MASTER EREMIS IN EARNEST

'ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?' Geraden asked. His tone wasn't sympathetic.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, Terisa clamped her hands to the sides of her head to keep her mind from flying apart. She didn't understand: none of it made any sense. Master Eremis. Gart. What were they doing to her?

Terisa?'

And why was Geraden so angry at her? He was her friend. Why was he suddenly blind to her pain?

'Did he hurt you?'

He was her friend. He must have a good reason for snarling at her as if she had broken his heart. She struggled to concentrate. The room was full of disaster. She had to think.

Heavy boots hammered the stone. Three guards burst into the room with their swords out. Master Eremis had certainly gotten their attention. Once in the room, however, they hesitated, waving their blades warily, until Geraden snapped, There's a wardrobe in the bedroom with a passage behind it.' Then they charged away. The boards of the wardrobe resounded as they went through it.

How many different kinds of pain were there? There was the dull ache where Master Eremis had gripped the back of her neck. There was the grief that seemed to throb in the secret places of her heart. There was the sharp strain around her chest which grew tighter every time Geraden spoke to her in that clenched and bitter tone. There was the belaboured sensation inside her skull, as if her mind had been beaten with clubs.

And somewhere else-somewhere indefinable-there was a new certainty as pure as a knife. It needed a name. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much: because she had no name for it.

Dully, she said, 'At least now we know he and Gart aren't working together.'

'Terisa.' That word would have sounded like a cry if Geraden hadn't whispered it so softly.

Before she could reply, another voice intervened. 'Don't torture yourself, Geraden,' Castellan Lebbick said from the doorway. Four more guards clattered past him on their way to the wardrobe. 'She isn't worth it.'

She scrambled to her feet so that she wouldn't appear so defeated in front of the Castellan.

Geraden stood with his back to the wall, his arms folded like fetters across his chest. His face looked like a stone mask from which all the joy had been chipped away. Firelight reflected out of his eyes, as dry as fever.

'Save your insults, Castellan,' he rasped quietly. 'We don't need them,'

Castellan Lebbick cocked an eyebrow, 'All right. I'll be civil. You be cooperative. For a change. What happened?'

Geraden seemed to shrink slightly, as if he were being compacted by the pressure of his grip on himself-as if he were squeezing himself down to his essence. 'We were attacked. The High King's Monomach tried to kill her again.'

A grin pulled the Castellan's lips back from his teeth. 'And you're still alive? How did you manage that?'

'Master Eremis saved us. He fought Gart off until the guards came in.' 'Master Eremis? What was he doing here?'

Bitterly, Geraden didn't look at Terisa.

With an effort, she met Lebbick's gaze. 'He came to see me.' 'And do you always receive him dressed like that?'

In shame, she bit her lip. Shame was yet another kind of pain. Somehow, she murmured, 'He came when I was asleep.'

The Castellan turned back to Geraden. 'Apparently, Master Eremis was welcome. In that case, what were you doing here?' I doubt that either one of them invited you.'

'When I arrived,' Geraden said like a piece of the wall where he stood, 'her guards said she was alone. Don't you want to know how he got in? Don't you want to know how Gart got in?'

'Go on. Tell me.'

'Both of them used the secret passage behind her wardrobe.'

At that, Castellan Lebbick drew a hissing breath through his teeth. 'Bollocks! How did they know about it?'

'Saddith and Master Eremis are lovers. In fact, she volunteered to be Terisa's maid to please him. She noticed the chair in the wardrobe and told him about it. I presume he told Gart.'

'Wait a moment. You said Master Eremis saved you. Now you say he is in league with Gart?'

'Where else could Gart find out about the passage?' retorted the Apt. 'Who else knew enough to tell him? There's just me and Terisa. Saddith and Master Eremis. And you, Castellan. Even Artagel doesn't know about it.'

Involuntarily, Terisa remembered that Myste knew.

Clenching his fists on his hips, the Castellan rasped, 'All right. If Gart knew, why didn't he use it to kill her long ago?'

'At first,' Geraden said, 'he didn't know. Saddith told Master Eremis where Terisa was, but she didn't know any more than that. I don't know when she found the passage. And I don't know when he got her to tell him about it. I certainly don't know how busy Gart is. But I think Master Eremis decided he wanted to let her live because he wanted her for himself. He didn't tell Gart about the passage until the Alend army arrived and they both ran out of time.'

Abruptly, Castellan Lebbick turned on Terisa. 'Is this true? Have you been making it worthwhile for Master Eremis to keep you alive when he really wants you dead?'

His tone made her wince. She was starting to understand Geraden's hurt, and his reasons dismayed her. Nevertheless she met the Castellan squarely.

'He did save us.' And her certainty was precise, if only she could put a name to it. 'He said he's going to make Geraden answer for this in front of the Congery.'

She wasn't prepared for the virulence with which Lebbick snarled under his breath, 'Bitch!' Fortunately, he swung back to Geraden too soon to see her flinch.

'I have a few questions myself. I want to know how you suddenly became an expert on what Saddith does or doesn't tell her lovers. And I want to know some of the things you haven't told me yet.

'But as it happens you're not my only problem right now. I have the rest of Orison to worry about. I'll wait until the Congery meets.

'When my men come back from not finding Gart, tell them to report to me.' Brusquely, Castellan Lebbick strode to the door and left.

Without thinking about what she was doing, Terisa turned towards the fire so that she wouldn't have to look at Geraden. She was afraid to look at him. He was so hurt- And almost everything he believed about her was true. He had saved her from her own weakness. Master Eremis had claimed her-and she had resisted him so little. Even

choosing against him, she had been unable to struggle. Shame seemed to demoralize her; she couldn't face the accusation of his pain.

Yet her cowardice disgusted her. He had never let fear prevent him from doing anything for her. At last, she forced herself to turn again and meet his distress.

'Geraden, I-'

He hadn't shifted his stance an inch. Dim grey from the windows and dull red from the hearth lay along the stone lines of his cheeks and jaw, his straight nose, his strong forehead. Not a muscle moved. His hair curled into darkness.

But his eyes were closed.

This was her fault: he was in so much pain because of her. Because he had found her nearly naked with Master Eremis. Because he had seen the Master touch her so intimately. Helplessly, she asked, 'What're we going to do?'

He didn't open his eyes. Perhaps the sight of her was intolerable. When he spoke, he couldn't restrain his voice. It shook as if he were freezing.

'I need to know whose side you're on. You don't have to tell me anything else. You have to make your own choices. I can't tell you who to love. But I'm going to have to stand up in front of the Masters and tell them everything I can think of. They aren't going to want to believe me. I've spent too many years making too many mistakes.

'You're my only witness. You're the only one who can tell them I'm telling the truth. If you're planning to call me a liar-' He couldn't go on.

She wanted to reply at once, but his distress closed her throat. What could she say? Nothing was adequate. He had touched her near the point of her certainty; but she still didn't know what to call it.

Yet she was unable to bear his rigid silence. Somehow, she mustered an answer.

