TERISA TAKES ACTION

SHE HAD THE IMPRESSION that she was hurrying inside, racing to keep ahead of her emotions, ahead of the consequences and implications of what she was doing. She needed to outrun the He she had told King Joyse. She had caused him too much pain. Liars surrounded her. Even Master Eremis didn't trust her with the truth to any remarkable extent. It was possible that the King himself had been lying to her. Falsehood was her only weapon, the only way she could defend herself. She wanted to flee from it.

She had descended two flights of stairs and was about to enter one of the main halls before she realized that she had no idea how to get where she wanted to go.

She tried to swear at herself, but the unaccustomed words lacked conviction.

Geraden's tour hadn't included the information she needed. She was off to a great start.

She scanned the hall in both directions. It was full of people; she might conceivably ask one of them for directions. But she had no idea how to approach them. What were they all doing here? Floor-and chimney-sweeps, stonemasons, supply porters, chambermaids, scullery maids, seamstresses, even blacksmiths: she understood the servants of the castle. But who were the rest of these men and women, these lords and ladies? Myste had made a point of explaining how much Mordant and Orison depended upon trade. Were these people all involved in commerce and finance?-warehouse managers? goods inspectors? tax collectors? shipment foremen? bookkeepers? supply allocaters? black marketeers? If so, her father would have felt right at home.

Her father, she firmly believed, wouldn't have hesitated to tell King Joyse any number of lies. She believed this despite the fact that she had never heard him utter an untruth.

Still running inside, she spotted Artagel.

Some distance away, he sauntered across the hall. Judging by his manner, he might have been unaware of her. But a moment after she noticed him-before she had time to raise her hand and wave-he changed course and came towards her.

'My lady.' He gave her an amiable bow. 'Have you recovered from your adventures already? If I had a similar experience, I would get into bed and not get out again for several days.'

'Call me Terisa,' she said to dismiss the subject of her recovery. She was in a hurry. What she had in mind was even more uncharacteristic of her than her conversation with King Joyse. If she paused or faltered, it would fall apart; she might never be able to pick up the pieces again. 'Where are the dungeons?'

He cocked an eyebrow. 'I can't call you Terisa, my lady. If I do, I'll be in danger of forgetting that Geraden is my brother. I'm not like Stead-has Geraden mentioned that we have one brother who is absolutely insatiable for women? But I'm also not immune to beauty. Why in the world do you want to know where the dungeons are?'

Remembering the conversation she had overheard between him and Master Eremis, she hesitated. But she couldn't afford the luxury of hesitation. 'Castellan Lebbick has arrested Master Eremis,' she said, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing. 'I need to talk to him.'

That announcement widened his eyes. She saw him consider and reject a variety of responses in rapid succession-surprise, disapproval, curiosity. When he spoke, he had decided on unruffled amusement. 'If Eremis is safely locked up, I don't think Lebbick will want him to receive social visits.'

He had a good point. Grasping at possibilities which hadn't crossed her mind until that moment, she said, 'But you can get me in. If we don't ask the Castellan's permission. If we just go to his cell. The guards will let you in,' she concluded awkwardly, 'because of who you are.'

His expression became wary. 'Maybe. But you'll be taking a chance. Even if Lebbick doesn't catch you, he'll still be told you were there. I assume there must be some reason why Eremis was arrested. You'll make yourself look like his accomplice. You'll make me look like an accomplice. What good is that going to do?'

For a moment, she froze. The matter was too urgent to be explained. King Joyse knew what he was doing. He was doing it on purpose. My daughter, what have I done to you? Master Eremis needed to know that. And he was Mordant's only hope.

Unfortunately, that also couldn't be explained-to Artagel even less than to Geraden.

The sons of the Domne were too loyal.

Impelled by her sense of haste, she tried another prevarication. 'Maybe I'm being naive, but I think what's really wrong here is that none of the people who want to defend Mordant are willing to talk to each other. The Congery doesn't trust Geraden. The King doesn't trust the Congery. Nobody trusts Master Eremis. Castellan Lebbick doesn't trust anybody. And meanwhile the whole kingdom is going to hell.' She was pleased to hear that she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. 'I want to see if I can make people start talking to each other.

'I've just had a talk with King Joyse. Now I want to talk to Master Eremis. I think he's the key to the whole thing.'

Artagel watched her while she spoke, a bemused smile on his lips. When she finished, he shook his head, not in refusal, but in wonder. 'You amaze me, my lady. You make it so simple. There must be some reason why it's never been attempted.' Then his smile broadened into a grin. 'It might be fun. It might even work.' Bowing extravagantly, he offered her his arm. 'Shall we give it a try?'

At once grateful for his acquiescence and alarmed by her own behaviour, she accepted his arm and let him guide her down to the dungeons of Orison.

The cells were physically close to the laborium: after the conversion of the original dungeons, the place where the Castellan kept his prisoners was separated from the workrooms of the Masters only by a masonry wall. Artagel took Terisa to the disused ballroom which was becoming so familiar to her-its emptiness a symbol of Orison's loss of heart. Beyond it, a passage paralleling the entrance to the laborium led to a corresponding stairwell. There, however, the similarities ended. The atmosphere of the dungeon was a world away from the laborium. Ill-lit by torches guttering at intervals along the old walls, the place was dank and oppressive; she could feel the huge pile of Orison's stone impending over her. Straw which smelled of rot-and perhaps, faintly, of blood-covered the floor. It had originally been scattered to sop up whatever the prisoners of the castle spilled, but now it served primarily to control moisture. The corridor was narrow but direct: after a second downward stair, it brought Terisa and Artagel to the guardroom.

Here the men who were about to go on duty, or had just been released, or were taking a break could warm or refresh or relieve themselves; but the guardroom also served as part of the dungeon's defences. Although the chamber was appointed like a crude tavern, with trestle tables and rough benches for the guards, a few beds against the walls, a large hearth in which a fire struggled against the wet chill of the stone, and a short bar from which a servingman provided ale and meat, it also gave the only admittance to the cells: no one could get in or out of the dungeon without passing through the guardroom. Racks of swords and pikes along the walls above the beds suggested that the men in the guardroom were expected to be ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Discipline was slack, however-perhaps because most of Orison's guards were exhausted by the previous day's exertions; perhaps because the dungeon wasn't the most vital or interesting part of the castle. One man sat honing his sword with the studious attention of diminished intelligence; the rest were less involved in their duties. Three guards at one table had obviously consumed more ale than was good for them; two more occupied beds, snoring in a perfect third; the rest threw dice in a corner of the room with more vehemence than pleasure.

