‘Two years ago, that was not true. We were together then. And I was glad of it, though I cannot say that we were happy.’
Terisa remained still, said nothing. She sensed what kind of story was coming. The mission had taught her how to listen to stories like that.
‘I think you would like our mother, my— Terisa. She is a woman who knows her own mind – a fact which upon occasion gave our father no little exasperation.’ Myste smiled at the memory. ‘If you listen to Elega, she will lead you to believe that there are not five such women in all Mordant. But it is my opinion that she misjudges. It is my opinion that women simply lack the courage to follow their dreams.’ As she said this, her gaze seemed to be aimed through the opposite wall, as if the stone were translucent. ‘Nevertheless none would deny that Queen Madin is one of the few who know themselves enough – or are brave enough – to insist upon their own wishes.
‘This accounts, I think,’ she commented as a digression, ‘for the fact that she permitted Elega to break her match with Geraden of Domne, though the King himself had made it. Our mother was glad to have a daughter who knew her own mind.
‘Now Madin,’ the lady resumed, ‘loved Joyse from girlhood – long before he became King of Mordant – and he loved her. In fact, it is said only a little in jest that he began the campaigns which led to his kingship in order to rid himself of the obstacles that thwarted his passion for her. Therefore when he had established the Demesne under his rule, and had brought the Care of Fayle to freedom in his service, he threw himself at her feet and begged that she would enter his possession, as her father the Fayle had done.
‘To his astonishment’ – Myste smiled again – ‘she refused him. She did not deny that she loved him utterly, but she would not have him for husband or for lover. He had set his hand to war as a farmer to a plow, and he must not release it until his fields were furrowed and planted. But while his grasp was upon that handle, his time and his life belonged to bloodshed. She was prepared to share him with many things, she said, but not with a mistress as avaricious as warfare, where every spear and arrow and blade of his enemies hungered for the riches of his heart. If his will did not change – and if he were still alive – let him only send word to her when his wars were done, and she would come to him anywhere in all the world.
‘Well, he is a man. Of course he was furious. But he is also a good man. When he had been furious for some little while – a time which he describes in days, but which she reports as a little while – he laughed loudly and long. He avowed that there was no other woman alive to suit him as well as she did, and he swore on his oath that, whatever happened, her own steadfastness would provide her a minimum estimate of his. Then he rode away, bragging – as young men will – that he meant to conquer both Cadwal and Alend before the next winter.
‘Sadly, he did not fulfill that boast. Many years passed before he could call himself King without fear that the title would be ripped from him in the next day’s battle. And when that was accomplished, he turned himself to a different kind of warfare, the struggle to unify all Imagery in the Congery. Upon occasion, he visited her so that she could see he had not changed toward her. But his wars were not done.
‘At last, she had had enough. Departing Romish on horseback with no other companionship or protection than her maid, she rode the hills and forests of Mordant until at last she found where he fought. He and his men, Adept Havelock among them, had just ended a battle with a malign Imager, and he was covered in ash from head to foot. Yet she rode up to him – as he tells it – as though they were being presented to each other in the audience hall of Orison, and she said, “My lord King, how much longer will this go on?”
‘He looked at his men, and he looked at her. For a moment, he says, he was tempted to make some foolish retort. She was a woman riding abroad with no one but a maid beside her, and five of his men had just been slain. But he thought better of it. Instead, he handed her down from her mount and took her into his tent and explained to her all that he was doing and all that he had left to do.
‘When he was done, she said, “My lord King, this may occupy another ten years or more.”
‘He nodded. Her estimate was accurate.
‘“That is too much,” she said. “I have had enough of waiting. Is there any man in your camp qualified to perform a wedding service?”
‘My father says that he gaped at her for fully an hour before he understood, but she insists that he did not appear to have lost his mind for more than a moment or two. Then he let out a yell and embraced her so boisterously that the tentpole broke and the tent collapsed upon them.
‘Nevertheless it was he who insisted that they return at once to Orison for a full and elaborate marriage rite. He says that she deserved no less. In her view, however, he wished primarily to take her away from the danger of battles to the safety of his Demesne.
‘Their union’ – Myste glanced at Terisa as she continued, and Terisa saw both happiness and sorrow in the lady’s face – ‘was what some have called “gleefully contentious.” Certainly both of them knew their own minds with a vengeance. To those who observed them, each compromise they achieved seemed to be twenty years in the making. But we also saw how his eyes shone behind his bluster when she contradicted him. And we heard the warmth and loyalty with which she always spoke of him when he was absent. I call it a good marriage, Terisa.
‘Its ending,’ she sighed, ‘was both slow and sudden.’
‘What happened?’ Terisa was thinking about her parents, trying to find some point at which their relationship had had anything in common with what she had just heard.
