“Think of him? Nothing special. Why?”
She could see the difference when he actually looked at her. “Just curious,” she said casually. “Something about him—”
Another characteristic of Geraden’s that she liked was his willingness to accept her whims. He wracked his memory, then said, “I haven’t seen him before. I wonder why. He doesn’t look young enough to be new at this.”
“Well, he isn’t exactly old,” she began. “He—”
A moment later, the truth struck her.
“He looks familiar.” That was why she found him so interesting. “I have seen him before.”
Geraden stared at her. “You what?”
“I’ve seen him somewhere,” she insisted. “I’m sure of it. But not like this. He’s in disguise.”
“Where was that?” Geraden was instantly ready to believe her. “Was it the man who attacked you?”
Gart? “No.” She closed her eyes and tried to calm her excitement. “It’s not him.” But the hints and pieces didn’t come together. “I don’t know. Somewhere.” The more she pictured the mountebank, the less familiar he looked. “I can’t remember.”
“Don’t try to force it. The quicker you forget about it, the quicker it’ll come to you.” Then he added, “And thanks.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for what?”
He nodded toward Elega and Nyle. “I needed the distraction.”
As Terisa looked in that direction, Nyle moved off into the throng and Elega returned to her companions.
Her determined smile and veiled gaze made it clear at once that she had no intention of revealing what had passed between her and Nyle. “I am sorry I kept you waiting,” she said before either Terisa or Geraden could speak. “The best of the cloth shops is just over there. Shall we go?”
Taking their acquiescence for granted, she started toward the shop.
Geraden met Terisa’s eyes behind Elega’s back and shrugged. The twist of his mouth suggested regret rather than anger. After all, this wasn’t his first experience with the King’s eldest daughter. He seemed to know the trick of not being offended by what she did.
He and Terisa followed her together.
As they approached the fabric and tailor shops, the noise rose to a din. The merchants there fought over possible customers so aggressively that Terisa would never have considered approaching them if she had been alone. The lady Elega wasn’t in the least disconcerted, however. Smiling good-naturedly, she walked into the midst of the shopkeepers and said without raising her voice, “Good sirs, you do not need this raucous display. You know that I am not persuaded by it.” Her tone was mild but sure. “Perhaps you will indulge me with a bit more moderation.”
Almost immediately, quiet spread out around her as people saw who she was and nudged their neighbors.
In response, Elega inclined her head graciously – a gesture that made Geraden roll his eyes. Nevertheless Terisa saw that the deference of the shopkeepers was perfectly serious. The King’s daughter’s patronage must have been well worth what it cost.
Selecting a shop, Elega sailed toward it as if she were leading a fleet. Like many of the wooden structures, this one was built up a bit so that its flooring didn’t rest in the mud. A few apparently reliable steps led to a narrow porch that inspired less confidence; then an open door gave admittance to the small room where the merchant showed his wares.
Most of the room’s light came from unglassed windows with their shutters pushed aside, but a brazier in the center of the floor provided some warmth. Scurrying ahead of Elega, the shopkeeper stationed himself behind a counter and began to murmur obsequious enthusiasm for her presence.
Aside from the brazier and the counter, the room was empty. Bare planking without shelves formed the walls. In fact, there was no cloth to be seen in the shop, apart from the swaths hanging out the windows and over the porch.
Elega greeted this fact with equanimity. “I see that I have come to the right place.”
The shopkeeper was bold enough to say, “You have, my lady. All my winter stock is sold. I have nothing left except my samples.”
“I take that as testimony to the quality of your goods.”
He bowed in humble pride. “But I will have everything you wish as soon as the roads are open,” he added quickly.
“Very good. Let us see your samples.” Elega indicated her companions. “The lady Terisa of Morgan needs to improve her wardrobe.”
“At once, my lady.”
From beneath the counter, the man started producing long, thin strips of cloth which he spread out for inspection.
Geraden cleared his throat. “With your permission, my lady,” he said to Elega, “I’ll leave you for a while. My opinions aren’t likely to be much help. And if anybody troubles you while you’re choosing cloth or talking to tailors, every merchant in the area will leap to your defense.”
“Leave Nyle alone,” Elega replied by way of assent. “I think he is in no mood to be pestered by his family today.” Then she chose two or three of the strips and showed them to Terisa. “What do you think of these?”
Only Terisa noticed the Apt’s bow as he left the shop.
Trying to sound casual, she took this opportunity to ask Elega, “Did you know Nyle was in Orison? Geraden was surprised to hear it.”
“No. Why?” Elega’s disinterest was nearly flawless. “I should have been more surprised than he was. I did not know Nyle was here until we saw him. But I fear I am losing the ability to be surprised by anything the sons of the Domne do.”
Terisa shrugged. “I just thought you might have seen him around. You mentioned him to me once. I got the impression you liked him.”
“I do.” Elega was better at nonchalance than Terisa was. “I consider him a friend. And I respect him. He has a – a seriousness of mind? – no, a seriousness of desire which his brothers apparently lack. It is inconceivable, for instance, that he would spend Geraden’s years trying and failing to become an Imager. And it is also inconceivable that he would learn Artagel’s skills and then refuse to use them – as Artagel has refused – to rise in command of the King’s guards.