Artagel frowned at what he saw, then changed his expression to an insouciant smile. His eyes glittering, he said to no one in particular, 'What a collection of slovens and aleheads. I could walk every prisoner you have through this room singing, and you wouldn't notice until the Castellan locked you in irons.'

Glaring with surprise, irritation, and stupidity, everyone who was awake turned towards him.

When the guards recognized him, however, their hostility vanished. Expressions of gruff humour stretched their faces. Several of them guffawed hoarsely, and one riposted, 'That's true. Who cares about prisoners? But just try getting that woman past us.'

'Anyway,' another said, 'the Castellan never comes here. Except when he wants to question Master Eremis. We always have plenty of warning.'

The fact is,' explained a third, 'Master Eremis is the only prisoner we've got. That's bad enough-but you don't know what misery is until you've spent an entire night turning away women who want to see him,' Staring straight at Terisa, he clutched his groin. 'I would give my left hand to know how he does it.'

Terisa noticed that all the guards were now staring at her.

Suddenly, she wanted to forget the whole thing and go back to her rooms.

Then one of the dicers rose to his feet. A purple band knotted around his right bicep

marked him as a captain of some kind. Take it easy, you louts,' he drawled. 'Unless I'm confused in my old age, Artagel's companion is the lady Terisa of Morgan. She isn't one of Master Eremis' toys-or yours either.

'My lady'-he gave Terisa a decent bow-'don't look so worried. You aren't in as much danger as you think. Artagel can unman half the rubbish here before they get their hands on their swords. And Castellan Lebbick would feed the other half to the pigs just for touching an unwilling woman.'

Artagel's answering smile made the captain straighten his shoulders. In a more rigid manner, he asked, 'What can I do for you?'

She had no idea how to respond; but her companion replied easily, The lady Terisa is taking a tour of Orison. She wants to see the dungeon.'

The guard with the armband hesitated; his eyes narrowed. The Castellan isn't going to like that.'

Artagel's smile stretched wider. The Castellan isn't going to hear about it.'

Terisa was holding her breath. She felt rather than saw the men around her stiffen.

'If he does,' the captain observed slowly, 'you won't be the one who gets eaten alive. I

will.'

That's probably true.' Artagel seemed to enjoy himself more and more by the minute. 'But there's one consolation. You'll be safe from me. Whoever tells Lebbick we were here won't be that lucky.'

For a moment, Artagel and the guard captain measured each other. By degrees, the guard's expression changed until it resembled Artagel's threatening grin. He unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and tossed it to Terisa's companion. 'I don't have any idea why you want to talk to Master Eremis. I don't want to know. Just don't let him out.'

' 'Talk to Master Eremis'?' Artagel was gleaming. 'You aren't serious. I would rather lie down in a nest of snakes.'

'That's a mistake,' someone chortled. 'There aren't any women in a nest of snakes.'

All the men laughed-with the exception of the guard honing his blade, who frowned as though the people around him spoke a foreign language.

Artagel jingled the keys. 'We'll be back soon.' Then he said to Terisa, 'Come, my lady,'

as though she weren't clinging tightly to his arm. Together, they crossed to the door which led to the corridors and cells of the dungeon.

Beyond the guardroom, she asked softly, 'Would you really kill somebody who betrayed us?'

'Of course not,' he replied negligently. 'That's why we're safe. If they were really afraid of me, someone would talk.'

For some reason, his tone didn't carry conviction.

Breathing deeply to ease the pressure in her chest, she inhaled the rotten air and tried to remember why she was here.

To talk to Master Eremis. To tell him what she had learned from the King. So that he would know better where he stood, what Mordant's true danger was. So that he could decide what to do, now that his attempts to unite the Congery with the lords of the Cares and Prince Kragen had failed.

To see him again, so that she could try to understand what he meant to her, why the mere thought of him was enough to make her nerves tingle.

Her heart labouring, she went with Artagel past a first turn in the passage, past a second, and into the area of the cells.

Perhaps because the dungeon itself was so obviously closed, the cells were relatively open. They didn't have solid doors to shut their occupants in: instead, each of them was essentially a deep niche cut into the foundation-stone of the castle, eight or ten feet deep and just wide enough to accommodate a low cot and a washstand against the back wall. A heavy iron grid bolted to the stone served as the near wall for each cell; a barred door in the grid provided entrance and egress.

All the nearby cells were empty: apparently, King Joyse's recent rule hadn't supplied the Castellan with a significant number of prisoners. Nevertheless the glow of a lamp some distance ahead implied that one cell, at least, was occupied, Terisa and Artagel walked towards it, their feet rustling through the straw on the floor. As they passed, the one lantern which provided dim illumination for this corridor made ghoulish shadows leap in and out of the cells on either side.

Before they reached the cell, Master Eremis said in a voice pitched to carry, 'Astonishing. I thought that I would be left alone longer. The time is not right for a meal. Have more innocents been arrested? Has the Castellan already obtained King Joyse's permission to torture me?' He sounded almost jovial. 'Can it be that I have been granted

a visitor?'

'You're in good spirits, Master Eremis,' commented Artagel drily as he and Terisa reached the cell. 'I hope you have reason. As I remember, the last time Lebbick locked somebody up down here, she was executed two days later. A Cadwal spy, I think she was. Before that, it was a brigand who lost both hands for his trouble.'

At first glance, this cell seemed as empty as the others. A small oil lamp balanced on the washstand revealed that a rumpled blanket covered the dirty mattress on the cot; but the light didn't show Master Eremis. Instead, it reflected delicately in the fine trails of moisture dripping down the granite.

Then, however, a darker place-a place without reflections- took shape against the wall.

He was sitting on the end of the cot as far from the lamp as possible, and his jet cloak blended him into the shadows. Until Terisa's eyes adjusted, she saw the pale skin of his face and hands as nothing more than stains on the old stone of the wall.

