QUESTION ABOUT BEING BESIEGED

EVENTUALLY, Terisa and Geraden were found by a squad of Castellan Lebbick's guards.

By that time, both Nyle and the attacker were conscious. Nyle wasn't particularly amused to discover that he was trussed with his own rope; but after a few minutes of bitter cursing-which did nothing to warm the bleak cold of Geraden's expression- he lapsed into silence.

The attacker snarled periodically and twisted his strange features. He didn't waste his strength on futile efforts to break his bonds, however.

The guards brought Geraden's mare and Terisa's gelding, along with enough of their rough brandy to push the worst of the chill back from her vitals-and enough questions to make her ache for sleep. Fortunately, Geraden took charge before anyone -perhaps including the Apt himself-realized what he was doing; he quickly established that the guards' questions were less important than the need to join the men on Argus' trail, pursuing Prince Kragen.

All Terisa wanted was to get out of this weather and lie down somewhere warm, where it might be possible to forget the way that flat patch in the mottled red fur had begun to gush blood-or the way Geraden had struck Nyle down. Chasing after Argus and the Prince would only prolong her misery.

But at least no one had time to insist on questions.

Although she had promised that she would never ride again, she soon found herself mounted on the gelding. Ignoring the reins, she clung to the saddlehorn and went wherever her horse took her.

Once Nyle and Geraden's attacker had been secured on their own beasts, and the guards were mounted again, her horse took her with everyone else back the way they had come.

Eager for more speed, Geraden surged ahead.

'Relax,' one of the guards advised him. 'There are already at least a dozen men on that trail. They'll catch him. It won't happen any sooner just because you're in a hurry,'

Terisa caught the look which Geraden flashed at the guard. It was wild and sick; and she understood almost automatically why he wanted to go faster. He didn't want to help capture Prince Kragen. He wanted to get away from what he had done to his brother.

Instinctively, she straightened her back and tried to improve her balance, as if that would enable the gelding and all the horses to go faster.

The guards swung east and didn't cross the stream until a fold in the south wall provided them access to those hills. Their route back to the southern ravine was circuitous, but quicker than walking-and much quicker than getting lost, as Terisa would have done if she had tried to find her own way. Still, it took long enough to make her numb. She was blind to herself, and the passing of the dark treetrunks on either side, and the tight mood of the riders aroundjier as they reached the joining of streambeds where Ribuld had ridden south to rouse Orison and Argus had gone west after Prince Kragen- blind enough to be surprised by the fact that the valley was full of guards.

Although they were mounted, they didn't appear to be doing anything except waiting. All their eyes were on Geraden and her. None of them spoke.

Ribuld sat erect on his horse with his head high, brandishing his scar as though he were about to let out a yell.

Involuntarily, Geraden jerked his mare to a halt. The men with him stopped. Terisa's gelding blundered against the mare's rump and stopped also.

'What is it? Why aren't-?' Geraden's voice caught.

Near Ribuld stood a horse without a rider. But not without a burden. The man on its back hung from his stomach; his wrists and ankles had been tied to the girth so that he wouldn't fall. His back was wet. Blinking stupidly, Terisa recognized Argus' stallion before she recognized Argus himself.

'I'm sorry,' a guard with a captain's purple band knotted around his bicep rasped. 'I know he was a friend of yours.'

'What-?' Geraden tried again, but couldn't make the words come out. 'What-?'

The captain was a stocky, middle-aged man with a face that suggested more decency than imagination. 'We found him about a mile down the ravine. I guess he wasn't careful

enough. There wasn't even a struggle. He was just there on the ground with a hole in his back. Probably made by an arrow.'

The captain spat a curse into the snow, then continued, 'After that, the trail gets confused. When that Alend butcher found out he was being followed, he knew what to do. He and his men did a good job of it, I'll give him that. I've got my best trackers working on it, but I think it's hopeless. By the time we locate his trail, he'll hit a road or a stream and disappear.'

Geraden wasn't listening. He stared at the body hanging from the stallion. Terisa could see the contours of his face ageing. 'Argus,' he said thickly. 'I got you killed.'

'Very good,' Nyle snarled at him. This is wonderful. Now you've got the worst of both sides. Without Prince Kragen, you can't stop Margonal's army. But you insisted on stopping me. This way, the Alend Monarch won't have any choice. After he breaks Orison, he'll have to keep it for himself.'

Geraden flinched; but he didn't answer his brother. Kicking his horse into motion, he went to face Ribuld.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It's my fault. I should have sent you with him.'

Ribuld lowered his head. For a moment, Terisa feared he was going to strike Geraden; he looked savage enough for that. Without thinking, she urged her mount after Geraden so that she would be near him.

'Nyle is right,' Geraden went on. 'I should have let him go. We should have concentrated on catching the Prince.'

Ribuld clenched his fists. 'Do I look like the kind of man who takes orders from an inexperienced puppy?' he growled. 'I thought he was smart enough to watch his back.'

Geraden bowed his head and couldn't speak.

The only sounds in the valley were the stamping of the horses, the jangle of tack. Then one of the guards pointed at the bound creature and asked in dismay, 'What kind of thing is that?'

The Apt turned. Terisa could hardly recognize him: he appeared more dangerous than Artagel had ever been,

'I intend to find out.'

'Come on, men,' the captain ordered. 'The Castellan is going to shit brass when he hears about this. The longer we make him wait, the worse it's going to get. Form up.'

He spent a moment arranging more support for the trackers, assigning men to carry messages. Around the streambed, the guards pulled into formation. Terisa found herself beside Geraden between two files of riders who-among other things- clearly wanted to know what she was doing there.

She glanced back at Nyle; his face was closed and locked. Any resemblance between him and his brother had been struck away by Geraden's blow.

Her attacker had eyes in the wrong places, surrounded by long whiskers; he had a snout and tusks. But she didn't notice those things. Instead, she saw blood seeping to a rush out of mottled red fur, blood and death spilling to the white snow.

She was hardly aware of the way her seat and legs hurt as the gelding lumbered into a trot to keep up with the rest of the horses.

The ride back to Orison was cold and gloomy: it might as well have been interminable. Terisa lost track of herself and didn't regain her bearings until she realized that the host of red-furred riders waving scimitars which swept towards her every time she turned her head was just a hallucination, the product of too much grey sunlight glaring deceptively off too much snow. Orison wasn't as far away as her physical condition seemed to indicate, however. Eventually, the riders entered the courtyard of the castle and stopped.