'I didn't invite Master Eremis here. He came while I was asleep. That's why I'm dressed like this. He wanted me to choose between you.'

A muscle twitched in Geraden's cheek, a knot of pain.

'I think he's probably the only man in Orison who has a chance to save Mordant. He has the ability to make things happen.' That was the limit of her honesty. 'But I chose you.'

His eyes popped open. A subtle alteration of the planes and lines of his expression made him appear both astonished and suspicious. His voice continued to shake.

'Your robe was open.' 'He did that. I didn't.'

For a long moment, he remained motionless-and yet, in spite of the fact that he wasn't moving, she seemed to see the entire structure of his face being transfigured, the whole landscape behind his eyes and emotions reforming. He didn't smile: he wasn't ready for that. But the potential for a smile was restored.

Slowly, he unbent his arms from his chest. Slowly, he reached out his hand and stroked her cheek as if to wipe away tears she hadn't shed.

Unable to hold back, she flung her arms around him and hugged him desperately, as if he could cure her shame.

The embrace with which he answered her was as tight and needy as hers, as hungry for solace. And somehow, because he wanted so much from her, he gave her what she needed.

A short time later, nine guards came trooping up out of the passage behind the wardrobe. They had nothing of any use to report.

The grey afternoon wore down towards evening. All around Orison, campfires glimmered against the wind. Tents everywhere formed a ripple of hillocks over the bare ground. Even the siege-engines looked small in this light, at this distance. Wind thudded without remorse at the windowpanes of Terisa's rooms, until the atmosphere felt crowded and bitter, full of threats. Late afternoon brought her an incongruous visitor: the seam-

ster, Mindlin, come to deliver her new clothes. He wanted to give them a second fitting, to be sure that she was satisfied- perhaps he thought her approval would have some value when the siege was over-but she accepted them and sent him away.

For the fourth or fifth time, she said, 'We've got to do something.'

Geraden sighed. 'I know the feeling. But I'm not exactly brimming with ideas.'

She needed to put her certainty into words, so that it would be good for something. It would come to her, she told herself, if she stopped pushing it. Or if she pushed it in the right way. Abruptly, she shook off her irresolution.

'You wanted to talk to Artagel, but you didn't get the chance. Why don't you do that now?'

The suggestion surprised him. 'What's that going to accomplish?' 'It might make you feel better.'

'And you think I might not get another chance? You think I might have a little trouble getting my brother to forgive me after I've been tossed in the dungeon for treachery?'

She couldn't suppress a grin. 'I didn't say that.'

'You didn't have to.' In spite of himself, he caught her mood. 'I said it for you.'

'So you did. If you think it's such a terrible idea'-now she was grinning broadly-'I'm afraid I'll have to apologize for bringing it up.'

At once, he waved his hands defensively. 'No, no. Anything but that. I'll do it.' His playfulness faded almost immediately, however. 'Do you want to come with me?'

She shook her head.

'What are you going to do?'

Firmly as if she were sure of herself, she said, 'I'm going to make sense out of this.

Somehow.'

He spent a moment studying her. Then, in a purposely sententious tone, he said, 'My lady, I've got the strongest feeling you'll succeed.'

'Oh, get out of here,' she returned, 'before I really do start to apologize.'

Nevertheless she hoped that he was right. As soon as he was gone, she got dressed, putting on her warm new riding clothes and her winter boots because she didn't want to be hampered by her more ladylike gowns. Then she went to see the King.

She had no clear plan in mind. She simply wanted him to intervene on Geraden's behalf.

As she climbed the stairs towards the royal suite, however, she remembered more and more vividly that she had lied to the King the last time she had talked to him. And she

still had no idea how he had guessed that she had helped his daughter Myste sneak out of Orison. Before she reached his door, she was tempted to turn back.

The ordeal Geraden had ahead of him determined her to keep going. He needed answers. She needed answers in order to help him. If King Joyse would do nothing else for her-or for the Domne's son-or for Mordant-he might at least supply a few answers. The chance was worth what it might cost her.

And if the King refused to see her, she could always talk to the Tor.

The guards outside the suite saluted her. Practising steadiness, she asked them if she could be admitted. One of them stayed at the door while the other entered the suite. A moment later, she was given permission to go in.

Her pulse was labouring enough to make her regret her temerity. Blind to the room's luxurious appointments, she had eyes only for the three old men sitting like bosom companions before the ornate fireplace.

King Joyse lay as much as sat in an armchair with his legs stretched over a hassock towards the fire. His purple velvet robe showed the benefits of a recent cleaning, and his cheeks were freshly shaved: his appearance, if not his posture, suggested readiness.

In contrast, the Tor slumped as if his skeleton no longer had enough willpower to support his fat. Like his flesh, his robe spilled over the arms of his chair; the green fabric was stained with splotches of wine. Too plump to look haggard, his face sagged like wet laundry. He gave the impression that he had become so involved in Orison's preparations for defence that he had stopped taking care of himself.

Between the two old friends sat the King's Dastard, Adept Havelock, looking grimier and loonier than ever in his ancient surcoat, with his unruly tufts of hair and his disfocused gaze.

All three men held large, elegant goblets.

All three turned their heads towards Terisa as she was announced. The Tor peered at her through a haze of exhaustion and wine. Adept Havelock licked his lips salaciously. King Joyse nodded, but didn't smile.

She had been hoping that he would smile. It would have done her good to see his luminous smile again.

He greeted her casually; his tone implied that he was a bit the worse for drink. 'My lady, come join us.' His cheeks were red, scraped raw with shaving, but behind their

colour his skin looked pale. Tour yourself some wine.' He nodded towards a decanter and extra goblets on a table against the panelled wall. 'It's quite good-a fine wine from-' A look of perplexity crossed his face. 'Where did you say this wine is from?' he asked the Tor.

The Tor shook himself as if he were in danger of falling asleep. 'Rostrum. A small village near the border of Termigan and Domne, where the babes drink wine instead of n ilk from their mothers' breasts, and even the children can do exquisite things with grapes. Rostrum wine.'

King Joyse nodded again. 'Rostrum wine,' he said to Terisa. 'Have some. We're celebrating.'

She stood in the centre of the thick blue and red rug and tried to watch all three men simultaneously. 'What're you celebrating?'

Adept Havelock giggled.

'Are we celebrating?' The Tor's voice sounded damp. 'I thought we were grieving.' 'Grieving? My old friend.' King Joyse glanced at the Tor kindly. 'What for? This is a

celebration, I tell you.'

'Oh, of course, my lord King.' The Tor waggled a hand. 'A celebration. I misspoke.' His fatigue was plain. 'Orison has been invested by the Alend Monarch. Your daughter has poisoned our water. While we sit here, the men of Perdon die, spending themselves without hope against Cadwal. And the royal Imager, Adept Havelock'-he inclined his head courteously in Have-lock's direction-'has burned to death our only clue as to where

-and who-our chief enemy is. We do well to celebrate, since we can accomplish nothing with sorrow.'