He wasn't wearing his chasuble. He had given it up-or it had been taken from him.

'My lady,' he murmured. Now his voice didn't carry: it was soft, almost intimate, 'I wanted you to come.'

That statement went straight into her heart. It was pitched to a key which made her whole being resonate. Nobody else except Geraden had ever said anything like that to her. And nobody else in the world had ever spoken to her with that specific magnetic vibration, that knowing and personal passion. In an instant, all her reasons for being here changed to suit the tone in which he said, I wanted you to come.

Without thinking, she said to Artagel, 'Let me in. I need to talk to him.'

Artagel glanced at her strangely. But the expression on her face must have convinced him not to argue with her. With a shrug, he stepped to the door, tried a few keys until he found the right one, then unlocked the Imager's cell.

Before either common sense or timidity could inspire her to question what she was doing, she entered the cell.

At once, Artagel closed the door. In a distant, noncommittal manner, he said, 'I'll be nearby. Just raise your voice. If he tries to do anything, I'll kill him so fast he won't know he's dead until afterwards.'

Quietly, he moved a few paces away down the corridor.

Terisa paid no attention to him. She was focused on Master Eremis.

He hadn't left his seat on the end of the cot. He didn't speak. He was still hard to see in the dim light. Involuntarily, she slowed down as she moved towards him.

The cot was low: despite his height, his head only reached her shoulders. When she was near enough, however, he sat forward, drew her between his spread knees,and pulled her head down to take her mouth in an urgent kiss. She tasted wine and desire on his breath.

The strength of his embrace and the insistence of his tongue seemed to complete the change in her. She responded with everything he had taught her, trying to make her kiss as intimate as his. A long moment passed before she remembered that she had other reasons for being here: that without having planned to do so she had joined the ranks of King Joyse's opponents; that Mordant's fate might hinge on what she could tell Master Eremis. And they weren't really alone.

Deliberately, she pushed herself back a little way. Trying to recover her breath, she murmured, 'That's not why I came.'

'Is it not?' Still holding her with both knees and one arm, he raised his free hand to the buttons of her shirt. 'It would be enough for me.'

Again, he kissed her.

When he let her pull back once more, his deft fingers began to open her shirt.

'Artagel will see us.' In spite of her anxiety, she kept her protest low. She wanted the Master to touch her.

'He will not if you do not raise your voice. Artagel is scrupulous.'

His hand slipped inside her shirt. His fingers were cold, bringing her nipples erect at once, making her breasts ache for him.

His behaviour and her own unexpected emotions confused her; she could hardly think. Nevertheless she made one more attempt to draw away. 'I've just talked to the King. I came straight to you from him.'

Somewhat to her chagrin-as well as to her relief-Master Eremis loosened his grip. 'A talk with the King,' he murmured, tilting his head back to peer into her face. 'That is an honour which all Orison and half of Mordant would envy you. What did the old dodderer desire?' He caressed one of her breasts. 'Does he have enough life left in him to

covet my place?'

'Castellan Lebbick came to arrest me.' She wanted to explain everything clearly, make the importance of what she had learned plain; but she felt that she was babbling. 'The Tor and Geraden stopped him. But King Joyse wanted to talk to me anyway.' Quickly furious at her incoherence, she halted, took a deep breath, then said distinctly, 'He's not an old dodderer. He knows what he's doing. He's doing it on purpose.'

The Master's sharp face betrayed no reaction; yet his sudden stillness suggested that she had touched on something important. Slowly, he lowered his hand. 'My lady, you must tell me everything. Begin at the beginning. Why did Lebbick decide to arrest you?'

His attitude was like magic: it made her firmer, stronger. At once, her confusion receded. 'I think it's the same reason he arrested you. You broke one of the King's rules, I know that- but I don't think it's the real reason. I think the real reason is that he figured out we went to a meeting with the lords and Prince Kragen. He believes we're all traitors.'

It was his embrace that confirmed her, his expressionless face,

the steady pressure of his knees. She might have been willing to tell him anything. Yet she made no mention of Myste or secret passages; she said nothing about Master Quillon, Instinctively, she focused on the attack after Eremis' clandestine meeting two nights ago; on the bloodshed which had led Castellan Lebbick to her; on the Castellan's conclusions. Then she explained how the Tor and Geraden had rescued her from arrest.

After that, she had to be more careful. Acutely conscious that she wasn't a good liar, she said, 'He wanted to talk to me about his daughter Myste. She's vanished. He thought I might know where she's gone. I pretended I did to make him talk to me.' Hurrying once more to get past her falsehood, she described the answers King Joyse had given to her questions.

Now Master Eremis did react. By the weak lamplight, she thought she saw surprise, anger, excitement emerge in glimpses from the darkness surrounding him. At one point, he breathed as if involuntarily, 'That old butcher.' At another, he whispered, 'Cunning. Cunning. I was warned, but I did not believe-' Calculations as quick as his emotions ran behind his eyes.

When she was done, he thought soberly for several moments. Without releasing her, he gave the impression that they had become distant from each other. As though she weren't still clasped in his arms, he said, 'This will be a better contest than I anticipated.'

Almost immediately, however, his notice returned to her. Tightening his embrace, he

studied her face and said in a detached tone, 'You have done me a considerable kindness, my lady. I wonder why. I have claimed you'-he squeezed her with his knees-'and you are mine. No woman refuses me. But I can hardly fail to observe that you are enamoured of that puppy Geraden. And you risk more than Lebbick's rage by coming here. Why have you done it?'

So she had done the right thing. She had helped him. The knowledge made her feel so weak, so ready for him, that she could hardly answer his question. If she had been braver, she would have bent to kiss him again. A kiss might be a better explanation than any rationale. But he needed this answer as much as anything else she had told him.

Awkward with conflicting priorities, she said, 'King Joyse is doing everything on purpose. I don't know why-it's insane. But he's refusing to defend Mordant on purpose. Somebody has to resist him. You're the only one who seems to have enough initiative-or intelligence-or determination-to do something. Everyone else is just waiting around for King Joyse to finally wake up and explain himself.'

The Master remained silent, untouched by her account of herself.