Sliding off her mount's back, she planted her feet in the churned mud and stood on her own, trembling.

The guards dismounted. For a moment, she was surrounded by confusion-men moving here and there, muttering to each other. For reasons of their own, more men came out of Orison, hurrying in groups. The whole courtyard appeared full of guards who ran in one direction or another. Peasants or merchants pushed wagons about. She didn't know what to do with her horse. There was warmth nearby now: it was somewhere in the high walls looming around her. She couldn't imagine how to get to it.

Then the captain barked an order. His squad sorted out its disarray, came to attention. Castellan Lebbick strode towards them.

Disdaining winter gear, he wore only his characteristic mail and leather, with his

purple sash draped diagonally down his chest and his purple band knotted above his eyebrows. Cold steamed off his skin, but he didn't appear to notice it: he had enough fire inside to keep him warm. Though he was shorter than Terisa, he dominated her and the men and even the horses as if he were much taller. Ire glinted in his eyes.

Brusquely, he returned the captain's salute, but didn't speak. Instead, he surveyed the men before him. When he spotted Ribuld with Argus' body, he went abruptly in that direction.

Geraden put a hand on Terisa's arm as if to steady or comfort her. But his expression was too harsh to be convincing.

Rigid with silence, the guards waited as Castellan Lebbick thrust among them to Argus' side. Roughly, he clenched a fist in Argus' hair and lifted the dead man's head as if to check his face, verify his identity. The look the Castellan gave Ribuld was enough to make the veteran turn away.

Lebbick aimed a glare at Nyle's sealed belligerence. Then he considered the inhuman attacker. For a moment, the two measured each other across the gulf of their antagonism and strangeness. Without turning his head, he demanded unexpectedly, 'Is this his horse?'

'Yes,' answered Geraden between his teeth. 'There were three of them. One was killed.

Terisa and I would have died, but Nyle killed the other.'

The Castellan, however, wasn't interested in how many red-furred creatures had been killed. 'This horse?' he insisted. ''This tack?'

'Yes.'

Castellan Lebbick moved towards Geraden. In a soft voice, hardly louder than a whisper, which nevertheless sounded like it could be heard on the highest ramparts, he said, 'I don't like losing men. Do you understand me, boy? I don't like it.'

Geraden didn't try to respond. In any case, the Castellan turned away without waiting for a reply. To the captain, he snapped, Tut Nyle and that monster of Imagery in the dungeon.

I'll see you, Geraden, and'-he sneered her name-'the lady Terisa of Morgan in the south guardroom.'

Trailing wisps of vapour from his shoulders, he stalked away.

The dungeon,' Geraden groaned to himself. He put his hands over his face. 'Oh, Nyle.

What am I doing to you?'

Nyle raised his voice sharply. 'Don't worry about it, little brother. This isn't any different from what you've done with the rest of your life. And Lebbick probably hasn't had anybody to torture for a long time. For him, this will be more fun than a carouse.'

Geraden's shoulders tightened. Terisa stared at Nyle numbly. But it was Ribuld who spoke.

'I advise you to keep your mouth shut.' He tried to sound casual in spite of the way his voice shook. 'Nobody cares what happens to you. If you weren't a son of the Domne-and if your brothers weren't so much better men than you are-we would have let you ride off and make a shitass of yourself in front of the Perdon. You talk about fun.'

'Ribuld,' warned the captain, 'that's enough.'

But Ribuld couldn't stop. 'I'm sure the Perdon would have thought it was fun to be offered the kingship of Mordant'-he was ventilating a vicious grief-'if we captured that fornicating Prince, and the whole Alend army was helpless against us. Geraden did you a favour.'

Nyle avoided the guard's gaze. 'Argus did you a favour, you rotten-'

'Ribuld!' The captain's voice cut like a whip. 'I said, that's enough.'

Ribuld rolled the whites of his eyes, glaring like a wounded predator. His scar flamed with blood. Nevertheless the captain's command caught and held him. He turned his back on Nyle, began untying Argus' wrists.

'He doesn't have any family. Somebody has to bury him.'

Lifting the body in his arms, he carried his friend away, out of the courtyard. Terisa feared that if she didn't get inside soon she would begin to cry.

Dourly, the captain issued instructions to his men. Nyle and Geraden's attacker was escorted rather urgently in the direction of the dungeon. The remaining guards took charge of the horses while the captain himself guided Geraden and Terisa towards the south guardroom.

She seemed to have no sensation left in her. What was going on made no sense, and

she was afraid of the Castellan. How had she survived being so cold? It was probably a lie that there was warmth in Orison. She was afraid of Castellan Lebbick because of his relentless anger. Or was it because she had lied to him?

When had she lied to him? How many times? She had killed one of Geraden's attackers, and all these falsehoods were going to destroy her.

In spite of lies and cold, however, a door opened and closed, and suddenly something blissful touched her face. She was inside the castle; she was still cold, frozen almost to the marrow, carrying her misery with her like a cocoon of ice; but the air was warm, warm. She could breathe it. She could stretch out her fingers to it. She tried to clear her throat, and a snuffling noise like a sob emerged.

'Here.' Geraden stopped her and undid the front of her coat to let more warmth reach her. 'You aren't used to this.' He took her hands and slapped them, firmly but not too hard, then rubbed her wrists. 'I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were feeling it so much.'

She began to shiver again.

He put his arm around her and helped her towards the guardroom.

It proved to be a low hall with a bare stone floor and all its walls unadorned except one, which supported a large slate chalkboard. Most of the space was taken up by rows of wooden benches facing the chalkboard: apparently, this was where Castellan Lebbick explained their orders to his captains and men. The warmth was stronger here; it made her shivering worse.

The Castellan arrived a moment after she entered the guardroom. Slamming the door behind him, he confronted her and Geraden. For some reason, she noticed his hands were curled. At first, she thought that was because he was angry. Then she realized he had spent so much of his life with a heavy sword in his grasp that he could no longer completely straighten his fingers.

He was looking at her closely, and something strange happened in his face. His expression softened; his constant, simmering rage let go of his features.

As abruptly as he had entered the guardroom, he left again.

Mystified, she and Geraden turned to the captain. He shrugged and tried to keep his own surprise from showing.

They waited. Geraden glowered at the ceiling. Terisa shivered.