'Nonsense,' replied the King at once. Although his expression was grave, he appeared to be in good spirits. Things aren't as bad as you think. Lebbick knows a trick or two about sieges. We still have plenty of Rostrum wine, so we don't need much water. As soon as he realizes we can't reinforce him, the Perdon is going to back off and let Festten through. That will stop the killing.'

He seemed unaware that what he was saying didn't convey much reassurance. 'And the death of the prisoner?' inquired the Tor glumly.

King Joyse dismissed that question. 'Also, we have another reason to celebrate. The lady Terisa is here. Aren't you, my lady?' he asked Terisa, then went on speaking to the

Tor. 'Unless I've gotten it all wrong, she's here to tell us that she has found a new cure for stalemate.'

Again Adept Havelock giggled.

For a second, Terisa nearly lost her head. A cure! A cure for stalemate! She wanted to laugh feverishly. Did King Joyse really think this was all just one big game of hop- board? Then they were all doomed.

Fortunately, she caught hold of her reason for being here before all her thoughts veered off into panic. Geraden. That was the important thing. Geraden.

'I don't know anything about stalemates. Or cures.' Her tone was too curt. She made an effort to moderate it. 'My lord King. I came because I'm worried about Geraden. Master Eremis is going to try to ruin him in front of the Congery.'

The King gave her his attention politely. ''Ruin him', my lady?'

'He and Master Eremis are going to accuse each other of betraying Mordant.' 'I see. And don't you call that a stalemate?'

'No.' She wasn't getting through. She had to do better. 'No, my lord King. The Congery will believe Master Eremis.' And yet she was certain-'But he's lying.'

The Tor twisted in his seat to study her more closely. With a show of effort, Adept Havelock picked up his chair, turned it, and plumped it down again so that he could sit facing her.

King Joyse, however, gazed towards the fire. 'Master Eremis?' he asked as if he were losing interest. 'Lying? That would be risky. He might get caught. Only innocent men can afford to tell lies.'

'My lady,' said the Tor quietly, 'such accusations are serious. Master Eremis is a man of proven stature. The Congery might have some justification to take the word of one of their own number over the charges of a mere failed Apt. How do you know that Master Eremis is lying?'

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she say? The piece of information lodged in her brain refused to come clear. Something Master Eremis had said-or revealed- Or was it Geraden? After a moment, she admitted, 'I haven't figured that out yet.'

'I see, my lady.' The old lord returned his attention to the fire. 'You simply trust Geraden. That is understandable. I trust him myself. There is no help that I can give you, however. I am no longer my lord King's chancellor.'

What?

Adept Havelock grinned at her.

King Joyse sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair. 'My old friend was wearing himself towards his grave with the business of Orison, He doesn't want to admit he's no longer young. Sadly, it's true.'

'My lord King,' the Tor explained, 'has given instructions that I am not to be obeyed, except in matters of my personal comfort. With the arrival of Alend's army, my power ended.' He snorted to himself. 'You may imagine Castellan Lebbick's delight. Remember, he thinks it possible that I am a traitor myself. He did not like my interest in our defences. Though my lord King does not say so, I believe he has taken away my position to protect himself in case the good Castellan's suspicions prove correct.'

At that, King Joyse jerked up his head. His watery eyes were suddenly acute, and his mouth twisted. He didn't reply to the Tor, however. Glaring at Terisa, he demanded, 'Just what is it you want, my lady?'

She was startled: for a moment, she had lost herself in empathy for the old lord. Almost stammering, she said, 'Geraden doesn't stand a chance in front of the Masters. Master Eremis will chew him to pieces. You've got to stop them. Don't let them do this to him.'

'But if Master Eremis is telling the truth,' returned the King in a voice like a trap, 'Geraden deserves to be caught and punished.'

'No.' She couldn't think. It was maddening. 'You don't believe that.'

King Joyse aimed his gaze at her like a nail and spoke as if he were tapping his words into wood. That is not the point, my lady. At the moment, it isn't him I doubt. It's you.'

She blinked. Her heart began to labour again, pounding alarm in all directions. 'Why?' 'Are you surprised? You underestimate me. I warned you this game is dangerous. 'After we talked, I had Myste's rooms searched. She took nothing personal with her-

none of her little mementoes of childhood, none of her favourite gifts. Does that seem likely to you? If she had gone back to her mother, she would have taken everything she

could carry.

'You lied to me, my lady. You lied to me about my daughter.'

Inside her chest, a cold hand knotted into a fist. Both the Tor and Adept Havelock squinted at her as if she were being transformed to ugliness in front of them.

'Where did she really go?'

This was what Terisa had feared: King Joyse had found her out. She had learned the danger of lies when she was still a child. Falsehood had been exquisitely tempting to her; her dread of being punished had made her ache to deflect every manifestation of parental irritation, discontent, or disapproval. She had learned, however, that the punishment was worse when she got caught.

In simple defensiveness, she tried to counter as if she had cause to complain, 'How did you know she came to see me? Were you having your own daughter spied on?'

Adept Havelock swung his chair back to face the fire, sat down again, and began to twiddle his fingers.

The King continued to glare at her for a moment. She met his gaze because she was afraid to do anything else. Then, abruptly, he too turned away. 'You were warned,' he muttered. 'Remember that. You were warned.

'My lord Tor, be so good as to summon the guards. I want this woman locked in the dungeon until she condescends to tell me the truth about my daughter.'

'No!' The cry burst from her before she could stop it. 'I'll tell you. 'I'll tell you everything. Geraden needs me. If I'm not there, he'll have to face the Congery alone.'

None of the men was looking at her. The Tor emptied his goblet, but didn't trouble to refill it.

Terisa took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut for a second. 'She went after the champion. She thought he needed help.' She swallowed hard. 'I'm sorry.'

To Terisa's astonishment, King Joyse's profile quirked towards a smile. But almost at once his expression turned sorrowful, and he leaned his head morosely to rest against his chair again. 'More wine would be nice, don't you think?' he commented in the direction of the ceiling.

The Tor seemed to slump farther down in his seat.

With a strangled chortle, Adept Havelock tossed his wine into the fire. While the wine hissed and burned, he threw his goblet behind him, narrowly missing Terisa.

'Fornication,' he pronounced, 'is hard to do well alone.'

'My lady,' the King breathed as if he were going to sleep, 'I didn't know Myste went to see you. I reasoned it. If you were more honest, I would have less trouble trusting you. You ought to try using a little reason yourself.'

Terisa had expected him to be appalled and angry. Obviously he wasn't. Preconceptions were being jerked out from under her. This new surprise seemed to knock the last bit of sense out of the situation. Myste was doing something which had been foreseen in Havelock's augury of King Joyse. Was that why a lie made the King furious and the truth had nearly made him smile?

'I don't understand,' she murmured weakly. 'Don't you care?'