For an instant, she faltered. Then she blurted out, 'You have enemies. There's a traitor on the Congery. You were betrayed.'

In response, the lines of his face became stone. His eyes searched her face; his whole body was still. 'My lady'-softly, sardonically-'you did not come to that conclusion alone. Who told you?'

Please. You can make me sure of myself. You can do anything with me. She hardly heard herself say, 'Geraden.'

That was the wrong answer. She could feel the Master's quick anger through her skin. 'Now I understand you,' he snapped. 'You are worse enamoured than I realized. Of course Geraden believes there is a traitor on the Congery. There is a traitor on the Congery.' He glared up at her. 'But why did he reveal that fact to you?'

Before she could reply-before she could imagine what she had done to infuriate him- his anger changed to surprise. That cunning son of a mongrel,' he murmured. 'Naturally he spoke to you. For that reason alone, if for no other, you will never credit that he himself serves the traitor.'

Now she was too shocked to speak. He himself serves-? It was cold in the cell, too cold. She ought to button her shirt. No warmth seemed to come to her from the Master. Could Artagel overhear what was being said? Probably not: otherwise he would already have a blade at Eremis' throat.

Geraden?

'My lady, you must learn to think more clearly.' The Imager sounded almost sympathetic. 'I know that the young son of the Domne is attractive to you. That is understandable, considering that he created you. If you had not come to me of your own volition, I would not say such things. I would simply give your fine body the love it craves-the love for which it was made- and keep my thoughts to myself. But if you wish to help me, you must use your mind to better effect.

Take into account whatever reasons Geraden may have given for his belief that the Congery conceals a traitor, and add to them what we have learned since. Along with his initial questions, Lebbick did not fail to mention that Master Gilbur has disappeared. Does it not seem likely, my lady, that he himself is the traitor?'

Yes, she thought, held by his arms and knees and his intent gaze. No. How could he foresee that I would go to your meeting? How could he know where I would be after the meeting, so he could translate those men to attack me? (Don't translations with flat mirrors drive people crazy?) But those arguments no longer seemed to make sense. Gilbur was the one who had vanished.

'I confess,' Master Eremis went on softly, 'I did not foresee his treachery. Foolishly, I trusted him simply because he has cause to feel gratitude towards me. But when Geraden went into his glass, purportedly seeking our champion, and brought you to us instead, my eyes were opened.

'My lady, do you never try to understand why I do what I do? Did you never ask yourself why I involved Master Gilbur in my meeting with the lords of the Cares, when it was plain to all the Congery that he and I stood on opposite sides of every issue? I was trying to expose him, to give him means and opportunity to betray himself. And I succeeded-

'At a greater cost than I had anticipated,' he commented. 'Orison's wall breached. The champion gone. Myself arrested. And stripped of my chasuble by that officious lout Barsonage to prove the Congery's good faith to the Castellan.'

He snarled in disgust, then resumed his reasoning. 'Did you never wonder why I have placed so much value on Geraden's life? I wanted him alive so that I might try to gain his friendship, insinuate myself into his counsels, study his strange abilities.

'Did you never ask yourself why I attempted to have him admitted to the Congery as a Master? Surely that must have seemed gratuitous, even to someone who knew so little of Orison and its conflicts. In that I did not succeed. Oh, I gained a part of what I wanted-I

learned how our good King had reacted to his first encounter with you. That information might have aided me, if I had possessed the key to understand it.' His voice grew sharper as he spoke, more urgent and demanding. 'But I did not accomplish my chief end, which was to tighten a snare around Geraden-to place him where he would be watched, even by fools who did not fear him, where his secrets might be forced into the open, and where the achievement of his lifelong dream might help blind him to his true talents.'

'No.' Terisa's protest was too strong to be kept still. 'That doesn't make sense.' The Master's assertion made everything in her chest hurt. 'What talents?' As though she were rising up inside herself, she demanded, 'What makes you think that he and Master Gilbur have anything to do with each other?'

'Use your mind!' Eremis replied between his teeth. 'It was Gilbur who shaped the mirror which first showed the champion. It was he who taught Geraden to copy that glass, he who watched and verified every step of the process, from the refining of the finest tinct to the sifting of the precise sand to the polishing of the exact mould. He must have seen what went wrong, what was changed, to produce the mirror which translated you here.

'Think. While he shaped his glass, Geraden showed abilities which have never been seen before, abilities which allowed him to twist all the laws of Imagery to his own purposes-abilities as great in their way as the arch-Imager's ability to pass through flat glass and remain sane.

'Gilbur must have known this. He  must have witnessed it. Yet he said nothing.

Something fundamental occurred under his nose, and he made no mention of it.

'What conclusion do you draw, my lady? What conclusion can you draw? Are you able to insist that I am wrong?'

No. She shook her head leadenly, and her heart reeled. This time she couldn't contradict him. In his logic, as in his physical magnetism, he was too much for her. If she accepted the proposition of Master Gilbur's treachery, then all the rest followed impeccably. It was he who taught Geraden-Why hadn't she thought of that for herself?

It was still possible, she argued dimly, like a woman who was about to faint, it was still possible that Geraden was her friend. That he meant her well. If he was as ignorant and accident-prone as everyone believed-

Clutching at straws, she breathed, 'Maybe. Maybe you are. You saw what happened when he tried to stop Master Gilbur from translating the champion. Maybe he's being used and doesn't know it.' Her temples were beginning to ache. 'Maybe he was misled

while he was making his mirror-maybe he thought it was an exact copy. How would he know if Master Gilbur lied to him? Maybe these 'abilities' are Master Gilbur's, not Geraden's.'

Master Eremis shook his head. 'That is conceivable.' His face seemed to be growing darker. 'Why do you imagine that I have relied on subterfuge rather than direct action? I have not wanted to risk harm to anyone who might be innocent. But remember two things, my lady.

The first is a fact. It is Geraden who figures so prominently in the augury, not Gilbur.

That cannot be meaningless.

'The second is a possibility. As it is conceivable that Geraden is being manipulated, so it is also conceivable that he and Gilbur feigned their conflict in order to disguise their relationship, thereby freeing Geraden to continue his work when Gilbur was forced to flee.'

