The Mirror of Her Dreams (30 page)

'Castellan Lebbick's orders. We're supposed to know where the lady is at all times. Where are you taking her?'

Terisa was a bit surprised. No mention of those orders had been made the previous day, when she had left her rooms with Geraden. She glanced at him and saw that he, too, was surprised: his blankness lifted, and he concentrated as if he were thinking hard. The exertion improved his appearance considerably.

But this discrepancy in the guards' behaviour was something that Master Eremis obviously knew nothing about. 'I have invited her to a meeting of the Congery,' he answered smoothly-acid under a satin surface. 'Doubtless Castellan Lebbick-by which I mean King Joyse-will also wish to know what the Congery means to discuss in her presence.' He wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'And doubtless his spies will tell him shortly after the event. Come, my lady.'

As though she were dressed for a formal ball, he took her grandly down the stairs.

His route towards Orison's former dungeons was the same one Geraden had used yesterday. As they walked, he bent his tall form slightly over her, at once deferential, proprietary, and courtly: they must have looked like they were sharing secrets. She didn't have anything to say, however; all the talk was his. She was looking among the people they passed in the halls for any face that might remind her of the man who had attacked her. So he caught her completely off guard by commenting casually, The Perdon and I discussed you at some length yesterday, my lady.'

She was too startled to respond. Surely she wasn't the kind of woman men
discussed at length!
He chuckled as if she had said something clever. 'He has a- what shall I call it?'-he savoured the word in anticipation-'a
vast
experience of women, but he and I disagreed as to which of your many attractions would prove to be the most delectable. I have promised to give him an answer when he returns to Orison.'

The idea made her shiver. What did he mean? Something intimate and presumptuous-but what? Her mind remained stubbornly blank on the question. How would he touch her? What emotions would he draw out of her? She was too ignorant: ignorant of men, of course; but also of herself.

Unconsciously, she held his arm as though she were cold and needed warmth.

Crossing the disused ballroom with Geraden behind them, they took the corridor which went down to the laborium of the Congery. Again, she lost her bearings immediately among the doors and turns; but at last she recognized the straight passageway leading to the former torture-chamber which the Imagers now used for their debates. The guards outside saluted, then opened the massive wooden door for Master Eremis, Terisa, and Geraden to enter the meeting-hall.

From its perimeter, beyond the four heavy pillars which supported the ceiling, the large, round chamber seemed to clench around the Masters who had already gathered there. But when Eremis took Terisa towards the curved circle of benches and the better light of the lamps, her perspective changed; the space began to feel a bit less oppressive, a bit less like a crypt buried under a pile of old stone,

There were at least ten Imagers staring at her and Geraden as Master Eremis led them forward. A few of them sat on the benches, leaning towards or away from the carved railing which circled the centre of the chamber; the rest stood around the dais. Two days ago, that dais had held the mirror of her translation. No mirrors were present now, however. As a result, the dais looked more like what it had once been: a raised platform to display the interrogation of prisoners.

Terisa had no trouble identifying Master Barsonage: she remembered his bald head, his eyebrows like tufts of gorse, his face the colour and texture of cut pine, his wide girth. And two or three of the other Imagers she recollected vaguely: they must have been standing nearby when Geraden had pulled her out of the glass. But most of the Masters had a strange and hostile appearance, as though they were prepared to judge her sight unseen. To put her to the question without mercy.

'What is this, Master Eremis?' Master Barsonage asked darkly. 'Did we not explicitly determine that neither Apt Geraden nor the lady should take part in our discussions?'

Geraden studied the groynes of the ceiling.

'You did, Master Barsonage,' replied Master Eremis in good humour. 'But I am prepared to persuade the Congery otherwise.'

The mediator frowned sternly. This does not please. It is frivolous. Our survival-and indeed the fate of all Mordant- hinges on the choices we must make. We have not the time'- he faced Eremis squarely-'and I have not the patience to reopen finished decisions.'

Several of the Imagers nodded, muttering assent. Eremis didn't appear popular among them.

'Let us not be hasty,' a familiar voice put in, as if the speaker were meek and disliked calling attention to himself. Tor my part, Master Barsonage, I am willing to hear Master Eremis. Perhaps he has too little concern for the dignity of the Congery, but surely he is not frivolous.'

Until she heard his voice, Terisa didn't realize that Master Quillon was sitting on one of the benches halfway around the circle from her. His grey robe and nondescript demeanour blended into the stone background. Involuntarily, her gaze leapt to him, at once glad to see someone she thought of as a friend and fearful that in his presence she wouldn't adequately keep his secret. But he didn't meet her look. His bright eyes watched the other Masters, and his nose twitched alertly.

'In any case,' drawled Master Eremis, 'it is my right to bring whatever I see fit before the Congery. That is one of our rules, Master Barsonage, as you well know.'

An Imager said, 'That's true.' Another agreed.

Master Barsonage made a snorting noise; but he didn't trouble to argue the point. Turning away, he resumed his conversation with the Masters standing near him.

For a moment, Master Eremis grinned at the mediator's back. Then he drew Terisa towards an empty bench and seated her there, the railing between her and the centre of the chamber. With a gesture, half brusque, half cheerful, he commanded Geraden to the bench as well. Eremis himself remained on his feet, however. From her seat, Terisa received an exaggerated impression of how much taller he was than any of the men near him.

The room didn't seem as cold as it had been two days ago.