“There was a time,” she admitted, “when if he had expressed an interest in my hand I would have taken him as seriously as he took me.” She spoke without any noticeable concern for the shopkeeper’s presence. “Still, I did not know that he had come to Orison. His ‘private affairs’ – whatever they may be – have nothing to do with me.”
“I was just curious.” Lamely, Terisa turned her attention to the question of fabrics.
Elega proved to have a good eye. The materials she selected for consideration were excellent – some warm twills and light poplins for everyday wear, some fine silks and velvets for formal occasions – and the colors she advised were right for Terisa’s hair and eyes and skin. Soon Terisa had the ten samples she liked best arranged in front of her. She was trying to pick one or two (or three?) when Elega said to the shopkeeper, “These will be enough at present. As soon as the material arrives, deliver it to Mindlin the seamster. He will tell you how much he needs.”
“Certainly, my lady. With pleasure.” The prospect of supplying enough free cloth to make ten outfits didn’t appear to distress him.
Terisa herself was too astonished to protest. Ten new outfits? What was she going to do with ten new outfits?
Elega seemed to enjoy the look on Terisa’s face. “Come,” she said with a smile. “Mindlin has always made my clothes. I am sure he will be glad to do the same for you.”
“Without question, my lady,” the shopkeeper put in, “without question. An outstanding choice, if I may say so. Mindlin’s work is superb. Superb. I’ll provide him these fabrics the instant they arrive.”
Bestowing a nod, the lady drew Terisa out of the shop.
Mindlin’s establishment was nearby. If anything, it was even less elaborate or pretentious than the fabric shop. Mindlin himself was a tall man with sunken gray cheeks and an austere m
anner, and he spoke in a haughty tone which seemed to come out of a different mouth than the subservient words he actually uttered. In fact, the content of his speech was so fawning that even Elega was embarrassed. “Unfortunately,” she explained to Terisa, “he has become wealthy on the strength of his reputation as my seamster.”
Terisa was unable to suppress a grin.
Embarrassment, however, didn’t cost Elega her command of the situation. Briskly, she told Mindlin what materials would be supplied to him, and by whom. Then she asked Terisa, “What would you like?”
For a moment, Terisa’s imagination was paralyzed. “I’ve never had clothes made for me before.”
“Then the experience will be good for you,” Elega replied with satisfaction. She thought briefly, then informed Mindlin that the lady Terisa needed two formal gowns, two warm winter gowns, two lighter ones for spring, and – she gave him the bundle of Terisa’s old clothes – four outfits made on that unfamiliar pattern, again two for winter and two for spring. She also specified which fabric should be used in each case – a test of memory that would have defeated Terisa.
“But you must choose the details,” she told Terisa, “unless you wish to abandon yourself to Mindlin’s taste. There is no hurry, however, if you are unsure. He will bring you his work well before it is complete, so that it can be fitted properly. You will have that opportunity to discuss the way your skirts hang, or the amount of lace and finery you wish to display, or even” – she indicated ironic tolerance for the foibles of woman – “the degree of décolletage that interests you.”
“That would be nice,” Terisa said, feeling shy as well as excited.
“Then I will leave you in his hands,” Elega announced smoothly. There seemed to be a hint of anticipation in the way she started toward the door.
At the idea of having to face this situation by herself, Terisa went into a schoolgirl’s panic. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with me?”
The lady beamed reassurance. “I must do a few trifling errands of my own. And I have already tried to make too many of your decisions. I will return – almost at once. If I do not, wait for me here. I will be with you soon.”
Before Terisa could protest further, Elega was gone.
Terisa wanted to run after the lady. She felt suddenly alone in a hostile world. She had so many questions. How was Mindlin going to measure her? Was she expected to disrobe right here in his shop? How could she?
To make matters worse, the seamster’s demeanor changed immediately. His manner became less austere: he even went so far as to attempt a ghastly smile. At the same time, the subservience dropped out of his speech. Holding up her clothes disdainfully, he asked, “Does my lady seriously intend to wear such garments?”
Reduced by alarm – and by echoes of her father’s sarcasm – to feeling like a child, she was on the verge of blurting out, No, of course not, not if you don’t think it’s a good idea, what do you recommend? Fortunately, she caught herself in time. Really, she ought to be ashamed of herself. Hadn’t she already stood up to Castellan Lebbick more than once? And now she was going to let herself be driven to drivel by a seamster?
With a conscious effort, she raised her eyes to meet his, and as she did so her spirits also rose. Smiling, she asked, “What’s wrong with them?”
His expression looked suspiciously like a sneer. “They are not flattering, my lady. Not womanly.”
“Do you think so? Where I come from, they’re considered” – she rolled the word around in her mouth and realized that she could have fun doing this – “delectable.”
Mindlin seemed shocked. She suspected he was afraid of having misjudged her meekness. The haughtiness in his face came up as the self-assertion in his voice went down. “As my lady wishes. I will certainly work to the best of my humble abilities to please her.”