When Castellan Lebbick returned, he was followed by a maid carrying a tray. There were three brass goblets on the tray. Whatever was in them gave off a sweet, heavy steam.

'Mulled wine,' he announced without quite meeting anyone's stare. His manner suggested that he was ashamed of himself. 'You look like you could use it.'

The maid delivered the goblets to Terisa, Geraden, and the captain, then withdrew.

Straining to conceal his surprise, the captain emptied his goblet with unceremonious haste. Then he gaped into it as though he were fervid for more wine to occupy his attention until someone else spoke.

Geraden looked at his drink suspiciously, as if he were wondering if it was drugged.

Terisa couldn't wait for him to make up his mind. Wrapping her hands around the heat of the metal, she sipped at the dark liquid as though she were sampling nectar.

Mulled wine. She sipped some more. She had never had mulled wine. In fact, she had never had hot wine before. It was lovely. She drank a large swallow. It ran down into her, as delicate as the guards' brandy was rough; and it tightened her shivering into a knot and then released it, so that all the strain seemed to flow suddenly out of her muscles. She was warm again, warm in places that had given up hope. Mulled wine. Her goblet didn't hold enough, but she drank what there was down to the last drop.

In sudden resolution, Geraden tossed down several swallows too quickly, with the result that he inhaled some of the spiced liquid and went into a spasm of gagging and coughing. Trying to help, the captain pounded him discreetly between the shoulder- blades.

'Thank you,' Terisa said to Castellan Lebbick as she lowered the goblet. Thanks.' 'Don't thank me.' The Castellan sounded bitter; but his expression was still soft and

ashamed. 'You should be more like Geraden. He thinks I put something in it to make you talk.'

She sighed-and was relieved to hear no quaver or catch in her breathing. That's all right. You didn't bring it for him. You brought it for me. I'm grateful.'

Scowling, Castellan Lebbick turned to the captain. 'Your report?'

Back on familiar ground, the captain regained his poise. Without wasting time, he conveyed what he knew, described what he had done, and pointed out-rather unnecessarily-that he himself still had no idea what had happened to Geraden and the lady Terisa after Ribuld had left them.

The Castellan absorbed the details, nodded once. 'All right. Muster a squad. Send them back where your men found Geraden and her. I want them to backtrack those three creatures. As far as possible. I want to know where they came from. I want to know how creatures of Imagery happened to be mounted on horses and saddles like that.

'While you're at it, set up supplies and relays for your trackers. Prince Kragen isn't going to make any mistakes-but if he does, I want him to pay for them.

'And,' he concluded, 'find me a falconer. I want to know more about these'-he snarled the words, glancing at Terisa-''carrier pigeons'.'

The captain saluted. With an unmistakable air of relief, he left the guardroom.

For a long time, Castellan Lebbick didn't say anything. Initially, he didn't look at Terisa and Geraden: he acted like a man lost in thought. Then he began to study them carefully, scrutinizing each of them in turn while his choler mounted. He seemed to be waiting for one of them to speak first, to blurt out something he could use. Or he might have been giving himself a chance to recover from his unaccustomed charity.

The expression with which Geraden met the Castellan's scrutiny wasn't belligerent; but it was tight and wary, and he didn't open his mouth.

For her part, Terisa had nothing to say. The hate in the strange faces of the attackers held her.

Finally, the Castellan pulled up a chair for himself and sat down, folding his arms on his chest. His manner didn't invite Terisa and Geraden to do the same. 'So,' he said. His gaze was aimed somewhere between them, ready to strike in either direction. 'Again something strange happens, and again the lady Terisa of Morgan is involved.' He articulated each word with hard-edged consonants and blunt vowels, so that it had an almost tangible impact. This time, at least one mystery is solved. I don't know who she's plotting with. I don't know why. But finally I know how.'

'Plotting?' Geraden was immediately incensed. Terisa? What are you talking about?'

Castellan Lebbick looked at the Apt. A baleful light was growing in his eyes. 'I'm talking about 'carrier pigeons'.'

'But that's crazy! She doesn't have any pigeons. Where would she keep them?'

'Perhaps they bring messages to her first and carry her answers back. Then all she has to do is open her window to hatch treachery with anyone in the world.'

'No,' Geraden insisted, 'no, that's still crazy. They would still have to be trained. When has she had a chance to do that?'

'We don't know how much training they need.' Lebbick's face had been forged out of iron and extremity. He seemed deaf to the impossibility of what he was saying. 'But that's really unimportant. Didn't she come here out of a mirror? A mirror that couldn't possibly have anything to do with her? She's an Imager of some kind.' His tone slapped down contradiction. 'How do you know how much 'chance' she's had? For all you know, she's already spent years here secretly, getting ready to betray King Joyse.'

Terisa shook her head. 'You don't understand.' She couldn't take Lebbick's charge personally. It was too loony. And she was too tired. 'Carrier pigeons only work one way. You take them away from home, and they fly back. That's all. Prince Kragen can send messages to his father. He can't receive them.' Then she stopped because the effort of explaining to him that he ought to concentrate on Elega was beyond her.

'You see?' demanded Geraden. 'It's crazy. The Alend Monarch is marching an army through Armigite right now, and you're wasting your time on impossible accusations. We're going to be besieged. Don't you understand that?' For just a moment, the muscles in Castellan Lebbick's neck corded, and his arms clamped hard across his chest. He was at the edge of his self-control. Nevertheless he shifted his glare deliberately to Terisa, as if Geraden hadn't spoken.

'A falconer may be able to tell me whether you're telling the truth. If you are, I'll have to assume that your pigeons are being kept for you by an ally here in Orison.'

Geraden threw up his hands; but the Castellan ignored him. 'How do you communicate with an ally, when you're reasonably well watched by my men? Through the secret passage in your wardrobe, A child could do it.

'But let that pass for now. In the meantime, my lady, why don't you tell me how you happened to know Nyle was going to meet with Prince Kragen this morning?'

Terisa blinked at him, her heart suddenly quailing.

'For someone as innocent as you are, I call it remarkable that you managed to be in just the right place to spy on that meeting. May I take it as proven that the people you're plotting with aren't Alend? Or are you exposing your own allies to conceal your real

plans?'

