The Mirror of Her Dreams

  Obviously, what he was saying was important to him. Yet somehow she had missed the point. Carefully, she inquired, “How do you know about that?”

  He looked at her sharply, his nose wrinkling. “My lady, you need rest. And I suggest a quantity of wine. But you are unprotected.”

  “I mean it.” It was difficult to speak aloud. I didn’t tell anybody. Artagel didn’t. I’m sure Prince Kragen and the Perdon didn’t. “How do you know I was attacked last night?”

  “Last night?” Surprise made his voice squeak. “You were attacked last night? By the same man?”

  She nodded dumbly.

  “Ruination! By the pure sand of dreams, why does Lebbick bother to train the dead meat he uses for guards?” With an effort, Quillon controlled himself. Facing her squarely, he asked, “My lady, how did you survive?”

  “Artagel saved me. Geraden asked him to keep an eye on me.”

  “Thank the stars,” Master Quillon breathed fervently, “for that impetuous puppy’s interminable interference!” Almost at once, he demanded, “Why did you tell no one?”

  She blinked at him, unable to fathom his distress. This was going on too long. She wanted to lie down. To make him stop, she asked, “Who do you expect me to trust?”

  For just a moment, he looked as miserable and desperate as a soaked rabbit. Then he shook his head and scowled. “I take your point, my lady. You are not in an easy position. Someday it will improve – if you live that long.

  “Go to your rooms,” he continued brusquely. “Bolt the door. I will guard you until Lebbick’s men return to duty.

  “As soon as I can, I will have your maid bring food and wine.”

  The fog was growing thicker. She stared at him blankly.

  His expression softened. “Go, my lady.” He took her arm to urge her toward the door. “You need rest. And if you remain standing here your mistrust will become unbearable to me.”

  Somehow, his strange mixture of concern and sorrow was enough to move her. She entered her rooms, and he closed the door behind her.

  After that, however, the capacity to act abandoned her. She forgot to bolt the door. Standing in the center of the room, she looked at her windows. They were blinded by the storm. Snow mounted on the ledge outside the glass; snow caught the light from the room and reflected it back. Flakes swirled and swirled forward like bits of light, but behind them everything was dark, as impenetrable as stone.

  After a while, she realized that she was lying on the rug.

  She felt weak and light-headed, but clearer, less fog-bound.

  Cautiously, she got to her feet and located the decanter of wine. It had been refilled, a fact that gave her a sensation of detached surprise until she realized that her bed had also been made, her fires rebuilt, her stores of firewood replenished – until she remembered that a long time had passed since she had left her rooms this morning. Plenty of time for Saddith to do that part of her job.

  Because Master Quillon had told her to do so, she poured a goblet of wine, drank it, and poured another.

  The wine seemed to increase her detachment as well as make her feel steadier. Now she wasn’t surprised when she heard voices outside her door.

  “How is she?” a woman asked.

  “Quiet, my lady,” replied Master Quillon.

  “I do not like it that she is alone.” The woman seemed to be hesitating. “But if she is resting a knock may disturb her.”

  “Try the door,” the Master suggested. Terisa couldn’t gauge his tone through the wood. “I think she did not bolt it.”

  “Thank you, Master Quillon.”

  The latch lifted, and the lady Myste let herself into the room.

  She bolted the door before she turned and saw Terisa.

  She had on a bulky cloak the color of old snow, too heavy and warm to be worn around Orison. Held closed by her arms, it covered everything from her neck to the floor and made her look like she was trying to conceal the embarrassment of having suddenly gained forty or fifty pounds. The flush of her cheeks and the perspiration on her forehead showed that she was in fact too warmly dressed. But she smiled, and her eyes seemed to sparkle with accuracy, as if she were seeing things in good focus for the first time in years.

  “Terisa,” she said, studying her quickly, “you are well. You need a bath” – she grimaced humorously – “but you are well. I am pleased. “Her pleasure was unmistakable. “All Orison knows what you have suffered today. Taking that into consideration, you are impossibly well. Have I not tried to tell you that you are more special than you realize?”

