“In any case,” Master Eremis said more sharply, “it came to nothing. There is no cause for your outrage, Castellan, because no harm was done. In retrospect, it is clear that the gravest danger arose simply from the presence of so many lords – and Prince Kragen – here at the same time. If the champion had chosen to blast his way in some other direction” – Master Eremis rolled his eyes humorously, but his tone didn’t lose its edge – “he might have brought Orison down on the head of every important man in the kingdom.”
Castellan Lebbick muttered a few dark oaths.
“Can we get on with it?” Terisa asked, still speaking in the voice she hardly knew. “I want to hear why Nyle thinks Geraden is a traitor.”
The Master with the paunch snapped, “My lady, what you want is not of great consequence to us at present.”
With a gesture, Master Quillon demanded silence. Facing Lebbick, he inquired acerbically, “Castellan, may we continue? Or do you wish to go on abusing us because we see our circumstances and Mordant’s need differently than you do?”
Castellan Lebbick spat another curse, then clamped his mouth shut. Like a coiled spring, he returned to his seat.
The mediator rubbed his nose, trying to stop its twitch. “Apt Geraden, have you finished what you wish to say?”
Geraden gave an abrupt nod.
“Do you have any corroboration? Is there anything you can show us or tell us to support your assertions?”
Geraden shook his head.
An odd thought crossed Terisa’s mind. Geraden, she realized, had done what King Joyse wanted her to do: he had used his reason. His accusation against Master Eremis was based on reason rather than on proof.
Unfortunately, it was proof the Masters wanted. “Master Eremis was the only one who knew I would be at the meeting,” she said. “I was there. Everyone else was surprised to see me.”
“No, my lady,” Master Eremis put in immediately. “That is incorrect. You cannot be sure that I did not mention my intent to Master Gilbur – or even to Prince Kragen. You cannot be sure that the surprise you saw did not have another cause.
“But even if your assertion is true, what does it mean? Master Gilbur and I left the meeting together, going – as you know – to report what had happened to our fellow Masters. But he parted from me almost at once, saying that he had an urgent need to visit his rooms. Knowing now that he, at least, is a traitor, how can you believe that he did not take that opportunity – unforeseen though it may have been – to translate Gart against you?”
“Because,” someone Terisa didn’t know remarked incisively, “such an attack could not have been done without preparation. The necessary mirror could not have been made on a whim. Indeed, the location of the meeting must have been chosen to match the proximity of the mirror. Was it not you who chose the location of the meeting, Master Eremis?”
Almost instantly, everyone in the room fell still. Attention concentrated the atmosphere. Geraden took a deep breath, and some of the unnatural color left his face.
Master Eremis, however, wasn’t daunted. “Of course it was,” he snapped. “I had that responsibility because neither the Perdon nor Prince Kragen knew Orison well enough to make the choice themselves. But you assume that the mirror was created for the sake of Gart’s attack on the lady. There were only six days between the planning of the meeting and the meeting itself. Do you think such a mirror could be conceived and researched and shaped in six days? Is it not more probable that the mirror was created for an entirely different purpose – perhaps to give Gart access to Orison whenever he wanted it – and that the opportunity to attack the lady was merely fortuitous, an accident of circumstance which Master Gilbur hurried to turn to his advantage?”
Several of the Imagers shuffled their feet; few of them met Eremis’ gaze. The ease with which he had turned the accusation made Terisa’s thoughts spin.
“Very well, Master Eremis,” the mediator murmured after a long pause. “I presume that Geraden has no more to say. Since you have already begun to defend yourself, please continue.”
“Thank you, Master Quillon,” Eremis said as if he were deliberately suppressing contempt. He didn’t trouble to rise. “I will give you my reasons. Only if they do not persuade you will I call on Nyle to prove what I say. He is understandably reluctant to condemn his brother.”
That statement may have been true. Nyle did look reluctant: he looked reluctant to go on living.
