was hungry. Inviting Myste to join her, she sat down to a meal.

Myste had left her cloak in the bedroom. Taking off her bandolier, she accepted Terisa's invitation.

While they ate, Terisa returned to the subject of Myste's intentions. 'You were telling me why you think the champion needs your help. That's the point, isn't it? At least that's what I don't understand. You don't even know him. What difference does he make to you?'

The lady cleared her throat with a swallow of wine. 'You ask several questions at once. The truth is probably nothing more profound than that when I heard of his plight it wrung my heart

-and when I thought that I might help him the pain turned to gladness. But I will try to give you reasons.

That he needs help is obvious. Consider.' Her gaze was fixed on something beyond the wall of the room. 'He is a man of war, accustomed to hostility on all sides. Subjugation and destruction are his life. And now-suddenly, without explanation-he is alone in a world surely as unfamiliar to him as any he has ever conquered.

'You are aware of the great debate of Imagery. Do the people, places, and creatures seen in mirrors have independent existence, or are they merely like reflections in a pool of water, unreal apart from the glass in which they have been cast? Is the champion a man, deserving the rights and respect of a man? Or is he, in effect, nothing more than an

animal-a being like a horse that can be decently, even honourably deprived of its own will?

Terisa, by either standard he must have help.'

Myste's excitement impelled her to her feet. She began to pace the rug. 'If he is a man- as my father would surely insist he is -then what the Masters have done is abominable. We cannot judge whether he is a good man. Perhaps he is a foul enslaver- that lies outside our knowledge. But any man deserves better than to be wrenched out of life, away from world, home, family, purpose, and explanation, to serve what are, essentially, the whims of Imagers. Think of him! He knows no one here, understands nothing. He was not invited to cast his lot among us. To him, we must appear simply as enemies. He will fight us until weapons, food, and hope fail him. Then he will die.

'If he is a man, his death will be murder.

'If he is less than a man,' she continued after a long pause, 'a being comparable to a horse or a hunting dog, then it is his right to have help. There is a responsibility which accompanies the service we impose on animals. In exchange for what we take away, we give food, shelter, healing, perhaps even kindness. If we do not, few will call us admirable. Does not a champion with the mind and needs and desires of a man deserve at least as much consideration as a beast? Even if he did not truly exist until the moment of his translation, he is real now and should not be harried to death simply because, like an animal, he does not understand what we require of him.'

Perhaps reaction to the day's events left Terisa punchy: perhaps her emotions were bouncing out of control. Whatever the cause, her heart lifted as she listened to the lady. She was glad that she had decided to help Myste, very glad. This was worth doing. Simply because she wanted confirmation, she said, 'Maybe all that's true. But what does it have to do with you? Why do you think you have to sneak out of Orison and chase after him on foot in this weather?'

Myste frowned for a moment. Then she smiled self-depre-catingly. There you touch me on my weakest point. I am a bundle of romantic ideas which defy common sense.' As she spoke, however, she became stronger. 'Yet I have always believed that problems should be solved by those who see them- that when a difficulty presents itself the person who becomes aware of it should answer it instead of trying to pass it to someone else.' Her voice cast hints of passion like glints of gold in the firelight. This is more true rather than less for a king's daughter. What is a king, if not a man who accepts responsibility for problems when he sees them? And should his daughter not do the same?'

Her eyes flashing like Elega's, she faced Terisa. 'But the truth,' she said as intensely as

a cry, 'is that I want to go. I am tired of waiting for my life to have some kind of purpose.'

At once, however, she made an effort to tone down her manner. ''Romantic', as I say,' she laughed awkwardly. 'But I cannot claim that I have been happy since the hall of audiences -since my father'-she was uncomfortable mentioning him- 'forced you to play hop-board against Prince Kragen. When my mother and Torrent left, I remained in Orison because I thought I had a purpose. I wanted there to be at least one person at the King's side who would believe him if he chose to explain himself. Perhaps I could not help him solve Mordant's problems, but I could offer him the company and support of my willingness.

'But when for a whim he insulted an ambassador of Alend to the point of war-for a whim, Terisa!-and I went after him, he refused to hear me.' She couldn'tkeep her emotion down. ' 'My daughter and that Kragen mean to betray me,' he snapped. 'They have already begun. Do not hover. I am tired of daughters.' Then he slammed his door.'

Again, Myste was silent for a while. But then she shrugged; and that small gesture seemed to restore her balance, her excitement. 'I am still enough his daughter to want to take action when I see a need. And I do not want to watch him continue as he is going.'

Terisa did the best she could to help. Slowly, she said, 'When he first appeared, he nearly killed me. But he stopped himself. He said, 'I don't shoot women.''

