The Mirror of Her Dreams (73 page)

'Whoever made that mirror,' Geraden commented like whistling in the dark, 'was either very lucky or very good. It's hard to imagine anyone
accidentally
shaping a mirror that shows this part of Orison. On the other hand, it isn't exactly easy to figure out how he could have made it deliberately. Even the best Masters have to do decades of research to get what they want.'

'I hope you know what you're doing,' muttered Terisa nervously. 'I don't like this at all.'

Artagel gave her a little hug. 'He probably does. The only time you really have to worry about him is when he looks like he has everything under control.'

She wanted Geraden to reply, but he didn't. After a moment, she asked, 'Who keeps these lanterns lit?'

Her escort shrugged. 'Servants.'

'But why?' she pursued. 'Hasn't this whole area been abandoned?'

'Well, not quite
abandoned,
I've heard that many of the damp, cold rooms down here are used to store wine. If we just knew which ones, we could die happy. And I know for a fact that the Castellan uses sections of this place to train his guards, especially in winter.

'Besides,' he added wryly, 'I think he hates the dark. He might put lanterns here even if no one but the people who took care of them came here from one year to the next.'

The thought of Castellan Lebbick wasn't much comfort. 'How much farther?' she asked.

'We're almost there.' Artagel sounded nonchalant; but when she glanced at him she saw wariness in the flicker of his eyes, the movement of his head. 'Lebbick must have had the floor cleaned. Otherwise you could see the blood by now.'

He was right. After another dozen paces, the look of the corridor began to match her memory of it, despite the absence of blood.

'Here,' she said softly. Even though she understood that sound didn't pass through mirrors, she was viscerally afraid of being overheard by unfriendly ears. This was the place. She could almost detect the residual tremor of her own fear, vibrations left over from the man in black's assault. 'It was here.'

'Yes.' Artagel stopped, turned. Then he moved her until her back touched one wall. 'You were there.' With a gesture, he indicated the passage. 'We fought there.' The obscure illumination made his face as grim as his voice. The Perdon and Prince Kragen came from the other side. They rescued us.' Abruptly, he confronted his brother, 'I'm not sure you realize,' he grated through his teeth, 'that bastard beat me-whoever he was. The last time that happened, I was a lot younger than you are now.'

Light gleamed dimly across Geraden's forehead as though he were sweating in spite of the cold. 'Somehow,' he muttered, 'I'm sure you'll get a chance to try him again. I just hope it doesn't come today.
I
won't be very good at rescuing you.

'But this isn't what we're looking for.' He moved past his brother and peered at Terisa through the gloom. 'We need to find the exact point of translation. If there is one.

'Where did they come from?'

She closed her eyes. She had been walking with Prince Kragen. He had been talking about Elega. One bodyguard was ahead of them: the other, behind. She heard a quiet leather sound-a sword leaving a sheath? Then the men charged forward. The black leather of their armour made them difficult to see. Their naked swords were more distinct, glinting lanternlight-

There,' she breathed and opened her eyes. She was pointing at what appeared to be a dark side passage diagonally across the corridor from her. They came out of there.'

'Good.' Geraden was whispering as though he, too, feared being overheard. 'Let's take a look.'

His breath left a wreath of steam in the air as he moved away.

Artagel had his sword out: it seemed to flex with the movement of his wrist. He touched her arm with his free hand, and she went with him after Geraden.

The way ahead remained black. If it was a side passage, it was too short to merit a lantern of its own. Illumination reflecting from the main corridor faded rapidly. After a moment, Artagel asked, 'Do you want to wait while I get us a light?'

'No,' hissed Geraden. 'If there is a mirror focused here, light will just make it easier for us to be seen.'

Artagel nodded. He was keeping Terisa positioned between him and the wall, to reduce the number of directions from which she could be threatened.

'Concentrate,' Geraden said to her over his shoulder. The point of translation could be anywhere. Try to feel it. Forget everything else and just try to feel it.'

'Concentrate yourself,' she retorted. Her whisper came out hoarsely. T'm not the only one who doesn't know what his talents are.'

Geraden paused for a second. 'Good point.'

Artagel flashed her a grin she could barely see in the thickening dark.

This is silly, she enunciated to herself. All three of them were supposed to be adults-yet here they were, groping their way down a blind hall looking for some place where the air or the stone or who knew what would give one of them twinges. We must be out of our minds. If somebody had jumped at her and said, Boo! she would have screamed.

That idea made her want to giggle.

It distracted her. She didn't realize what was happening until a touch of cold as thin as a feather and as sharp as steel slid straight through the centre of her abdomen.

Before she could react-before she could try to shout a warning -a man stepped out of the wall. His body felt like a block of stone as he collided with her heavily, knocking her against Artagel.

Artagel clinched her arm. 'Back!' he snapped, 'back to the light!' and flung her away from him.

At once, the cold sensation vanished.

She didn't notice the difference.

She stumbled, caught her balance. Where was Geraden? Every muscle in her body wanted to run; but she turned in time to see Artagel thrust Geraden after her while threatening a shadowy figure with his blade.

