Geraden took a deep breath, straightened his back. “I’ll tell you this much, my lord. The traitor is Master Eremis. We can guess how he does the translations that let him attack anywhere in Mordant – that let him and Gart and Master Gilbur move through flat glass without losing their minds. And we know where his power is located, where he keeps his mirrors.”
With an intensity Terisa didn’t quite understand, Prince Kragen demanded, “Where is that?”
When Geraden had described Esmerel and its location, the Prince lowered his head.
“My lady,” he asked Elega, “can you stand?”
She nodded.
A flick of his fingers brought two servants running forward. They eased the lady out of his arms, assisted her to her feet. At once, Prince Kragen surged upright. He kept his face averted, so that Terisa and Geraden couldn’t see his expression. Under his breath, he murmured, “I must speak to the Alend Monarch.”
Without offering an explanation or waiting for an answer, he entered the darkness of the main tent and closed the flap behind him.
While Geraden and Elega studied each other with uncertainty and some embarrassment, Terisa went to refill her goblet.
She was stretched out on the floor, sound asleep and snoring gently, when the Alend Contender returned.
In a subtle way, his manner had changed. He looked less angry, less sick to the teeth with frustration; the prospect of immediate battle or danger came as a palpable relief to him. Despite his efforts to sound neutral, his voice was several shades lighter as he announced, “The Alend Monarch has decided that you will be allowed to enter Orison tomorrow morning.”
When he said that, Elega’s face shone at him.
Geraden let the air out of his tight chest with a burst like a laugh. “Thanks, my lord Prince. I’m glad we were right about you. And I’m glad you don’t hold a grudge against me for stopping Nyle.” He glanced affectionately at Terisa. “She’ll be glad, too – when she wakes up.”
The Prince nodded brusquely and continued, “I will accompany you, both to demonstrate my good faith and to pursue the Alend Monarch’s desire for an alliance.”
“Good idea,” Geraden remarked.
“The lady Elega will remain here to ensure that King Joyse does not abuse my good faith.”
Elega dropped her eyes, but didn’t try to argue.
“In the meantime,” Prince Kragen concluded, commanding the attention of his soldiers with a gesture, “it might be advisable to discontinue our assault on the gates.” He looked at one of his men. “Give the order.”
The man saluted and left. The rest of the servants and soldiers also filed out of the fore-tent.
To his own surprise, Geraden found that he felt suddenly giddy, in the mood for jokes and foolishness. “With your permission, my lord,” he said, “I’ll have some more of that strong wine. Then, if you’re interested in the trade Terisa mentioned, I’ll tell you a story that will curl your hair.”
Grinning like a predator, the Prince refilled Geraden’s goblet himself.
THIRTY-NINE: THE FINAL PIECE OF BAIT
By midnight, Prince Kragen and the lady Elega knew most of Geraden’s secrets.
The Alend Contender was an honorable man, however, and he kept his word.
While Terisa and Geraden slept the heavy sleep of too much wine, servants carried them to another tent, and put them to bed. At dawn more servants awakened them, offered them baths and food, and clean clothes. According to the servants, Prince Kragen wished his guests to take full advantage of his hospitality. When they were entirely ready, he would approach the castle with them.
Terisa felt loggy with sleep, thick-headed with the wine’s aftereffects. She wanted a bath so badly that she could hardly contain herself.
She was also considerably embarrassed.
When she realized that she couldn’t quite meet Geraden’s eyes, she asked awkwardly, “Are you still speaking to me?”
“Of course.” There was a watchful air behind his smile, but no discernible irritation. “If you want me to stop speaking to you, you’re going to have to do something worse than that.”
At least he didn’t pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. She covered her face with her hands. “Did I make a complete idiot out of myself?”
He chuckled easily. “That’s the amazing part. You scared me, all right. I thought you were going to get us in terrible trouble. But everything you did turned out fine. Even drinking as much as you did may have helped. It made you believable. I don’t think I could have handled either Elega or the Prince without you.”
