The Mirror of Her Dreams (20 page)

Again, the Apt mustered a crooked smile. 'Castellan Lebbick didn't like it when I said all that.'

He was putting up a brave front; but the rest of his face still looked as pale as wax around the hot spots of colour in his cheeks. Wanting to comfort him, Terisa said, 'I can imagine what that must have been like. He was here for a while last night. After everything was over.'

'I know.' Without transition, his expression became morose, almost grim. That was something else he wanted me to explain. How did you manage to save yourself, after both Argus and Ribuld were beaten? And why didn't you answer the question when he asked it?

'He has a point there, too, my lady.' He began to pace in front of her without looking at her. 'Even Artagel couldn't beat both Argus and Ribuld at once. They may not look like much, but they're really pretty good. And you got rid of a man who beat them all by yourself. Do you have any idea what kind of conclusions Lebbick draws from that?'

'No,' she breathed. 'I don't have any idea about any of this.'

'Well, I'll tell you. He thinks you're in league with that man. Or rather, that man is in league with you. He fought his way in here to meet you for some reason-maybe to give you a message, or to let you know what preparations are being made by your allies. But it doesn't have to go that far. Maybe you
aren't
allies. You still got rid of him without being hurt. That took
power.'
The whole notion se'emed to offend him to the point of nausea. 'I tried to tell him it was impossible. I wanted to protect you. But when you get right down to it'-he stopped pacing and faced her squarely, his trouble in his eyes-'I don't have any reason to think it's impossible. Except you keep saying it is.'

'What do you mean?' she protested. 'Of course it's impossible.' She had only wanted to commiserate with him: she hadn't intended to admit anything which might force her to betray Adept Havelock and Master Quillon. 'I don't know anything about Imagery-or Mordant-or'-she saw again in her mind a wild grin, as sharp as hate, and a nose like the blade of a hatchet, and yellow eyes-'that man who tried to kill me.'

'My lady,' he countered, 'I found you in a room full of mirrors! And it was a room where no known translation could have taken me-unless it was you who did the translating. You were sitting in a chair right in front of the glass, and you were staring at me, concentrating on me. I thought I could feel you calling me.

'My lady,' he repeated in misery and appeal, 'I want to believe you. I want to trust you. But I don't know how.'

Terisa hadn't had much time to adjust to the new rules and emotions of her situation: the sheer seriousness of Geraden's reaction took her by surprise. She was unprepared for the way she was affected, not by his argument, but by his distress.

'I'm sorry. I didn't know you would feel that way about it. Come here.'

Turning, she walked quickly into the bedroom, towards the wardrobe with the hidden door.

She still didn't intend to betray Adept Havelock and Master Quillon. She had no way to evaluate any of the conflicting factions or exigencies that she had already met in Orison, no way to know which side she might actually want to be on. But what Havelock and Quillon had done for her was better than the treatment she had received from either the Congery or the King; and she didn't mean to repay kindness with exposure.

When Geraden joined her, she pulled open the wardrobe and showed him the chair she had wedged there. Then she removed the chair to let him see the secret door.

'Oh,' he said uncomfortably. 'You've got one of those.'

'I didn't know it was here when they gave me these rooms,' she began. 'But in the middle of the night'-she swallowed hard, hoping she would be able to say enough without saying too much -'Adept Havelock came through that door. I don't think he wanted to scare me, but he talked about hop-board and'-she faltered for an instant-'and lust until I wanted to scream. So he was here when the man attacked. And he had a piece of glass that let out an intense light. When that man was done with Argus and Ribuld, he came to me. But Adept Havelock shone the light in his eyes. He was blinded. He had to forget me and get away.'

She met Geraden's astonishment as well as she could. 'I probably should have said something to the Castellan. I certainly wasn't trying to get you in trouble. But Adept Havelock saved me. And he seemed to want to keep what he was doing secret. When I found out Argus and Ribuld hadn't seen him, I decided not to tell anybody he was here.'

Then, changing the subject promptly, she went on, 'And I'm not an Imager. Where you found me, mirrors don't do what they do here.' She couldn't have borne the embarrassment of trying to explain why she had decorated her apartment in mirrors; but she had another argument ready. 'When you arrived in my room, you must have noticed the broken glass. It was all over the rug. You even had some in your hair. You did that.'

His mouth hung open. 'I?'

'Two objects can't occupy the same space at the same time,' she recited. 'Your translation put you in the same space as my mirror. If I was trying to translate you, it was a failure. The glass was ruined, and I wasn't going to be able to send you back, or go with you. But glass isn't like that where I come from. There's nothing magic about it. When you arrived, it just broke.

'Do you see? I'm telling the truth. The translation was from your side. I've been telling you the truth all along.'

For a long moment, he frowned intently while he absorbed what she had said. Then, slowly, starting at his mouth and rising to his eyes, a grin lit his face. 'Of course,' he breathed, beaming wonder at her. 'I shouldn't have questioned you. Of course I saw the broken glass. Why didn't I think-?' With every sentence, his distress lifted, and the weight of worry on him seemed to grow lighter. 'I should have figured it out for myself,'

Exuberant with relief, he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled himself close to her to kiss her cheek. But his enthusiasm tipped him off balance; he missed, knocking his cheekbone against hers instead.

'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' he babbled in immediate chagrin. Backing away, he waved both hands as if to assure her that he meant no harm. 'I'm sorry, my lady. Please forgive me.' Then he raised one hand to his mouth. 'Oh, shatter it all to slivers. I bit my tongue.'