  This reaction left Terisa nonplussed. She was sure that she wasn’t special. On the other hand, she was glad to see Myste. Although several days had passed since their last conversation, she remembered that the King’s daughter wanted to be her friend.

  Awkwardly, she asked, “Would you like some wine?”

  The lady’s smile became laughter, then faded to seriousness. “I would love some wine. But first” – she faltered as if a touch of fear made her stumble – “you must agree to hide me.”

  Terisa’s detachment wasn’t equal to the challenge. “Hide you?”

  “Just until tonight,” said Myste quickly. “Until after dark. Then I will be gone, and no one will know that you have aided me.

  “If you will not,” she went on, “I have no time for wine. I must go at once, hoping that I will be able to hide myself.”

  “Wait a minute.” Terisa began to feel faint again. “Wait a minute.” She made a warding gesture with both hands. “What do you mean, no one will know? Master Quillon already knows. He knows you’re here.”

  “Yes, but who will he tell? The guards? Your maid? The Masters of the Congery are not inclined to tell such people anything. And if we manage matters properly, he will not realize the significance of what he knows until I am safely gone.

  “Then” – the lady’s expression was pained, but she held Terisa’s gaze – “I will ask you to lie for me. When Master Quillon tells what he knows – and you are asked what became of me – say that I left again shortly after I arrived, and the guards failed to notice me. Or say only that you do not know where I have gone.

  “Terisa, I would not ask this if I had any choice.”

  “No, wait a minute,” Terisa said again. “I don’t understand. Where are you going?”

  Myste started to reply, then suddenly gestured for silence.

  Terisa heard Saddith’s voice. “Is my lady all right? I came as soon as I heard that she has been rescued.”

  “She will be all right,” replied Master Quillon. “Before you see her, go call the guards who are supposed to be here. I have better things to do than stand outside her door for the rest of the afternoon. And bring food and wine.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  As Saddith moved away, Myste lifted her shoulders in an I-told-you-so shrug.

  “She’ll be back,” Terisa hissed urgently. “Where are you going?”

  The King’s daughter looked uncomfortable, a little sad – and yet excited, burning inside with a personal fever. “If I tell you, you will be able to stop me. You must promise that you will keep my secret and not interfere.”

  Terisa stopped. Her mind had cleared enough to grasp that she was being asked to do something she couldn’t evaluate, something that would have consequences she couldn’t predict. She hesitated because she didn’t know what to say.

  Her silence deepened the pain in Myste’s face. “Forgive me,” the lady said softly. “I should not demand so much of you. Your own burdens are already severe. I will go at once.”

  “No!” Startled out of her uncertainty, Terisa answered, “Don’t do that. I won’t tell anybody where you’re going. I’ll hide you. I just want an explanation.

  “The Masters translated their champion, and he went berserk. Geraden and I were buried alive. People are being killed. They appear and disappear. Everybody is betraying everybody else.” Geraden thinks I’m going to save Mordant. “I feel like I??
?m falling apart. I would like to understand something.”

  To her relief, Myste at once gave her a smile and a nod. “I will gladly explain as well as I can. It would ease my heart. If you were Elega” – her smile became a wry grimace – “you would believe that I have lost my mind. Doubtless this is another of what she calls my ‘romantic notions’ – the worst of a bad lot. But I hope you will understand it.

  “May I have some wine?”

  “Of course.”

  Half flustered and half pleased, Terisa filled a second goblet and handed it to the lady. At the same time, Myste opened her cloak, shrugged it off her shoulders, and set it aside.

  Under the cloak, she wore a heavy leather jacket with a masculine cut, pants stitched of the same material, and boots clearly made for traveling. The bulk that the cloak covered was caused by a number of sacks – apparently full of supplies – slung over her shoulders on a strap like a bandolier. Knives hung at her belt – a long fencing dagger and a short poniard.

  She asked permission to sit. Terisa nodded at once and gladly took a chair herself: her knees seemed to be growing weaker rather than stronger.