Sadly, Myste said, ‘He became passive. The spark faded in him. More and more of the time which should have been occupied with governance, he spent closeted with mad Havelock, playing – so he said – hop-board. Fewer and fewer decisions were made. Perils and signs of peril were ignored. His people were not given justice. Not all at once, but over a period of years, he became what some men call him – an old dodderer. He retains only enough of his rule – and of the loyalty of his followers – to guard that he will not be usurped. The rest he has let go.
‘This has been a grief to us all, but for our mother it has been a blow to the heart. As she valued her own mind, so she prized his. Yet now he only argued with her over trifling matters, such as whether his daughters should be taught hop-board in place of needlepoint. This she bore until she had had enough. Then she confronted him.
‘“Old man,” she said – by her wish all her daughters were present – “this must stop. There is evil Imagery at work. Your enemies gather as thick as jackals at your heels. Unrest grows close to rebellion among the Cares. And while all this transpires, you play hop-board with that fool Havelock. I say it must stop.”
‘“My dear,” he replied, as though she had wounded him unjustly, “you refused to marry me for years because I was at war. Do you wish me to go to war again?”
‘“I was young then, and unwed,” she retorted. “Now by my own choice I am your wife. As King of Mordant, you are my husband. I have accepted your kingship, and I expect you to do all that your kingship demands. The duty is yours and must be met.”
‘“As it happens,” he answered with a touch of his old hardness, “I am King of Mordant. And no one but the King is fit to tell me where my duty lies. I have already consulted myself on the subject, and I follow my own advice exactly.”
‘At this, our mother rose from her seat. “Then you will follow it without me. I love you as utterly as death, and I cannot bear to watch the ruin which you are making of yourself and everything that you once held precious.”
‘My father watched her go. When she was gone, he wept fiercely, as though he had been torn out of himself. But he did not say one word to explain himself, or to reassure her, or to call her back.
‘Torrent went with her because she believed her to be in the right. Elega remains here—’
By this time, the lady Elega had returned. ‘I remain her
e,’ she interrupted, her eyes flashing, ‘because something must be done for Mordant – and it will not be done in Romish. Whatever action may be possible to save the realm, it will be taken in Orison. I mean to be a part of it, if I can.
‘For her part,’ she continued, barely muffling her scorn, ‘my sister remains here because she dreams that the King will one day rise up to defend his kingdom – if only we are willing to trust him long enough.’
Myste sighed again. ‘Perhaps.’
At once, Elega became apologetic. ‘Forgive me, Myste. I should not speak so harshly. His treatment of the Perdon has upset me. Perhaps the true reason you remain here is so that whatever happens he will have the comfort and company of at least one woman who loves him.’
Or perhaps, Terisa thought, she does it because at least one member of his family ought to be willing to witness what happens to him. Her own mother had stayed with her father until her death, but there hadn’t been any steadfastness in that. Steadfastness required decision, and her mother had been incapable of it. She had simply been chosen by her husband, and she had accepted his right to do so. That may have been the only way she knew how to believe in herself.
Then Elega turned to Terisa. ‘But we did not invite you here to tell you such stories.’ She forced herself to sound more good-humored. ‘As my sister has said, there is so much that we wish to know of you. And lunch has been set for us. Shall we eat as we talk?’
Almost without thinking, Terisa replied, ‘I really don’t have much to tell you.’ The contrast between her own background and the story she had just heard shamed her somehow, like a demonstration of how insubstantial she had always been. Against the threat of violent death she had no reality at all. ‘You’re being very kind. But I’m only here by accident. I’m not an Imager. We don’t have Imagers – where I come from. Something went wrong when Geraden made his mirror. Or during his translation.’ Again, she found herself sounding like her mother. But what else could she say? ‘I don’t know why I ever let him talk me into coming with him.’
Then, so that it would all be said and done with, she concluded, ‘I would have gone back already. But the mirror changed somehow. He can’t make it work anymore.’
She stopped. Her heart beat in her throat as if she had just uttered something dangerous, and the strange desire to weep which had touched her when she thought of Geraden in the pig wallow returned.
Gaping through her as though someone a few rooms away were performing a prodigious feat, Myste breathed, ‘Is it possible? Oh, is it possible?’ She seemed to think that what she had just heard was more marvelous than any other revelation could have been.
In contrast, Elega flung her head back as if a menial had slapped her face, and her eyes flared. Slowly, her voice under rigid control, she asked, ‘Do you mean to say, my lady, that you have no reason here? No purpose? That you have not come to play a part in Mordant’s need? Do you wish us to believe that you are nothing more than an ordinary woman? That this “accident,” as you call it, should not have happened to you?’
Terisa didn’t want to answer. The thrust of Elega’s demand was hurtful. She had created this situation for herself, however, and she mustered her courage to face it. In that way, at least, she could try not to be like her mother.
‘I’m not a lady. I’m a secretary in a mission.’ She held her back straight and her head up. ‘They need me. Not many people can afford to work for what they pay me. But I’ll lose my job if I don’t get back soon. Reverend Thatcher can’t take care of everything alone.