King Joyse reached out a swollen, unsteady hand and nudged Adept Havelock, who in turn nudged the Tor. 'My lord, I said, 'More wine would be nice.''

Sighing, the Tor prised his bulk out of his chair and moved to fetch the decanter.

'You want me to use a little reason.' Terisa had difficulty holding her voice down. 'How about giving me some information to reason with! Myste is probably dead. If the cold didn't kill her -and the champion didn't kill her-then that firecat probably did. You act like the only thing you care about is that she didn't go see her mother!'

'No.' The King sounded sad, but he answered without rancour. 'What I care about is that she did something I can be proud of.'

Like an echo, Terisa seemed to hear Castellan Lebbick quoting King Joyse to Prince Kragen: 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.

She wanted to yell, But that doesn't make any sensel Elega betrayed you! Myste is probably dead! The words died in her throat, however: they were hopeless. The thought that she would have to go support Geraden with nothing except more confusion made her feel sick.

The Tor refilled the King's goblet and his own, then eased himself into his chair. The lady Terisa is distressed,' he remarked distantly. 'It would be a kindness, my lord King, if you gave her what she desires.'

King Joyse lifted his head once more, scowling sourly as if he meant to say something acid to the Tor.

But he didn't. Instead, he growled, 'Oh, very well,'

Over his shoulder, he addressed Terisa. The reason I told Geraden not to talk to you when you were first brought here is the same reason I didn't intervene when the Masters decided to translate their champion. It's the same reason I'm not going to intervene now. I'm trying to protect you. Both of you.'

'Protect us!' She was too upset to restrain herself. 'How does it protect me to keep me ignorant? How does it protect us to let that champion be translated? We were buried alive.' I almost lost my mind. 'How does it protect him to let Master Eremis destroy him? All you're doing is making us look foolish.'

The King turned his head away and sketched a frail gesture with both hands. 'You see?' he observed to the Tor. 'She doesn't reason.' Then his tone grew bitter.

'You're still alive, aren't you? Do you have any conception how unlikely that was when you first arrived? Better minds than yours were sure neither of you would last for three days. A little foolishness is a small price to pay for your lives.'

Terisa stared at the back of his head with her mouth open as if he had taken all the air out of the room.

''Better minds!''crowed Adept Havelock like a man addressing a crowd of admirers. 'He means me. He means me.'

'If I had welcomed you with open arms,' King Joyse went on, 'my enemies would have formed a higher estimate of how dangerous you are. They would have put more effort into killing you.' He sounded querulous and old, peevishly incapable of the things he ascribed to himself. 'As long as they thought that I had no interest in you-that I was too stupid or senile to have an interest in you-they could afford patience. Wait and see. Gart attacked you that first night because my enemies hadn't had time to find out I hadn't welcomed you. But as soon as people heard that I wasn't treating you like an ally, Gart held back for a while. 'Are you satisfied?'

His demand took her by surprise. She scrambled to ask, 'Do you mean the reason you can't help Geraden now is that if you do your enemies will know you're his friend and they'll start trying even harder to have him killed?'

'I mean much more than that,' he snapped. 'I mean that if I had given him permission to tell you whatever you wanted to know I would have doomed you both. My enemies

would have' taken anything like that as a sign that you were on my side. 'Now are you satisfied?'

'But what-?' It was too much: his explanation increased her confusion. It had all been an elaborate charade. 'Who are your enemies? Why can't you protect anybody you want in your own castle?' Images of Geraden and Myste and Elega and Queen Madin and Master Barsonage and even Castellan Lebbick rose in her, all of them lost and aggrieved. ' Why do you have to make everybody who's loyal to you think you don't care what happens?' 'My lady.' His tone was no longer petulant. Now it was as keen and cutting as ice. 'If I had any desire to answer such questions, I would have done so earlier. As a courtesy to your distress, I have already told you more than I consider wise.' Like Geraden's, his speech became more formal as it gathered authority. Despite his years, his voice still had the potential to lash at her. 'I advise reason and silence, my lady. You will not prolong your life by speaking of what you have heard.'

He dismissed her without a glance. 'You may go.' But-? But-? She knew she should have been stronger. She should have demanded a better explanation. But what she wanted to ask couldn't get past her mental stutter into words. She had no sure ideas left to stand on. King Joyse knew what he was doing-he knew with a vengeance. He was being passive and obtuse on purpose-hurting the people who loved him on purpose. But what purpose was that? It was inconceivable. He-

'My lady,' he said again, 'you may go.'

In a tone of faraway sadness, the Tor murmured, 'My lady, it is generally unwise to disregard the will of a king.' He spoke as if from personal experience.

With a fierce effort, Terisa quelled her insistent incomprehension. The exertion left her angry and panting, but in control of herself.

'Thank you, my lord Tor,' she said stiffly. 'My lord King, I'm sorry. I lied to you about Myste because she trusted me. She was afraid somebody would try to stop her. She asked me to protect her. I lied to you because I didn't know you would have let her go-'

None of the three men looked at her. They stared vacantly into the fire, as if they had used up their allotment of words for the day and had nothing left to think with. King Joyse let her get as far as the door before he breathed softly, Thank you, my lady.'

She left as if she were escaping.

Geraden joined her in her rooms for supper.

His expression was a strange mixture of relief and dread. His conversation with Artagel made his spirits soar: the upcoming meeting of the Congery hung on him like lead. The good news, he reported, was that Artagel was healing well after his earlier setbacks. And Artagel was still his friend. The bad news was that the swordsman was still in no condition to stand up in front of the Masters and defend his brother.

'When will the meeting be?' she asked.

'I don't know what kind of mediator Master Quillon is, I used to think he wasn't assertive enough to pull a meeting together. But now-' He shrugged.

Fervently, he listened while she described her session with King Joyse, the Tor, and Adept Havelock, Unfortunately, it changed nothing. 'You know,' he commented after a while, 'all this would do us a lot more good if we had any idea why we're so important.'

'I don't think so.' She felt sour and imperfectly resigned. 'It doesn't cheer me up to believe King Joyse is really our friend only he can't risk doing anything about it. What good are friends who treat you just like your enemies do?'

He nodded slowly without agreeing with her. The important thing is, it's hope. He certainly sounds like he has reasons for what he's doing.' Geraden's mood seemed to improve as hers deteriorated. 'And if he has reasons, we can at least hope they're good ones.'

'On the other hand,' she countered, 'look at the way he's treating the Tor.'

That made Geraden scowl. 'You heard King Joyse say he 'defies prediction'. There's probably a danger he'll do something to mess up one of the King's plans. So King Joyse is trying to keep him under control.'

A moment later, he added in a black tone, 'I don't like plans that hurt the Tor.' 'Neither do I,' said Terisa.

After a while, he remarked with more humour, 'It's too bad nobody much cares what we think of their plans.'

Damn you, Geraden, she thought, you're starting to cheer up again. I don't understand

it.

In spite of his improved humour, however, he didn't smile when one of the younger

Apts knocked on the door and announced that the Congery wanted him. When the Apt used the words at once. Geraden's eyes widened slightly.