Myste smiled like a beam of sunshine through the storm piling snow over Orison.

The snowfall began to lessen shortly after sunset. Because she didn't want to risk departing Orison under an open sky and a clear moon, across an expanse of new snow in which she would leave obvious tracks, Myste left Terisa's room promptly. Her supplies over her shoulder under her cloak, a small oil lamp in one hand, she opened the hidden door and clambered through the wardrobe into the passage.

'Be careful,' Terisa whispered after her. 'If you get lost, and Castellan Lebbick has to send a search party down there to find you, we're both going to look pretty silly.'

'Do not let him bully you,' replied the lady almost gaily. 'He only does it because he loves my father. I thank you with all my heart. I think I have not been this happy for years.'

As an afterthought, Terisa asked, 'What shall I tell Elega?'

With the lamp in front of her, Myste seemed to be standing on the lip of a well of darkness. Tell her nothing.' Her voice carried a hollow sound like an echo. 'Watch her. If she truly means to betray the King, stop her.'

How do you expect me to do that? Terisa demanded. But she didn't speak aloud. Myste was already gone.

Oh, well. Terisa closed the passage and got out of the wardrobe. Tomorrow she would have to go looking for Master Eremis. He needed to know how he had been betrayed. For some reason, the prospect of talking to him didn't appeal to her. She preferred to think about Myste.

She wanted to believe that someday she would have as much courage as the King's daughter.

As soon as she went to bed, she slept like a dead woman all night.

She was awakened early the next morning by the sound of horns.

It snatched her out of bed as if it were the call from her dreams, the distant appeal and ache of music or hunting. In too much of a hurry to notice that her fires had almost died out and the air was chilly, she strode naked out of the bedroom, looking for the source of what she had heard.

It came again.

It wasn't the call she remembered. It was the blare of a trumpet, the same solitary fanfare which had greeted the arrival of the lords of the Cares to Orison.

Now she recollected herself enough to feel the cold. Nevertheless she went to the window and looked out over the muddy courtyard.

The trumpet winded again. Apparently, each of the departing lords was being given a personal salutation: she saw the Fayle and his entourage emerge from the gate with the Perdon behind him while the Termigan turned his horse away from the guards ranked formally behind Castellan Lebbick. Then came the Armigite, accompanied by his guards and courtiers-and by two or three women. Perhaps they were his mistresses or courtesans.

Last was Prince Kragen.

So he was leaving also. Apparently he-like the lords-had decided to remain only long enough to assess the consequences of what the Congery had done. Were they all abandoning Orison now because it was no longer safe, no longer proof against siege-or even against weather? Did Prince Kragen intend to bring down the war which the lords of the Cares fled?

How much was the translation of the champion going to cost Mordant in the end?

The cold of the stone against her arms and breasts made her shiver. The tempo of events was accelerating. She thought she heard a wild note of warning in the way the trumpeter blew his salute as Prince Kragen received his abrupt farewell from Lebbick and turned towards the gate, surrounded by his coterie of bodyguards.

Shivering violently, she left the window.

First she retrieved her robe and sashed it tightly; then she worked on her fires, stoking them with fresh kindling, blowing on the coals until the kindling caught flame, feeding the flames with generous quantities of wood. After a while, she began to feel warmer.

She had become surprisingly hungry during the night. But Saddith didn't usually bring her breakfast quite this early. When she had completely stopped shivering, she decided that she would get dressed, then ask one of her guards to call for the maid and a tray.

She wanted to wear her own clothes: she had had enough of gowns for the time being. To her bafflement, however, she couldn't find her moccasins. That was strange. When had she last worn them? The night before last, to the meeting of the lords. Where were they?

Had Saddith taken them for some reason?

Frowning, she finished dressing, put on the delicate buskins again, then went to the door and unbolted it.

The guards outside looked vaguely familiar: they must have had this duty sometime recently. They saluted her, and one of them asked if she needed anything.

'Can you call my maid?' she asked. 'I want breakfast.'

'Of course, my lady.' A moment later, the man added, 'Apt Geraden was here earlier, asking if you're all right. I won't be surprised if I see him again soon.' He grinned. 'Should I tell him you're ready for visitors?'

'Yes, thank you.'

Smiling because Geraden must be well if his brother and the physician were willing to let him worry about others, she closed the door and returned to her windows to watch people-guards on duty, servants carrying supplies, men and women who had business with the few shops already open in the northwest end -watch them slogging through the cold and mud of the courtyard while she waited for Saddith or the Apt.

