Feeling at once a little excited and a little foolish, Terisa shrugged.
Saddith showed her the series of hooks and eyes that closed the gown at the back. Then Terisa put aside her robe and pulled the heavy scarlet fabric over her head. It was a snug fit: Saddith’s earlier observation that the lady Myste “has not some of your advantages” seemed to mean she had smaller breasts, which weren’t so much exposed by the gown’s deep neckline. But it was warm. And it felt flattering in a way that Terisa couldn’t define.
She wanted a mirror. She wanted to see herself. The look in Saddith’s eyes – half approval, half gauging uncertainty, as if Terisa now appeared more attractive than the maid had intended or wished – that look meant something, but it didn’t have the same effect as a mirror.
For Terisa’s feet, Saddith produced a pair of fur-lined buskins with firm soles. They didn’t exactly complement the gown; but they, too, were warm, and the gown was long enough to hide them.
She was just starting to thank the maid when she heard another knock at her door.
Saddith went to answer it, Terisa following more slowly.
When the door was opened, it revealed Geraden outside.
He had a pinched, white look around his mouth and eyes; a bright red spot marked each cheek, like embarrassment or temerity aggravated by fever. At first glance, he appeared miserable: he must have had a bad night. But when he saw Terisa, his face broke into the helpless, happy smile she remembered from their first meeting.
For a long moment, he gazed at her; and she gazed back; and he grinned like a puppy in love. Then he cleared his throat. “My lady, you look wonderful.”
Her reaction was more complex. She was glad to see him: partly because, like Saddith, Adept Havelock, and the others, he had come back, demonstrating his capacity for continuous existence; partly because she thought she liked him (it was hard to be sure because she had so little experience); partly because he was one of the very few people here who seemed to care about what she thought or felt. In addition, she was immediately worried by his appearance of distress. And by his presence outside her door. King Joyse hadn’t just ordered the Apt not to answer her questions: he had also said, You will have no more reason to see or speak with the lady Terisa. Geraden had already shown himself loyal to his King and yet he was here in direct disobedience.
And nobody had ever told her that she looked wonderful before.
Flustered, she felt herself blushing. With a gesture at her gown, she said, “I feel like I’m going to a costume party.”
Glancing back and forth between Terisa and Geraden, Saddith gave a quiet laugh. “What is a costume party, my lady?” she asked to disguise her amusement.
Terisa tried hard to get her confusion under control. “It’s a party where people dress up in fancy clothes and pretend to be somebody they aren’t.”
For some reason, her response brought the strain back to Geraden’s eyes.
“La, my lady,” Saddith said at once as if that were the reaction she had been waiting for, “it must be greatly amusing. But if you will excuse me, I will return your trays to the kitchens. Please call for me at need. If you do not call before then, I will come whenever the lady Elega or the lady Myste asks to see you.
“As for you, Apt Geraden,” she said in a tone of kind mirth as she gathered the dishes together and carried them toward the door, “a word of friendly advice. Women do not generally admire a man who gapes.”
Laughing, she left the room, hooking the door shut with her foot.
But Geraden ignored Saddith’s exit. Gazing at Terisa now with an intensity that matched the color in his cheeks, he asked softly, “Are you pretending to be somebody you aren’t, my lady? What are you pretending?”
She turned her head away. “I thought I told you to call me Terisa.” This was absurd. Why was she in such a dither? And why was he asking her such silly questions, when he must be risking some kind of serious punishment by defying the King? “I’m not pretending anything. I’m just wearing this dress because the lady Myste offered it and Saddith said she would be insulted if I turned it down.”
Then she faced him. “Geraden, what are you doing here? King Joyse told you not to see me. You’ll get in trouble.”
At that, a pained smile made his mouth crooked. “I’m already in trouble. It probably won’t get any worse.
“You’ve met King Joyse. These days, he doesn’t punish anyone. I don’t think he has the heart for it. Or maybe nothing matters to him that much anymore. The worst thing he might do is turn me over to Castellan Lebbick.” Geraden sighed. “I guess Lebbick is a good man. Artagel says he is. But he isn’t exactly gentle. And he’s already started on me. Because I asked Ribuld and Argus to guard you.” That was the source of his distress: Castellan Lebbick must have abused him severely. “He spent half the night at it. I kept wanting to apologize, even though we both knew I was right.”
Abruptly, he shrugged. “At least now I’m not afraid of him anymore. After last night, all he can do is lock me up. But he isn’t likely to do that to a son of the Domne – not without a better reason.” Slowly, he made the tight lines of his face relax, and his smile improved. “For a while, anyway, I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Her heart twisted for him: she could guess what being scathed by the Castellan might be like. “But why?” she asked. “Why did he do that to you? What does he think you did wrong?”
“Well,” mused Geraden, “I suppose he does have a point. He wants to know why I thought you might be attacked when the idea apparently never occurred to anybody else in Orison. It’s his job to know everything that happens here. What do I know that he doesn’t?”
“What did you tell him?”