She pulled down her hands. Deliberately, she glared at him. “Stop being so nice to me. I was irresponsible. You ought to be furious.”
Geraden gaped like a clown. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m so ashamed.”
She made a grim but halfhearted effort to kick his shins.
Laughing, he caught hold of her, held her, hugged her. After a while, a strange desire to weep came over her, and she found herself clinging to him hard. Fortunately, the desire only lasted a moment. As soon as it faded, she felt better.
She had to let go of him to wipe her nose. “Thanks,” she said softly. “Someday I’ll do something nice for you.”
It surprised her to see that he was leering. “If we had time, I’d get you to do it right now.”
That brought a smile out of her. “No, you wouldn’t.” She was definitely feeling better. “I stink like a pig. I think I’ve got cockroaches living in my hair.”
He stuck out his tongue in mock-nausea.
She went to take a bath.
When they were clean, and dressed in the new clothes Prince Kragen had provided for them – comfortable traveling clothes sewn of leather as supple as kidskin – they ate breakfast. The impression that they were keeping the Alend Contender waiting nagged at the back of Terisa’s mind; nevertheless she let him wait so that she would have a last chance to talk to Geraden. She had to prepare herself for Orison.
“We’re aren’t likely to get much of a welcome, you know,” she said between bites of honeyed bread and souffléed eggs – an unexpectedly rich sample of the Alend Monarch’s hospitality. “I tried to make the Castellan think I might be innocent, but Master Gilbur did a pretty good job of wiping that out.” She didn’t mention Artagel. “Everybody there has spent the whole time thinking you killed Nyle and I’m in league with the arch-Imager.”
Geraden nodded. “It won’t be much fun. But I’m not too worried. We’ll have Prince Kragen with us. We’ll be under a flag of truce. No matter what Lebbick and everybody else thinks of us, they’ll leave us alone.”
He chewed for a moment in silence, then added, “What I’m worried about is that mirror – the one that attacked the Perdon when he came here to get King Joyse’s help.”
Suddenly, Terisa found a sick taste in her mouth. “Didn’t Eremis change all that? He used those creatures to try to kill us outside Sternwall. He may have used them to kill Underwell. What can he still do?”
“Well, he must have switched flat mirrors in the Image of the world where those creatures come from. Otherwise he couldn’t have attacked us. But he’s had plenty of time since then. He could have switched the mirrors back.
“In any case, the point is that he has a glass that shows the approach to Orison, the road. He’ll be able to see us go in. He’ll be forewarned.”
She thought about that while the taste in her mouth changed to an old, settled anger. Then she muttered, “At least he’ll be surprised. He won’t have any idea how we managed to talk Prince Kragen into this.”
It did her good to be angry. Facing down Castellan Lebbick – or the Tor and Artagel, who had turned against her – would be hard enough. But confronting Master Eremis would be worse. The more she loved Geraden, the more her skin crawled at the memory of the things Master Eremis had done to her.
She could see Geraden’s eagerness in his eyes, in the way
he moved: he was starting to hurry. She had never been as confident or as clear as he was; but she, too, felt a need for haste. By tacit agreement, they left the remains of their meal. They had nothing to pack, nothing to carry. They kissed each other once, like a promise; then they went out of the tent.
Prince Kragen was waiting for them. They caught him in the act of pacing back and forth across the open area among the luxurious tents.
He was dressed in his ceremonial garb: a black silk doublet and pantaloons covered by a brass breastplate with a high polish; a sword in a gleaming brass scabbard on his hip; a spiked brass helmet on his curling hair. The sheen of the metal emphasized his swarthy skin; it made his black eyes glitter and his moustache shine. And his impatience only increased the self-assertion of his bearing, emphasizing his habit of command.
Three horses were held ready beyond the tents. They, too, were dressed for show, with satin and silk streaming from their saddles and tack, gilt cords knotted into their manes and tails. Around them, an honor guard was already mounted: ten men to carry the Prince’s pennon, and his dignity.
Terisa didn’t see Elega anywhere.