'That was fast,' he muttered to Terisa. 'Master Eremis knows how to get action.' The young Apt avoided looked at Geraden. The lady Terisa isn't invited.'

The lady Terisa,' she snapped, 'is coming anyway.' The Apt didn't look at her, either.

Geraden tried to give her one of Artagel's combative grins; but its failure only made him appear sick. 'Let's go get it over with.'

Together, they followed the young Apt through Orison down to the laborium.

Until her knuckles began to ache, she didn't realize that she was clenching her fists.

Although she was warmly dressed, she felt the chill as soon as she crossed the disused ballroom and descended into the domain of the Masters. Castellan Lebbick's new curtain wall defended the breach the champion had made, but didn't seal it. Because of the strong wind outside, there was a noticeable breeze in the passages. As a result, the atmosphere was cold enough to make her wish she had brought a coat.

If Geraden noticed the cold, he didn't show it. His manner was distracted. As he entered the laborium, he grew tense. He had spent all his adult life-and a good part of his adolescence -trying to earn a place for himself in these halls and passages, and now his failure threatened to become so dramatic that it would be considered treason.

For his sake as well as her own, Terisa was getting angrier.

The young Apt led her and Geraden to a part of the laborium where she had never been before-to the room which the Masters had used for their gatherings ever since the champion had destroyed their meeting-chamber.

This room was small by comparison, but still more than large enough. It was a long rectangle, with something in the colour or cut of its cold, grey stone, in the worn but uneven floor, in the number of black iron brackets set into the walls which created the impressioa that it had originally served as a storeroom for the instruments of torture. It was the kind of place where ways of inflicting pain might wait while they weren't needed: racks and iron maidens being taken to and from the interrogation chamber might have rubbed those hollows in the floor; thumb-screws and flails might have hung in the brackets. A few of the brackets had been adapted to hold lamps, but the rest were empty.

The empty ones seemed especially grim.

The Masters were already gathered.

They sat in heavy iron-pegged chairs which lined the two long walls, roughly half of them on either side facing each other as if they had deliberately set out to form a gauntlet. Because of the length of the room, however, a sizeable space at each end was unused. The doors were there, several strides from the nearest seats.

Two guards on strict duty held the door through which Terisa and Geraden entered the chamber. Neither man acknowledged the Apt'sglum nod.

As the door closed behind her, she scanned the room. At first, the only face she recognized was that of Master Barsonage. Since she had last seen him, the former mediator seemed to have developed a nervous tic: one of his thick, stiff eyebrows twitched involuntarily. Under the pressure of the Congery's mistakes and indecision, his face had taken on a jaundiced hue. She saw no hope there.

Looking for Master Quillon, her eye was caught by Castellan Lebbick. When she saw him, her throat suddenly went dry.

He had Nyle with him.

Geraden's brother sat beside the Castellan at the far end of one row of chairs. He wore a brown worsted cloak over his clothes. Inside it, his arms bunched across his chest, holding the cloak shut. His head hung at a dejected angle. He didn't look up at Terisa and Geraden.

Geraden was frozen with shock. All expression had been wiped from his face. The spark which animated his features most of the time was gone-hidden or extinguished- and he seemed smaller, as if he were shrinking in on himself. He stared blankly at Nyle while two bright spots of colour slowly spread in his cheeks. She had never seen him look so lost. The glazing of his eyes made her irrationally afraid that he was having a heart attack.

The lady Terisa was not invited,' said one of the Masters loudly.

'But she is welcome,' rasped Castellan Lebbick. 'Isn't she, Master Quillon?'

The rabbity mediator rose to his feet, gazing brightly at everything and nobody.

Wrinkling his nose, he answered, 'As welcome as you are. Castellan.'

Castellan Lebbick grinned like a snarl.

Master Eremis was sitting on the other side of the Castellan. 'Oh, I insist,' he said at once. 'If Castellan Lebbick and Nyle are permitted, it is only fair to permit the lady Terisa also.' His expression was difficult to read. For no clear reason, he looked pleased.

'Why is he here?' Geraden asked. He sounded like a sleepwalker.

Everyone understood to whom Geraden was referring. Master Quillon started to reply, but Castellan Lebbick spoke first. Still grinning, he said, 'Master Eremis claims he's going to support the accusations against you.'

'Nyle!' Terisa cried softly.

All the Masters were staring at her, but none of them seemed to have faces. She didn't know who they were.

Geraden moved to the nearest chair and sat down as if he were crumbling. Nyle tightened his grip on his cloak. He didn't raise his head.

'Castellan Lebbick,' Master Quillon said as if he were thinking about something else, 'this is the meeting of the Congery, not a congregation of your guards. You have no authority here. You are permitted only because you refuse to let Nyle among us without you. Please be quiet.'

The Castellan accepted this admonition without retort, but also without acquiescence. 'My lady,' the mediator continued in the same tone, 'will you sit down so that we may

begin?'

Terisa wrestled with an impulse to start shouting. Abruptly, she turned and took a seat beside Geraden.

He looked so stunned that she whispered, 'What is Nyle going to say about you?' He didn't answer.

Master Eremis watched Geraden curiously, as though he were genuinely interested in what the Apt was thinking.

'Very well,' said Master Quillon. He took one or two quick steps out into the middle of the floor between the rows of chairs. 'Let us begin.'

The chairs were old; perhaps they were left over from the days when the lords and ladies of Orison liked to watch the way prisoners were questioned. The wood was dry and porous enough to hold bloodstains.

'We hold this meeting to consider a question which I will not attempt to soften.' His manner suggested that he might be looking for a place to hide; yet his voice was firm. 'As you all know, Master Eremis claims that Apt Geraden is a traitor-a traitor to the Congery and to Orison, to King Joyse and to Mordant. He also says that Apt Geraden will make the same claim of him. We will hear both speak. They will give their reasons. They will provide what corroboration they can. And we will try to determine the truth.'

'And when the truth has been determined,' Castellan Lebbick put in casually, 'I'll act on it.'

Master Quillon ignored the interruption. 'This matter must be dealt with speedily. There is a blot on the honour of the Congery, and it must be removed at once. Orison is under siege because of us-because we are desirable to the King's enemies. And we are not much trusted at the best of times. Therefore it is urgent that we determine the truth- and that any traitor is delivered to the Castellan.

'Apt Geraden'-the mediator's eyes sparkled-'will you speak first?'

Everybody turned to look at Geraden-everybody except Nyle, who slumped in his chair as if he were contemplating suicide.

Terisa wanted to say, demand, No. Make Master Eremis go first. But the words didn't come. She watched like one of the Imagers as Geraden got slowly to his feet.

The spots of colour in his cheeks had darkened until they resembled a flush of exertion. His movements were tight, constrained. His chest rose and fell as if he were trying to take a deep breath and couldn't. He didn't look at Nyle: in fact, he didn't look at anybody. He had been given a shock he didn't know how to face.

