The Mirror of Her Dreams (48 page)

The door opened on a room as plain as a cell and not much larger. The light came from several lanterns set on a long, crude wooden table which filled at least half the space. The heavy chairs around the table made the chamber crowded.

As soon as she entered the room, Terisa noticed Master Gilbur: he sat at the far end of the table; his features were clenched in an acid scowl, as if he had been trading insults with someone.

The Perdon was still on his feet, but the other lords were seated. She recognized the Tor, of course. He sat near Master Gilbur. Out of direct contact with the winter, his skin had more colour; but his face still looked like a handful of mealy potatoes, and his eyes were glazed. There was an enormous flagon on the table in front of him.

Opposite him was a man whom Terisa took at once to be the Armigite, simply because of Saddith's description. The softness of his face made it appear fleshier than it really was, and his expression was petulant; his hair was darkened and pomaded into elaborate curls; his clothes were rich in a way that somehow suggested a lady's bedroom. He was the only man in the room who looked younger than Master Eremis: clearly, he had inherited his place rather than earning it in Mordant's wars.

Like the other lords, he was armed, but the slim blade at his side seemed essentially decorative.

The man next to him was a strong contrast: he appeared to have been chipped from a block of flint. Every line of his face, every glance of his eyes, every gesture of his hands looked like it had been made sharp by blows, hammered to a cutting edge. His skin had a dusty tinge that suited his flat eyes. His eyebrows seemed to have no colour.

He must have been the Termigan: Terisa reasoned this because he wasn't old enough to be Queen Madin's father. The lord across from him-beside the Tor-was much more likely to be the Fayle. This man was at least the Tor's age; the sparse white hair on the back of his skull was cut short; he was as lean as a whippet. His face was so long, and had so much jaw, that he might have looked lugubrious if his eyes hadn't been so bright, blue, and precise. The way he sat-upright in his chair, with his arms crisply folded over his thin chest-implied the stoicism Saddith had attributed to him.

With the exception of the Tor-whose attention was fixed on his flagon-everyone was looking at her. The Fayle's keen gaze betrayed nothing; but the Termigan regarded her indignantly, the Armigite's face wore a sneer, and Master Gilbur's customary scowl was black and stormy.

The men and the lanterns made the room considerably warmer than the corridor.

No one offered any introductions. As soon as Master Eremis came into the room, just a moment or two after Terisa, the Perdon announced sourly, 'Master Eremis says that he will explain her.' The red hair of his eyebrows and ears bristled as he took a chair beside the Termigan.

'I would like an explanation,' Master Gilbur growled at once. 'What sort of legerdemain will you use to make us swallow her presence, Eremis?'

Under so much hostile scrutiny, Terisa felt her face growing hot. Anybody who looked at her closely would notice the sweat trickling down her temples. How had she become the linchpin of Master Eremis' plans? Why did everything he wanted in this meeting suddenly hinge on her?

'My lady'-his tone wasn't especially courteous-'be seated.' He gestured her towards the chair beside the Fayle, Then he sat down himself, at the head of the table opposite Master Gilbur. His leanness, the thatch of black hair behind his high forehead, and the way his cheeks sloped like the sides of a wedge from his ears towards his large nose gave him the appearance of an exotic bird. In some ways, she had never seen him look less serious. The sparkle in his eyes counterbalanced the grim set of his mouth. His hands he folded together on the table in a conspicuously unsuccessful effort to appear grave.

'My lords,' he said briskly, glancing at each of them in turn, 'the problem is time. If we were not in haste, I would not have presumed to make decisions without your knowledge and consent. It is true that this winter may not break for another thirty days, or even fifty. But it may break in ten. In ten days, an army of considerable size may begin to march against us from Cadwal. And only a few days have passed since wise King Joyse saw fit to reject a proposed alliance with Alend, humiliating the ambassador to seal his refusal. The forces of Margonal will not be far behind those of the High King.'