Worn down by exposure and lulled by wine, she couldn't meet his eyes. Maybe she was as guilty as he thought. That seemed possible. She understood the secret recrimination: it was deserved because it was received; accusations instilled the sense of guilt which justified them. Because the Castellan looked at her so harshly, spoke to her so bitterly, she deserved it. She had no defence.

But Geraden was already speaking for her.

'Listen to me.' His voice lacked Lebbick's clenched and whetted capacity for violence. 'I'm going to explain a few things to you.' Yet he made the Castellan heed him.

'The first day of the thaw, Terisa and I went out to the bazaar with the lady Elega. You know that.' And the more he spoke the more he seemed to push back the pall which Castellan Lebbick had cast over her. 'While we were there, we saw a mountebank. Terisa recognized him. He was Prince Kragen.'

Terisa felt rather than saw the Castellan's gaze shift to Geraden.

'Purely by chance,' the Apt went on, 'she happened to see the mountebank and Nyle'-he said the name as if it didn't hurt him -'come out from behind a tent like they just had a private conversation. That was before Gart attacked her.

'I decided the best way to find out what was going on was to have Nyle followed. So I asked the Tor to get Argus and Ribuld released from their duties, and I put them to work on Nyle's trail.'

Lebbick's jaw jutted ominously.

Tt's that simple.' Geraden stood his ground as though he were the Castellan's equal in courage and determination. 'She isn't plotting with anyone. If she were using carrier pigeons herself, it would be incredibly stupid of her to let us know she knew anything about them.'

Terisa hung her head and kept quiet.

'Very interesting, boy.' Lebbick's tone was like the thrust of a dagger. 'She told you what she saw, and you decided what to do about it. But I'm the Castellan of Orison. Defending the King from all enemies is my job. If there's any danger in the Demesne or Orison, I need to know it.' He was a coiled spring, tightened to the point of outbreak. 'Why didn't you tell meT

'Because, good Castellan,' a familiar voice rumbled, 'you are prone to excess.' Terisa looked up in surprise as the Tor entered the guardroom.

He seemed to be in an affable mood-a bit unsteady on his feet, perhaps, but full of good will. He came into the room wearing a fleshy smile which appeared to have nothing behind it except more fat. The way he walked suggested that he had filled every cavern and crevice of his bulk with wine before venturing out of the King's suite.

'My lord Tor,' said Castellan Lebbick between his teeth. He didn't get up. 'I'm surprised you trouble to join us. Today would be a good day for men with nothing better to do to stay in bed.'

'Ah, true,' replied the lord amiably. 'Very true. It is my extreme misfortune that there is a voice which brings me the news of this stone pile-brings me the news implacably. Its custom is to whisper, but the closer I drowse towards sleep, the louder it shouts. This morning I thought it imaginable that King Joyse himself would awaken.

'Alas,' he went on, 'the King seems unlikely to take an interest in the great events of the day. Therefore the burden falls to his chancellor.'

Lumbering forward to the nearest bench, he seated himself with a sigh. The stout plank groaned under him.

'That's very diligent of you, my lord Tor,' grated Lebbick. 'It also happens to be unnecessary. I'm perfectly capable of handling 'the great events of the day' myself.'

'Certainly you are.' The Tor was like a lump of pastry dough, impervious to sarcasm- and immune to argument. 'Doubtless you understand sieges as well as most men understand their wives. I am sure you will do everything that must be done to prepare for the coming of the Alend Monarch. Nevertheless, good Castellan, I must point out'-he sounded kindly, almost avuncular-'that if the matter had been left to you, you would be still unaware of Margonal's approach. As I say, you are prone to excess.'

Castellan Lebbick's eyes bulged slightly in their sockets. 'In what way, my lord?'

The Tor spread his plump hands. 'Suppose young Geraden had come to you with his suspicions of his brother? What would you have done? Why, you would have arrested Nyle, of course. Instead of following him to his assignation and overhearing his plans, you would have tried to take those plans from him by persuasion or force. And if he had resisted both persuasion and force-' The lord rolled his thick shoulders.

'Or suppose again that young Geraden had given you his reasons for suspecting his

brother? Suppose he had mentioned that hints dropped by the King's daughter Elega led the lady Terisa to suspect that she was involved with Prince Kragen?' Now the lord was no longer pastry dough talking. His voice became like the grinding of heavy stones against each other. 'Suppose he had revealed that the guards Argus and Ribuld were following Elega-that in fact they had no other reason for being near enough to save Artagel's life when the High King's Mono-mach assailed the lady Terisa?' His hands lay limp on his fat thighs; but his eyes grew harder. 'Suppose he had informed you that the lady Terisa had rejected Elega's effort to win her support for the Prince-and that, forewarned by this rejection, Elega had made herself fruitless for Argus and Ribuld to trail? What would you have done then, good Castellan?

'Would you have raised a cry against her?' At last he was not an obese old drunk: he was the lord of the Care of Tor, King Joyse's first ally in the campaign which had created Mordant. 'Would you have sent men to 'arrest' her so that she could be haled before her father and accused publicly of treason?'

The Castellan's face was dark with blood, but he didn't unclose his teeth. Tt's already done,'

For a moment, the Tor looked like he might rise to his feet and shout something. Instead, however, he smiled sadly and slumped back into softness. 'Just so. And what is the result?'

'We can't find her.'

'Certainly you cannot. She has gone into hiding. And she has bragged, good Castellan, that she knows the secrets of Orison well enough to remain hidden for a long time. And so the opportunity has been lost to learn her intent-the intent on which Prince Kragen's plans hinge, the intent which will deliver Orison to the Alend Monarch without a protracted siege.

'Good Castellan, you have a greater need of me than you realize.' Geraden looked-like he wanted to applaud.

The muscles at the corners of Castellan Lebbick's jaws bunched. His eyes scanned the guardroom as though he were looking for the perfect stretch of bare wall against which to spill the Tor's blood. But he didn't rise from his chair.

Slowly, he said, 'Geraden-my lady Terisa-you haven't told us where you got those creatures of Imagery. In fact, you haven't told us how you managed to catch Nyle. He's your brother. He knows you. Surely he didn't let you just trip and fall on him. You've been telling the Tor so many stories. Why don't you tell him that one?'

' ''Creatures of Imagery'?' The lord smiled pleasantly at Geraden. 'Yes, young Geraden.

Do tell us.'

Geraden glanced back and forth between the two men, gauging where he stood with each of them, before he shrugged and said, 'All right.'

