THE BEGINNING OF THE END

LATER THAT NIGHT, a small band of men on horseback launched an attack which no one understood at the time against the heavy gates of Orison. With a great whooping and hallooing, the men charged forward, shot burning arrows into the wood or up at the parapets, then brandished their swords and challenged the defenders to come out and fight instead of cowering inside the walls like girls.

Their arrows had no effect on the gates: some of Castellan Lebbick's guards had spent the past four days soaking the wood with water. And the attackers themselves seemed more drunk than dangerous. Nevertheless they made enough noise to be heard by every man on duty around the walls.

While the captain in command of the watch readied a sortie, the riders escaped. They could be heard laughing derisively for a few moments after the night had swallowed

their retreat.

When this was reported to the Castellan, he had less to say about it than might have been expected. By that time, he had passed from his usual fulminating outrage into a tightly coiled fury which resembled equanimity. He looked almost cheerful as he went about his work, preparing Orison to meet an Alend siege with a totally inadequate supply of clean water.

Some time earlier, Terisa and Geraden had had the disconcerting experience of appearing to improve his mood by telling him about their encounter with the lady Elega.

When they first approached him, he acted like a man who was savage with lack of sleep. His eyes had a harried cast, and some of his gestures seemed aimless, as if he weren't aware of making them. His personality changed stress and fatigue into ire, however. His problem was that he had nothing to do: Orison was as ready as possible for a struggle he had no expec-

tation of winning. Because he couldn't rest, he was in danger of driving his own forces ragged before the real test of their strength began,

He had never been very good at resting. The strict urgency inside him kept him on his feet. Now, however, he couldn't rest because rest meant sleep-and sleep meant dreams.

His dreams were haunted.

As a younger man, he had occasionally had nightmares about his revenge on the Alend garrison commander who had raped and tortured his wife of four days with such relish and variety. But over the years the stable mildness of her companionship- and the clear worth of the work he did for his King-had taken the sting out of those dreams.

But now she was dead. He was alone-effectively abandoned even by King Joyse. And when he dreamed, he didn't dream of revenge.

He dreamed that he was an Alend garrison commander with a young Termigan sod's nubile bride tied helpless in front of him. He dreamed of all the things that could be done to her to make her scream and her husband mad.

He dreamed of relish.

And he awoke trembling-ha, Castellan Lebbick, trembling, a man who hadn't quailed in the face of any dread or danger since the day when King Joyse had cut him free and let him take his revenge.

At the sight of Geraden's stiff-faced determination and the woman Terisa's stubbornly controlled alarm-alarm which he instinctively wanted to justify-something leaped through him like fire in a mound of dry brush.

By the time Geraden finished describing what Elega had done, Castellan Lebbick was smiling.

'Congratulations,' he said almost genially. 'Here's another triumph for you. The lady Terisa'-he spoke as if she weren't present-'gave you the perfect chance to do something right for a change-and what did you do? You decided to be a hero by saving Orison alone. You must be particularly proud of yourself.'

That's not fair,' the woman put in unexpectedly. Despite her alarm and her downcast gaze, she had courage. 'You make it impossible for anybody to tell you anything. If I turned out to be wrong-if Elega did something else while you were guarding the reservoir-you would accuse us of conspiring to distract you.'

Yes, the Castellan mused, she was an interesting woman. And her turn was coming. Someday soon he would have her in his power. Then she would learn what it really meant to be accused. He would teach her thoroughly.

He still found it difficult to distrust the Apt: as the Domne's son and Artagel's brother, Geraden had an automatic claim on Castellan Lebbick's good opinion. And he had stopped Nyle. That may have been stupid, but it was certainly honourable.

The woman, on the other hand-

Curious, wasn't it, how she just happened to be the one who became suspicious of Elega-how she just happened to be the one who figured out what Elega was doing? All Lebbick knew of her was that she was an Imager. And that she acted like an enemy of Alend. And that High King Festten wanted her dead. And that she lied to him when the truth would have helped him serve his King. The rest was inference, speculation, dream-

The smile with which he regarded her would have curdled milk. Still addressing Geraden, he asked, 'Do you know what 'I'm going to have to do now?'

'Yes, Castellan.' The Apt sighed as though he anticipated more abuse. 'You're going to have to face this whole siege with only the spring for water.'

That's right. We've doubled our population. That spring doesn't give a tenth of what we need. We're going to have to ration water severely. I'm going to have to put pregnant women and tired old men and children on rations that will make them ache with thirst. Because you thought it would be fun to be a hero for a change. And that's not all.'

'No, it's not.'

Regardless of what Geraden felt, he faced Lebbick without flinching. The Castellan liked that. Not so long ago, the Apt would have flinched.

'You're also going to have to flush out the reservoir and all the pipes. If you don't do it- and do it soon-people who get thirstier than they can stand are going to start sneaking drinks. If they're weak enough, they'll die.

'Flushing everything will use water, too. You don't have much left to ration.'

The Castellan nodded. No matter how stupidly he behaved, the Apt wasn't stupid. In fact, considering his obvious intelligence, it was amazing how consistently he managed to go wrong.

'Are you sure she poisoned the water?'