Terisa rubbed her cheekbone; the blow had startled more than hurt her. Secretly, she wanted him to try to kiss her again. She was as lost as he was, however. The best she could do was to say with mock severity, 'Apt Geraden, if you don't start calling me Terisa I'm going to tell Castellan Lebbick that you forced your way into my rooms and tried to knock me unconscious.'

At that, he began to laugh. His laugh was strong and clean, and it blew most of the chagrin out of him. 'My lady,' he said finally, 'I've never called a woman like you by her given name in my whole life. I've got at least three brothers who think I'm still young enough to spank-and I'm sure they would try it if they heard me call you anything except 'my lady', no matter how badly you threaten me. Be patient. You can probably tell I've still got a lot to learn.'

She, too, had a lot to learn. But she knew enough to say, I'll try, and smile at him as if she knew a great deal more.

She was relieved to see him looking happier-and to have ecaped the subject of Havelock so easily.

For a moment, he stood and gazed at her in silence, enjoying what he saw-her smile, the tumble of her hair against the scarlet fabric on her shoulders. Then he shook his head and recollected himself. He ran an unselfconscious hand through his hair, touched his own cheekbone, and said, 'Actually, I do have one official reason for being here. I was just supposed to send you a message, but I can stretch a point by delivering it myself. If anybody asks, that's why I came.

The Congery wants you to know you won't have to attend their meeting today. That's a polite way of saying you aren't invited. They want to talk about you, and they don't want to be' -he grimaced humorously-'inhibited by your presence while they do it. In fact, I'm not invited either. They don't want to have to spend the whole meeting arguing with a mere Apt.'

As he spoke, his tone and manner became more serious. When he paused, he did so with an air of hesitation, as if he were unsure of how she would react to what he wanted to say. 'My lady,' he went on slowly, 'I'm already disobeying the King-as you pointed out. And I really don't think I can get into any worse trouble. So I thought'-his gaze dropped to the floor as though he were forcing himself not to stare at her-'since all the Masters will be in their meeting-and nobody else is likely to stop us'- involuntarily, his eyes rose to hers again, and she saw trepidation and suspense in them-'I might try to answer some of your questions by showing you the laborium. Where the mirrors of the Congery are kept.'

His audacity made her catch her breath. It was dangerous to flout authority: she knew that intimately. People who disobeyed were punished. In a rush as she forced the air out of her chest, she asked, 'Are you sure that's a good idea?' Then, feeling her apparent ingratitude, she added, 'I mean, it's too much. Too many people are angry at you already. If you do that for, me-'

She stopped.

'I'm willing to take the chance.' His open face projected a sober intensity which suggested that he didn't make his offer lightly-that he had thought through the implications of what was involved more clearly than she had. 'I started thinking about it when King Joyse called off the search. If he can't even be bothered to let his guards try to find a man who attacked you-' His voice trailed into an uncomfortable shrug. In the set of his features, she saw how deeply his King had disappointed him. 'Anyway, it's not as dangerous as it sounds. After all, I'm not offering to give you the kind of information you could use- if you were an enemy of Mordant. If you're an Imager, you'll already be familiar with everything I can show you. And if you aren't, you won't be able to do anything with what you learn.'

Then why-?'

'Because I owe it to you. I'm the one who brought you here. If you're the wrong person-or even if you
are
the right person but you don't want to help us-it's my responsibility to get you back where you came from. I want you to understand enough about Imagery to know what that means.'

He paused, took a grip on his courage, and continued. 'But that's not all. Even if you want to go back-and I want to take you back-the Masters won't permit it. Even if they decide you actually are the wrong person, they won't be able to ignore the importance of what you represent. They won't want to let you go. 'Right now,' he said carefully, 'while they're in their meeting,

might be our only chance to get to the right mirror and try to take you home.

'I don't want you to go,' he added at once. 'I believe you're exactly the one we need. I don't know how or why-but you are. If you want to go, I'll beg you to stay. But,' he sighed, 'you have the right to go, if you want to. It would be immoral to keep you here against your will.'

He amazed her. The question of whether it would be possible for her to return to her apartment, her job at the mission, her infrequent dinners with her father hadn't seemed particularly substantial to her. Other matters dominated her attention. But behind the relatively tentative surface of his offer, he was asking her something fundamental.

She glanced down at her gown-at the rich scarlet fabric against her skin, at the snug neckline. Already? she protested. It's too soon. I'm not ready.

Nevertheless, the risk he was willing to take in the name of her
right
demanded a different answer.

'I'll go with you,' she said, although her pulse was heavy in her throat and she felt light-headed. 'It might be a good idea if I knew what my choices were.'

Geraden smiled bleakly. 'In that case, we should probably go now. If we delay, we might miss our chance. There's really no telling how long that meeting will last.'

Terisa wished that she could take hold of his arm to steady herself. She had a mental image of women in gowns clinging closely to the arms of strong young men and looking happy there, supported and secure. But he gestured politely for her to precede him; she complied by walking towards the door.

He held the door for her, then closed it after her. Outside, he greeted her guards by name, and they replied in a tone of friendly commiseration, as if they knew all about his ordeal with the Castellan. But they didn't move to follow her.

Feeling a resurgence of fright, she hesitated, looked back at them.

'Don't worry,' Geraden answered her concern. 'Nobody is going to attack you in Orison in broad daylight.' On this point, he sounded confident. 'Nobody would dare.'