Just a few minutes ago, Terisa would have sworn it was impossible; but now she found that she was too warm. She loosened her coat a bit, shifted it back from her neck.

'I wasn't thinking straight,' admitted Geraden stiffly. 'Nyle wasn't the real danger. I should have let him go so we could concentrate on trying to catch Prince Kragen. But that never crossed my mind. Stopping him was too important-' In an awkward way, he seemed to be asking for understanding. 'He's my brother. I couldn't let him make a traitor of himself.'

The Tor nodded in an absent-minded fashion; his attention appeared to be elsewhere.

Sourly, Castellan Lebbick muttered, 'It was a little late for that, don't you think?' Geraden flushed. He didn't permit himself to react, however.

'But I made a mess out of that, too. He got away, and we were stuck out there without our horses.

'That was when those ''creatures of Imagery' attacked. They came from the east, but that could have just been because of the terrain. I thought they were after the lady Terisa, so I wasn't ready for it when they came for me.'

'You?' demanded the Castellan. 'They came for you, boy?' That's what it looked like.' With a visible effort, Geraden held himself steady. 'We separated. They ignored her. All three of them chased me.'

Although he still didn't seem to be paying attention, the Tor's expression was beatific, as if he had just received a piece of good news. 'Young Geraden, you are a wonderment. I have mentioned-have I not ?- that you underestimate yourself. Even the lady Terisa of Morgan does not have such enemies.'

'Oh yes,' snarled Lebbick. That seems especially plausible because you're still alive.

You were alone against the three of them. What did you do? Accident them to death?'

Somehow, Geraden retained his self-command. Carefully, he said, 'I used a club on their horses. Two of them went down. One was killed. The other is your prisoner.'

'No,' Terisa breathed.

Castellan Lebbick ignored her. 'And the third?'

'Nyle got him. He saw them heading towards us, so he came back. Terisa and I might both be dead if it weren't for him. While he was still thinking about that, I knocked him out. I hit him with a tree branch. That was how I caught him.'

'No,' Terisa repeated. She couldn't help herself: it all came back to her. It was as vivid as dreaming in front of her.

'He was fighting for his life,' she whispered. 'I had to help him. Didn't I? I can't spend my whole life just sitting on my hands and wondering when I'm going to fade. I can't. That's worse than doing something wrong. Isn't it?

'He got two of them off their horses. He stunned one of them.

The other went after him with those swords.' She shivered as though she had become cold again; but the truth was that she could hardly bear the weight of her coat. 'I had to help him. I killed-with a club. I hit him from behind and broke his skull.' A small patch of red fur on the back of the skull had turned wet and begun to gush blood. Then Nyle came.

'Geraden didn't kill anybody.'

She ran out of words and fell silent.

The men stared at her. Geraden's throat worked as if he were choking on her name. After a moment, the Tor rumbled gently, 'My dear lady, of course you had to help him. You would not forgive yourself if you had not helped him. And perhaps you would both be dead.'

Castellan Lebbick turned away. 'Women.' Every line of his posture was knotted and bitter. 'Always women. It's indecent. If I'm ever saved by a woman, I'll do away with myself.'

Then he rasped, 'But the horses. That's the point. The saddles and tack, my lord Tor.

Tell him about the horses and saddles and tack, Geraden.'

In his uncertainty, Geraden faced the Castellan while he spoke to the Tor. 'Our attackers were obviously 'creatures of Imagery'. But their horses looked normal to me. I didn't notice anything else.'

Abruptly, Lebbick jerked to his feet. 'Normal horses, my lord Tor. Normal saddles and tack. What do you make of that?'

The lord pursed his lips. These creatures were mounted after their translation. Either they stole mounts and gear for themselves, or they were equipped by their translators. Equipped and instructed.'

'Exactly.' Castellan Lebbick faced the lord like a fuse burning dangerously close to powder. The horses were normal. The saddles definitely didn't come from Cadwal-in Cadwal they use barbed stirrups-but they could have come from anywhere in Mordant or Alend.'

'And the tack?' asked the Tor obligingly.

The tack-' Lebbick stifled a furious gesture by clenching his fists on his hips. The tack includes a hackamore you won't find anywhere in Cadwal or Alend or Mordant- anywhere except the Care of Tor.' His glare was hard enough to strike sparks from flint. 'Only your people use it, my lord Tor.'

The Tor gazed back at the Castellan as though Lebbick were a curious specimen pinned to a mounting board.

Terhaps,' the Castellan gritted, 'you think this is just another of my excesses.'

He took Terisa so completely aback that a moment passed before she grasped how serious he was. The Tori In league with Vagel against Geraden and King Joyse and Mordant? Her legs were weaker than she realized: she had to sit down. Riding a horse wasn't easy. Without quite noticing what she was doing, she went to the nearest bench and seated herself beside the lord.

Geraden was aghast. 'You can't mean that,' he protested. 'Do you know what you're saying?'

Without warning, Castellan Lebbick grinned. His teeth flashed fiercely.

'Oh, I am sure that our good Castellan knows entirely what he is saying.' The Tor had resumed his pastry dough aspect, impervious to affront. 'One of Mordant's greatest problems has always been that the vile attacks of Imagery which harass us come from no known source. My son was killed by an enemy who might be hidden anywhere in Alend or Cadwal-or Mordant.'

'If indeed your son was killed,' the Castellan interrupted. 'I only have your word for that-and the word of your men. The corpse you showed us could have been anybody.'

Geraden went white at this insult to the lord. The Tor, however, shrugged it aside. 'But now,' he persisted, 'we have taken a great step forward. Now we know where to look.'

'In the Care of Tor.'Lebbick was remorseless. 'In your domain, my lord.' The Tor permitted himself a subtle flare of anger. 'Astonishing, is it not?' 'Unquestionably,' the Castellan grated with pleasure.

'Unfortunately'-the Tor's ire was instantly gone-'a search is impossible at present. We are otherwise occupied. Please tell me what you are doing to prepare Orison for siege. It is reported that Prince Kragen places great faith in the Alend Monarch's ability to master us almost without difficulty. That seems absurd on its face-and yet I doubt that Prince Kragen is given to trusting the absurd. It is a pity that we cannot question-or observe-the lady Elega. That is beyond help, however. We must be very ready, good Castellan.'