Geraden frowned. 'Do you mean, am I sure she knew what she was doing? No. And I haven't tested it. But whatever was in those sacks was a powder, and it was green. I only know one kind of green powder. It's a tinct the Masters use. They call it 'ordeal'-it was first mixed by an Imager named Ortic. There must be a hundredweight of it stored in the laborium.' He didn't look away. That stuff will make you sick if you just get too much of it on your hands.'

'Is there a counter-agent?'

'Who knows? Imagers don't eat tinct. And they don't spend their time trying to cure people who do.'

'If I ask your Master Barsonage, will he be able to tell me if any ortical is missing?' 'No. Nobody supervises the Masters when they're working. Quite a few of them still

like to keep the ingredients they use secret. But one of the younger Apts might have noticed a sudden drop in the amount of ortical on the shelves.'

Again, the Castellan nodded. Without warning, he addressed Terisa for the first time. 'How did you know what the lady Elega was going to do?'

In a small voice, she replied, 'I guessed.' 'You guessedT

'I put together some things she said.' She became stronger as she spoke. They weren't

even enough to be called hints. I put them together and just guessed.'

'My lady,' Castellan Lebbick announced in a contented tone, 'I don't believe that.' Then he dismissed her and Geraden.

He didn't need to plan what had to be done. It was already clear to him, step by step. He was the Castellan of Orison: he knew how to serve his King. In the end, it made no difference what the odds were against him. How badly Orison was damaged. How much he was out-manned. How far King Joyse failed. Castellan Lebbick had made himself more like a sword than a man-and a sword knew nothing about surrender.

In the meantime, he had something to look forward to. That woman's turn was coming.

Geraden took her back to the peacock suite, then went to his own rooms to try to get some sleep. But neither of them slept much.

No one in Orison slept much.

Of course, many of the castle's inhabitants were awake because they were too tense to sleep, A large number of people didn't have that problem, however. They were guards who were either too experienced or too tired to stay awake; parents whose overexcited children had worn them out; merchants who knew that their own survival-and even their profits-would probably be more valuable rather than less after the siege, regardless of who won. They were servants who were so badly overworked that they couldn't afford sleeplessness; Masters who lacked imagination; lords who didn't understand and ladies who were philosophical.

These people didn't get much sleep because Castellan Lebbick and his men woke them up.

Despite his quickness, the Castellan was too late to save two old men who were accustomed to make several trips to the lavatory during the night, a handful of guards who came off watch and refreshed themselves before they were warned, and several children who roused their parents crying for water. But these unfortunate incidents at least served to confirm that Elega had poisoned the reservoir-that the harsh measures which Lebbick imposed on the castle were necessary. The children were desperately sick, but no one died except one of the old men.

And in the morning nearly everybody tried to crowd out on to the battlements or around a window to watch for the Alend army.

In that respect, Terisa and Geraden were fortunate. They had no trouble gaining access to the top of the tower which held her rooms.

During the night, the weather had turned cold again. A featureless grey cloud-wrack had closed down over Mordant, turning the castle and the landscape the colour of gloom; a chill wind blew like a scythe, reaping away every sign of an early spring. The nearby hills lost depth: the ones farther away looked higher,

more dangerous. The black trees tossed their limbs as if they were writhing. Corrupt snow still clung to most of the slopes, making the bare ground appear unwell. At first, she could hardly see: the cold felt like a slap, and the wind in her face made her eyes tear. Gradually, however, her vision improved until she was able to scrutinize the horizons in the direction of Armigite and Alend just as the crowds on the lower battlements and the people on the other towers did.

There was nothing to see.

For a long time, there was nothing to see. By degrees, the crowds thinned. Twice, Terisa and Geraden broke their vigil and returned to her rooms to get warm.

'When are they coming?' she asked.

'How should I know?' he replied with uncharacteristic asperity. He was taking his failure to stop Elega hard.

She knew how he felt and didn't blame him. 'Which direction are they going to come from?'

He repented his testiness. 'Along the road. That's longer, but it should be quicker. And it's the only way they can bring their supplies. Or the 'engines of war' we keep hearing about.'

When they went back outside, she learned that he was right. Warned by an indefinable stiffening of attention around her, she peered harder into the harsh wind and saw the vanguard of the Alend army coming.

It was on the northwest road from the Care of Armigite.

The Alend Monarch's flags flew in the hands of his standard-bearers. The grey light and the distance made them look black.

Slowly, the army marched towards Orison-a body of men which seemed huge beyond

counting. Soldiers on horses. Soldiers on foot. Dozens of drivers goading the mules that dragged the supply wains. Swarms of transformed servants and impressed peasants who steered and tended the lumbering siege-engines. And a second army of porters and camp-followers.

All come to take Orison away from Mordant's King.

Held by a kind of awe, she stared out from the tower and tried to imagine the amount of bloodshed which King Joyse's actions threatened to bring down on his people.

Perhaps he was imagining the same thing. Geraden nudged her and pointed towards the north tower. Squinting in that direction, she saw King Joyse standing before the parapets with Castellan Lebbick.

He looked small across the length of Orison, despite his heavy fur cloak. Both he and his Castellan studied the Alend advance without moving. Perhaps there was nothing they could do. The flags of Mordant had been raised over the battlements; but the King's personal banner snapped painfully from the end of a pole on the tower where he stood. It was a plain purple swath that might have looked jaunty and brave under bright sunlight. Now it looked like it was about to be torn away by the wind.

After a while, he and Castellan Lebbick left the tower.