“I have been curious about Apt Geraden since the moment when he brought the lady Terisa to us from a mirror which could not have performed that translation.” The Master sat nonchalantly, half sprawled in his chair with his legs outstretched. While he spoke, his long fingers played with the ends of his chasuble. His manner was so negligent that Terisa had to study him closely to notice that he was watching the entire room. “The link between him and Master Gilbur turned my curiosity to suspicion. When Master Gilbur finally proved himself false, my worst doubts were confirmed.”
No one interrupted him as he recited the arguments he had already presented to Terisa. She had to admit that they sounded plausible, almost inevitable. It was Master Gilbur who shaped the glass which first showed the champion, Master Gilbur who guided every step of Geraden’s attempt to match that mirror. Therefore if Geraden’s abilities had made a mirror which could do things no mirror had ever done before, Master Gilbur must have been a witness to them. Or else Master Gilbur must have been responsible for the mysteries of that mirror himself, guiding Geraden to accomplishments which the Apt couldn’t have achieved for himself. In either case, the two men were confederates. Geraden’s difficulties had always been ones of talent rather than of knowledge: Master Gilbur couldn’t have employed him to do something unprecedented without the Apt’s awareness of it.
“No,” Geraden murmured. “I had no idea.” But no one paid any attention to him.
Master Eremis also explained his theory about why Cadwal was marching. On that basis, he claimed, the rest was obvious. Who was the only man who always knew exactly where the lady Terisa was? Apt Geraden, of course, who first arranged to have her rooms guarded, then persuaded his brother Artagel to follow her. Who was the man most likely to have aided Master Gilbur in translating Gart after the meeting of the lords? Apt Geraden, of course, Master Gilbur’s confederate. Why was it that all Geraden’s apparent loyalty to King Joyse came to nothing? Because it was only a clever disguise to help him hurt those who most trusted him. He was in league with Gart and High King Festten.
Listening to this made Terisa feel sick.
The pain in Geraden’s eyes was acute, but he said nothing.
When Master Eremis was done, the rest of the Imagers were slow to speak. A few of them looked shocked. More were relieved, however, as if they had been rescued from believing that a member of the Congery had betrayed them. And some were plainly delighted by the prospect of finally being rid of Geraden.
After a moment, however, a slightly cross-eyed young Master countered, “But this is inconsistent, Master Eremis. If I understand rightly, it is Geraden who has kept the lady alive by providing her with defenders.”
“Nonsense,” retorted Master Eremis shortly. “The guards he first arranged for her could not be a match for the High King’s Monomach. And since then his duplicity has been more profound than you realize. He has put Artagel at the lady’s side so that Mordant’s best swordsman might also be killed, thus freeing Cadwal of two important enemies with one betrayal.”
“You can’t believe that!” Geraden’s protest was like a groan. At once, however, he closed his mouth again.
“No, Geraden.” Master Barsonage heaved his bulk upright. His gaze lingered momentarily, sadly, on Terisa. “I do not believe that.” His face had the color and texture of prolonged strain. “The truth is that I do not believe anything I have heard here. You and Master Eremis denounce each other as though what you say cannot be doubted, but you do not answer the most important question, the question on which all else stands or f
alls. You do not explain why.
“Why does the High King’s Monomach go to such lengths to attack the lady Terisa? Why does Master Eremis wish her killed?” Over his shoulder, he demanded, “Master Eremis, why does Geraden wish her killed?” Then he addressed the Congery. “Nothing that these men have said has any meaning unless they can tell us why.”
Before either accuser could answer, Terisa stood up. “I’ll tell you why.” A shiver ran through her voice – a shiver of anger rather than of cold. She wasn’t cold: she was sure. The frustrating certainty that she hadn’t been able to name was suddenly clear. “I’ll tell you exactly why.” If he had not been rescued— She wasn’t talking about Master Barsonage’s question; she had no answer to that. But it gave her a way to say what she meant.
“Geraden doesn’t have any reason to ant me dead. He’s spent enough time with me since I got here to know I’m no threat to anybody. If he were in league with Gart, I would never be attacked. He wouldn’t risk the High King’s Monomach on someone like me.