At once, Terisa retorted, 'That's crazy!' so strongly that she surprised herself. She and Geraden had been buried alive together. 'Master Gilbur almost got him killed!'

Taugh!' Abruptly, the Master was angry again. 'Gilbur could not have foreseen that-or caused it. He was busy with his translation.' The pressure of his knees increased. 'Do not insult my intelligence.'

As quickly as it had come, her resistance evaporated. 'I'm sorry,' she said like a wince. Don't hurt me. His face had gone completely dark: she could see nothing but the outlines of his form against the wall. 'I'm not used to thinking like this.'

Unfortunately, that wasn't what he wished to hear. His grip felt like rock, bruising her flesh. In rising panic, she asked, 'What do you want me to do?'

He didn't ease the clench of his knees or release his embrace; yet the vehemence of his posture softened. 'Under other circumstances,' he murmured harshly, 'I would not ask such flesh to serve any purpose but its own. But I must have your help.

'This is what I want you to do.' He undid the last buttons and jerked her shirt open. 'I want you to pretend friendship for young Geraden.' Her breasts were exposed to the cold air and his moist breath. 'I want you to watch him for me, study him for any sign of betrayal or talent, scrutinize him for any word or deed or implication which may reveal his secrets to me.

'And tell him nothing. Do not tell him that you have spoken to me. Swear Artagel to silence if you must. Give no hint to anyone that we are allies.'

Moving his head from side to side, he stroked his wet tongue across her nipples, bringing them to hardness, making them demand him. Then he put his mouth to work, sucking and kissing her breasts.

She couldn't resist him. She felt herself giving up balance, leaning into him, so that his hands and his lips would caress her more strongly. He made it imaginable that she could clinch her arms around his neck and hug herself to him.

And yet he asked her to pretend-to watch-The bare conception knotted her stomach. He was asking her to betray Geraden, Geraden! She had already doubted him once today, and he had proved his faithfulness almost immediately. He had kept her sane and actual under the rubble of the meeting-hall. Simply to admit the intellectual possibility that he might be dishonest felt like an essential injustice. He was more loyal than this. Didn't he deserve more loyalty?

How could she betray him?

How could she ignore Master Eremis' reasons for what he did, his commitment to Mordant's survival, his ardour?

Both he and Geraden were trying to tell her who she was.

Without raising his head-without ceasing his kisses and caresses, which seemed to draw her heart to the surface of her skin and inspire it with every touch-he whispered surely, 'You are mine. I have claimed you. Whenever you think of another man

-whenever you are tempted to doubt me-you will remember my lips upon your breasts, and you will cleave to me. You will do what I ask with Geraden.'

'Yes.' She was helpless to say anything else. What stubbornness she had left was already committed, holding her arms back from his neck, holding herself passive in his embrace. It would have been easier to give him her inexperienced passion and let him do what he desired with it. But she was too deeply sickened for that submission.

'You will do what I ask,' he repeated as if in litany. 'I will do what you ask.'

'When I am freed from this cell-for I will be freed. Do not ever doubt that I will be freed. If Lebbick does not recognize my innocence, I will free myself in spite of him. And when I am free, I will come to you. Then we will consummate these kisses, and I will take possession of your fine beauty utterly. There will be no part of your womanhood which I have not claimed-and no portion of my manhood which you have not accepted.'

'Yes,' she said again. For a moment, she wanted what he wanted, despite her nausea. 'Yes.' As if she knew what her acquiescence meant.

'In that case'-he leaned back without warning, dropping his arms, released his knees-'you must leave me. You will be of no help at all if Lebbick finds you here. If he does not stretch his authority so far as to imprison you, he will certainly do his best to make sure that we cannot meet and talk again. Button your shirt and call Artagel.'

His change of mood and manner was so abrupt that she flushed with shame. 'Yes.' Why did she keep repeating herself, offering him her assent over and over again like an idiot child? 'Yes.' Her father's moods had been sharply and inexplicably changeable, flashing from tolerance to anger for reasons she could never understand. Because of the ache in her stomach and the heat in her face, she didn't look at Master Eremis again. She turned away; her hands shook as she hurried to do up her shirt and tuck it back into her pants.

For a moment, her throat refused to work. Then she whispered, 'Artagel.'

'Speak louder, my lady,' Master Eremis suggested with cold mirth. 'I doubt that he can hear you.'

Louder.

'Artagel. I'm done.' A croak in the back of her throat. He wants me to betray Geraden.

Like a flowing shadow, Artagel appeared past the edge of the cell and reached the door. Then the door was open. 'My lady,' he murmured, offering her his hand, his arm.

With the Master's silence behind her like a wall, she moved to accept Artagel's support.

He drew her out of the cell, paused almost negligibly to relock the door, then took her down the passage, out of sight of Master Eremis' imprisonment.

'My lady,' he growled as soon as they were beyond hearing, 'are you all right? What did he say to you?'

The concern in his voice was so quick and true-so much like his brother-that her knees grew weak, and she stumbled.

Sickness and shame. Desire and dismay. Master Eremis was right: she could never

forget the touch of his lips and tongue; she was his; he could do anything he wanted with her. But what he wanted-to spy on the person she most needed to trust, the man whose smile lifted her heart, To betray-

Artagel held her, Terwa.' His eyes were bright and extreme. ' What did that bastard say to you?'

It hurt. She should have cried out in simple protest. But that would ruin everything. He was Geraden's brother. Despite his concern, the light in his eyes and the murderous half- smile on his lips, she couldn't tell him what was wrong. If she did, he would tell Geraden. She understood that clearly. He might be willing to keep one or two things secret from Castellan Lebbick for her sake; but he wouldn't keep secrets from Geraden.

To speak to him now would be the coward's way to betray Master Eremis, to withdraw her allegiance and aid, her new passion, without having the courage to face Geraden and admit that she had chosen his side by default, that she preferred his friendship to Eremis' love for no better reason than because she wasn't brave enough to do otherwise.

With an effort, she found her balance and took her weight on her legs, easing the urgency of Artagel's grasp. 'I'm sorry.' When he let go of her arms, she pushed her hands through her hair. 'I guess I really haven't recovered from yesterday.'