For no reason that Terisa could see, Orison's trumpeter winded his horn. He may have been blowing a call to arms: it sounded more like a wail.

With ponderous precision, like a display of inevitability, Alend's army laid siege to the castle.

Ten thousand soldiers surrounded the walls and presented their weapons. The siege- engines were rolled into position. Then the Alends bugled a signal of their own, and a party of riders formed around the Alend Monarch's standard-bearer. The standard-bearer added a flag of truce to Margonal's assertive green-and-red pennon. Together, the flags and the riders approached the gates of Orison.

Orison's trumpeter responded. The gates rose.

With six men behind him, Castellan Lebbick rode out to meet the Alend party.

He wasn't surprised to see that the Alends were led by Prince Kragen. Nor, after his conversation with King Joyse, was he surprised by the fact that one of the riders was the lady Elega.

The two groups stopped and eyed each other across a short distance. The Prince was steady, but Elega didn't meet Castellan Lebbick's glare.

After a long silence, Prince Kragen said, 'Greetings, Castellan. Your King's folly has brought us to this.'

The Castellan was holding his horse with too tight a rein: the beast couldn't stand still. As it shied from side to side, he rasped, 'Say what you came to say and be done with it, my lord Prince. I have better things to do with my time.'

Prince Kragen's gaze darkened. 'Very well,' he snapped. 'Listen carefully, Castellan.'

In a formal tone, he announced, 'Margonal, the Alend Monarch and Lord of the Alend Lieges, sends greetings to Joyse, Lord of the Demesne and King of Mordant. The Alend Monarch asks King Joyse to meet with him under a flag of truce, so that together they may find some way to avert this conflict. King Joyse has refused to hear requests for peace from the Alend Monarch's ambassador. Nevertheless it is peace the Alend Monarch desires, and he will pursue that desire openly and fairly with King Joyse, if the King will consent to meet him.'

'A pretty speech,' Castellan Lebbick retorted without hesitation. 'Why should we believe you?'

'Because,' the Prince shot back, 'I do not need to make 'pretty speeches'. Your wall is broken-and not well repaired, I observe. You have no stores of clean water. Your men are too few. You cannot endure a siege, Castellan. The Alend Monarch has no reason to offer you peace-no reason except the sincerity of his desire.'

''The sincerity of his desire'.' Lebbick jerked at his mount, 'I like that-from an Alend. 'All right. Here's your answer.

'King Joyse asks me to point out to you-and to your illustrious father-that neither of you understands hop-board. You wouldn't have gotten as far as a stalemate without help. Instead of waving your swords at us, you ought to remember what happened the last time you went to war with Mordant.'

The wind cut between the horses. 'By the stars, Lebbick,' cried out the lady Elega, 'is he still playing hop-board? Tell him to surrender!'

The Castellan didn't shift his gaze from Prince Kragen's face. The King's daughter,' he remarked. That attack last night was a diversion, so she could get out of Orison.' As soon as King Joyse had said this, Lebbick had cursed himself for not realizing the truth

immediately. 'What do you plan to do with her now? Is she a hostage?'

Prince Kragen spat an oath. With an effort, he resumed his formal tone. The Alend Monarch welcomes the lady Elega as a friend. He has no intention of offering any harm, either to her,

or to her father in her person. This courtesy, also, he provides as a demonstration of his desire for peace.'

'I have an answer for that, too.' For the first time, Castellan Lebbick used the exact words he had been given. 'King Joyse replies. 'I am sure that my daughter Elega has acted for the best reasons. She carries my pride with her wherever she goes. For her sake, as well as for my own, I hope that the best reasons will also produce the best results.''

The lady Elega stared at Castellan Lebbick as if he had said something horrible.

'That is an answer?' demanded the Prince.

Take it and be satisfied,' the Castellan replied. 'You ought to like it better than the denunciation she deserves. Ask her'-King Joyse had specifically forbidden him to say this-'if she wants to know how many people died this morning.'

Prince Kragen ignored that jibe. 'You misunderstand me deliberately, Castellan. Have you given me your King's answer to the Alend Monarch's desire for truce? Is he that far out of his senses?'

Riding the strength of the fact that King Joyse had actually talked to him-however strangely-Castellan Lebbick had no trouble finding a retort. 'I don't advise you to put it to the test.'

Then hear me. Hear me well, Castellan.' Prince Kragen's anger was fierce. This is my last word.

'Your King leaves us no choice. We cannot 'be satisfied'. Cadwal is marching. You know that Cadwal is marching. Where we stand, we are more vulnerable than you to the High King's great force. We cannot defend you-or your people-or the Congery-'

'Or yourselves.'

'-or ourselves-if we do not take Orison. King Joyse compels us all to a war he cannot win, regardless of the cost to us. He must offer peace. By peace, or by blood, we must have Orison.'

The Castellan fought his horse still. 'That is your last word?' He was grinning. 'Yes!'

Then here's mine.' Lebbick knew what to say, although he didn't understand it. 'King Joyse assures the Alend Monarch that he has more choices than he realizes. King Joyse suggests you withdraw to the west of the Demesne and await developments. If you do that, he'll be glad to meet the Alend Monarch under a flag of truce and offer more suggestions.

'If you don't'-the Castellan could barely conceal his own surprise at the threat he had been instructed to deliver-'King Joyse intends to unleash the full force of the Congery against you and rout you from the earth!'