He snorted quietly. “The truth. Mordant is under siege by Imagery. King Joyse won’t let the Congery fight back – but even if he did, the Imagers are so divided they might not be able to accomplish anything. Cadwal and Alend are drooling for a chance to strike at us. And in the meantime the King has taken to acting like a man who left his head in the other room. Who in his right mind would not want someone as important as you guarded?”
Again, the Apt mustered a crooked smile. “Castellan Lebbick didn’t like it when I said all that.”
He was putting up a brave front; but the rest of his face still looked as pale as wax around the hot spots of color in his cheeks. Wanting to comfort him, Terisa said, “I can imagine what that must have been like. He was here for a while last night. After everything was over.”
“I know.” Without transition, his expression became morose, almost grim. “That was something else he wanted me to explain. How did you manage to save yourself, after both Argus and Ribuld were beaten? And why didn’t you answer the question when he asked it?
“He has a point there, too, my lady.” He began to pace in front of her without looking at her. “Even Artagel couldn’t beat both Argus and Ribuld at once. They may not look like much, but they’re really pretty good. And you got rid of a man who beat them all by yourself. Do you have any idea what kind of conclusions Lebbick draws from that?”
“No,” she breathed. “I don’t have any idea about any of this.”
“Well, I’ll tell you. He thinks you’re in league with that man. Or rather, that man is in league with you. He fought his way in here to meet you for some reason – maybe to give you a message, or to let you know what preparations are being made by your allies. But it doesn’t have to go that far. Maybe you aren’t allies. You still got rid of him without being hurt. That took power.” The whole notion seemed to offend him to the point of nausea. “I tried to tell him it was impossible. I wanted to protect you. But when you get right down to it” – he stopped pacing and faced her squarely, his trouble in his eyes – I don’t have any reason to think it’s impossible. Except you keep saying it is.”
“What do you mean?” she protested. “Of course it’s impossible.” She had only wanted to commiserate with him; she hadn’t intended to admit anything
that might force her to betray Adept Havelock and Master Quillon. “I don’t know anything about Imagery, or Mordant, or” – she saw again in her mind a wild grin, as sharp as hate, and a nose like the blade of a hatchet, and yellow eyes – “that man who tried to kill me.”
“My lady,” he countered, “I found you in a room full of mirrors! And it was a room where no known translation could have taken me – unless it was you who did the translating. You were sitting in a chair right in front of the glass, and you were staring at me, concentrating on me. I thought I could feel you calling me.
“My lady,” he repeated in misery and appeal, “I want to believe you. I want to trust you. But I don’t know how.”
Terisa hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new rules and emotions of her situation; the sheer seriousness of Geraden’s reaction took her by surprise. She was unprepared for the way she was affected, not by his argument, but by his distress.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would feel that way about it. Come here.”
Turning, she walked quickly into the bedroom, toward the wardrobe with the hidden door.
She still didn’t intend to betray Adept Havelock and Master Quillon. She had no way to evaluate any of the conflicting factions or exigencies that she had already met in Orison, no way to know which side she might actually want to be on. But what Havelock and Quillon had done for her was better than the treatment she had received from either the Congery or the King, and she didn’t mean to repay kindness with exposure.
When Geraden joined her, she pulled open the wardrobe and showed him the chair she had wedged there. Then she removed the chair to let him see the secret door.
“Oh,” he said uncomfortably. “You’ve got one of those.”
“I didn’t know it was here when they gave me these rooms,” she began. “But in the middle of the night” – she swallowed hard, hoping she would be able to say enough without saying too much – “Adept Havelock came through that door. I don’t think he wanted to scare me, but he talked about hop-board and” – she faltered for an instant – “and lust until I wanted to scream. So he was here when that man attacked. And he had a piece of glass that let out an intense light. When that man was done with Argus and Ribuld, he came at me. But Adept Havelock shone the light in his eyes. He was blinded. He had to forget me and get away.”
She met Geraden’s astonishment as well as she could. “I probably should have said something to the Castellan. I certainly wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. But Adept Havelock saved me. And he seemed to want to keep what he was doing secret. When I found out Argus and Ribuld hadn’t seen him, I decided not to tell anybody he was here.”
Then, changing the subject promptly, she went on, “And I’m not an Imager. Where you found me, mirrors don’t do what they do here.” She couldn’t have borne the embarrassment of trying to explain why she had decorated her apartment in mirrors, but she had another argument ready. “When you arrived in my room, you must have noticed the broken glass. It was all over the rug. You even had some in your hair.
“You did that.”
His mouth hung open. “I?”
“Two objects can’t occupy the same space at the same time,” she recited. “Your translation put you in the same space as my mirror. If I was trying to translate you, it was a failure. The glass was ruined, and I wasn’t going to be able to send you back, or go with you. But glass isn’t like that where I come from. There’s nothing magic about it. When you arrived, it just broke.
“Do you see? I’m telling the truth. The translation was from your side. I’ve been telling you the truth all along.”