Terisa found herself thinking, Nyle is doing this because Geraden stopped him. 'Masters-' The Apt had to swallow hard to clear his throat. His voice seemed to be

choking him. His life's ambition had been to belong to the Congery. He had spent years obeying and honouring these men. 'We've all been betrayed. I can't prove any of it.'

Oh, Geraden.

Master Eremis appeared to be suppressing a desire to laugh.

'You must make the effort, Geraden.' The mediator's words were sterner than his tone. 'Master Eremis will prove everything he can. Are you speaking of Master Gilbur, or of someone else?'

Geraden nodded aimlessly. His gaze stumbled to the floor. Yet he said nothing.

At the sight of his pain, something turned over in Terisa. He had suffered too much, borne too much. And now his brother hurt him like this-personally, deliberately. He was finally breaking under the strain.

'It's simple, really,' she said in a voice she hardly recognized. There has to be a traitor. Someone else-not just Master Gilbur.'

Master Quillon swung towards her. His nose seemed to twitch with eagerness, but the rest of his face was still.

'It's simple, really,' Geraden echoed like a ghost. There has to be a traitor. Someone else.'

Then he raised his head.

'It has to be somebody here.'

Terisa held her breath, praying that he would go on.

'She's been attacked by Gart four times.' His tone was a little slurred, but the glaze in his eyes seemed to be fading. The third time was out in the bazaar. That doesn't prove anything. But the fourth time Gart came through a secret passage in her room. Somebody must have told him about that passage.'

He stopped.

That is true,' Master Eremis observed as if he were agreeing with Geraden. 'Someone must have told him. I was there to feel his attack. It is possible, I suppose, that I was his intended victim.'

'Master Eremis,' said the mediator with unexpected force, 'you will be given all the time you need to speak. Defend yourself then. The Apt must be left to say what he will.'

A Master with a heavy paunch and no eyebrows interposed, 'You were there, Master Eremis? How did you survive? How did any of you survive?'

Smiling, Eremis made a deferential gesture for silence.

Without hesitation, Master Quillon prompted Geraden, 'Continue, Apt. Who knew of the secret passage?'

At once, Geraden said, The Castellan, of course. King Joyse. His daughter. Terisa. Her maid. And Master Eremis.'

Terisa released an inward sigh of relief because he hadn't mentioned Master Quillon or Adept Havelock. He still had enough sense to keep that secret.

The mediator, however, gave no sign that he had noticed Geraden's restraint. 'And what does this prove?'

'Everybody knew about the passage al! along. Except Master Eremis. He only found out about it recently. Soon after he found out about it, Gart used it.'

That means nothing!' protested Master Eremis at once. 'What opportunity have I had to confer with the High King's Mono-mach? I have been away, as you all know. I have been visiting Esmerel.'

Geraden straightened his back. 'But that's not the crucial one.' At last he began to sound stronger. He was breathing more easily, and his gaze had come into focus. 'It's the second attack that's crucial. It was right after Master Eremis and Master Gilbur met with Prince Kragen and the lords of the Cares.'

A look of outrage jerked across Castellan Lebbick's face as old suspicions were confirmed. 'They met-?'

Geraden overrode the Castellan. 'That lets out everybody else. Everybody who didn't know about the meeting. But Master Eremis took her to it. When it broke up, he left her with Prince Kragen. Gart came out of a mirror with four of his men to attack them. The Perdon and Artagel saved them. Only Master Eremis could have arranged that. He's the only one who knew she would be there. He's the only one who had any control over where she would be after the meeting.'

An expression of mock horror widened Master Eremis' eyes and stretched his mouth. 'And,' Geraden insisted, 'he may be the only Master who knew where she was that first

night, when Gart broke into her rooms to kill her. He's Saddith's lover. She volunteered to be her maid because he asked her to.

'Master Eremis is the only man in Orison who could have told Gart where and when to

attack Terisa.'

As if he were having trouble keeping his balance, Geraden sat down and braced his hands on his knees.

Castellan Lebbick was on his feet, dangerously calm. 'I suspected something like this.

Tell me about that meeting.'

'Is that all, Apt?' demanded an Imager with a red complexion and bad teeth. 'Do you expect us to believe that?'

'Be seated, Castellan,' advised Master Quillon. This does not concern you.' 'What does Artagel say?' someone else asked.

'I still do not understand why the High King's Monomach wants to kill the lady Terisa.

What threat is she to Cadwal?'

'Why weren't we told about the second attack?'

'He hasn't done anything right since I've known him. I think we can take it for granted that if he says something it must be wrong.'

'Bollocks and pigsoil!' Castellan Lebbick roared over the babble. 'Tell me about that meeting!'

Silence echoed after his shout.

'You have reached a hasty conclusion, Castellan,' Master Eremis volunteered without rising from his seat. The Perdon suggested a meeting between the lords of the Cares and the Congery so that we could discuss our mutual problem-the inaction of our good King. He arranged the coming of the lords to Orison. Master Gilbur and I were chosen to represent the Congery-I because I favoured the meeting, he because he opposed it. I took it upon myself to invite Prince Kragen, believing his mission of peace to be sincere.'

He shrugged eloquently. 'Nothing came of it. The Fayle and the Termigan were too stiff-necked, the Tor too drunk, the Armigite too cowardly. Only the Perdon and Prince Kragen displayed any understanding of each other.

'Incidentally, if I am trusted by Alend I am unlikely to be a servant of Cadwal. Don't you agree?

'I believe,' he concluded, 'that the blood you found belonged to Gart's men. Their

bodies left as they came-by Imagery. We can only assume that Master Gilbur escaped in the same way, as the arch-Imager Vagel's ally.'

His explanation was so close to the truth that it made Terisa squirm. The air in the room seemed to be getting colder. She wondered if she would ever be warm again.

'It was treason,' Castellan Lebbick breathed through his teeth. 'You were plotting treason.'

'It was nothing of the kind,' sighed Master Barsonage, speaking for the first time. His weariness cut deep. The truth is that we were hoping the lords would give us cogent reasons not to risk the translation of our champion. We only took the risk of that translation because the lords convinced us they had no answer to Mordant's plight.'

'In any case.' Master Eremis said more sharply, 'it came to nothing. There is no cause for your outrage, Castellan, because no harm was done. In retrospect, it is clear that the gravest danger arose simply from the presence of so many lords-and Prince Kragen-here at the same time. If the champion had chosen to blast his way in some other direction'- Master Eremis rolled his eyes humorously, but his tone didn't lose its edge- 'he might have brought Orison down on the head of every important man in the kingdom.'

Castellan Lebbick muttered a few dark oaths.

'Can we get on with it?' Terisa asked, still speaking in the voice she hardly knew. 'I want to hear why Nyle thinks Geraden is a traitor.'

The Master with the paunch snapped, 'My lady, what you want is not of great importance to us at present.'