At the moment, he didn't care whether or not the King's gambit would succeed. He was simply glad that he had been allowed to say those words.

Silence seemed to shock the gathering. For a time, no one could respond. In spite of himself, Prince Kragen gaped in anger and dismay.

Then the lady Elega whispered intensely, 'Castellan Lebbick, you lie.' Her face was pale in the harsh wind. 'My father would never do such a thing.'

As if she had commanded it, the Prince snatched the flag of truce from the standard- bearer, broke its shaft across his knee, and threw the pieces into the road. Wheeling his mount, he led his party back to the Alend lines.

Castellan Lebbick and his men returned to Orison. The gates thudded shut behind them.

The Alend bugler sounded another call. All around the castle, camp-followers and servants began to unpack wagons and pitch tents. The siege of Orison had commenced.

'I've got to see Artagel,' Geraden said as if he were proposing to have his legs broken. 'He'll want to hear what's happened.' The cold made his nose run: he sounded congested and miserable. 'If he can't forgive me for letting Prince Kragen get away, at least there isn't anything worse he can do to me for letting Elega poison the water.'

Terisa offered to go with him, but he declined her company. He wanted to face his distress alone.

When he left, she went back to her rooms.

She had a great deal to think about. She needed to decide where she stood in relation to what was happening around her. She needed to define her own loyalties. She needed to decide how far she was willing-or able-to pursue the commitment she had apparently given Geraden by telling him about the connection between her dream and the augury.

Instead, she found herself thinking about Rev Thatcher.

She had worked for him for almost a year-long enough to forget why she had originally accepted the job as his mission secretary. Since then, what she tended to remember about him was his dogged ineffectuality. But she hadn't seen him that way at first. No, at first she had gone looking for a mission job to make up for the emptiness and wealth of her background, the uselessness which eroded her sense of herself. And she had taken the job Rev Thatcher offered because of his dedication against impossible poverty and callous disregard.

At the time, of course, she hadn't realized that he was ineffectual. Now, however, she began to wonder whether that perception were accurate. In his place, wouldn't Geraden have done just what he did? Wouldn't Geraden have held true in the face of any failure? Wasn't the real failure of her mission work in her -a failure of heart?

Wasn't it possible to live as if she could hear horns?

What she was thinking didn't solve anything. But it was necessary, and she stayed with it. At least it taught her to understand that she owed Rev Thatcher an apology.

Later, she became aware that she was tired enough to sleep.

The idea of a nap was unexpectedly appealing. She hadn't slept well the night before. And no amount of fatigue or wakefulness was going to do Orison any good. Humming to herself, she added wood to both fires to keep her rooms warm. Then she took off all her clothes, tossed them onto a chair, and slipped herself into bed.

For a while, she listened to the hungry wind scraping its claws on her window, on the corners of the tower. But as soon as the cool sheets gained heat from her skin, she fell asleep.

Deep in dreams, she received the delicious impression that she was being kissed.

A strong mouth covered hers. A tongue stroked her lips, probing delicately between

them. She tasted cloves.

Under the blankets, a hand caressed her belly, then moved up to her breasts. Its touch was just cool enough to make her nipples harden.

When she realized that she wasn't dreaming, she opened her eyes.

Master Eremis was bending over her; his pale gaze met hers. Her father had eyes like that. But the crinkles around them suggested that he was grinning.

He startled her so much that she clutched at the blankets and jerked her head away from him.

Pulling back a little, he withdrew his hand from her body. The ends of his chasuble swung carelessly against the front of his accustomed jet cloak. He was definitely grinning. In fact, he seemed to be in excellent spirits.

'My lady,' he said, 'I fear I have frightened you. Do forgive me.'

Staring up at him through the grey light from the windows, she thought that he was uglier than she remembered: his face was too much like a wedge; his hair sprouted too far back on his skull. Yet that only made the lively intelligence of his expression more magnetic.

She pulled the covers tightly over her shoulders and blinked at him in confusion. 'How-?'

The wardrobe.' His smile stretched wider. 'I was exploring hidden passages and had the good fortune to find your room.'

'Where-?' She sat up a bit. Her mind refused to function. She had been more deeply asleep than she realized. How had she gotten out of the habit of putting a chair in that wardrobe? 'Where were you? I thought I would see you.'

He seated himself on the edge of the bed, then reached out a hand and ran his fingertips down the line of her neck from her ear to her shoulder. 'I was required at home. I think I have mentioned Esmerel?' His touch felt like a signature on her skin. 'My grandfather called it our 'ancestral seat', though Esmerel is not really as grand as that. My father is still less grand, however, and does not use such language.'

Master Eremis plucked lightly at the sheet she held in front of her. 'In his blunt way, he demanded my presence. It seems that one of my brothers killed the other-although with that pair the truth has often been difficult to determine. My father wanted me in front of

him while he decided whether to disinherit the survivor in my favour.

'Esmerel is in the Care of Tor-fortunately only a ride of two days beyond the Broadwine. I have just returned.'

She could hardly swallow. If he went on looking at her like that, she was going to forget everything that had happened while he was away. His fingers were curled gently over the edge of the sheet covering her. Soon he would begin to pull it down, and she wouldn't be able to resist. She didn't know that she wanted to resist. Her head seemed to be full of forgotten dreams. It was impossible to think.

