The Mirror of Her Dreams (35 page)

And yet the way he said it-
The lady Terisa deserves better-
touched her. It made her withdraw a bit from the Master leaning expectantly over her.

That reminds me.' Her voice was soft, even tentative; but inwardly she seemed to be growing bolder all the time-so bold that she could hardly recognize herself. She actually met his avid gaze as she said, 'He told me you don't believe I exist. Remember? And you said you believed I didn't exist until I came out of the mirror. That's something else I don't understand.'

'
In what way?' Eremis' tone expressed deliberate patience.

She tried to explain. 'I don't know anything about Imagery. I don't really understand anything about it. But I'm trying. It's easier for me to believe that a mirror is like a window. It lets you see from one place to another. Or from one world to another.' She hoped he couldn't see the way her heart was beating, the way her breath came unsteadily from her chest. She didn't want him to know how important this question was to her. 'It's much harder to believe that a piece of glass
creates
what you see in it.'

Please. Do you
really
think I didn't exist until you saw me for the first time?

'Ah.' He nodded in recognition. 'As you must know by now, my lady, that is the fundamental confusion which divides and weakens the Congery. And Joyse further muddles the issue by insisting upon ''ethical' questions, such as, by what right do we translate Images out of their natural existence? But that is extraneous. The matter cannot be resolved until the essential point is known. Is a mirror a 'window', as you call it, or are the Images seen in the glass brought into being by Imagery itself, by the act of making and shaping the mirror?'

As he spoke, he moved incrementally closer to her, lea'ned closer to her. His arm was around her again so that she couldn't retreat, and his spell renewed its power. She had never realized before that the delicate aroma of cloves was sensuous. She could no longer hold his gaze. Instead, she watched his mouth as if in spite of her uncertainty-not to mention her recent embarrassment-she wanted him to kiss her again.

The true difficulty, however, is not a failure of understanding, but of imagination,' He took the goblet from her and put it aside, His voice became lower, huskier. The evidence of the truth is plain, but we do not accept it because, as you have observed, it is harder to credit.'

His mouth dipped to hers, kissed her lightly: once; again. The second time, she responded as if she knew what she was doing.

'My lady,' he breathed, 'it is plain that you did not exist before you were incarnated by translation. Glass is dumb. Mirrors depict Images. They do not transmit sounds, If you come to us from another world'-again, he kissed her-'complete in its own existence'-and with each kiss her response improved-'how is it possible that we speak the same language?

'Since Geraden created the glass which conceived you, I must admire his taste in women.'

This time, his mouth took hold of hers and didn't let go. His tongue parted her lips. She was leaning back among the cushions: his arm hugged her there, half reclining. For a moment, all her senses were concentrated on his kiss-and on learning how to kiss him herself. It was true: the mirror had created her. She was free. What she did no longer mattered. At first she didn't realize that he was unbuttoning her shirt. But his kiss was so potent- and his hand so adept-that she felt no wish to stop him.

'Master Eremis,' a voice said, 'my lady Terisa, would you like something to eat?'

Eremis sprang to his feet, rage flaming in his eyes. Terisa pushed herself out of the cushions and looked up at Geraden.

This time, he had entered through a doorway which led to some of the inner rooms: he must have used a servants' entrance. Once again, his gaze was fixed away from both her and the Master. In his hands, he carried an ornate brass tray on which he had arranged a large wedge of cheese, some bread, and several bunches of grapes.

'While you discuss the fate of Mordant,' he commented in a voice so determinedly nonchalant that it sounded fierce, 'I thought you might like something to eat.' As he spoke, he moved forward into the room. 'It's been a long time since breakfast.'

'Excrement of a pig!' the Master snarled softly. His hands hooked into claws. 'This is insufferable! Must I bolt their doors on my own servants in order to keep you
out?'

'I've already told you.' Geraden's deference was comparable to his nonchalance. 'I'm in your debt. I'm just trying to find some way to repay you.'

Though she fought to hide it, Terisa could hardly refrain from laughing. The Apt's second interruption wasn't embarrassing: it was absurd. And the butt of the absurdity was Master Eremis, who looked angry enough to tear Geraden's heart out for too small a cause. Standing ridiculously polite and out of place in the middle of Eremis' seduction-room, Geraden reminded her why she liked him so much. She was barely able to keep her face straight.

As if sensing that he appeared foolish, Master Eremis pulled himself erect. 'Apt, I believe you,' he rasped, jabbing one finger like the point of a spear at Geraden's face. 'You seek to repay me. But
revenge
would be a better word, would it not? You blame me because the Congery laughed when I proposed you for the chasuble, and now you wish to 'repay' me by driving me mad.

'Listen to me, boy.' He managed to look calmer and calmer as he spoke, despite the struggle between control and ferocity in his voice. 'I wish you to go away and leave me alone. I have been your friend, whatever you believe. But you will sacrifice my friendship if you continue to torment me. And you will not enjoy my enmity.'

If Geraden felt the force of this threat, he kept his reaction to himself. Without looking at Terisa, he asked-deferentially, nonchalantly-'My lady, do you want to be left alone?'

As soon as he confronted her with his question, she found that she couldn't answer. She liked him. She wanted to give him a reply that pleased him: it would have made her feel good to please him. But her body had come so close to learning what its womanhood meant-to Master Eremis, at least, and perhaps thereby to herself. She was trembling inside, and her legs felt too weak to lift her off the divan. Her yearning hadn't gone away.