That is true,' the Armigite said with boyish bitterness. 'If King Joyse had granted me an audience, I would have told him that MargonaFs army musters not half a day's march from the Pestil. My commanders say that they cannot stand against it. When Alend decides to attack, I will be swept away. And King Joyse refuses to hear me!'

He would have gone on; but Master Eremis cut in smoothly, 'Worse than armies, however, is Imagery. And Imagery does not wait for spring. All Mordant is already assailed. Strange wolves have slaughtered the Tor's son. Ghouls harry the villages of Fayle. Devouring lizards swarm the storehouses of the Demesne. Pits of fire appear in the ground of Termigan-almost within the fortifications of Sternwall.'

The Termigan nodded bleakly. That's why I'm here. I'm a soldier. I'm weaponless against pits of fire in the ground.'

'We have no time, my lords,' Master Eremis concluded. Tor that reason, I have presumed to do what I have done.'

He paused; and Master Gilbur growled, 'Get on with it, Eremis. What have you done?'

Master Eremis' dour expression nearly broke. Suppressing himself stiffly, he said, 'I have invited someone else to our meeting.' Before anyone could react, he called over his shoulder, 'My lord, you may come in now!'

Terisa gaped as Prince Kragen strode into the room, accompanied by his two bodyguards.

His bearing showed that his self-assurance hadn't been dampened. He no longer wore his ceremonial brass helmet, breastplate and sheath. Black silk garments emphasized the darkness of his skin; his moustache gleamed. But once again he had a strong sword belted to his hip. His bodyguards were armed for use rather than show.

Seeing him, the Armigite blanched. The Termigan thrust back his chair and sprang to his feet, hauling at his sword. Master Gilbur's face darkened apoplectically. The Tor took a swig from his flagon and belched.

This is surprising,' commented the Fayle in a voice like the rustle of dry leaves. 'You are not presumptuous by half measures, Master Eremis.'

'Have you lost your mind?' the Perdon snapped at Eremis. 'I warned you that we will not be manipulated. Will you admit the son of the Alend Monarch to our secret counsels?'

One of the bodyguards braced himself between Prince Kragen and the Termigan. Before the man could draw his sword, however, the Prince stopped him.
'My
lords,' he said with a placating gesture, 'hear me. You are surprised-but you are not threatened. Indeed, I am grateful that Master Eremis has provided me this opportunity to meet with you. After my treatment at the hands of your King, I was minded to depart Orison at once. But that would have ensured war between Mordant and Alend. And the Alend Monarch strongly desires peace. It is his greatest wish to form an alliance against the perils of Cadwal and Imagery. Therefore when Master Eremis asked me to remain in Orison, promising me a chance to speak to you, I allowed myself to be persuaded.

'My lords, I have been denied an alliance with Mordant's King. But surely the same end may be achieved by an alliance with Mordant's lords?'

'Alend is my enemy,' the Termigan spat at once, still holding his sword. 'I've had too many brothers and friends killed by Alends who thought it was their right to own our freedom. I didn't realize, Master Eremis, that you called us together to discuss treason.'

'Oh,
treason,
forsooth.' The Armigite fluttered his delicate hands, quickly recovering from his initial fright. 'For myself, I am delighted to see Prince Kragen on grounds of friendship. What is your loyalty, my lord Termigan-to King Joyse> or to Mordant? You know what our King has done-and not done- to meet our need. I call it
treason
to obey him further. Mordant,' he added piously, 'is a higher service.'

'My lord Termigan,' Prince Kragen continued, 'you must understand the Alend Monarch's position. As I have said, his desire for peace is strong. We have known peace since you fought so powerfully for our defeat-and we have learned that peace is better than war. But your King has not been content with peace. He has created the Congery.