With an effort, she asked, 'What did he decide?'

The Imager shrugged to show his lack of interest. 'My father hates me. As do-or did- both my brothers. So it is remarkable that they have always done what I wished. I have no use for Esmerel at present. Therefore my brother will inherit it. If my father has the good sense to die soon.'

He leaned towards her, and his mouth took hers again. The scent of cloves seemed to fill her senses. His hand urged the sheet downward, and his tongue had to be answered. No, she couldn't resist. His palm rubbed her nipple until she shivered at his touch; then he cupped her breast possessively. She was his-

Somehow, she pushed him back. A flush on her cheeks, and breathing raggedly, she faced him as well as she could.'Why does your family hate you?'

His smile was gone: his eyes burned with an intensity that made her melt. 'My lady, I did not come here to discuss my family. I came to claim you at last.'

Without thinking, she rolled away from him and got out of bed. Momentarily defying her nakedness, she went to the chair where she had left her robe. Her hands shook as she pulled the velvet onto her shoulders and knotted the sash; her voice shook as she spoke.

'You were gone for a long time. I waited for you. I wanted to help you. I was ready-' Ready to do almost anything. 'But you didn't come. I didn't hear from you.'

Despite her resistance, she was close to panic at the thought that he might take offence and leave, that by retreating from him she had sacrificed her chance to be touched and kissed. He didn't look offended, however. His smile was too acute to be affectionate; yet he gazed at her with a new eagerness, as if she had become a challenge.

'My lady,' he said thoughtfully, 'I regret that you did not hear from me. That was not my intention. I sent word to you several times. But perhaps my messages were

intercepted.'

She started to ask, Who would intercept-? before she understood what he was saying. He hadn't meant to leave her without saying goodbye. That changed everything. Didn't it? Almost babbling, she said, 'You sent messages with Saddith, But she's your lover. She wants you for herself, so she didn't give me any of your messages.'

For an instant, the Master's eyes widened as if she had surprised him. A grin quickly altered his expression, however. Now his excitement was unmistakable. His tone was both careful and jocose as he said, 'My lady, you cannot possibly be jealous of a maid like Saddith. Nearly all the men she has ever known have been between her legs. I can believe that she did not deliver my messages. But I cannot believe it matters that I have taken advantage of her crass charms.'

Terisa's emotions were in an alarming muddle. Her relief that he had tried to send word to her lasted only a moment: it was replaced almost at once by the sense that the information came too late. It didn't change anything after all. She had made her commitment without him-had put herself on Geraden's side. And not just by default: not just because the Apt was present and Master Eremis was absent. She had chosen Geraden because to distrust him-to spy on him, to betray him, as the Master had demanded-was intolerable. If only Eremis had come to her sooner- She bit her lip to try to keep her distress from showing on her face.

Still smiling, he studied her narrowly. After a moment, he said, 'Saddith is of no importance, however. I will dispense with her to please you. You asked about my family.'

She nodded dumbly, hanging on every word he said while her heart hurt.

'It is a small family. Esmerel is a small estate, though beautiful. My grandfather was a man of high intelligence-and even higher refinement. He had an exceptional understanding of both knowledge and pleasure. And he dabbled in Imagery. In truth, one of our family legends is that he was acquainted with the arch-Imager Vagel. Of course, that was years-or perhaps decades-before the wars for Mordant, during which the arch- Imager went into High King Festten's service.

'Unhappily, my grandfather had but one son, and that one son was a lout. Beauty and refinement were as blank as stone walls to him. He understood nothing except violence- and the pleasures of violence. When he came into possession of Esmerel, he spent years debauching its beauties as well as himself. Then he became a petty brigand to preserve some semblance of wealth in his ''ancestral seat'.

The accidental result of his debauchery was that he had three sons. The first was an exact duplicate of himself-therefore much loved. The second was a bit smaller, a bit less muscular, and a bit more cunning-therefore tolerable.

'I was the third.'

The Master's voice was part of his spell. Terisa expected him to move towards her. The way he studied her made her feel that he was moving towards her. Her pain seemed to hypnotize her. But he remained motionless beside the bed.

'Fortunately,' he observed, 'I was a good deal stronger than I looked. To all appearances, I was the runt of the litter, and my father despised me accordingly. For that reason, my brothers sought to earn his approval by tormenting me.' He spoke calmly; but the glint in his eyes was as calm as a hatchet. 'On one occasion, I recall, they locked me in a wooden shed and set it afire to see what I would do.'

Breathing through parted lips as if she were rapt-or appalled

-she asked, 'What did you do?'

He chuckled. 'I tricked them. I was no heir to Esmerel, but I was my grandfather's heir in intelligence. Before I was old enough to be afraid, I was clever enough to protect myself. And soon I learned that the surest protection was to turn them all against each other. So I set out to teach each of them that he needed my help against the others. With a little judicious prodding, I was able-to make them do whatever I wished.'

Drawn by what he described-things which must have been acutely painful-things which reminded her of closets and fading

-she took a step towards him. 'What did you make them do?'

He betrayed a glint of anticipation. 'I made them all good citizens of the Care of Tor. I tamed my brothers. I deprived my father of his debaucheries. And I made them restore the resources of knowledge which Esmerel had once boasted, so that I could claim my grandfather's true inheritance. It was his interest and researches which led me into Imagery.