'Are you blind, Apt?' The Master was almost whispering. The
only
thing she wants is to be left alone.'

Then'-for an instant, Geraden's control nearly cracked, and a spasm of pain leaped across his face-'I must go.' His tone became formal in compensation. 'Please forgive this mad intrusion. I have misjudged.'

Master Eremis made a stiff gesture of dismissal. Geraden turned and left the room the same way he had come.

'Fool.' Eremis glared after the Apt. 'He believes that he is safe to play games with me. I do not play games.' Abruptly, he swung towards Terisa. 'My lady, be warned. I do not play games.'

She met his gaze until it seemed to make her tingle. If what she did no longer mattered, then why did she ache this way? Perhaps her yearning was stronger than she realized, and it was changing her. Or perhaps she felt an inchoate desire to defend Geraden. Whatever the reason, she amazed herself by saying as if she were accustomed to comment on the behaviour of the people around her, 'I can understand why he thinks you do.'

To her surprise, her remark caught his interest. His anger receded, and an inquiring look came into his face. It made him even more attractive than his intent desire. 'Do you, indeed? I am taken aback.' His tone was sardonic, but kindly. 'What have I done to convey such an impression?'

She made an effort to answer him accurately, in part because she enjoyed being free to say what she thought, in part because his question flattered her by conferring substance on her ideas.

'You don't show much respect for people when you talk about them in private, so when you act respectful in public you don't sound sincere. And you aren't consistent. You seem to do things' -her boldness was positively dizzying-'like propose to make Geraden a Master, not because you believe in them, but because you like surprising people,'

His eyes widened humorously. 'Not consistent, my lady?
I?
You were not present when the Apt's role in the translation which brought you among us was debated. You have not heard how consistently I have always defended and supported him.' He took evident pleasure in questioning her. 'How am I not consistent?'

She considered the matter. This couldn't last: surely he was about to become angry at her. That was what happened whenever she called attention to herself. She didn't want to lose this moment. Trying to minimize the risk, she replied carefully, 'I was surprised when you chose Master Gilbur. To go with you to that meeting with the Perdon. He doesn't seem to like you very much.'

That surprise came back in a rush when Eremis burst out laughing.

For a moment, he was too amused to speak. She had apparently touched a point on which he was exceptionally pleased with himself. Chortling loudly, he returned to the divan and sat down beside her again, sprawling back into the cushions and stretching his arms above his head.

When he was able to stop laughing, he drew himself erect, put his hands on her shoulders and held her for a kiss. 'Ah, that was a fine jest, my lady,' he replied, enjoying her mystification, 'and the richest humour of it lies in its secrecy. I will wager that all the Congery was equally surprised,' Only the hint of calculation in his eyes, the way he seemed to gauge the consequences of what he did, prevented him from looking as unabashedly happy as Geraden sometimes did. 'None of those fools knows that Joyse was not the one who saved Gilbur's life when his cave collapsed,
I
was.'

While she gaped at him-while her thoughts reeled and her conception of everything which had taken place during the meeting of the Congery changed-he pulled her to him and captured her mouth again with his.

He stopped her breath in her chest. But as soon as his kiss eased she panted, 'Wait a minute. Wait. I don't understand.'

Placing kisses on her eyes, her forehead, the corners of her mouth, he eased her back into the cushions. 'What do you not understand?'

'You and Master Gilbur are working together.' Her chest heaved. 'You planned that whole meeting.' You were play-acting all the time. 'Why did you pretend to be enemies?'

'Because, my precious'-his tongue licked at her lips between phrases-'some of those dunderheaded Imagers truly do not like me. Ideas and hopes are frequently rejected simply because I am the one who presents them.' His warm breath seemed to fill her lungs. The truth would have turned them against Gilbur as well.' She felt his hand once more on the buttons of her shirt. 'The lie that he was saved by King Joyse gave him credibility, so that he was able to swing the vote.'

Reclining against the pillows and his arm as though she were helpless, she still asked, 'But why? Why do you want that champion? He's dangerous.'

Master Eremis withdrew enough to let her meet his gaze. His expression was serious, and he spoke candidly. 'Arms and war are dangerous. Power is dangerous. But nothing else can save us.

'You do not know the Perdon. You have seen his rage, however. He loves his people. He is proud of Mordant-and of his place in the realm. And yet his King has refused him aid. Impelled by desperation, he will go to any extreme to defend what he loves.'

She thought she heard a knock at the door. For an instant, Master Eremis stiffened. But the sound was tentative; and it wasn't repeated.

'I will also,' he went on. 'I sneer at my fellow Masters, but that is only because a talent for Imagery is not a guarantee of intelligence or courage. I love the potential which the Congery represents, I would gladly do battle in its defence. And I, too, have been refused. My King denies me his aid.

'I will not hesitate at a lie or two in order to gain the strength I need.'

She wasn't sure of what she saw in his eyes or heard in his voice. His manipulation of the Congery was too easy; his explanation for his lies was too tidy. But his nearness and his strong touch took hold of her: his scent of cloves and his kisses were more persuasive than logic.

Her lips answered him as well as they knew how. Slipping under her shirt, his hand cupped her breast. His caress made her nipples ache. Instinctively, she arched her back, pressing her breasts closer to him. He pushed her shirt aside, and they were bared. Then his mouth left hers, and he breathed thickly, 'My lady, I was not wrong. You are made for a man's delight,' and his tongue reached out to her breast until his lips closed over the nipple.