Prince Kragen nodded to Geraden, bowed to Terisa. In a tightly reined voice, he explained, “The lady Elega sends her goodwill to you – and to her father – but she cannot bid you farewell. She has already been placed under guard. The Alend Monarch intends to assure that no mistakes are made with us, and the lady Elega is his only means to that end. Even I do not know where she is held. Therefore I cannot enable the King’s men – or his Imagers – to find her.”
Terisa swallowed hard. The sun was up, but it didn’t seem to be enjoying its work. The light over the encampment and against the walls of Orison was thin, unconvincing; the air had a cold taste, more like a residue of winter than a part of spring. The castle’s battlements looked bleak, as if they had been abandoned. If anything happened to her and Geraden there – but especially if anything happened to Prince Kragen – Elega would be in serious trouble.
“My lord Prince” – Geraden changed the subject awkwardly – “you must have heard about the mirror that attacked the Perdon. If he didn’t tell you about it himself, surely Elega did?”
“Yes.” A subtle shift in his expression suggested that Prince Kragen was glad to discuss something other than Elega. “But I must confess that I am baffled. Our siege engines have no approach to the gates, except along the road. Our rams must pass through the Image which struck at the Perdon. Yet nothing has been translated against us.
“You have told me that Master Eremis is in league with Cadwal to destroy Mordant – and Alend as well. For that reason, his power has been used to defend Orison against us. Yet we are now within hours – within a day at most – of breaking down the gates, and he has done nothing to hinder us.”
Breaking down the gates. Terisa’s stomach twisted. So it was now or never. If she and Geraden couldn’t get King Joyse to accept an alliance, Orison would fall almost immediately.
The muscles along Geraden’s jaw bunched; but if he was worried about Orison’s vulnerability to Prince Kragen he didn’t admit it. “He probably hasn’t given you trouble,” he said, “because you haven’t been attacking very hard. If you’re about to break in, and he still isn’t using Imagery, I’d guess his trap is just about ready to spring.”
Prince Kragen nodded darkly. Without a word, he beckoned for the horses and his honor guard.
In a moment, Terisa found herself being offered a charger so big that she couldn’t see over its back. Oh, shit, she muttered to herself. That was one thing she had learned in Mordant, anyway: after some practice, she was now able to say oh, shit without sounding like she expected to have her mouth washed out with soap. If she fell off that beast, she might take days to hit the ground.
Unfortunately, Prince Kragen had already mounted; Geraden was swinging up into the saddle of his horse. This probably wouldn’t be a good time to ask for something smaller.
Somehow, she climbed onto the charger’s back.
The reins carried so many streamers that they looked like the lines of a maypole. She was afraid to move them: they might make her horse shy. But Prince Kragen and Geraden weren’t having any trouble. Apparently, these beasts were trained for ceremonial occasions. Nothing embarrassing happened as she guided her mount to Geraden’s side.
“Simply as a precaution,” the Prince announced, “we will avoid the road. We will ride to the walls directly, and around them to the gates.”
Geraden seemed to think that made sense.
Prince Kragen nodded to his honor guard. His standard-bearer raised the green-and-red pennon of Alend, then affixed a flag of truce below it. The soldiers took their formal positions around their Prince and his companions.
In formation, the riders left the encampment.
The charger’s strides made the distance shorter than it had any right to be. Before she had time to accustom herself to the beast’s gait, Terisa found herself moving into what looked like arrow-range of the castle. She could see men on the walls now, watching, pointing; some of them hurried from place to place. She tried to stifle the fear that they would ignore the flag of truce and start firing, but it refused to go away.
Luckily, there was still some common sense left in Orison. None of the men on the battlements bent their bows. None of them made any threatening gestures.
Instead, the castle’s trumpeter winded his horn, sending a forlorn call like a wail of defiance into the skeptical sunlight. As the riders rounded the corner of Orison and neared the entrance, they heard the great winches squeal against the strain of raising the battered and deformed gates up into the architrave.
Terisa felt nothing to indicate that a translation had ever taken place near here.