'I'll be ready,' retorted Castellan Lebbick. 'By my estimation, we still have a few days left, but I've sent out scouts to make sure. The fact that the Armigite is a traitor probably has one advantage for us.' As he spoke, he seemed to fall unconsciously into the manner of an old soldier delivering a report. 'We can assume Margonal will use the main roads through Armigite. They're the easiest, quickest route. So his army shouldn't be hard to find.

'Also, I've sent messengers to the Cares that ought to help us. Fayle. Perdon.' Glowing at Geraden, he commented, 'What the Perdon hears isn't going to be what your dear brother had in mind,' Then he resumed his report. 'I've sent men to the Termt-gan, but he's too far away to do us much good.

'I haven't had time to talk to the Congery yet, but I'll do that soon. Maybe I'll finally be able to scare some sense into those Imagers.'

Apparently, none of the Masters had seen fit to announce their intention to disband the Congery.

'In the meantime, I'm calling my garrisoned troops into Orison. Most of the men hunting for the Congery's champion'-he was snarling-'have come back, and I won't send them out again. The only men I'm going to risk outside are the ones who still have a chance to locate Prince Kragen before he joins his father, and the ones who're trying to backtrack those creatures. I'll have all my strength here and organized by dawn tomorrow.'

The Tor nodded, but didn't interrupt.

'Because we're near the end of winter, our stores are low. That's a problem. But there are quite a few merchants and villages we can call on for supplies. That won't cause them any unfair hardship-with a war about to start, most of them are going to want

sanctuary in Orison anyway, so they might as well pay for their safety with food. If Margonal gives us three days, we should be as well stocked as possible.

'But our biggest problem is that breach in the wall.'

Again, the Tor nodded. This time, however, his eyes were closed. He looked like he was going to sleep.

'Without that,' Castellan Lebbick rasped, 'I could hold Orison against anybody. Long before our stores were gone, at least one of the lords of the Cares would take it into his head to come to our rescue. But that breach changes things. I've had all the stonemasons I could find working to build a rough curtain wall across the gap. It's serviceable, but it won't take the kind of pounding Margonal is going to give it.

'Am I boring you, my lord Tor?'

The lord opened one eye. 'Not at all, good Castellan. I am merely resting my mind from the chore of trying to imagine the source of Prince Kragen's confidence.'

The Castellan's mention of the champion reminded Terisa that she wanted,to ask a question. She felt that she was coming back to herself now, recovering some presence of mind and attention. But this wasn't her chance to speak.

'Young Geraden,' the Tor went on, 'can you remember exactly what Nyle and the Prince said to each other?'

'Pretty much,' Geraden answered. 'Prince Kragen was worried about Elega. Nyle told him about your talk with her. That shows she knew you were suspicious of her. And it proves she and Nyle were in communication before he left this morning. Then he said that she said that you won't be able to interfere with her part of the plan.'

Castellan Lebbick grunted. The Tor raised an eyebrow.

'Nyle had trouble believing that. But-let me try to get it right'

-Geraden looked at the ceiling while he searched his memory

-'Prince Kragen said, 'I regret that she is at hazard. But she has assured me many times that her role is secure. We must trust that she will do what she has said.''

'Is that all?' demanded the Castellan.

Geraden shrugged. 'Nyle still wasn't convinced. But Prince Kragen said, 'The lady

Elega's safety and success depend upon secrecy.' He was pretty careful. I'm not sure Nyle realized how many of his questions weren't being answered.'

'Poor Nyle,' the Castellan sneered.

'Unfortunate,' contributed the Tor thoughtfully. 'What can one woman hidden in Orison do to ensure the success-the instant success-of the Alend Monarch's siege? I confess that I am baffled. I need wine.'

With an effort, he heaved himself to his feet. The bench under Terisa flexed in relief. 'Good Castellan,' he murmured, 'I suggest that you question your prisoners. But try not

to harm them. You really must curb your instinct for excess. I suspect that Nyle will be more amenable to persuasion than force. Perhaps he will speak frankly if he can be made to believe that Elega has been caught-that the only way to spare her distress is by revealing what he knows. And the creature of Imagery may let slip something helpful.'

Thanks for the advice, my lord Tor,' Castellan Lebbick replied. 'Question the prisoners. I would never have thought of that. While you're waiting for me to tell you what I've found out, what will you be doing?' His question was an obvious reference to the lord's drinking.

The Tor sighed. For a moment, his thick flesh dropped into lines of sorrow. 'Good Castellan, I trust you more than you know. I am sure that you have done everything in your power. Nevertheless I am not content with matters as they stand. I will make one more attempt to interest King Joyse in the fate of his kingdom.'

With that, he waddled out of the guardroom.

At once, Lebbick turned a glare like the cut of a hatchet at Terisa and Geraden, 'I like that. I've been wrestling with this problem for years, and one fat old man thinks he can solve it by howling outside the King's door.'

Here it comes, Terisa thought glumly. Now he's really going to tear into us. -

She was wrong: the Castellan had more imagination than that. There was malice and anticipation in his tone as he said, 'You two still haven't told me what I want to know. But I don't want to be accused of excess. And you won't be leaving Orison anytime soon. You'll have plenty of time to talk yourselves into telling me the truth.

'In the meantime, I want you to help me question the prisoners. You should enjoy that.' She and Geraden looked at each other. The room wasn't so warm after all; she no

longer wanted to take off her coat. His face held an expression of alarm that worried her. She was so full of her own problems that she tended to forget how much he was suffering. Help me question-Did the Castellan really intend to use him against his brother? After what he had already done?

Because she believed Geraden needed her, she rose to her feet and met Castellan Lebbick's scowl.

'You're searching for Elega,' She was still afraid of him. Nevertheless she had stood up to him in the past; she could do it again. 'Do you think there's any chance you'll find her?'

His jaws chewed iron. Yet in spite of his ire he answered her. He looked oddly helpless, as if he didn't have any choice. That depends on how many secret passages she knows. I can't spare enough men to search them all at the same time.'

'I understand.' She had expected that. It was unimportant, however. Her next question was the one which mattered. As if she weren't going off in a completely different direction, she asked, 'Is it true that your men never found the champion?'

Is it true that your men never found Myste?

Those pigshit Imagers,' he rasped. 'No, my men never found the champion. And that doesn't make sense. He must have left a trail. He needs to eat, doesn't he? He must have raided villages for food. That's not the kind of thing a farmer or cattleherd forgets. Even if he went straight for Cadwal, we should have been able to follow him at least that far. But my men couldn't even find rumours about him.