  “Terisa,” Myste began after a long draught of wine, “I believed from the first that you would be willing to help me. I believe you will understand. But I do not willingly impose what I mean to do on anyone. I truly have no choice.

  “Are you aware,” she asked slowly, “that Orison is riddled with secret passages?”

  Taken aback, Terisa said before she had a chance to think, “Yes. There’s one in the bedroom.”

  Myste smiled inwardly, and the focus of her eyes drifted into the distance. “You have been among us for hardly ten days, and already you have learned so much. I would not have done as well. I have always been a woman who could live for years without learning such things. But Elega has a different spirit. By the time she was twelve, exploring secret passages had become her favorite pastime.

  “She could not interest Torrent in this, so she often urged me to go with her.

  “If you were to characterize us when we were girls,” she commented, “you would say that Elega was bold – Torrent, timid – Myste, dreamy. In a sense, I found secret passages more exciting than Elega did. She would say that I found them ‘romantic.’ But in another sense I did not need them. I explored them with her enough to please my imagination. Then I was satisfied. Eventually, I began to ignore her urging.

  “But I had learned enough for what I mean to do now.

  “Terisa, you may not know that all the passages do not connect. They were built at different times, for different purposes. Most provide admittance to only a few locations in Orison.

  “My knowledge of the passages is not extensive. The only entrance I am aware of to the one I need – the passage that goes where I need to go – is from the wardrobe in your bedroom. That is why I had no choice but to come to you.”

  Terisa was about to ask, You mean you want to go where Adept Havelock lives? But she remembered that the passage had several branchings and kept her mouth shut.

  “If I have not forgotten what Elega and I learned together,” Myste said carefully, “if I am not confusing imagination and memory, a branch of this passage leads down into the laborium, near the meeting hall of the Masters.”

  Terisa couldn’t help herself. “Why do you want to go there?”

  Firmly, the lady answered, “From there I may be able to leave Orison unseen through the breach in the wall. I know of no private exits, and Castellan Lebbick watches the public ones better than most people realize. If I do not get out unseen, I will be brought back involuntarily, and what I must do will come to nothing.

  “Of course, the breach will be watched. But that duty will be new to the guards. They will be watching for enemies who desire to enter, not friends who wish to leave. And if this snowfall continues, it will cover me. Perhaps it can be done.”

  The sensation of fog began to fill Terisa’s head again. She needed sleep – a bath, a meal, and sleep, in that order. Slowly, as if she were becoming stupid, she asked, “What do you want to do? What’s so important that you have to sneak out in this kind of weather?”

  Articulating each word precisely, like a woman controlling an impulse to rush, Myste said, “I mean to find that poor, lost man the Masters call their champion. He needs help desperately.”

  “Help?” Terisa nearly choked. “He needs help?”

  Myste made a warning gesture, urging Terisa to lower her voice.

  “He could have burned this whole place to the ground,” she whispered intensely, He almost killed me, “and you think he needs help?”

  He almost killed me. Even though he said, I don’t shoot women.

  “He could have,” the lady returned promptly. “He could have killed us all. But he did not. Does that not say something important about him – something crucial to an understanding of him and his plight?”

  “Yes!” Terisa hissed back. “It says he doesn’t want to waste his power until he knows what kind of mess he’s in – how many people he’s going to have to slaughter to stay alive.”

  Suddenly, Myste was angry. She rose to her feet. “Perhaps you are right,” she retorted. “Perhaps he seeks only to ration his capacity for slaughter. Do you think that Castellan Lebbick’s soldiers will teach him restraint? No. They will harry him from murder to murder, searching for their opportunity to kill him in turn. If he is to be stopped, it will only be by someone who cannot harm him.”

  The lady would have gone on: she plainly had more to say. But she paused at the sound of voices.

  “The Castellan sends his apologies, Master.” Saddith’s tone was pert and insincere: apparently, she didn’t aspire to Master Quillon’s bed. “He regrets that you have been held so long on guard duty. You will be relieved shortly.”