“But Master Eremis has a reason.”
The Master sat up straighter. He appeared to be taken aback. “My lady,” he said wonderingly, “I have saved your life. I have done everything a man can do to gain your love. How can you think that I wish you harm?”
She wanted to throw up. “Because I know you’re lying.”
At that, his expression darkened. She heard a hiss of indrawn breath from the Imagers behind her as he rose ominously to his feet. “Be sure of what you say, my lady,” he murmured in warning.
“I’m sure,” she flung back at him. Pressure mounted in her voice. She didn’t want to yell, but she needed passion to control her fear, to keep her going despite the fact that she had never defied anyone like this before and didn’t believe she could do it, certainly not Master Eremis, he was too much for her, he was like her father, he had been too much for her from the start. “You know all about the attack after the meeting. I told you that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But you left without coming to see me again.” If he had not been rescued— “I never had a chance to tell you about the attacks on Geraden. Who told you about them?
“You could know about those riders in the woods. That’s common knowledge now. Anybody could have told you.” —rescued as he was, I assure you— “But you knew about the first time, too.”
Master Eremis stared at her as if she had caught him completely by surprise.
“Nobody knew about that except Artagel, Geraden, and me. And Adept Havelock. He didn’t tell you.” Master Eremis had made a mistake. Under the pressure of Geraden’s accusations, he had made a mistake. “Artagel told the Castellan.” Lebbick nodded shortly. “None of us told you. You weren’t here. But you still said that attack was just a ploy. You knew all about it. You said, ‘If he had not been rescued as he was, I assure you that they would have recalled their insects before he was slain.’
“You said ‘their insects.’ How did you know he was attacked by insects?”
A light of amazement and vindication broke across Geraden’s face.
Struggling for self-control, she concluded, “You’re trying to accuse Geraden for the same reason you want me dead. Because we’re dangerous to you. We know you’re the traitor.”
For just a moment, Master Eremis continued to gape. Then he began chuckling.
His mirth didn’t sound particularly cheerful.
“My lady,” he said, “you are outrageous. You told me about the attack yourself.”
“That’s another lie,” she shot back in fury.
“No, my lady. The lie is yours. I had the story from your lips between kisses.”
“I don’t think so, Master Eremis.” Geraden stood at Terisa’s side. Her audacity had galvanized him: he was poised for battle, and his eyes burned. “She doesn’t have any reason to lie. She doesn’t have anything to gain here.”
“Does she not?” Master Eremis’ mouth twisted scornfully. “You are naive, boy – or a fool. You are her reason. She has you to gain.”
That argument stopped Terisa: it set her back on her heels, like a dash of cold water in her face. It was true—
It was true enough to make her look foolish.
Nevertheless it was a miscalculation. Before Eremis could go on, several of the Masters burst out laughing.
“With your reputation for women?” said the Imager with the bad teeth. “Do you ask us to credit that she prefers Geraden fumble-foot?”
“I would not have believed any other proof,” another Master put in, “but I believe this. If Master Eremis is reduced to claiming that he could not win a woman away from the Apt, then there is no truth in him.”
“On the contrary,” someone else returned uproariously. “If Master Eremis is reduced to admitting that he could not win a woman away from the Apt, then he must be speaking the truth.”
“Enough!” barked Master Eremis. He slashed the air with his hands, demanding silence. “I have endured enough!”
His shout made the walls ring fiercely. The fury in his voice and the relish in his eyes stilled the room, commanding everyone’s attention.
“It is intolerable that all my service to Mordant and the Congery is met with distrust. It is intolerable that any of you will believe this weak boy when I am accused. Now I will prove what I say. I will ask Nyle to speak.”
The Masters stared. Geraden opened his mouth, closed it again; the color seeped out of his skin. Down inside her, Terisa’s shivering suddenly got worse.