Soon there was a knock at her door. Before she could answer it, Castellan Lebbick stalked into the room and slammed the door behind him.

In the centre of the rug, he stopped to face her. He had one arm clamped at his back, the other cocked on his hip. His jaws chewed anger; his shoulders were stiff with it.

Nevertheless he was smiling.

'My lady'-his tone was practically cheerful-'you are done lying to me.'

To her surprise and relief, she didn't cringe. She had already outfaced him once: she could do it again.

'I would have come sooner,' he commented in a conversational way, 'but I've been busy. I'm sure you don't want to hear about it, but I'll tell you anyway.

'I was on my way to confront you again yesterday when the Fayle found me and told me what those pigshit Imagers were doing. After that, of course, I had to organize my men to help dig you and Geraden out of the rubble. I had to provide protection for the lords of the Cares and'-his mouth sneered-'Prince Kragen as well as King Joyse, in case that champion turned to attack us. I had to arrange to follow and trap him, so that he wouldn't do any more damage. Since I knew where Eremis was, I didn't have to worry about him. But I had to spend hours and good men searching for Gilbur.

'I suspect you already know the outcome. I'm going to tell you anyway.

'Gilbur is gone. Vanished as completely as if he's mad and can use any flat glass he wants. The lords are gone. Since they think the Masters are insane, they aren't willing to stay and stand by their King. I had to let Prince Kragen go. He's an ambassador.' He grinned as though considering the prospect of tearing into her with his teeth. 'In addition, the champion is free.'

Tree?' The Castellan had made no mention of Myste. He wasn't saying the things Terisa expected. It was happening too fast. Why did he want to 'confront' her? How could Master Gilbur have vanished? 'What do you mean?'

'l mean, my lady,' he replied like the edge of an axe, 'that my men failed. Of course, I

only sent fifty-but two hundred might have done no better.

'Oh, they found him easily enough. That strange armour of his doesn't include wings. In any case, I think he's wounded. So they should have been able to keep him. I didn't tell them to fight. I didn't want him provoked. I just wanted him to stay in one place until we had a chance to decide what to do with him.

'But his translation was planned well. Gilbur and Eremis must have been working on this for a long time.' Now the fury in his grin couldn't be mistaken. 'My men succeeded. They made him stop. But before they could do anything more than send a rider back to me, they were attacked. The air in front of them opened, and a cat the size of a small horse jumped out.'

In some strange way, the Castellan's ire sustained him, as if it were the food on which he lived.

'A beast that large would have been formidable under any circumstances. But this one, my lady-this one set fire to everything it touched. Flesh and iron were tinder for it, and it butchered my men like cattle. Only two escaped. They left it feeding on charred carcasses. I'm lucky I didn't send two hundred men. I can't afford to lose two hundred men.

'Since then,' he went on more quietly, 'I've been out there. The snow makes it easy to see that the champion and that firecat left in different directions. Clearly, they didn't do us the courtesy of destroying each other. Now we have two abominations on our hands, instead of one.'

Terisa shuddered involuntarily. Fifty men-! And that was where Myste had gone-She nearly groaned aloud, That's where Myste went!

But all this had happened yesterday; and Myste hadn't left Orison until last night. The odds were great that both the champion and the firecat were so long gone that she would never catch up with them.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Terisa said, 'That's terrible. I just don't understand what it has to do with me.'

'My lady,' he replied like a blade, 'in some way you are responsible.'

She started to protest, but he cut her off. 'Yesterday morning, right after you left here with Eremis and Geraden, I took your advice. I did 'a little work'. I searched your room.'

For some reason, she found that she had to brace herself against the wall to keep her

knees from folding.

'I discovered a chair in your wardrobe.' His satisfaction was as keen as his anger. 'And I found these.'

From behind his back, he produced her moccasins.

While she stared at them, he said, 'You were able to wash the blood out of your clothes. But these are leather. You couldn't do anything about the bloodstains on the soles.'

At that moment, a knock on the door interrupted him. 'Come in!' he snapped harshly.

The door opened, and Geraden entered the room.

Her attention jumped to him like a leap of the heart. For an instant, she saw his ready smile and the light of pleasure in his eyes, and she felt that she was already rescued, that his mere presence would be enough to save her He was loyal to King Joyse-therefore logically on the Castellan's side against her. But she was confident that he would stand by her, whatever happened.

The next instant, however, his pleasure vanished in alarm as he grasped what was going on. Warily, he inquired, 'Castellan Lebbick? My lady?'

Lebbick nodded in recognition. 'Geraden, Is this an accident, or are you intruding on purpose? Are you in this with her?'