There was no question about it: she could have fun doing this. She didn’t want to overdo it, however. “But you’re probably right,” she said as though he had persuaded her. “I don’t need four outfits like that. Two should be enough.” In a flash of inspiration, she added, “Why don’t you use the rest of the material to make me two riding habits?”
“Riding habits?” Suppressed apoplexy constricted his tone. “Does my lady intend to go riding? On horseback?”
“Of course,” she answered sweetly. “Where I come from, all the ladies do it. Don’t you know how to make clothes like that?”
He dropped his gaze. “I am not accustomed to make such garments for women of rank. But I will do as my lady wishes.”
“Good.” She was starting to feel inordinately proud of herself.
Still studying the floor instead of her face, he said, “If it pleases my lady, I will take a measure from these” – his fingers twitched her shirt and pants – “and return them to her no later than this evening. Then, sadly, I must await the arrival of the fabrics in order to serve her. As the lady Elega, my illustrious patroness, has said, the details can be discussed when the work is ready for fitting.”
“That’s fine,” Terisa pronounced. Then, because she knew she would never be able to stand where she was and keep her composure, she turned to leave. Trying to emulate Elega’s regal bearing, she walked out of the shop into the crowds and the sunlight.
If Geraden had been there, she would have burst out laughing: all she needed was someone to share her humor with. But he was nowhere in sight. And Elega, too, didn’t appear. The clamor of the merchants had risen to its former pitch. If anyone had called her name, she might not have heard it. The flow of the throng made it easier to move than to stand still, so she let herself be nudged and jostled slowly away from Mindlin’s shop.
Before she had gone far enough to consider turning back, she caught a glimpse of Nyle.
He shifted purposefully through the crowd – not hurrying, but also not wasting any time. His path took him out of view again almost immediately; but a moment later he became briefly visible between shops, still heading in the same direction.
On impulse, Terisa started after him.
She would have been hard pressed to account for what she was doing. He was a familiar face, of course, and she didn’t like being alone among all these people. Her curiosity about him as Geraden’s brother was probably a more fundamental explanation, however. And more fundamental still was her instinctive interest in his purpose. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him snub Geraden. But not Elega.
Was he unaware that Elega plotted to betray his father’s best friend?
Quickly, she walked to the shops between which she had just seen him. Taking that narrow lane, she reached the place where he had passed. Almost at once, she spotted him.
He seemed very far away.
She didn’t want to call attention to herself by running. At the same time, she didn’t want to lose him. After an instant of hesitation, she decided to run.
It was a fortunate decision, despite the fact that it caused her to bump into people and made total strangers mutter curses at her: it enabled her to gain enough ground so that he didn’t vanish when he turned along a row of food stalls and turned again. She reached the row of stalls barely in time to see him clamber over the ropes and disappear behind a tent which had been pitched much too close to the neighboring buildings.
She went as far as the tent; then she had to stop. Could she follow him? Her gown and coat would make her awkward over the tent ropes. And there appeared to be no exit from where Nyle had gone except around one side of the tent or the other. If he knew of another, she had already lost him. And if he came back while she tried to go after him, he would catch her.
Finally she moved to the opening of the tent and made an effort to wait there inconspicuously, watching both sides.
The tent seemed to be about the size of a comfortable cottage. In a ring around the tent pole, rough tables had been set up in the mud (there was no ground cover), and from these tables a number of men and women sold beads and sequins, shawls and trinkets
. None of the people behind the tables were particularly busy; one man called out to Terisa, inviting her in. She ignored him and remained at her post.
Several minutes after she began to feel foolish, but still a minute or two before her stubbornness would have given out, a slight quiver ran through the tent as Nyle returned, pushing himself over the ropes.
With her heart pounding, she ducked partway into the tent to avoid being seen, then turned to watch him, holding herself steady with one hand on the canvas.
His face was focused, intent. Whatever he was doing didn’t appear to give him any pleasure: his frown was so deep that it seemed to describe the underlying set of his bones. Nevertheless he was obviously not a man who hesitated simply because he wasn’t enjoying himself. Perhaps he didn’t expect enjoyment from life.
Without noticing her, he strode off the way he had come.
She was about to go after him when another quiver warned her that someone else was climbing over the tent ropes.
She froze in time to get a clear, close look at the man who emerged from the place where Nyle had just been.
It was the mountebank, his ribbons and tatters fluttering extravagantly.
The mountebank? That was surprising enough. By itself, it would have astounded her. But the fact that stunned her into openmouthed immobility was that she knew him. He passed so near to her that she was able to recognize him.
Behind the distracting way he dressed, under the ash that marked his face and hair, he was Prince Kragen. The Alend Contender.
Around her, the whole day shifted. Meanings changed everywhere. It can’t be, she protested. I saw him leave. I saw him ride out of Orison with all his men.
But if he wanted to come back secretly, how else could he do it? Pressure filled her throat, rising there until she thought she would choke. How else could he and Elega communicate? How else could they make plans together?
And Nyle was involved with them. Elega had lied. Of course she had lied. His “private affairs” had everything to do with her. No wonder he didn’t want to encounter his brother.
The Mirror of Her Dreams Page 55