'My lords,' he said generally, 'the Congery represents great danger. While your King held it strongly, so that it served the causes of peace, we were able to bear the threat. But now your King has become weak. Mordant is under attack by Imagery- and Imagery is not used in your defence. How are we to explain this? Either your King has gone mad and no longer cares to defend what he fought so long to win. Or he has gone mad and now wields the Congery against his own land, preparing his strength'-Master Gilbur started to protest, but the Prince overrode him-'so that in time he will be able to destroy us all!'

'That
is a lie!' Master Gilbur barked, pounding the table. 'Of course King Joyse is mad. But he does
not
use the Congery! By the balls of the arch-Imager's goat, we are
not
the cause of this peril!'

Prince Kragen didn't take offence. 'You speak for yourself, Master Gilbur,' he said mildly, 'and for yourself I believe you. That the Congery desires our meeting augurs well for its honesty. To my mind, Master Eremis has proven himself true by bringing us together-and by gaining the Congery's permission to tell us what the Masters mean to do in Mordant's defence. Sadly, however, that changes nothing. Your King has become weak. Therefore Cadwal aspires to possession of the Congery. And therefore Alend must fight. We cannot permit so many Imagers to become a weapon in the hands of the High King.

'My lord Termigan, you have lost much in war against us. We also have lost much. But Mordant and Alend together will lose a great deal more if Festten becomes the ruler of the Congery.'

'Well said!' cheered the Armigite. 'Well said!'

The Perdon was looking hard at Master Eremis. After a moment, he said softly, 'You are wiser than I realized, Master Eremis. If I had known that you are so far-sighted, I would have come to you for counsel sooner.'

Master Eremis' eyes glittered, but he didn't permit himself to smile.

The Prince's argument was enough to make the Termigan reconsider. He lowered his sword; frowning in thought, he stared at the table.

Unexpectedly, the Tor banged his flagon to the table. 'Oh, sit down, my lord Termigan. So much upright anger makes me tired. Let us learn what more surprises are in store for us.'

'Before we go farther,' the Fayle said drily, 'perhaps Master Eremis will explain why he has brought this young woman to hear what we say and decide.'

Taken by surprise, Terisa's heart started to pound again.

Abruptly, the Termigan slapped his sword back into its sheath and sat down. His flat eyes looked at no one. 'Yes, Master Eremis. Account for the woman. You ask us to accept too much too quickly.'

Master Eremis opened his mouth to answer, but Prince Kragen was faster. 'My lords, she is the lady Terisa of Morgan. I know nothing of her. Yet I am in her debt. During my audience with your King, she did all she could to spare me humiliation. For that, the gratitude of Alend is hers.' He gave Terisa a formal bow. Then, his voice at once velvet and iron, he added, 'My lords, I must ask you to treat her with respect.'

Master Gilbur snorted softly.

The Tor peered past the Fayle at her through a blur of wine. 'You were with that boy of the Domne's,' he said thickly. 'Geraden. When I arrived.' Without warning, his eyes filled with tears. Blinking furiously, he leaned back in his chair, then slapped his hand down on the table. 'Take my gratitude as well. Prince Kragen and I will see that you are treated with respect.'

Gulping from his flagon, he slumped to the side as if he had lost consciousness.

'Very touching,' the Armigite murmured without quite looking at Terisa. 'What will we have next? Offers of marriage?'

The other lords, however, seemed to think better of the Tor than of the Armigite: they didn't acknowledge his sarcasm. Instead, they fixed their attention pointedly on Master Eremis, and Termigan said, 'I'll respect her well enough when I understand why she's here.'

'My lords'-Eremis spread his hands in an expansive gesture -'I will tell you. Will you be seated, my lord Prince?'

Thank you.' Smoothly, Prince Kragen moved to a chair beside Terisa, between her and the Fayle. His eyes gleamed at her. 'May I sit at your side, my lady?' he murmured. He didn't wait for her permission, however. As he sat down, she noticed that his hands were well-manicured; but there were ridges of callus on his palms and fingers.