'Either he's dead under a snowdrift somewhere. Or Gilbur and Vagel repented their folly and sent him back where he belongs. And if you can swallow that one, you'll believe anything. Or he sprouted wings and flew away. You tell me.

'As for the firecat'-Lebbick gave a bleak shrug-'we were lucky. It went west into a part of Armigite that's too rugged and barren for people.'

But what about Myste? What happened to Myste?

If the man she risked her life to find had disappeared, what did she do?

'Castellan,' Geraden interposed. Terisa had given him enough time to recover his self- possession. 'If you're planning to tell Nyle lies about Elega, you don't want me with you. He knows me too well. He'll see the truth in my face. I won't be able to hide it.'

Lebbick looked at the Apt. For the second time, his face went through a strange transformation. Terisa expected him to be livid, but he wasn't. Taken by surprise, he was open, accessible to pain: Geraden had hurt his feelings. 'I have no intention of lying to anyone.' He spoke sternly, but his sternness wasn't anger. 'I don't tell lies.'

'I'm sorry,' Geraden said at once, abashed by the change in the Castellan. 'I knew that.

I'm just not thinking straight.'

'It wouldn't make any difference if you were.' Castellan Lebbick's tone was rude; yet his intent may have been kind. 'No matter how important the Tor thinks you are, you didn't cause this mess. Prince Kragen told your brother a lot of hogslop. I know Margonal. He hasn't suddenly been converted to benevolence and peace. He's been planning to invade Mordant ever since he heard about King Joyse.

'Come on.'

Dismissing Geraden's apology along with his own odd vulnerability, the Castellan strode towards the door.

The guardroom that gave access to Orison's dungeon was unaltered from the time when Terisa had passed through it with Artagel, going to talk to Master Eremis. Despite its resemblance to a crude tavern-its trestle tables and rough benches, its beds and hearth, its refreshment bar-its defensive function was unmistakable. The racks fixed along all the walls held enough pikes and swords to equip forty or fifty fighting men. And the room itself was the only way into or out of the passages that led to the cells.

Remembering Master Eremis made her heart feel weak. He had left Orison without coming to her, fulfilling his promise- An ache of desire or loss passed over her.

If the room hadn't changed, however, the men in it had. They weren't ill-disciplined and resting: they were on their feet, at attention to meet the Castellan's arrival.

He saluted their captain and stalked on through the guardroom without speaking.

Geraden shrugged and grimaced companionably at the guards as he and Terisa followed the Castellan. One or two of them nodded to him slightly, little signs that they understood his circumstances.

The air beyond the guardroom remained dank, foul with rotting straw and recollections of torture, fretted with hints of old blood. The infrequent lanterns seemed to create more gloom than illumination; the passage wandered as if it led down into the dark places of Orison's soul. Castellan Lebbick took one turn, then another, and reached the region of the cells.

Past his shoulders, Terisa saw two guards coming along the corridor. They walked in single-file, apparently lugging something heavy between them.

An instant later, she realized that they were carrying a litter. Panic leaped in Geraden's face.

She thought dumbly, Nyle?

When Castellan Lebbick shifted to one side of the passage, however, and the guards took the other, she saw that the man lying in the litter wasn't Nyle.

'Artagel!' Geraden cried in relief and consternation. 'You're supposed to be in bed.' The guards stopped, and Artagel hitched himself up on one elbow.

'What're you doing here?' snapped the Castellan. This is none of your business. I've already lost one man today, along with my best chance to catch Margonal's pigslime son. I don't need you bleeding to death on top of my other problems.'

'Are you all right?' Geraden put in. Suddenly, he had so much to say that it all tried to tumble out at once. There was no other way I could stop him. I couldn't talk him out of it. He saved us. He could have let us be killed, but he didn't. It makes me sick. I hit-' His voice caught; he couldn't go on. His whole face burned for Artagel's forgiveness.

But Artagel didn't glance at Geraden. 'He's my brother,' he replied to the Castellan in a voice like a dry husk. He looked like he had suffered a relapse of fever: his mouth had lost its humour, and his eyes glittered like polished stones. 'I had to see him.'

One of the guards shrugged against the weight of the litter. 'We couldn't talk him out of it, Castellan. He was going to walk if we didn't carry him.'

Castellan Lebbick ignored the guards. Facing Artagel, he demanded, 'What did he say?'

With surprising strength, Artagel reached out, caught at Leb-bick's sash, pulled the Castellan closer to him. 'He told me the truth. He got into this because he loves that crazy woman. And because he thinks it's right. Somebody has got to save Mordant. He thinks Margonal is our only chance.' Staring at him, Terisa understood that he wasn't angry. He grinned when he was angry. No, what he felt now was close to despair. 'She talked to him about everything in the world except her part in Kragen's plans. He doesn't know where she is, or what she's going to do.'

On the other hand, Castellan Lebbick was angry enough for both of them. 'Do you expect me to believe that?'

'Artagel?' Geraden insisted. 'Artagel?' Artagel met the Castellan's glare. Slowly, he let go of the sash and eased himself onto his back in the litter. 'I don't care whether you believe me or not. I don't even care if you torture him. He's a son of the Domne. No matter what you do, this is going to kill my father.'

Geraden raised a hand and clamped it around his mouth to keep himself still.

The Castellan drew himself up, His face showed no softening. Nevertheless he said, 'All right. I'll try believing him for a while and see what happens.'

For the first time, Artagel turfied his eyes to Geraden. The angle of the light from the one lantern filled his face with shadows,

Geraden flinched. Terisa had never seen him look more like a puppy cringing because he had offended someone he loved and didn't know what to do about it. He needed understanding if not forgiveness, needed some kind of consolation from his brother.

He didn't get it.

'You're the smart one of the family.' Artagel's voice was still as dry as fever. 'You find that woman and stop her. If you don't -and she betrays us-I swear to you I'm not going to let Margonal's men in here, no matter who tells me to surrender. I'll fight them all if I have to.'

In response, Geraden's face twisted as if he were about to throw up.

'Oh, get him out of here,' Castellan Lebbick rasped to the guards. Tut him back in bed. Tie him down-if you have to. Then call his physician. This air is making him crazy. Right now, he couldn't fight a pregnant cripple.'