'Are you sure that's it?' Artagel's concern made his voice rough. 'You were better before you went in there. You look like Eremis just tried to rape you.'

He was so far from the truth that she let out a giggle.

That didn't reassure him, however. Her giggle sounded ominously hysterical. And she had trouble making it stop.

She would have to give him a more cogent explanation if she wanted to deflect his alarm. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated. Still giggling-and fighting it. 'I don't know what's come over me. I've just had a lesson in humility.

'I told you I wanted to see if I could make people start talking to each other.' Abruptly, the artificial mirth ran out of her, and she found herself close to tears. That's going to be a lot harder than I thought.'

For a moment, he studied her sharply. Then he took her hand, drew it through his arm to comfort her, and moved her again in the direction of the guardroom. 'Don't worry about it, my lady. It was worth trying. It's still worth trying. Master Eremis just'- his smile was perhaps a shade too fierce to offer much consolation -'isn't very promising material to work with.'

In an effort to distract him, she said, 'Is it true that you and he used to be friends?

Before Geraden turned you against him?'

He shrugged. 'Sort of. Not really. I was never actually able to like him, but I didn't have any reason for the way I felt, so I kept it to myself.' He glanced at her. 'Geraden understands these things better than I do. And he knows Eremis a lot better. You ought to talk to him about it.'

She didn't meet his gaze. 'You trust Geraden completely, don't you?' Without hesitation, he replied, 'He's my brother.'

'Is that the only reason?'

Her question made him chuckle. 'No, my lady, that's not 'the only reason'. It's at least two reasons-experience and blood. We have five other brothers, you know. I've watched him with all of them.' Then his face darkened, and he turned her so that she had to look at him. 'My lady, does Eremis think you shouldn't trust Geraden?'

Kicking herself, she countered, That isn't what I meant. I don't know if you realize what a strange position you're in. As far as I can tell, you're the only person in Orison everybody trusts. Even Master Eremis wants you on his side.' Her unexpected facility for lies-for using parts of the truth to disguise other parts-amazed and frightened her. 'I want to know why you trust Geraden because I'm trying to understand you.'

Apparently, he believed her explanation; but he still didn't know how to respond. After an awkward moment, he said in a tone of deliberate foolishness, as if her question embarrassed him, 'It's clean living, my lady. Nobody trusts anybody who overindulges in clean living. I'm more dissolute than practically everybody else, so I'm easier to trust.'

His reply was clearly intended as a joke, but she accepted it simply because she was relieved to get away from his seriousness.

'I never thought about it that way,' she murmured as she let him guide her down the corridor to the guardroom.

From the guardroom, they returned to the ballroom and the main halls of Orison. Now she wanted him to leave her; she couldn't go on talking to him and still keep her emotions hidden. With frustrating gallantry, however, he insisted on escorting her most of the way towards her rooms. She was unable to detach herself from his attendance until they reached the tower which held her rooms. After thanking him abruptly, she

hurried up the stairs as if she were fleeing from him.

But of course what she really fled from was the danger he represented-the danger that she would betray the choice she had to make before she was sure of it. She had said yes to Master Eremis, and yes again; but the illness in her stomach was getting worse. Artagel bore just enough resemblance to Geraden-and she had been just dishonest enough with him-to make what the Imager wanted of her vivid and appalling.

Pretend friendship. Watch him.

Tell him nothing.

She feared she would throw up before she reached safety.

When she approached her door, however, one of the guards stepped forward, gave her a stiff bow, and said with gruff courtesy, 'My lady, you have a visitor.'

For a second, she thought her knees were going to fail again. A visitor. Now? Oh, please. But she was tired of being so weak. Her emotional nausea itself acted like a kind of strength, enabling her to keep her legs under her, her head up, her voice quiet. 'Who is it?'

The guard seemed discomfited. 'We couldn't refuse to let her in, my lady. You've never asked us to keep visitors out of your rooms.'

His self-defence made no sense; but Terisa didn't try to understand it. 'Who is it?' she repeated.

The lady Elega.' At once, the guard added, 'We couldn't refuse her, could we? She's the King's daughter.'

From a distance, Terisa heard herself say, 'Of course not. You did the right thing.' But she wasn't paying much attention. The lady Elega-Myste's impatient and discontented sister. Terisa hadn't spoken to her since their awkward, disappointing lunch. On that occasion, Elega had protested, We are women like yourself, not self-serving men hungry for power. We can be trusted. This pretence is not needed with us. When Terisa had refused to give up her pretence of ordinariness, the lady Elega had looked the way Terisa herself felt now.

What does she want this time? Terisa wondered dimly.

Then it came to her, and a sting of adrenalin ran down her veins. Myste.

With a pang of embarrassment, she realized that she was standing slack-faced in the hall while one of the guards held her door open and both men made obvious efforts to appear unaware of her distraction. Pushing herself into motion, she entered her stitting room as if she were still in a hurry.

Elega stood before one of the windows, much as Myste had once stood. And, like Myste, she was beautiful. But her beauty seemed to be a reflection of the lamp- and firelight in the room, a contrast to the lowering grey winter outside the glass. In its own way, her skin was as pale as her short blonde hair; and both emphasized the striking violet flash of her eyes. Although she was clad and jewelled like a queen, her manner was too forthright, too assertive for ornaments. Nevertheless she had a queen's spirit, a queen's instincts.

She left the window at once. As the door closed, she moved a few steps towards Terisa; there she stopped. Her gaze reminded Terisa of another contrast between the King's daughters. Unlike Myste's, Elega's glances were so immediate and fiery that they threw what she saw into stark relief. Both, however, were able to convey an impression of excitement, a sense of possibilities. 'My lady,' she said in a low voice. Terisa. I hope you will forgive this intrusion. I did not know when you would return-and I did not want to wait in the hall.'

Terisa didn't feel equal to the situation. All she wanted to do was huddle near the fire to drive the cold out of her bones and drink wine until her stomach either calmed down or got rid of its distress. But she had to face Elega for Myste's sake. Responding almost automatically, she waved a hand towards the wine goblets and decanter, which Saddith had mercifully replenished. 'Would you like to join me? I'm going to have some wine.'