Urgently, she raced for the main passage and the lanterns.

Geraden was faster: he was beside her when he reached the corridor. He steered her to the right, towards the nearer lantern. Their momentum took them to the opposite wall, to the place where she had fallen and waited for the man in black to kill her. There they both whirled to see what was happening to Artagel.

He came into the light with his sword still poised between him and the obscure figure. No, it wasn't one figure: she saw two. Three. Four. They moved slowly, massively; the menace of Artagel's blade didn't hinder them.

Four. That was bad. But at least there weren't any more. As they reached the light, she saw that they did in fact look like men. They had the heads and faces and limbs of men. Their nakedness showed that they had the bodies of men. Their arms were extended for embraces.

But their eyes were dead. And under their skin lumps the size of hands moved visibly-lumps which couldn't be muscle.

They carried no weapons, however. And their movements were so leaden that Artagel would surely be able to handle them.

He retreated in the other direction, trying to lead them away. His fighting grin was absent. Behind his perplexity, his eyes hinted at horror.

The four men ignored him. As they emerged from the side passage, they headed for Terisa and Geraden.

Artagel shouted to distract them. They ignored that as well. They might have been deaf. Lumbering woodenly, they went after their chosen object.

In an effort to turn them, he struck. His sword whirled and flashed and came down on the wrist of the leading figure with such force that Terisa winced, expecting to see the hand flop to the stone.

But the hand didn't fall. There wasn't any blood. Instead, the skin of the wrist peeled back from the point of the blow, revealing an insect like a monstrous cockroach where the bones of the hand should have been.

The skin withered away; the insect dropped from the wrist-stump to the floor.

It tasted the air with its feelers for a second, worked its mandibles, then scurried towards Terisa and Geraden.

At the same time, a second insect started to squirm out of the lumbering figure's wrist. The skin of the wrist withered, as if the cockroach inside it were all that had preserved it as living tissue.

Terisa would have screamed if she could have found her voice. But the insect was faster than the heavy body or host which had carried it; and Geraden had shouted at her, grabbed her arm, he was trying to tug her away; and some residue of the incisive cold which had presaged this assault seemed to knot up her chest, so that she was hardly able to breathe.

While the second insect dropped to the floor from the tattered flesh of the figure's wrist, a third fought into view out of his forearm.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from what was happening: Geraden had to drag her backward. She saw wild revulsion in Artagel's eyes as he sprang to the attack.

One high hard blow of his sword bit into the nearest figure's shoulder at the base of the neck, cutting deeply through the man's chest. Another-so quick that it seemed to be part of the first-came around from the other side, licking murderously far between his ribs.

But there was no blood. He didn't fall.

Like a rotten husk, his torso split open. His head continued staring straight ahead; his legs continued walking stiffly, heavily, down the corridor after his fellows-and dozens and dozens of cockroaches came tumbling out of his ruptured chest and abdomen.

For an instant, they seethed around each other, searching for a scent. Then they ran like a rush of blood after Terisa and Geraden.

Abruptly, the man's head burst, scattering a knot of insects among the rest. After that, his legs seemed to lose their way. They tottered to the side, hit the wall and fell over, while more and more huge cockroaches swarmed out of the crumbling remains of his waist and hips and thighs.

Soon there was nothing left of him except hurrying insects.

Terisa heard Artagel swearing in vicious desperation, as if he were about to vomit.

Terisa!' Geraden hauled on her arm. 'Run!'

Transfixed by Artagel's attack and its result, she hadn't realized how much she was hindering Geraden-how swiftly the insects were moving. The nearest one had nearly reached the skirt of her gown.

Gasping, she whirled away.

For a few strides, she ran, ran with all her heart. But then she had to stop and turn, to see-

Artagel had put away his sword. With his face clenched and bleak, his lower lip bitten between his teeth, he came up behind one of the remaining figures, stooped rapidly, hooked his hands around the squirming ankles, and pulled as hard as he could.

The man toppled forward with the slow, unreactive violence of felled timber.

When he hit the floor, the impact broke his whole body open. All the insects which had packed themselves into his flesh were released at once.

They flooded the passage from wall to wall. Lanternlight gleamed and glinted on their dark backs; they formed a flowing current as they sped forward, champing their mandibles for the flesh of their victims.

Terisa fled again.

Geraden ran with her. 'We can keep ahead of them,' he panted. His chest heaved, urgent for air. 'Don't stop. We can outrun them.'

'How far?' Her heart was on fire, as if she had already run for miles. She seemed to be suffocating on fear and cold. 'How far can you run?'

Tar enough,' he promised grimly. Yet he sounded like each breath he took hurt his lungs.

She stopped near a lantern and looked back. She and Geraden were twenty or thirty feet ahead of the leading cockroaches. From this angle, the whole floor of the passage seemed to boil with menace as the insects rushed forward. Behind them, the figure Artagel had struck first was just finishing his collapse,

releasing the last of his occupants among the swarm. The remaining man increased his pace to keep up with the hunting torrent.

Artagel followed in a frenzy. 'Geraden!' His call echoed down the corridor like a wail. 'What can I do? Tell me what to do!'