'Since leaving Esmerel, I have done what I can to keep my family from bestiality. But a distance of two days' ride seems like the world to men like them. I regret that there was nothing I could do to prevent the altercation that left my father's firstborn dead.' His manner suggested that his regret wasn't especially profound.

She took another step. His pale gaze seemed to be devouring her. 'You came to claim

me. What do you want me to do?'

He opened his hands as if to show her their strength. Take off your robe.'

She touched hersash as a giddy acquiescence swept through her. But she shook it away. 'I mean after that. What do you want me to do for Mordant?'

'Why must there be an 'after that'?' he countered. 'I will content your womanhood in ways you have not dreamed.'

In a small voice, she insisted, 'I want to help you. I want to help Mordant.'

'Very well.' As though he were confident that she already knew and had accepted the answer, he replied, Together, we will persuade Castellan Lebbick and the Congery that Geraden has betrayed us.'

When he said that, her heart gave a lurch-and then her courage was gone, as if he had kicked out the bottom of her spirit. Geraden? Was he back to Geraden?-still arguing that Geraden was in league with Gilbur and Vagel? Or did he have some new accusation to level against her only friend? She barely had the fortitude to ask, 'What has he done?'

'Done? What has he not done? Has he not convinced you that I am a traitor?' She shook her head.

Then he is wiser than I thought. You would have become suspicious of him if he had tried to turn you against me.'

The Master considered her for a moment, then said, 'Because he has been wise, you will probably not believe that he arranged to leave you alone in the bazaar so that Gart could attack you.

You will probably not believe that his failure to stop Elega was no accident.' She stared at him in frank horror.

Those are subtle points,' he went on. 'I grant it is difficult to credit him with such subtlety. But I will tell you something you must believe. Cadwal is marching. Have you never asked yourself why Cadwal is marching? Have you never wondered why High King Festten feels he must attack now?' Terisa didn't reply. Her mind was blank with dismay. A new accusation. New reasons to believe that the only man who cared about her and encouraged her and stayed with her was a traitor.

'In the ordinary course of events,' Eremis explained, 'the High King's spies must have told him that Alend was coming to Orison. What would he do?' His voice was like the wind, growing harsher as it filled the room. Light from the hearth made his face unnaturally ruddy. 'On one side is the risk that Orison might fall, giving the Congery into the Alend Monarch's hands. But with Castellan Lebbick-if not our good King-defending the castle, that is unlikely. On the other side is the certainty that the forces of Perdon would be drawn to Orison's support. Alend and Mordant might easily cripple each other in that battle-and then everything the High King wants could be taken almost without cost. Why did he not wait for his enemies to destroy each other?

'I will tell you why, my lady.' The Master made a short, brutal gesture with both hands. 'He did not wait because he knew of Elega's intentions. He knew our danger was greatly increased by the fact that Orison would be betrayed from within by Prince Kragen's allies.

'Think, woman. How could High King Festten have known that Orison would be betrayed to Alend? By Imagery, his Mono-mach can enter or leave the castle-although how this is done remains a mystery. But access to our halls does not give him access to our secrets. Who but a traitor would tell Gart that Elega meant to poison the reservoir, depriving us of water and exposing us to summary defeat?'

'No,' Terisa murmured. She wanted to collapse into a chair. 'No.'

Master Eremis ignored her protest. 'And who but Geraden knew the danger?'

'But he was attacked,' she objected. 'By Imagery. Twice. They tried to kill him-Gilbur- Vagel-'

'Whelp of a bitch!' Eremis sounded furious. 'Those were ploys, woman. Tricks. They show only that Gilbur and Vagel are desperate that you do not turn against their ally. By attacking Geraden, they make him appear innocent. The truth is that they feign his death for the same reason that they actively desire yours

-so that you will not expose him.

'If he had not been rescued as he was, I assure you that they would have recalled their insects before he was slain.'

She was no longer looking at the Imager. She wasn't looking at anything. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 'How could I expose him?'

'You have been with him for many days. You have watched him, spoken to him, studied him. And you met him in private in your own world, before he translated you

here. You alone possess the knowledge-the experience-that will persuade the Congery of his treachery.'

'No,' she repeated softly. She wasn't speaking to him, however. She was speaking to herself. She hardly heard what he said: she heard only his voice, his anger, the threat of losing him. Geraden was no traitor. Of course not. She knew that precisely because she had spent so much time with him. But she was being forced to a choice. No, more than that. She was being forced to do something about what she believed. She couldn't defend Geraden without turning her back on Master Eremis and everything he represented.

'You said you wished to help Mordant.' He spoke in a hectoring tone that reminded her of her father. 'While you protect the man who betrays us, we are doomed.'

What could she do? She couldn't argue with him. She had never been able to argue with her father. She could only take his side or refuse. That was clear enough.

Quietly, she asked, 'What're you going to do to me?'

Take off your robe,' he snapped. 'Your body, at least, will not disappoint me.'

Now at last she understood the anger and secret triumph she had so often heard in her father's voice, the desire to inflict pain. For that reason, what she had to do was clear to her in the end

-clear and simple-and so difficult that it was nearly impossible.

Her hands were on the sash of her robe. Deliberately, she pulled it tighter. 'No,' she said to the Master.