In formation, Prince Kragen and his company crossed the bare ground to the road in front of the gates.
Castellan Lebbick and ten of his men came out on horseback to meet them.
Seeing the Castellan filled Terisa’s stomach with a watery panic. His men were nervous; the horses fretted because they hadn’t had enough exercise. In contrast, he looked too obsessed and single-minded for nervousness. His eyes were red and raw, dangerously aggrieved; he moved as if the violence coiled in his muscles might burst out at any moment. His features were sharp with anticipation – almost with yearning.
“My lord Prince.” He bared his teeth: maybe he was trying to smile. “You’ve got strange friends. A fratricide and a traitor. I never thought I was going to see either of them again.”
“Castellan Lebbick.” Prince Kragen lacked Lebbick’s air of madness, but he matched the Castellan’s tone. “Geraden and the lady Terisa accompany me under a flag of truce. I have no interest in your opinion of them. You will respect the flag.”
“Oh, of course. They’re as safe as babies. Especially since they’re with you. You’re the man who intends to break down my gates. I wouldn’t lift a finger against any of you.”
Prince Kragen clenched his jaws. Before he could speak, however, Geraden said hotly, “Castellan, I didn’t kill my brother.” His face was flushed; anger glinted from his eyes. Hints of authority echoed in his voice. “Terisa isn’t a traitor. It’s time for you to start believing us. You’re doomed if you don’t.”
The Castellan actually laughed – a rough sound like a piece of stone being crushed. “Believe you? I believe you. I don’t need you to tell me I’m doomed. That’s not the problem.”
Prince Kragen contained himself. “What is the problem, Castellan?”
“The problem, my lord Prince,” retorted Lebbick fiercely, “is that I’m the only one. Nobody else here cares enough. Nobody else is desperate enough.”
Terisa recoiled from his vehemence. She didn’t want to know what he was talking about: she wanted to get away from him. Geraden leaned forward in his saddle, however; he was almost panting. “Did I hear you right, Castellan?” he demanded. “Did I just hear you admit Terisa and I are innocent?”
“No.” The
Castellan bared his teeth again. “You heard me say I believe you. They all think I’m insane. If I said the sun is shining today, the people in there” – he indicated Orison with a twitch of his head – “would run to get out of the rain.
“Nobody cares what a crazy man believes. Besides” – he shrugged maliciously – “I might be wrong.”
“Castellan Lebbick.” Prince Kragen spoke harshly, trying to gain control of the situation. “We will discuss the question of your sanity at another time. As you may guess, Geraden and the lady Terisa have traveled widely since they departed Orison. They bring news. I must have an audience with King Joyse.”
“An audience?” Lebbick snapped back at once. “You? The Alend Contender? Any news you want King Joyse to hear is either false or dangerous. They’re going to scream for your heart’s blood when I let you in. Of course you can have an audience.”
Wheeling his horse as if the matter were settled, he faced his men. Counting off four of them, he ordered, “Tell King Joyse I’m going to take Kragen and these two to the hall of audiences. Tell him there are going to be riots unless he backs me up. We’ll have to kill people to keep the Prince and his friends alive if King Joyse doesn’t come to the hall.”
At once, Prince Kragen put in grimly, “And tell him also that the lady Elega is being kept hostage. Until now, she has been an honored guest and friend of the Alend Monarch. To ensure my safety, however, she has been deprived of her freedom.” He spoke as if he intended to make someone pay for the necessity which compelled him to let Elega be used in this way. “If any harm comes to me, or to my companions, she will be hurt as well.
“Tell King Joyse that.”
“Oh, of course, my lord Prince,” the Castellan grated without looking at Kragen. “I burn to do everything you command. My men will keep you alive. Somehow.”
His four guards rode back into the courtyard. Terisa saw them dismount, saw them head at a run for one of the inner doorways.
“Come on,” added Lebbick. He might have been speaking to the wall stretching high above his head over the gates. “Or ride back to Margonal and admit you haven’t got the bare courage to do whatever it is you’ve got in mind.”