The Mirror of Her Dreams (92 page)

Although they were mounted, they didn't appear to be doing anything except waiting.

All their eyes were on Geraden and her. None of them spoke.

Ribuld sat erect on his horse with his head high, brandishing his scar as though he were about to let out a yell.

Involuntarily, Geraden jerked his mare to a halt. The men with him stopped. Terisa's gelding blundered against the mare's rump and stopped also.

'What is it? Why aren't-?' Geraden's voice caught.

Near Ribuld stood a horse without a rider. But not without a burden. The man on its back hung from his stomach; his wrists and ankles had been tied to the girth so that he wouldn't fall. His back was wet. Blinking stupidly, Terisa recognized Argus' stallion before she recognized Argus himself.

'I'm sorry,' a guard with a captain's purple band knotted around his bicep rasped. 'I know he was a friend of yours.'

'What-?' Geraden tried again, but couldn't make the words come out. 'What-?'

The captain was a stocky, middle-aged man with a face that suggested more decency than imagination. 'We found him about a mile down the ravine. I guess he wasn't careful enough. There wasn't even a struggle. He was just there on the ground with a hole in his back. Probably made by an arrow.'

The captain spat a curse into the snow, then continued, 'After that, the trail gets confused. When that Alend butcher found out he was being followed, he knew what to do. He and his men did a good job of it, I'll give him that. I've got my best trackers working on it, but I think it's hopeless. By the time we locate his trail, he'll hit a road or a stream and disappear.'

Geraden wasn't listening. He stared at the body hanging from the stallion. Terisa could see the contours of his face ageing. 'Argus,' he said thickly. 'I got you killed.'

'Very good,' Nyle snarled at him. This is wonderful. Now you've got the worst of both sides. Without Prince Kragen, you can't stop Margonal's army. But you insisted on stopping me. This way, the Alend Monarch won't have any choice. After he breaks Orison, he'll have to keep it for himself.'

Geraden flinched; but he didn't answer his brother. Kicking his horse into motion, he went to face Ribuld.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It's my fault. I should have sent you with him.'

Ribuld lowered his head. For a moment, Terisa feared he was going to strike Geraden; he looked savage enough for that. Without thinking, she urged her mount after Geraden so that she would be near him.

'Nyle is right,' Geraden went on. 'I should have let him go. We should have concentrated on catching the Prince.'

Ribuld clenched his fists. 'Do I look like the kind of man who takes orders from an inexperienced puppy?' he growled. 'I thought he was smart enough to watch his back.'

Geraden bowed his head and couldn't speak.

The only sounds in the valley were the stamping of the horses, the jangle of tack. Then one of the guards pointed at the bound creature and asked in dismay, 'What kind of thing is
that?'

The Apt turned. Terisa could hardly recognize him: he appeared more dangerous than Artagel had ever been,

'I intend to find out.'

'Come on, men,' the captain ordered. 'The Castellan is going to shit brass when he hears about this. The longer we make him wait, the worse it's going to get. Form up.'

He spent a moment arranging more support for the trackers, assigning men to carry messages. Around the streambed, the guards pulled into formation. Terisa found herself beside Geraden between two files of riders who-among other things- clearly wanted to know what she was doing there.

She glanced back at Nyle; his face was closed and locked. Any resemblance between him and his brother had been struck away by Geraden's blow.

Her attacker had eyes in the wrong places, surrounded by long whiskers; he had a snout and tusks. But she didn't notice those things. Instead, she saw blood seeping to a rush out of mottled red fur, blood and death spilling to the white snow.

She was hardly aware of the way her seat and legs hurt as the gelding lumbered into a trot to keep up with the rest of the horses.

The ride back to Orison was cold and gloomy: it might as well have been interminable. Terisa lost track of herself and didn't regain her bearings until she realized that the host of red-furred riders waving scimitars which swept towards her every time she turned her head was just a hallucination, the product of too much grey sunlight glaring deceptively off too much snow. Orison wasn't as far away as her physical condition seemed to indicate, however. Eventually, the riders entered the courtyard of the castle and stopped.

Sliding off her mount's back, she planted her feet in the churned mud and stood on her own, trembling.

The guards dismounted. For a moment, she was surrounded by confusion-men moving here and there, muttering to each other. For reasons of their own, more men came out of Orison, hurrying in groups. The whole courtyard appeared full of guards who ran in one direction or another. Peasants or merchants pushed wagons about. She didn't know what to do with her horse. There was warmth nearby now: it was somewhere in the high walls looming around her. She couldn't imagine how to get to it.

Then the captain barked an order. His squad sorted out its disarray, came to attention.

Castellan Lebbick strode towards them.

Disdaining winter gear, he wore only his characteristic mail and leather, with his purple sash draped diagonally down his chest and his purple band knotted above his eyebrows. Cold steamed off his skin, but he didn't appear to notice it: he had enough fire inside to keep him warm. Though he was shorter than Terisa, he dominated her and the men and even the horses as if he were much taller. Ire glinted in his eyes.

Brusquely, he returned the captain's salute, but didn't speak. Instead, he surveyed the men before him. When he spotted Ribuld with Argus' body, he went abruptly in that direction.

Geraden put a hand on Terisa's arm as if to steady or comfort her. But his expression was too harsh to be convincing.