'In what?' asked Geraden,

For a moment, the Castellan studied him. Then Lebbick said sourly, almost bitterly, as though he were disappointed, 'No, I don't believe it. You're capable of almost anything misguided or blind. But you know better than to betray your King. The Domne would birchwhip you to ribbons if you tried it.'

'Are you accusing the lady Terisa of treason?' Geraden sounded a little frightened by his own temerity, but determined nonetheless. 'Isn't that awkward? I mean, she isn't one of his subjects. He has no claim on her. How can she commit treason?'

Castellan Lebbick returned his gaze to Terisa. She met it so that she wouldn't look at Geraden, wouldn't let her need for him show in her face.

Softly, her accuser growled, 'Why are you here, boy?'

This morning,' replied Geraden promptly, 'the Congery will hold a funerary commemoration for the two Masters who died yesterday. The lady Terisa is asked to attend.'

'In other words'-Lebbick's tone sharpened into a lash-'the Masters need to decide what to do about Eremis and Gilbur, and they don't want anybody else to know it.' He didn't allow Geraden a chance to respond, however. 'You can tell them the lady Terisa won't be coming. She's under arrest. You can visit her in the dungeon when I'm done questioning her.'

Unable to restrain herself, she flung a mute appeal towards Geraden. She saw him mouth the words under arrest as if he were appalled. During the space between one heartbeat and the next, she believed that he would protest on her behalf, do something- that he might even jump at Lebbick and try to defend her physically.

But he didn't. He said, 'I'll tell them.' Turning away, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Geraden! He abandoned her to Castellan Lebbick's anger. Geraden! When she needed him, he turned and walked away.

Her knees threatened to fail her. She could feel the courage running out of her like water from a broken jug. She had been so sure that he was her friend-

'I see I finally have your attention,' the Castellan commented maliciously. 'Yes, you're under arrest. For lack of anything better, you're accused of participating in the murder of Prince Kragen's bodyguards.'

Really, it would have been better if she had never come here, if she hadn't let Geraden's smile and his earnestness (and his brief, unaccountable authority) persuade her to ignore her common sense. She had no business pretending that she had anything to do, that she could make a difference.

'I'm going to lock you in the deepest, darkest cell I've got- the one with the biggest rats-and let you rot there until you tell me the truth.'

Everybody was betraying everybody else; she was just a minor item on everybody's list. She couldn't defend herself because she couldn't figure it all out. And she didn't have anybody to betray because there was nobody on her side.

'If you get lonely, you'll be able to talk to your lover. Eremis will be in the cell beside

you. If I have my way, you'll get to hear him scream.'

That halted the downward spiral of her dismay. Eremis? Eremis was arrested? That was bad-worse than what was happening to her. He needed his freedom. Mordant needed him to be free. Especially now, with the hope of the champion turned to disaster and the lords gone back to their Cares.

'I wish you knew how silly that sounds,' she said as if a total stranger were speaking for her. 'I haven't done anything. I never do anything.'

'Is that a fact?' Lebbick's sarcasm was as thick as blood.

'You're really doing a good job,' she continued so that she wouldn't stop, wouldn't realize how dangerously she was behaving. 'I'm probably the only person in Orison who is innocent of everything. And Master Eremis is probably the only one who doesn't deserve to be locked up.'

'Sheepguts!' snarled the Castellan. 'You're trying my patience, my lady.' 'Which was never your best feature anyway,' she retorted.

For a moment, he gazed at her in silence, perhaps in surprise; and for that moment she failed to realize she was giving him exactly what he wanted. Then his smile warned her. But of course the warning came too late. Her unpremeditated goading had already provided his anger with the object it desired,

'No,' he said almost mildly, 'it was never my best feature.' He was grinning like a barracuda.

Her audacity turned to fright. Instinctively, she tried to retreat; but the wall held her where she was.

'Of course, as you pointed out earlier, I don't have much proof. Yesterday I was too busy to question either the Fayle or that whelp the Armigite. And today they insisted on leaving. I couldn't refuse them.

'But I'm not stupid.

The night before last-the same night my guards found Prince Kragen's men-after the Armigite warned them-the Fayle somehow came by the knowledge that Eremis and Gilbur intended to translate their champion. The same night, you left here with Eremis- and came back alone, covered with blood.' He flung the word at her. 'Of course, you're innocent. You innocently washed the blood out of your clothes, trying to get rid of

anything that might connect you to those dead bodyguards. You innocently lied to me. But you innocently forgot'-he brandished her moccasins-'that your footwear would give you away.