Master Quillon cocked his head reflectively. After a moment, he commented in a tone that almost sounded threatening, “For the sake of everyone here, Master Eremis, I hope that you are sure of what he will say.”
“I am sure.” Eremis’ certainty was absolute, as unshakable as his grin.
Everyone looked at Nyle.
Geraden’s brother seemed unaware of what was going on. His dejected posture didn’t shift: his head didn’t rise. The grimace that distorted his features was as deep as despair.
Abruptly, he turned and whispered in Castellan Lebbick’s ear.
The Castellan listened, frowned – and said, “Masters, Nyle wants a private word with Geraden.”
Nyle returned his gaze to the floor.
No one moved. Terisa’s heart pounded against the base of her throat. Geraden knotted his fists and kept his head high; his jaw jutted. Master Eremis turned a measuring gaze on Nyle, but didn’t say what he was thinking. The Imagers glanced uncertainly at each other, at the Castellan, at Master Quillon.
At last, the mediator asked curiously, “Why?”
Castellan Lebbick shrugged. “Maybe he thinks he can persuade Geraden to confess.”
“Do you object?”
Lebbick shook his head. “The room is guarded.” Then he added sarcastically, “Anything Geraden has to confess is bound to be fascinating.”
Once again, Master Quillon looked as though he wanted to run and hide. Nevertheless he said, “Then let us be seated. Nyle and Geraden may go to the end of the room.”
Master Eremis shrugged and complied. The other Masters resumed their seats.
Terisa turned to Geraden. What is Nyle going to say about you? Oh, Geraden, what’s wrong?
But Geraden didn’t meet her gaze. Everything in him was focused on his brother – the brother he had tried to save from committing treachery; the brother he had humiliated to the bone.
“Be careful,” Terisa breathed. She could feel disaster gathering around him. There was no way to forestall it. “Please.”
Aching with suspense, she sat down.
Stiffly, Geraden moved to stand in front of Nyle.
When he saw Geraden’s boots near his own, Nyle wrenched himself to his feet. Without releasing his grip on his cloak, he strode away to the far end of the room – as far as he could get from the Masters; the farthest point from Terisa.
There he waited for Geraden to join him.
The Masters watched without moving. Castellan Lebbick’s jaws chewed indigesti
ble thoughts; his gaze didn’t shift an inch from the brothers.
They stood with Geraden’s back to the room. Terisa could see Nyle’s face: it was set and savage, more implacable – and more desperate – than it had been when he had ridden away to betray Orison. He looked at once homicidal and appalled, as if he were involved in a crime which made every inch of him cringe.
Whispering, he said something to Geraden.
It must have been something hurtful: Geraden reacted as though he had been struck. He flinched; he surged forward. From the back, he appeared to have taken hold of Nyle’s cloak.
Between the brothers, an iron dagger dropped to the floor, clattering metallically on the stone.
It was covered with blood.
Nyle slumped against the wall. His eyes rolled shut. Then his knees bent. Geraden tried to catch him, but he collapsed on his back. His cloak fell open, exposing the red mess the knife had made of his abdomen.
Like the dagger, Geraden’s hands were covered with blood.
TWENTY-SIX: FRATRICIDE
In the stunned silence of her mind, Terisa started screaming. Fortunately, she didn’t scream aloud.
For a moment, no one said anything aloud. No one did anything at all. Everyone simply gaped at Geraden and Nyle.
Then Geraden made a constricted noise like a sob, and the Congery erupted.
Masters jumped out of their chairs and headed in all directions. Castellan Lebbick burst into motion, hurtling like a destructive projectile toward Geraden. Geraden cowered against the wall as if he were cornered.
Over the chaos, Terisa cried out, “Geraden! Run!”
As if she had set him on fire, he flung himself at the door.
He was too late, too slow: he was in a state of shock and couldn’t match the Castellan’s instinct for action. But a few of the Masters were also rushing at him, perhaps wanting to capture him, perhaps hoping to help Nyle. One of them was Master Quillon.
As fast as a rabbit, he dove after Geraden – and stumbled.