Rigid with silence, the guards waited as Castellan Lebbick thrust among them to Argus' side. Roughly, he clenched a fist in Argus' hair and lifted the dead man's head as if to check his face, verify his identity. The look the Castellan gave Ribuld was enough to make the veteran turn away.

Lebbick aimed a glare at Nyle's sealed belligerence. Then he considered the inhuman attacker. For a moment, the two measured each other across the gulf of their antagonism and strangeness. Without turning his head, he demanded unexpectedly, 'Is this his horse?'

'Yes,' answered Geraden between his teeth. 'There were three of them. One was killed. Terisa and I would have died, but Nyle killed the other.'

The Castellan, however, wasn't interested in how many red-furred creatures had been killed.
'This
horse?' he insisted.
''This
tack?'

'Yes.'

Castellan Lebbick moved towards Geraden. In a soft voice, hardly louder than a whisper, which nevertheless sounded like it could be heard on the highest ramparts, he said, 'I don't like losing men. Do you understand me, boy? I don't like it.'

Geraden didn't try to respond. In any case, the Castellan turned away without waiting for a reply. To the captain, he snapped, Tut Nyle and that monster of Imagery in the dungeon.

I'll see you, Geraden, and'-he sneered her name-'the lady Terisa of Morgan in the south guardroom.'

Trailing wisps of vapour from his shoulders, he stalked away.

The dungeon,' Geraden groaned to himself. He put his hands over his face. 'Oh, Nyle. What am I doing to you?'

Nyle raised his voice sharply. 'Don't worry about it, little brother. This isn't any different from what you've done with the rest of your life. And Lebbick probably hasn't had anybody to torture for a long time. For him, this will be more fun than a carouse.'

Geraden's shoulders tightened. Terisa stared at Nyle numbly. But it was Ribuld who spoke.

'I advise you to keep your mouth shut.' He tried to sound casual in spite of the way his voice shook. 'Nobody cares what happens to you. If you weren't a son of the Domne-and if your brothers weren't so much better men than you are-we would have let you ride off and make a shitass of yourself in front of the Perdon. You talk about
fun.'

'Ribuld,' warned the captain, 'that's enough.'

But Ribuld couldn't stop. 'I'm sure the Perdon would have thought it was fun to be offered the kingship of Mordant'-he was ventilating a vicious grief-'if we captured that fornicating Prince, and the whole Alend army was helpless against us. Geraden did you a
favour.'

Nyle avoided the guard's gaze.

'
Argus
did you a favour, you rotten-'

'Ribuld!'
The captain's voice cut like a whip. 'I said, that's enough.'

Ribuld rolled the whites of his eyes, glaring like a wounded predator. His scar flamed with blood. Nevertheless the captain's command caught and held him. He turned his back on Nyle, began untying Argus' wrists.

'He doesn't have any family. Somebody has to bury him.'

Lifting the body in his arms, he carried his friend away, out of the courtyard.

Terisa feared that if she didn't get inside soon she would begin to cry.

Dourly, the captain issued instructions to his men. Nyle and Geraden's attacker was escorted rather urgently in the direction of the dungeon. The remaining guards took charge of the horses while the captain himself guided Geraden and Terisa towards the south guardroom.

She seemed to have no sensation left in her. What was going on made no sense, and she was afraid of the Castellan. How had she survived being so cold? It was probably a lie that there was warmth in Orison. She was afraid of Castellan Lebbick because of his relentless anger. Or was it because she had lied to him?

When had she lied to him? How many times? She had killed one of Geraden's attackers, and all these falsehoods were going to destroy her.

In spite of lies and cold, however, a door opened and closed, and suddenly something blissful touched her face. She was inside the castle; she was still cold, frozen almost to the marrow, carrying her misery with her like a cocoon of ice; but the air was warm, warm. She could breathe it. She could stretch out her fingers to it. She tried to clear her throat, and a snuffling noise like a sob emerged.

'Here.' Geraden stopped her and undid the front of her coat to let more warmth reach her. 'You aren't used to this.' He took her hands and slapped them, firmly but not too hard, then rubbed her wrists. 'I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were feeling it so much.'

She began to shiver again.

He put his arm around her and helped her towards the guardroom.

It proved to be a low hall with a bare stone floor and all its walls unadorned except one, which supported a large slate chalkboard. Most of the space was taken up by rows of wooden benches facing the chalkboard: apparently, this was where Castellan Lebbick explained their orders to his captains and men. The warmth was stronger here; it made her shivering worse.

The Castellan arrived a moment after she entered the guardroom. Slamming the door behind him, he confronted her and Geraden. For some reason, she noticed his hands were curled. At first, she thought that was because he was angry. Then she realized he had spent so much of his life with a heavy sword in his grasp that he could no longer completely straighten his fingers.

He was looking at her closely, and something strange happened in his face. His expression softened; his constant, simmering rage let go of his features.

As abruptly as he had entered the guardroom, he left again.

Mystified, she and Geraden turned to the captain. He shrugged and tried to keep his own surprise from showing.

They waited. Geraden glowered at the ceiling. Terisa shivered.

When Castellan Lebbick returned, he was followed by a maid carrying a tray. There were three brass goblets on the tray. Whatever was in them gave off a sweet, heavy steam.