She thought that he would shout at her or strike her. He started towards her, and his expression sharpened into a grin of violence. Instead of shouting, however, he whispered intensely, 'My lady, I have claimed you. I have placed my hands and my kisses where you will never forget them.' He was close enough to grasp her shoulders. Echoing firelight, his hot gaze held her. 'Every curve of your flesh and pulsebeat of your womanhood desires me, and I will not be refused.'

He pulled her to him and kissed her forcefully. Somehow, her robe was gone from between them. He felt as hard as iron against her inexperienced belly.

She didn't struggle: she felt too weak to struggle. But her body had gone cold; her nerves and her sore heart no longer responded to him. His kiss was only pressure against her face, nothing more. His hardness had lost its fascination.

No, she protested. I said no.

Someone knocked at her door so hard that it thudded against the latch.

Swearing viciously, Master Eremis pushed her away. For an instant, he measured the distance to the wardrobe. 'Do not answer!' he hissed.

She was about to faint. 'I forgot to lock it.'

Without waiting for admission, Geraden burst into the room and slammed the door behind him.

But when he saw Terisa standing near the doorway to the bedroom with her robe open and Master Eremis near her, he stopped as if he were turned to stone.

Convulsively, she jerked the robe closed and sashed it. Surprise and mortification made her feel like a lunatic. She sounded like a lunatic as she asked, 'How is Artagel?'

The Master's eyes were savage.

Geraden stared at Terisa as though she were appalling. 'I didn't go see him.'

Then what did you do, boy?' inquired the Imager. 'It must have been quite interesting, if it drives you to enter a lady's bedchamber so discourteously.'

Terisa.' With the light of the hearth behind him, Geraden's features were dark. His gaze glittered at her out of the shadows. Tell him to leave.'

Master Eremis made a snickering noise in the back of his throat. She was facing Geraden: she didn't know that the Master had moved until she felt him beside her. He put one arm around her waist. With the other, he slid his hand into her robe and began to fondle her breast. The lady Terisa,' he said, 'does not wish me to leave.'

Shame flushed down the length of her body. 'Please,' she breathed to Eremis, to Geraden, on the verge of weeping. Don't do this to me. It doesn't mean what you think. 'Please.'

'In fact, it was interesting,' Geraden replied in a voice thick with blood. 'I had a talk with Saddith.'

Terisa felt Master Eremis stiffen. Slowly, he took back his hand, although he didn't release her. 'What an odd thing to do. Almost as odd as the urgency you attach to it. Are you quite sure you are well, boy?'

With an effort, she swallowed the distress that clogged her throat. She felt that she was fighting for her life. 'What did Saddith say?'

Without a glance at the Imager, Geraden retorted, 'Your guards told me you were alone. How did he get in here?'

She knew immediately that Master Eremis didn't want her to answer. She could feel his will in the harsh strength of his grasp.

The wardrobe,' she said thinly. The secret passage.' Geraden nodded once, abruptly. 'And how did he know it was there?'

In an even tone, as though he were in danger of becoming bored, Eremis drawled, 'He had no idea it was there. He was exploring a passage new to him and found the lady Terisa's rooms by chance.'

The Apt turned a gaze like stone on the Master. Shadows shifted along his jaw. 'Actually, that's not true.' Then he addressed Terisa again. 'How did Saddith become your maid?'

She was having difficulty breathing: the pressure growing in her chest seemed to cramp her lungs. 'King Joyse told her to take care of me.' 'Did he choose her himself?' It was astonishing how vividly the memory came back to her.

The King had said, Saddith will attend upon you as your maid, He had even greeted her by saying, Just the one I wanted. But he hadn't looked pleased.

'I don't think so. He didn't ask for her by name. He just told the guard I needed a maid.'

'I begin to see why you found this so interesting,' commented Master Eremis. He seemed to be laughing to himself. Trivial matters always interest men who fail at everything else,'

Terisa'-now Geraden's tone cast hints of authority, as if he stood taller under the weight of the Master's derision-'do you remember what we talked about after the first time Gart tried to kill you?'

Dumbly, she shook her head. She couldn't think. That memory was gone, as blank as the previous one was distinct. The dim grey light from the windows appeared to be failing.

'We talked about how he found you.'

How he found me.

'It was obvious that he had an ally in Orison. Somebody must have told him where you were.'

That is very good, Geraden,' Master Eremis sneered. 'A prodigious display of reasoning. Somebody must indeed have told him. Perhaps it was you. You knew where she was. I have heard that her room was guarded at your request.'

Terisa didn't look away from Geraden.

He met her gaze to the exclusion of everything else. 'Saddith didn't tell me as much as I wanted. But she told me enough so I can guess the rest. She volunteered to be your maid.'

Volunteered?

'I wondered about that. Why would she volunteer, when the only people who knew you were here-and knew you were important-were King Joyse and the Masters? With a little prodding, she told me. She did it to please one of her lovers. Or rather someone she wanted for a lover. One of the Masters. He asked her to take care of you for his sake, and she did it to make him grateful.'

A log fell in the hearth; flames spurted higher. Gently, Master Eremis wrapped his long fingers around the back of Terisa's neck.

That's also how he found out about the secret passage to your room,' Geraden went on. 'From her. She could hardly help noticing you kept a chair in your wardrobe.'

This is outrageous, boy.' The Master's grip on the back of Terisa's neck tightened. 'Have you lost your mind? Do you seriously mean to accuse me-me!-of being in league with the High King's Monomach?' Beneath his scorn ran an undercurrent of mirth.