'Yes, Castellan.' The guards settled their shoulders into the load and took Artagel in the direction of the guardroom.

'Geraden?' Terisa put her hand on his arm and felt the pressure that knotted his muscles. 'He didn't mean it. He still has a fever. He shouldn't have got out of bed.' He was so hurt that she wanted to embrace him; but Castellan Lebbick's presence prevented that. 'Listen to me. He didn't mean to blame you.'

The Apt turned to her. Gloom hid his eyes. He had his back to the lantern; the lines of his face were dark. He didn't respond to what she said. But he continued to face her as

he addressed the Castellan.

That just leaves the creature who attacked us.' His tone was as empty as one of the cells. 'What do you think you can learn from him?'

That depends,' replied Lebbick. 'You're the student of Imagery. You tell me. Is there any chance he speaks a language we can understand?'

Geraden had once discussed that subject with Terisa; he didn't go into it now, 'Let's find out.'

He and Lebbick started down the passage-and a shadowy figure brushed past them, hurrying towards the creature's cell. 'Nobody tells me anything,' the man muttered into the air as he passed.

Terisa caught a glimpse of his face and recognized Adept Havelock. Adept Havelock?

Automatically, the Castellan grabbed at his sword; then he slapped it back into its scabbard. With Geraden, he pursued the mad old man.

Jumping to sudden conclusions, Terisa ran after them.

They were moving too quickly: she couldn't catch up with them in time. In the grip of a sudden alarm, she called, 'Don't ask him any questions.'

Castellan Lebbick whirled towards her so unexpectedly that Geraden ran into him. Their collision sent the Apt staggering against the bars of a cell. Swearing viciously, Lebbick took hold of Terisa's coat and snatched her to him.

'''Don't ask him any questions?''

That's right. Questions just make him worse.' The Castellan's breath was dry and sour. She wanted to explain herself clearly; but everything was happening too fast. 'He might tell us something. But not if we ask him any questions.'

'My lady,' Castellan Lebbick whispered through his teeth, 'how do you know that?' 'He told me.'

'He told you?'

Fortunately, she had no chance to think about what she would say. A chance to think would also have been a chance to make a mistake, to reveal something accidentally. Almost without hesitation, she repeated, 'He told me. I guess he wanted to talk to me. But I didn't understand. When I didn't obey, he nearly had a fit.'

The Castellan tightened his grip on her. His grin made him look mad, nearly out of control. A second later, however, he dropped his hands and went after Adept Havelock again.

Geraden had caught up with the Adept. They stood together in front of a cell.

Lamplight glowed from inside the gridwall.

A snarl throbbed down the corridor. Four furred arms with claws on their fingers sprang between the bars, reaching for Geraden. He jerked backward just in time.

Vehemently, Adept Havelock shoved the last digits of both hands up his nostrils and waggled the rest of his fingers at the creature like a child trying to make his face as horrible as possible.

Castellan Lebbick grabbed Havelock by the scruff of his surcoat and pulled him a safe distance away from the bars. When Terisa joined the three men, the creature was clinging to the grid with all four hands. His chest heaved, and the whiskers around his eyes bristled like weapons. Maybe they're poisoned, she thought, staring at him. Though his features were completely alien, they promised violence plainly.

Swept away from rationality by the creature's strangeness, the Adept's unexpected appearance, the pressure of too many unanswered questions, she observed in a tone of lunatic calm, 'The weather sure got cold today.'

Trying to lure Havelock into talking to her.

He didn't look in her direction. First he pinched his lips with his fingers and pulled them apart, making a wild grimace. Then he commented, 'I've heard of these, but I've never seen one before.'

The Castellan started to explode. Geraden slapped a hand against his chest to stop him.

All at once, Terisa's throat went dry. She had to swallow several times before she was able to say, 'We went riding today. I nearly froze to death.'

Havelock experimented with another monstrous face, but it had no discernible impact on the creature. 'A couple of Vagel's Imagers talked about them,' he muttered. 'Not Vagel himself. But he was eager. In the mirror, all they did was hunt for things to kill. And they

seemed to be able to find what they were after without seeing it. They went past the mirror in swarms. But obviously intelligent. They had domesticated animals they used for mounts. He wanted a whole army of them.'

In an effort to keep the Adept going, she said the first words that popped into her head. 'We were following Geraden's brother Nyle. He went to meet Prince Kragen.'

Geraden winced.

That's right,' replied Havelock as though he were in complete agreement. 'Festten kept interfering.' He bared his teeth in a humourless grin, then put his thumbs in his ears and stretched his eyes to slits with his fingers. 'If Vagel had his own army, he wouldn't need the High King. Festten found ways to interrupt the research before those two Imagers could finish it. One of them finally disappeared. I think he was killed.'

Terisa did her best to pull her thoughts together. Her concentration was in tatters. She had killed-

What were the Imagers researching? What kept them from translating the army the arch-Imager wanted?

Was it language?

Aiming a mute apology at the Apt, she said, 'We tried to stop Nyle, That was when they attacked us. They were after Geraden. Not me.'

The Adept gave her a smile as high-pitched and unexpected as a giggle. 'I know exactly what you mean.' The lamplight made his eyes look milky, as if he were going blind.

From one of his sleeves, he produced the palm-sized bit of mirror which Terisa had twice seen him use as a weapon.

For a piece of time that seemed to have no measurable duration, she gaped at him while he murmured to the glass and passed his hand over it. Then a sting of intuition warned her, and she wrenched herself forward, grabbed at his wrist.

She missed. He had already turned away.

Blissfully unaware of her, he focused his glass and shot out a beam so hot that the creature went up in flames like a bundle of kindling.

With a howl of inarticulate frustration and rage, the Castellan flung Havelock aside.

Instantly, the beam stopped as Adept Havelock stumbled against the wall and fell to the floor.

But the creature burned like a torch. No sound came from him; he didn't recoil or wave his arms or loose his grip on the bars. Slowly, slowly, he slumped down the grid.

As if in slow motion, Terisa felt a blast of heat. The stench of scorched fur and sizzling flesh filled the air.

Unable to control her reactions, she staggered to her knees. Down near the floor, the air was still cool. The rotten stink of the straw was too much for her, however. Adept Havelock had risen to his hands and knees to watch the creature. When he saw that she was looking at him, he gave her a huge, conspiratorial wink. Then darkness welled up in her, and she fainted as though she were fading inward.