  She gave the door a saucy rap.

  “Will you hide me?” Myste breathed.

  “I said I would,” Terisa retorted softly. Then she admitted, “I don’t know how.”

  The lady picked up her cloak. “Let her in. I will conceal myself in one of the wardrobes.” She didn’t forget her goblet. “Try to keep her here for a while – long enough so that the guards will relieve Master Quillon. They will not know that I am here, so they will not expect to see me leave.” Her excitement had returned. “But do not let her bring you clean clothes from the wardrobe. If she finds me there, she will surely talk about it.”

  Without a sound, Myste left the room.

  Saddith knocked again.

  For a moment that felt like an icicle in her stomach, Terisa was unable to move. This was worse than merely telling lies: this was active subterfuge. She had to trick Saddith. And she felt too weak and befuddled to so much as stand up, never mind trick anyone. The cold paralyzed her.

  But the next instant a leap of imagination told her what was about to happen. Saddith would knock again. If there was no answer, she would turn to Master Quillon and ask him what to do. And Master Quillon would be concerned. He would say something like, “The lady Terisa may be asleep. But the lady Myste is with her. She should answer.” Then Myste would be lost.

  Stung by panic, Terisa got her legs under her and hurried to the door.

  When it opened, Saddith sailed grandly into the room like a yacht on show, the lower buttons of her blouse straining to contain her breasts. Her demeanor made it clear that she didn’t think very highly of Master Quillon.

  She carried a well-laden tray to a table while Terisa closed the door. “That man,” she said as if she intended to be overheard, “ought to be more civil. I can perform my duties very nicely without the benefit of his instructions.”

  Putting down her tray, she surveyed Terisa.

  Her immediate reaction was a gleam of mirth and a quick giggle. “My lady, you look awful!” At once, however, she made an effort to swallow her amusement. “My poor lady, how terrible! To be buried like that. And to be recovered in such a state, with all those men around—!” She frowned. “What a sham
e that this dull gown was not damaged more. A few strategic tears would have done much to make your appearance more appealing.”

  The maid continued to babble, apparently controlling her desire to laugh by saying whatever came into her head. Until that moment, Terisa had had no idea what to do. But the sense of weakness which made her want to simply fold at the knees and forget everything came to her rescue like a flash of inspiration.

  “I need help,” she murmured. “I’m so weak.” Her voice sounded wan and distant in her ears. “I want a bath, but I keep passing out when I try to get undressed.” She had left enough dust on the rug to make that statement credible. “I can’t seem to get warm.”

  Through the fog in her head, she felt remarkably clever. No one could say she was really lying. And she would gain precious time while Saddith arranged to have hot water brought to her rooms.

  But her imitation of frailty was perhaps a little too convincing. With increased sympathy, Saddith came to her and took her arm. “My poor lady, lean on me. You should sit down.” Gently, she moved Terisa toward a chair. “It will take me only a moment to begin heating water. Then we will remove that foul gown, and I will bathe you.”

  Unable to raise a reasonable objection, Terisa allowed herself to be seated.

  Saddith went into the bathroom. Terisa heard running water; then the maid emerged carrying the tin bucket, which she set in the fireplace as close to the grate as possible. As she added wood to the fire, she announced, “It is too cold in the bathroom. I will bathe you here.”

  Pushing back the rug, she made room in front of the fire. Then she brought the tub from the bathroom and positioned it next to the hearth. After that, she began unfastening Terisa’s gown.

  For the first time since childhood, Terisa had the experience of being undressed and washed like an invalid. It made her acutely self-conscious.

  The result was undeniably pleasant, however – sitting in the tub before a hot fire while Saddith poured warm water through her freshly scrubbed hair. The relief of being clean and warm compensated for the embarrassment of Saddith’s comments on her body. When she heard the unmistakable sounds indicating that guards were now on duty outside – unmistakable because Master Quillon complained peevishly about the delay as he left – she felt almost equal to her next trick, which was to get rid of Saddith without allowing the maid to bring her any clothes.