For a long moment, he frowned intently while he absorbed what she had said. Then, slowly, starting at his mouth and rising to his eyes, a grin lit his face. “Of course,” he breathed, beaming wonder at her. “I shouldn’t have questioned you. Of course I saw the broken glass. Why didn’t I think—?” With every sentence, his distress lifted and the weight of worry on him seemed to grow lighter. “I should have figured it out for myself.”
Exuberant with relief, he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled himself close to her to kiss her cheek. But his enthusiasm tipped him off balance; he missed, knocking his cheekbone against hers instead.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbled in immediate chagrin. Backing away, he waved both hands as if to assure her that he meant no harm. “I’m sorry, my lady. Please forgive me.” Then he raised one hand to his mouth. “Oh, shatter it all to slivers. I bit my tongue.”
Terisa rubbed her cheekbone; the blow had startled more than hurt her. Secretly, she wanted him to try to kiss her again. She was as lost as he was, however. The best she could do was to say with mock severity, “Apt Geraden, if you don’t start calling me Terisa I’m going to tell Castellan Lebbick that you forced your way into my rooms and tried to knock me unconscious.”
At that, he began to laugh. His laugh was strong and clean, and it blew most of the chagrin out of him. “My lady,” he said finally, “I’ve never called a woman like you by her given name in my whole life. I’ve got at least three brothers who think I’m still young enough to spank – and I’m sure they would try it if they heard me call you anything except ‘my lady,’ no matter how badly you threaten me. Be patient. You can probably tell I’ve still got a lot to learn.”
She, too, had a lot to learn. But she knew enough to say, “I’ll try,” and smile at him as if she knew a great deal more.
She was relieved to see him looking happier – and to have escaped the subject of Havelock so easily.
For a moment, he stood and gazed at her in silence, enjoying what he saw: her smile, the tumble of her hair against the scarlet fabric on her shoulders. Then he shook his head and recollected himself. He ran an unself-conscious hand through his hair, touched his own cheekbone, and said, “Actually, I do have one official reason for being here. I was just supposed to send you a message, but I can stretch a point by delivering it myself. If anybody asks, that’s why I came.
“The Congery wants you to know you won’t have to attend their meeting today. That’s a polite way of saying you aren’t invited. They want to talk about you, and they don’t want to be” – he grimaced humorously – “inhibited by your presence while they do it. In fact, I’m not invited either. They don’t want to have to spend the whole meeting arguing with a mere Apt.”
As he spoke, his tone and manner became more serious. When he paused, he did so with an air of hesitation, as if he were unsure of how she would react to what he wanted to say. “My lady,” he went on slowly, “I’m already disobeying the King, as you pointed out. And I really don’t think I can get into any worse trouble. So I thought” – his gaze dropped to the floor as though he were forcing himself not to stare at her – “since all the Masters will be in their meeting, and nobody else is likely to stop us” – involuntarily, his eyes rose to hers again, and she saw trepidation and suspense in them – I might try to answer some of your questions by showing you the laborium. Where the mirrors of the Congery are kept.”
His audacity made her catch her breath. It was dangerous to flout authority: she knew that intimately. People who disobeyed were punished. In a rush as she forced the air out of her chest, she asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Then, feeling her apparent ingratitude, she added, “I mean, it’s too much. Too many people are angry at you already. If you do that for me—”
She stopped.
“I’m willing to take the chance.” His open face projected a sober intensity which suggested that he didn’t make his offer lightly that he had thought through the implications of what was involved more clearly than she had. “I started thinking about it when King Joyse called off the search. If he can’t even be bothered to let his guards try to find a man who attacked you—” His voice trailed into an uncomfortable shrug. In the set of his features, she saw how deeply his King had disappointed him. “Anyway, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds. After all, I’m not offering to give you the
kind of information you could use – if you were an enemy of Mordant. If you’re an Imager, you’ll already be familiar with everything I can show you. And if you aren’t, you won’t be able to do anything with what you learn.”
“Then why –?”
“Because I owe it to you. I’m the one who brought you here. If you’re the wrong person – or even if you are the right person but you don’t want to help us – it’s my responsibility to get you back where you came from. I want you to understand enough about Imagery to know what that means.”
He paused, took a grip on his courage, and continued. “But that’s not all. Even if you want to go back – and I want to take you back – the Masters won’t permit it. Even if they decide you actually are the wrong person, they won’t be able to ignore the importance of what you represent. They won’t want to let you go.
“Right now,” he said carefully, “while they’re in their meeting, might be our only chance to get to the right mirror and try to take you home.
“I don’t want you to go,” he added at once. “I believe you’re exactly the one we need. I don’t know how or why, but you are. If you want to go, I’ll beg you to stay. But” – he sighed – “you have the right to go, if you want to. It would be immoral to keep you here against your will.”
He amazed her. The question of whether it would be possible for her to return to her apartment, her job at the mission, her infrequent dinners with her father hadn’t seemed particularly substantial to her. Other matters dominated her attention. But behind the relatively tentative surface of his offer, he was asking her something fundamental.
She glanced down at her gown – at the rich scarlet fabric against her skin, at the snug neckline. Already? she protested. It’s too soon. I’m not ready.