Thank you.' Elega obviously had no interest in wine. Nevertheless she accepted the goblet Terisa handed to her as if she appreciated the gesture.

Terisa took a longer draught than good manners or wisdom suggested and refilled her goblet. Without thinking to offer Elega a seat, she sat down in the chair nearest the fire. The flames were oddly entrancing. She hadn't realized how cold she was. How long had she stood in Master Eremis' cell with her shirt open-?

Terisa?' She heard Elega as clearly as a voice in a fever. 'Are you well?'

With an effort, she pulled her attention away from the fire. Too much is happening,' Unlike Elega's, her own voice sounded muffled. 'I don't understand it all.' In an effort to

be polite, she added, 'Why don't you sit down and tell me what's on your mind?'

For a moment, Elega hesitated. Her doubts were plain in her face. I must look awful, Terisa thought vaguely. Abruptly, however, the lady became resolute. First she accepted a chair. Then she asked softly, firmly, Terisa, where is Myste?'

It was symptomatic of Terisa's condition that she leaped from this question to the conclusion that King Joyse had somehow seen through her lie. With an inward wince, she replied suspiciously, 'Did your father send you to talk to me?'

Elega raised her eyebrows in surprise, 'No. Why should he?' Gradually her tone took on a tinge of contempt. 'I doubt he knows that she is gone. And if he does know-and if he thought to have me ask for him the questions a father should ask-I should refuse. I am his daughter, but he has broken that duty for me by breaking all other duties for himself.

'No,' she repeated, pushing the subject of her father aside, 'I ask because I am afraid. My sister is not the wisest or the most practical woman in Orison. Her dreams often do not contain enough plain sense for ballast, I fear that she has done something very foolish.

Terisa, where is she?'

Terisa turned back to the fire to avoid Elega's vivid gaze. So her lie to the King hadn't been caught. That was a relief. Unfortunately, Elega's question still had to be answered.

Staring into the flames as though they might hypnotize her and thereby make her strong, Terisa murmured, 'What are you afraid she's done?'

'I hardly know.' The lady's uncertainty sounded sincere. 'I freely admit that I do not understand her, Terisa. She prefers dreams to realities. I know that she is hurt-as I am hurt-by what our father has done-and especially by his humiliation of Prince Kragen. That the King of Mordant'-she forgot her concern for a moment in anger-'should actively seek war with Alend is abominable.' Then she steadied herself. 'But what Myste might do because of her pain, I cannot guess. Perhaps she has left Orison for some mad reason,' Her tone tightened. 'Perhaps she has gone after Prince Kragen, thinking to persuade him to ignore the extent of his insults.'

Elega had come just close enough to the truth to frighten Terisa. Dimly, she asked, 'What makes you think I know where she is?'

Again, Elega hesitated. When she spoke, her tone was carefully neutral, distinct but unaccusing. 'First, because I doubt that anyone else in Orison would assist her in anything greatly foolish. She is the King's daughter. Orison's people value her too highly

to help her into trouble.

'But primarily,' she went on, 'because I have seen how she responds to your insistence that you are only an ordinary woman.'

Terisa gazed vacantly into the fire and waited.

'It was an astonishment to me,' admitted Elega frankly. 'I consider that people are as ordinary or as exceptional as they choose to be. Oh, I am assured that no one can conceive a talent for Imagery or statecraft by effort of will'-she didn't sound entirely convinced-'and it is true past argument that anyone who has the misfortune to be born a woman must oppose the prejudices of all the world in order to prove herself. Yet I believe that in the end I am limited only by the limits of my determination, not by accidents of talent or preconceptions of sex.

'Myste,' she sighed, 'thinks otherwise. She does not want to open doors. She dreams that doors will be opened for her. And she sees you, Terisa, as proof that into any life-be it drab and dreary enough to numb the mind forever-a door of magic and mystery may open, offering the least drudge an opportunity for grandeur.' Her tone suggested frustration rather than disdain. 'In the meantime, it behoves us to be contented while we wait.

'I have no reason to believe that you know where she is. Yet I think you do, if anyone does. You are a flame which she is too moth-like to resist.'

This view of Myste struck Terisa as so poignant-and so mistaken-that she didn't know how to reply to it. If anything, Elega's ideas seemed less realistic than Myste's, rather than more. And Terisa had questions of her own about the King's eldest daughter. But that wasn't the point, of course. What she thought didn't matter. In this situation, only her promise to Myste mattered.

As if she were reading her answer in the flames and coals, she murmured, 'She came here yesterday because she wanted to get into the passage behind my wardrobe.' She felt rather than saw Elega stiffen. 'She used it to sneak out of Orison without being stopped.' Behind the soft snap of the fire and the distant soughing of wind past the edges of the tower, the silence in the room was intense. 'She went back to her mother.'

For a moment, Elega remained still-so still that Terisa couldn't imagine what she was doing. Then, in a tone soft with surprise, as if she had just received a revelation, the lady breathed, That cannot be true.'

Anxiety twisted through Terisa. Half involuntarily, she turned to look at Elega.

The lady had risen to her feet. Her eyes flashed as though their violet depths were lit by lightning, Yet her demeanour remained quiet, almost perfectly self-possessed.

'I believe that Myste has left Orison. Thank you for telling me how it was done. But she has no intention of going to the Care of Fayle, to Romish-to Queen Madin, our mother.'

Because she was lying, Terisa wanted to protest that she wasn't: she wanted to use all her distress and fear to feign as much anger as possible. But she was restrained by Elega's eagerness. It bore so little resemblance to the reaction she had expected.

With slow caution, she said, 'She was disgusted by what the King did to Prince Kragen. She couldn't stand to watch him destroy himself and Mordant any more, so she decided to go back to the rest of her family.'

Terisa-' The lady's arms made a gesture of appeal, which she controlled abruptly. 'Do not continue. That is unimportant now. A lie is an exercise of power, and I rejoice to see it. You are not passive-you are no longer content to hide behind a mask of ordinariness. You have decided to take your part in Mordant's need. That is a great step-a step which I can only hope Myste has taken also-and I honour you for it.'

Nonplussed to the point of chagrin, Terisa stared at her visitor. Simply because she had to say something, she muttered, 'I'm not lying.'