'By some staggering coincidence, all of the lords except the Domne were here at the same time. Prince Kragen was here, the Alend ambassador. The next day the Congery rushed to its translation, hurrying to get done before I could interfere. When my men tried to stop that champion, he was rescued by another exercise of Imagery.

'What do you expect me to make of all this, my lady? Do you expect me to be impressed by the purity of your innocence, my lady, or by the sincerity of your lover's motives, my lady?'

He swore at her with intense relish. 'I'll tell you what I make of it.' His oaths were unfamiliar to her, but their passion made her quail. 'First, it's obvious that this translation has been planned for a long time. Mirrors don't come into existence overnight. Although I don't know how they did it,' he muttered half to himself. 'Where's the glass that worked the translation?' Then he resumed his attack. 'Since Eremis and Gilbur were the ones who spoke to the Fayle-and since Gilbur has disappeared now -it's obvious they're responsible.

'But what what happened to produce two men dead and enough blood for five or six more?

'One of two things, my lady, both of them treason. Either Eremis and Gilbur met with the lords to plan the betrayal of Mordant by means of their champion, and Prince Kragen was caught spying on them, and his men died saving his life. Or Eremis and Gilbur met with Prince Kragen, and the lords caught them planning the betrayal of Mordant, and his men died saving his life. Either way, the Fayle spoke to me because what Eremis and Gilbur intended to do appalled him.

'How do I account for the quantity of blood-or the insufficiency of bodies? The chair in your closet answers that. The men who fought for you and died were removed into one of the secret passages.

'In fact, that chair explains a lot. It tells me how you contrived to survive being attacked the first night you were here. Your allies-I mean Eremis' allies-came out of the passage long enough to save you. Then they went back into hiding.'

A sensation of horror rose in her throat, choking her. He was so close-

'In addition-' he went on. 'Ordinarily, I would have said you haven't been here long enough to become so deeply involved in treachery. Eremis may be the greatest fornicator

in all Mordant, but even women usually need time to be so degraded. But you've had more time than I realized-you've had all the time I thought you were safely locked in your room.

'What do you think, my lady? Which evil did you share? Or is there a third explanation, a worse crime?'

He stepped closer to her, aimed his rage straight into her face. She flinched, but couldn't look away. His passion held her.

'What do you gain here? Is the way Eremis abuses his lovers reward enough for you? Or do you have some other purpose? Did the arch-Imager send you here to destroy us?'

Tossing aside her moccasins, he gripped her arms and ground his fingers into her triceps.

'Who fought for the King, my lady? Is everyone a traitor?'

No leave me alone it's not my fault I don't know what you're talking about!

He shook her as if he meant to fasten his teeth in her throat. 'Why didn't you use your secret passage to come back to your rooms? That way, you would have been safe. No one would have known you had anything to do with those dead bodyguards.'

'Because that isn't where it goes!' she cried.

Then she stopped and stared at him while the blood froze around her heart and a look of triumph filled his face.

That's a start, my lady,' he whispered between clenched jaws. 'Where does it go?'

She couldn't tell him that. If she did, she would expose Master Quillon and Adept Havelock, as well as Myste. She had already said too much.

This time she defied the Castellan deliberately. It was Terisa herself, not some audacious stranger, who said, 'I don't deserve to be treated like this. If your wife were here, she would be ashamed of you.'

After that, panic made her giddy. She saw the widening like a flare of madness in his eyes, but she didn't understand it. She heard him say as if he were speaking in a foreign language, 'Thank you, my lady. I haven't had this much fun since King Joyse let me punish that garrison commander.' Through a veil of dread, she watched him let go of her arms, cock himself back, and swing the back of his hand at her head.

Instinctively, she jerked her head down, jerked her arms up.

Deflected, his blow was still hard enough to knock her to the floor. Pain began to roar in her ears. She had the impression that she was going blind: the only thing she could see was the Castellan staring at his hand as though it belonged to someone else.

The pain had a voice. It said distinctly, 'What am I doing?' Then she heard someone pounding at the door.

'Go away!' Lebbick roared.

'Your pardon, Castellan.' A guard's voice. The King's orders.' The King?' Castellan Lebbick verged on apoplexy.

'He wants to speak with the lady Terisa. I'm instructed to take her to him.' The man's tone conveyed a squirm in the face of Lebbick's rage. 'He wants to speak with her now.'

'She's under arrest. She should be in the dungeon.'

'Castellan, I was specifically told to assure the lady she isn't under arrest.' The Castellan made a hoarse, strangled noise.

Abruptly, hands took hold of her and stood her on her feet. After a moment, she saw that they were his. 'Someday, my lady,' he said softly, 'my chance will come. When that happens, you aren't going to escape me.'

He left her to the support of the guard.