With a gesture, Master Quillon demanded silence. Facing Lebbick, he inquired acerbically, 'Castellan, may we continue? Or do you wish to go on abusing us because we see our circumstances and Mordant's need differently than you do?'

Castellan Lebbick spat another curse, then clamped his mouth shut. Like a coiled spring, he returned to his seat.

The mediator rubbed his nose, trying to stop its twitch, 'Apt Geraden, have you finished what you wish to say?'

Geraden gave an abrupt nod.

'Do you have any corroboration? Is there anything you can show us or tell us to support your assertions?'

Geraden shook his head.

An odd thought crossed Terisa's mind. Geraden, she realized, had done what King Joyse wanted her to do: he had used his reason. His accusation against Master Eremis was based on reason rather than on proof.

Unfortunately, it was proof the Masters wanted. 'Master Eremis was the only one who knew I would be at the meeting,' she said. 'I was there. Everyone else was surprised to see me.'

'No, my lady,' Master Eremis put in immediately. 'That is incorrect. You cannot be sure that I did not mention my intent to Master Gilbur-or even to Prince Kragen. You cannot be sure that the surprise you saw did not have another cause.

'But even if your assertion is true, what does it mean? Master Gilbur and I left the meeting together, going-as you know-to report what had happened to our fellow Masters. But he parted from me almost at once, saying that he had an urgent need to visit his rooms. Knowing now that he, at least, is a traitor, how can you believe that he did not take that opportunity- unforeseen though it may have been-to translate Gart against you?'

'Because,' someone Terisa didn't know remarked incisively, 'such an attack could not have been done without preparation. The necessary mirror could not have been made on a whim.

Indeed, the location of the meeting must have been chosen to match the proximity of the mirror. Was it not you who chose the location of the meeting, Master Eremis?'

Almost instantly, everyone in the room fell still. Attention concentrated the atmosphere. Geraden took a deep breath, and some of the unnatural colour left his face.

Master Eremis, however, wasn't daunted. 'Of course it was,' he snapped. 'I had that responsibility because neither the Perdon nor Prince Kragen knew Orison well enough to make the choice themselves. But you assume that the mirror was created for the sake of Gart's attack on the lady. There were only six days between the planning of the meeting and the meeting itself. Do you think such a mirror could be conceived and researched and shaped in six days? Is it not more probable that the mirror was created for an entirely different purpose-perhaps to give Gart access to Orison whenever he wanted it- and that the opportunity to attack the lady was merely fortuitous, an accident of circumstance which Master Gilbur hurried to turn to his advantage?'

Several of the Imagers shuffled their feet; few of them met Eremis' gaze. The ease with which he had turned the accusation made Terisa's thoughts spin.

'Very well, Master Eremis,' the mediator murmured after a long pause. 'I presume that Geraden has no more to say. Since you have already begun to defend yourself, please continue.'

'Thank you, Master Quillon,' Eremis said as if he were deliberately suppressing contempt. He didn't trouble to rise. 'I will give you my reasons. Only if they do not persuade you will I call on Nyle to prove what I say. He is understandably reluctant to condemn his brother.'

That statement may have been true. Nyle did look reluctant: he looked reluctant to go on living.

'I have been curious about Apt Geraden since the moment when he brought the lady Terisa to us from a mirror which could not have performed that translation.' The Master sat nonchalantly half sprawled in his chair with his legs outstretched. While he spoke, his long fingers played with the ends of his chasuble. His manner was so negligent that Terisa had to study him closely to notice that he was watching the entire room. 'The link between him and Master Gilbur turned my curiosity to suspicion. When Master Gilbur finally proved himself false, my worst doubts were confirmed.'

No one interrupted him as he recited the arguments he had already presented to Terisa. She had to admit that they sounded plausible, almost inevitable. It was Master Gilbur who shaped the glass which first showed the champion, Master Gilbur who guided every step of Geraden's attempt to match that mirror. Therefore if Geraden's abilities had made a mirror which could do things no mirror had ever done before, Master Gilbur must have been a witness to them. Or else Master Gilbur must have been responsible for the mysteries of that mirror himself, guiding Geraden to accomplishments which the Apt couldn't have achieved for himself. In either case, the two men were confederates. Geraden's difficulties had always been ones of talent rather than of knowledge: Master Gilbur couldn't have employed him to do something unprecedented without the Apt's awareness of it.

'No,' Geraden murmured. 'I had no idea.' But no one paid any attention to him.

Master Eremis also explained his theory about why Cadwal was marching. On that basis, he claimed, the rest was obvious. Who was the only man who always knew exactly where the lady Terisa was? Apt Geraden, of course, who first arranged to have her rooms guarded, then persuaded his brother Artagel to follow her. Who was the man most likely to have aided Master Gilbur in translating Gart after the meeting of the lords? Apt Geraden, of course, Master Gilbur's confederate. Why was it that all Geraden's apparent loyalty to King Joyse came to nothing? Because it was only a clever disguise to help him hurt those who most trusted him. He was in league with Gart and

High King Festten.

Listening to this made Terisa feel sick.

The pain in Geraden's eyes was acute, but he said nothing.

When Master Eremis was done, the rest of the Imagers were slow to speak. A few of them looked shocked. More were relieved, however, as if they had been rescued from believing that a member of the Congery had betrayed them. And some were plainly delighted by the prospect of finally being rid of Geraden.

After a moment, however, a slightly cross-eyed young Master countered, 'But this is inconsistent, Master Eremis. If I understand rightly it is Geraden who has kept the lady alive by providing her with defenders.'

'Nonsense,' retorted Master Eremis shortly. The guards he first arranged for her could not be a match for the High King's Monomach. And since then his duplicity has been more profound than you realize. He has put Artagel at the lady's side so that Mordant's best swordsman might also be killed, thus freeing Cadwal of two important enemies with one betrayal.'

'You can't believe that!' Geraden's protest was like a groan. At once, however, he closed his mouth again.

'No, Geraden.' Master Barsonage heaved his bulk upright. His gaze lingered momentarily, sadly, on Terisa. 'I do not believe that.' His face had the colour and texture of prolonged strain. The truth is that I do not believe anything I have heard here. You and Master Eremis denounce each other as though what you say cannot be doubted, but you do not answer the most important question, the question on which all else stands or falls. You do not explain why.

'Why does the High King's Monomach go to such lengths to attack the lady Terisa? Why does Master Eremis wish her killed?' Over his shoulder, he demanded, 'Master Eremis, why does Geraden wish her killed?' Then he addressed the Congery. 'Nothing that these men have said has any meaning unless they can tell us why.'

Before either accuser could answer, Terisa stood up. 'I'll tell you why.' A shiver ran through her voice-a shiver of anger rather than of cold. She wasn't cold: she was sure. The frustrating certainty which she hadn't been able to name was suddenly clear. 'I'll tell you exactly why.' If he had not been rescued- She wasn't talking about Master Barsonage's question; she had no answer to that. But it gave her a way to say what she meant.