Elega shook her head decisively. 'I will attempt to persuade you this charade is not necessary with me.' But then she paused. Her eyes scanned the room as if searching for the best line of argument. In an abstract way, like a woman digressing momentarily while she prepared her thoughts, she asked, Terisa, what do you consider Orison's greatest internal weakness?'

Taken completely by surprise, Terisa said without thinking, 'The water supply.' The lady didn't appear to be paying attention. 'In what way?'

'If you poisoned the reservoir, the whole castle would be helpless.' Not permanently, of course. The small spring under the walls supplied some water. The open roof and the collecting pipes could bring in large quantities during any heavy snow- or rainfall. But for a few days, at least-

Why were she and Elega having this conversation?

Smiling, the lady Elega returned to her chair, seated herself, smoothed out her skirt. The electricity of her gaze made Terisa shiver. Without transition, she said in a relaxed,

conversational tone, 'You have been in Orison for some time now. I fear that you have seen few of us at our best. Nevertheless you have had time to form impressions, perhaps even to draw conclusions.

'What do you think of us? Is there hope for Orison and Mordant? What is your opinion of King Joyse?'

Baffled and vexed, Terisa was tempted to retort, No, I don't think there's any hope. Not as long as you insist on behaving like this. But she could feel danger around her. Whatever she said would have consequences. Carefully, she replied, 'I think he knows what he's doing.'

Elega's smile seemed to grow a degree brighter. 'And the Congery? What do you think of the Imagers? They have put us in grave peril. Are they honest? Or perhaps I should ask, are they honourable?'

Terisa shrugged. She wasn't about to begin discussing either Master Eremis' ideas or Geraden's with the King's strange daughter. 'Some of them seem to be. Other's don't.' Then she added, 'I don't think very many of them expected the champion to go wild like that.'

This answer gave Elega less satisfaction; but she didn't dwell on it. 'And the lords of the Cares? What are your opinions of them?'

In reaction, alarm flushed through Terisa. How did-? Trying to cover her fright, she jerked to her feet, went to the wine decanter, and refilled her goblet. How did Elega know she had met the lords of the Cares? Suddenly, the whole room felt threatening, as though the walls were transparent and the floor might yawn open. Elega knew because someone had told her. That was simple enough, Or because she had had a hand in the attack on Terisa. That wasn't so simple. But still somebody must have told her about the meeting. Who would have any reason in the world to do that?

Unexpectedly, Terisa found that she had reached her limit. She was already in distress- and Elega was making no sense at all. Apparently, she was trying to probe Terisa, test her somehow. But for what?

She drained her goblet, faced the King's daughter squarely, and said, 'Prince Kragen and I were talking about you. You've made a conquest. He's really quite impressed. What did he say about you?' she asked rhetorically. 'He said if you were an Alend you would 'stand high among the powers of the Kingdom'.' Then she stopped to let Elega draw as many inferences as possible.

The lady rose to her feet immediately to meet Terisa's stare. Her smile was like the

lights in the dining room of Terisa's mirror-walled apartment: it was on a rheostat which made it brighter at every turn. 'Terisa,' she said softly, 'you take my breath away. Is this what being 'ordinary' means in your world? That place must be brave beyond conception. You have begun working to shape events with a vengeance.

'I understand you,' she affirmed. 'Do you understand me?' Terisa didn't answer. She was afraid to open her mouth.

Terisa,' Elega urged in a whisper, 'I have said that this charade is not necessary with me. You can no longer pretend passivity- and you need not pretend ignorance.'

Still Terisa didn't answer.

Slowly, Elega's brightness dimmed. She didn't give up, however. 'Since you have mentioned Prince Kragen, perhaps you will tell me your impression of him.'

With an effort, Terisa recovered her voice. 'Did you know the Alend monarchy isn't hereditary? It has to be earned. That's what he's doing here. He's trying to earn the right to become the next Alend Monarch.' She studied Elega closely; but the lady's expression betrayed nothing except its underlying intensity. 'I think that's more important to him than peace.'

This riposte was rewarded with a slight widening of Elega's eyes, a slow congealing of her smile. The way her pleasure curdled reminded Terisa that she had no real idea what was going on. Elega clearly understood what Terisa was saying better than Terisa did herself.

In a voice scarcely louder than a whisper, the lady asked, 'Do you not believe that you can trust me? We are women, you and I-despised in a world of men. There is no one here whom you can trust but me. No one else intends as much good to both Mordant and yourself. What may I do to convince you?'

That, at least, was a question Terisa could meet. Without hesitation, she said, Tell me what's going on, Before you ask me to trust you, start trusting me.'

Slowly, Elega nodded in acknowledgement. She was no longer looking at Terisa, and her smile was gone. 'You are better at this than I suspected. I cannot trust you until you have first trusted me. I have more to lose.'

Sadly, she turned to go.

In her confusion and frustration, Terisa wanted to demand, What is that, exactly? What

have you got to lose that's more than everybody else in this mess? But she let it go. Instead, she said before Elega reached the door, 'Just tell me one thing. What makes you think I'm lying about Myste?'

The lady paused with her hand on the latch. A different smile touched her mouth, a smile like the affectionate and faintly condescending one she had occasionally given her sister. 'You do well, as I have said, Terisa. But you do not know Mordant well enough to exert power without risk. Plainly, you do not know that what you have said of Myste is impossible. Romish is too far. In this winter, it would be easier for a lone woman to rebuild our breached wall than to cross the Demesne and Armi-

gite on foot.' A suggestion of triumph. 'I doubt that you intend me to believe my sister has decided to kill herself.'

Still smiling, she left the room.

Terisa hardly noticed her departure. She was remembering the way King Joyse had stood in front of her with his eyes squeezed shut and tears spilling down his cheeks, in anguish at the idea that Myste had gone back to her mother. If you lie to me-he had said like an appeal. If you dare lie to me-But he must have guessed even then that she wasn't telling the truth.

Her stomach heaved. Unfortunately, all the lies and plots and pain she had swallowed refused to be ejected. After a moment, she went to the door and opened it long enough to tell the guards that she didn't want any more visitors today. Then she bolted the door, sat down again in front of the fire, and had more to drink than she had ever had in her life.