Alone or in small groups, more Imagers arrived. She noticed now that two or three of them were young enough to be recently elevated Apts-as young as Geraden. Among the others was someone else she recognized: heavy-set Master Gilbur, a scowl cut deeply into the thick flesh of his face under his black-flecked white beard, his crooked back counterbalanced by the power of his hands. She remembered his voice, as guttural as the bite of a saw. But young or old, familiar or otherwise, they all stared at her and frowned at Geraden. Apparently, none of the Masters had improved his opinion of the Apt and her. As he passed, Gilbur rasped rhetorically, 'What foolishness is this?'

Shortly, she heard Master Barsonage murmur, 'Well, we are here. Let us begin.' Imagers shuffled themselves to the benches, their yellow chasubles dangling. There was no escape: all the doors were closed. And they were strutted and bolted so that they could only be opened from inside. The Congery valued its privacy. If Master Eremis hadn't brought her here so confidently, she would never have come. She had nothing in her that might enable her to outface twenty-five or thirty antagonistic men.

As soon as all the Masters were seated, and the mediator was alone beside the dais, he said abruptly, 'Be brief. Master Eremis. We have more important questions to confront.'

In response, Master Eremis resumed his feet. His smile appeared easy, impervious to insult; but his skin had an underhue of blood, and his pale eyes glittered dangerously. 'Master Barsonage,' he said in a conversational tone, 'with deference to your age, place, and experience, I doubt whether your questions are more important than mine.

'No one here has failed to note that I have brought with me two persons expressly prohibited from this meeting-Apt Geraden and the lady Terisa of Morgan.' He didn't glance at either of them: he was playing to the Masters. They
are
the questions we must confront. He is the issue of power, for we still have no understanding of how he contrived to find her in a mirror focused upon our chosen champion.'

Geraden lowered his head and covered his face with his hands.

'She represents action-the action we wish to take for our own preservation and the saving of all Mordant. Who belongs in our discussion, if they do not?

'First let us consider Apt Geraden-'

Taugh, Eremis!' Master Gilbur interrupted rudely. 'All this has already been said. A child could make the same arguments. Come to the point.'

The point, Master Gilbur?' Eremis waggled his eyebrows. 'Do you wish me to forgo the fine speech I have prepared for this solemn occasion? Very well. I will trust to your penetrating good sense and make no further defence of my proposal.

'I propose'-suddenly, he raised his voice until it rang around the stone walls-'that Apt Geraden be granted the chasuble of a Master!'

While his shout died away, the Imagers gaped at him. Geraden's head jerked up: his eyes were wide with emotion. Terisa thought,
I mean to show my friendship towards you.
So this is what he meant. Master Eremis had been planning to gain recognition for the Apt, to see that he was finally rewarded for his years of devotion. She couldn't understand why the expression in Geraden's face was neither pleasure nor gratitude, but rather a kind of fear.

Then through the silence she heard a faint sound like muffled laughter. Scanning the circle, she saw Master Quillon biting the side of his hand to keep himself quiet.

Several other Masters were less successful. One of them let out a guffaw like the burst of a ruptured wineskin, and half the chamber broke into chuckles and hoots of laughter.

Slowly, Geraden's skin turned red until it looked hot enough to catch fire.

Master Eremis' grin was like his gaze-at once sharp, ominous, and vastly amused.

The mediator didn't laugh. He faced Master Eremis, his chin out-thrust. Without effort, he made himself heard through the glee of the Imagers. 'Master Eremis, it is not kind to humiliate the Apt in this way.'

'Humiliate, Master Barsonage?' returned Master Eremis instantly in a tone of protest and outrage, though he didn't lose his grin. 'I am entirely serious.' More laughter greeted this assertion. In response, he began to shout at all the Masters together. 'Apt Geraden has accomplished something that no Imager before him has ever achieved! Even the arch-Imager Vagel could not use glass as
he
has! Will you laugh at him? By the pure sand of dreams, you will
not!'
His voice quenched the mirth around. 'Geraden is as worthy of the chasuble as any of you, and I will have my proposal answered!'

Still he didn't lose his grin.

'Oh, forsooth,' said Master Gilbur before anyone else could speak. ''I will have my proposal answered.'' His sarcasm was as heavy as a truncheon. 'You dream, Eremis. You have put your head into a flat mirror and brought it out as mad as Havelock. Make Geraden a Master? Must I explain even this to you?'

'You must indeed,' Master Eremis replied like sweet poison, while the rest of the Congery watched him in various states of uncertainty and annoyance. 'I ignore the offence, but I must have the explanation.'

'Have it then,' Gilbur growled. 'We could not accept him to the Congery, were he the greatest Imager in recorded time. We do not have his loyalty. While his body serves us, his heart and mind belong to King Joyse. It is no secret that when he left with her two days ago he took her straight to that old dodderer. But what did he say to her along the way? Ask him that, Eremis. What did he say of us to the King? Ask him
that.
And how has he served our interests with her since then? Master Barsonage commanded him not to reveal anything to her until the Congery had made its decisions. I will wager that command was broken before Apt Geraden and the lady left this chamber.'

The muscles at the corners of Geraden's eyes flinched at every word. Yet he didn't lower his head or look away. Instead, he grew pale, as though his emotions were being honed out of him, leaving him focused and sharp. Holding her breath for him, Terisa thought that at any moment now someone was going to mention the flat glass which had changed. Then he would be asked to explain what he and she had been doing there.

'Apt Geraden.' Master Barsonage was gazing at Geraden, his eyes level and solemn. 'You must reply to this.'