'Geraden doesn't have any reason to want me dead. He's spent enough time with me since I got here to know I'm no threat to anybody. If he were 'in league with Gart', I would never be attacked. He wouldn't risk the High King's Monomach on someone like me.

'But Master Eremis has a reason.'

The Master sat up straighter: he appeared to be taken aback. 'My lady,' he said wonderingly, 'I have saved your life. I have done everything a man can do to gain your love. How can you think that I wish you harm?'

She wanted to throw up. 'Because I know you're lying.'

At that, his expression darkened. She heard a hiss of indrawn breath from the Imagers behind her as he rose ominously to his feet. 'Be sure of what you say, my lady,' he murmured in warning.

'I'm sure,' she flung back at him. Pressure mounted in her voice. She didn't want to yell, but she needed passion to control her fear, to keep her going despite the fact that she had never defied anyone like this before and didn't believe she could do it, certainly not Master Eremis, he was too much for her, he was like her father, he had been too much for her from the start. 'You know all about the attack after the meeting. I told you that. I've made a lot of mistakes. But you left without coming to see me again.' If he had not been rescued-'I never had a chance to tell you about the attacks on Geraden. Who told you about them?

'You could know about those riders in the woods. That's common knowledge now. Anybody could have told you'- rescued as he was, I assure you-'But you knew about the first time, too.'

Master Eremis stared at her as if she had caught him completely by surprise.

'Nobody knew about that except Artagel, Geraden, and me. And Adept Havelock. He didn't tell you.' Master Eremis had made a mistake. Under the pressure of Geraden's accusations, he had made a mistake. 'Artagel told the Castellan.' Lebbick nodded shortly. 'None of us told you. You weren't here. But you still said that attack was just a ploy. You knew all about it. You said, 'If he had not been rescued as he was, I assure you that they would have recalled their insects before he was slain.'

'You said their insects. How did you know he was attacked by insects?' A light of amazement and vindication broke across Geraden's face.

Struggling for self-control, she concluded, 'You're trying to accuse Geraden for the same reason you want me dead. Because we're dangerous to you. We know you're the traitor.'

For just a moment, Master Eremis continued to gape. Then he began chuckling. His mirth didn't sound particularly cheerful.

'My lady, ' he said, 'you are outrageous. You told me about the attack yourself.' That's another lie,' she shot back in fury.

'No, my lady. The lie is yours. I had the story from your lips between kisses.'

'I don't think so, Master Eremis.' Geraden stood at Terisa's side. Her audacity had galvanized him: he was poised for battle, and his eyes burned. 'She doesn't have any reason to lie. She doesn't have anything to gain here.'

'Does she not?' Master Eremis' mouth twisted scornfully. 'You are naive, boy-or a fool.

You are her reason. She has you to gain.'

That argument stopped Terisa: it set her back on her heels, like a dash of cold water in her face. It was true-

It was true enough to make her look foolish.

Nevertheless it was a miscalculation. Before Eremis could go on, several of the Masters burst out laughing.

'With your reputation for women?' said the Imager with the bad teeth. 'Do you ask us to credit that she prefers Geraden fumble-foot?'

'I would not have believed any other proof,' another Master put in, 'but I believe this. If Master Eremis is reduced to claiming that he could not win a woman away from the Apt, then there is no truth in him.'

'On the contrary,' someone else returned uproariously. 'If Master Eremis is reduced to admitting that he could not win a woman away from the Apt, then he must be speaking the truth.'

'Enough!' barked Master Eremis. He slashed the air with his hands, demanding silence. 'I have endured enough!' His shout made the walls ring fiercely. The fury in his voice and the relish in his eyes stilled the room, commanded everyone's attention.

'It is intolerable that all my service to Mordant and the Congery is met with distrust. It is intolerable that any of you will believe this weak boy when I am accused. Now I will prove what I say. I will ask Nyle to speak.'

The Masters stared. Geraden opened his mouth, closed it again; the colour seeped out of his skin. Down inside her, Terisa's shivering suddenly got worse.

Master Quillon cocked his head reflectively. After a moment,

he commented in a tone that almost sounded threatening, Tor the sake of everyone here, Master Eremis, I hope that you are sure of what he will say.'

'I am sure.' Eremis' certainly was absolute, an unshakeable as his grin. Everyone looked at Nyle.

Geraden's brother seemed unaware of what was going on. His dejected posture didn't shift: his head didn't rise. The grimace which distorted his features was as deep as despair.

Abruptly, he turned and whispered in Castellan Lebbick's ear.

The Castellan listened, frowned-and said, 'Masters, Nyle wants a private word with Geraden.'

Nyle returned his gaze to the floor.

No one moved. Terisa's heart pounded against the base of her throat. Geraden knotted his fists and kept his head high; his jaw jutted. Master Eremis turned a measuring gaze on Nyle, but didn't say what he was thinking. The Imagers glanced uncertainly at each other, at the Castellan, at Master Quillon.

At last, the mediator asked curiously, 'Why?'

Castellan Lebbick shrugged. 'Maybe he thinks he can persuade Geraden to confess.' 'Do you object?'

Lebbick shook his head. 'The room is guarded.' Then he added sarcastically, 'Anything Geraden has to confess is bound to be fascinating.'

Once again, Master Quillon looked like he wanted to run and hide. Nevertheless he said, Then let us be seated. Nyle and Geraden may go to the end of the room.'

Master Eremis shrugged and complied. The other Masters resumed their seats.

Terisa turned to Geraden. What is Nyle going to say about you? Oh, Geraden, what's wrong?

But Geraden didn't meet her gaze. Everything in him was focused on his brother-the brother he had tried to save from committing treachery; the brother he had humiliated to the bone.

'Be careful,' Terisa breathed. She could feel disaster gathering around him. There was no way to forestall it. Please.'

Aching with suspense, she sat down.

Stiffly, Geraden moved to stand in front of Nyle.

When he saw Geraden's boots near his own, Nyle wrenched himself to his feet. Without releasing his grip on his cloak, he strode away to the far end of the room-as far as he could get from the Masters; the farthest point from Terisa.

There he waited for Geraden to join him.

The Masters watched without moving. Castellan Lebbick's jaws chewed indigestible thoughts; his gaze didn't shift an inch from the brothers.

They stood with Geraden's back to the room. Terisa could see Nyle's face: it was set and savage, more implacable-and more desperate-than it had been when he had ridden away to betray Orison. He looked at once homicidal and appalled, as if he were involved in a crime which made every inch of him cringe.

Whispering, he said something to Geraden.

It must have been something hurtful: Geraden reacted as though he had been struck. He flinched; he surged forward. From the back, he appeared to have taken hold of Nyle's cloak.

Between the brothers, an iron dagger dropped to the floor, clattering metallically on the stone.

It was covered with blood.

Nyle slumped against the wall. His eyes rolled out. Then his knees bent. Geraden tried to catch him, but he collapsed on his back. His cloak fell open, exposing the red mess

which the knife had made of his abdomen.

Like the dagger, Geraden's hands were covered with blood.