Still Geraden kept his hard gaze on Terisa, away from Master Eremis. 'He's one of the few people who knew where you were that first night. He's one of the few who know about that secret passage. And he's the only one who could have set up that ambush for you after the lords met Prince Kragen. He's the only one who knew you would be there. He took you.

'He put you right in front of the champion so you might get shot. You were together- but he escaped. He could have taken you with him. He could have stopped me. Why didn't he?'

The fires seemed to be dying. The suite was filling up with gloom. Geraden, help me. He's going to break my neck.

'Geraden,' said the Master casually, 'this is inexcusable. You have gone beyond insult.' The pressure of his fingers began to make Terisa light-headed. 'You cannot place the blame for your own crimes on my shoulders. I will not carry it.'

Geraden shifted his glare to Eremis.

'All of this is silly supposition except the question of Gart's attempt on her life after the meeting of the Lords. And that you could have arranged as well as I. Your brother Artagel was following her. You knew at all times where she was. It is only good fortune that Gart did not come upon all the lords together. Some of them would surely have died.'

'Let her go,' the Apt said in a voice like a piece of granite. 'If you have to have a hostage, take me. I'm a lot more dangerous than she is.'

At that, Master Eremis laughed like a splash of acid. 'Oh, you flatter yourself, boy.

You flatter yourself.'

Before she could try to twist free, she heard the sound of someone thrashing his way through clothes. In a sudden flurry, her wardrobe disgorged most of its contents, and a man burst out from the hidden passage.

His cloak and leather armour were so black that he seemed like an incarnation of the darkness behind him; he moved like a shadow. But the long steel of his sword caught reflections of fire and scattered them in front of them. His nose jutted between his yellow eyes like the blade of a hatchet.

He sprang into the room, coiled for bloodshed.

Nevertheless he was unmistakably surprised to find Master Eremis, Terisa, and Geraden all in front of him. Despite himself, he checked his attack. The aim of his sword wavered.

'Gart!' Master Eremis shouted. 'Whelp of a dog! Your timing is miraculous!'

So quickly that his movement staggered her, he released Terisa and bounded to the bed. While Gart swung into motion, Master Eremis snatched down the peacock-feather canopy and flung it over Garf s head.

At the same moment, Geraden grabbed Terisa and jerked her away, thrust her into the sitting room behind him. She stumbled towards the fire, barely caught her balance.

With a wet sound like water on hot iron, Gart's sword swept the canopy to shreds.

Feathers settled to the floor on all sides: their eyes watched everything.

Master Eremis jumped up onto the bed.

As he faced the Monomach, firelight glared across his features. The red flash gave him a look of almost ghoulish glee as he pitched a pillow at Gart.

Snarling, Gart separated the pillowcase from its stuffing with the tip of his sword so fiercely that the pillow appeared to explode. Feathers billowed towards the ceiling and came snowing down on him.

Instantly, a second pillow followed the first.

This one, however, he caught on the flat of his blade. Swinging his longsword like a bat, he sent the pillow back at Master Eremis.

It hit him in the chest hard enough to knock him against the wall. Gart turned on Geraden and Terisa.

'Guards!' roared Master Eremis before the High King's Monomach could strike.

'Guards!'

For the second time, Gart was startled enough to hesitate. He stopped the driving swing which had carried him into the sitting room-the swing which would have carried Geraden's head from his body. Swiftly, the Monomach gauged the distance past Geraden to Terisa; he looked at the door as the latch lifted; he glanced over his shoulder at Eremis.

With his left hand, he reached to his belt and produced a keen iron dirk.

As the door pounded open and the first guard started into the room, Gart cocked his arm.

A third pillow thumped against his shoulder and spoiled his aim. He missed Terisa. Master Eremis let out a cackle of laughter.

Now the Monomach had no time for hesitation. Cursing vehemently, he met the first

guard's blow with his sword, then kicked the man's legs out from under him. While the second struggled to avoid trampling his comrade, Gart retreated into the bedroom.

Without a glance at Master Eremis, he dived into the wardrobe.

'After him!' Eremis yelled at the guards. That passage leads to Havelock's chambers!

Go! I will summon reinforcements!'

Terisa saw the guards falter distinctly before they plunged into the wardrobe. Perhaps they didn't want to face the High King's Monomach in a narrow place. Or perhaps they were reluctant to intrude on Adept Havelock's private domain-especially if, as Master Eremis seemed to suggest, the Adept were in league with Gart,

With a bouncing stride, Master Eremis left the bed and came into the sitting room. The glow of the fire and his own mirth lit his face, but Terisa thought he had never looked more dangerous. Briskly, he approached Geraden and stabbed a finger at the Apt's chest.

'I intend to call a meeting of the Congery.' Despite his humorous expression, his tone was savage. 'You will answer me for this in front of the Masters, boy.'

'No, I won't,' Geraden replied unsteadily. 'They've disbanded themselves.'

Master Eremis snorted. 'Again you are mistaken. Quillon holds them together with the King's authority.'

Flourishing his chasuble like a threat under Geraden's nose, he left the room. Geraderf s features twisted as if he had just been kicked in the stomach.

Terisa sat straight down on the floor. The noise of the guards' boots echoed dimly out of the wardrobe, but she heard nothing that sounded like the clash of swords.