‘That’s all. I live in an apartment. I eat and sleep. I go to work. That’s all.’
For a moment, she thought that Elega would scorn her. Myste was whispering, ‘That’s wonderful. It’s wonderful.’ Her gaze was coming into better focus on Terisa. ‘I have always wished that such things were possible.’ But Elega’s face was made feverish by the intensity of what she felt, and she had drawn herself up as if she meant to spit acid.
‘You should have gone after the Perdon,’ Terisa said dully. ‘He and Master Eremis are the ones you want.’
In response, the lady tried to smile.
It was a sickly expression at first, but Elega mastered her features and forced them to serve her. With an effort of will, she softened her posture. ‘My lady, this is unnecessary. We belong to none of the factions of the Congery. We have no secret allies among Mordant’s enemies. We will not manipulate or betray you. We are women like yourself, not self-serving men hungry for power. We can be trusted. We are perhaps the only people in Orison whom you may safely trust. This pretense is unnecessary.’
Myste looked at her sister at once. ‘Elega, Terisa has no reason to lie to us. I am sure that she has not. It is not a pretense.’
With a savagery that would have done Castellan Lebbick credit, the lady Elega flashed out, ‘It must be.’
An instant later, she recollected herself. Once again, she tried to smile. Now, however, she looked like a woman bravely suppressing an impulse to throw up.
‘I’m sorry,’ Terisa said. ‘I’m sorry.’
NINE
MASTER EREMIS AT PLAY
The ladies Elega and Myste struggled to engage Terisa in a desultory conversation while they ate lunch together, but they weren’t very successful. Myste smiled as if she had a secret behind her faraway gaze; she asked Terisa polite questions about what she had seen and done in Orison. Elega masked a towering impatience by picking at her food and filling the silences with trenchant descriptions of the life Terisa could have expected to lead, had she been born and reared in Mordant – a safe life, insufferably protracted by her essential irrelevance to her own fate. Both of them were obviously not saying what they had in mind.
It was also apparent, however, that both of them were constrained, not by Terisa, but by each other. The quick, stark moment of their disagreement had been intense enough to shock them, make them retreat from her as well as from each other. She felt an active relief when Myste at last suggested that Saddith be summoned to conduct Terisa back to the peacock rooms.
In a state of pronounced awkwardness, the three women awaited an answer to their summons. Fortunately, Saddith’s arrival was prompt. A few moments later, Terisa had said a stiff farewell to the ladies Myste and Elega and was on her way back to her rooms.
Saddith had kept her eyes lowered in the presence of the King’s daughters. Now, however, she studied Terisa frankly. At first there was uncertainty in her eyes, but it slowly gave way to a look of spice and humor.
When she and Terisa had passed the King’s rooms, and were out of earshot of the guards, she said in a cheerful, probing tone, ‘Well, my lady. You have met the lady Elega and the lady Myste. They are the two highest ladies in Orison. What do you think of them?’
I think, Terisa mused, they’re both miserable. But she didn’t want to say anything like that to Saddith.
Terisa’s silence seemed to confirm the maid in her opinion. To hide a smirk, she glanced down at her unbuttoned blouse, the cloth stretched open by the pressure of her breasts. ‘I think,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘that they have forgotten who they are.’
‘What do you mean?’ As she walked, Terisa found herself watching the faces of everyone who passed by, looking for some sign of the man who had attacked her. That was preferable to thinking about what she had seen in the mirrors of the laborium.
‘They are the highest ladies in the land,’ explained the maid. ‘They have position and wealth, rich gowns and rare jewels. All the finest men of Mordant are theirs by right. But what use do they make of their opportunities? The lady Elega scorns suitors. She does not wish a man – she wishes to be one. And the lady Myste will not leave behind her a nursery girl’s dreams of romance and adventure.’
Saddith laughed softly. ‘They are properly clad and placed to be who they are. But they are too bloodless for it. Neither of them is woman enough to rule the King’s court as it should be ruled.
‘Some day, my lady,’ she added co
nfidently, ‘I will stand among them. I will be as high as any of the ladies of Mordant.
‘The contrast will not be to their advantage.’
The maid’s bluntness was strange to Terisa. She wasn’t accustomed to servants who spoke so freely. Curiosity impelled her to ask, ‘Don’t you like what you’re doing now?’
At that, Saddith glanced sharply at Terisa as if to gauge the intent of the question. Whatever she saw, however, reaffirmed her faith in Terisa’s innocence; she relaxed at once and replied candidly, ‘It is well enough for what it is, my lady. Before I became a maid, I was a scullion in the kitchens of Orison. And before that, I served ale in a tavern near where the army of Mordant is encamped. And before that’ – she grimaced – ‘I fed chickens and swept floors in the village where I was born – one of the lesser villages of the Demesne. The place of a lady’s maid in Orison is well enough, indeed. For what it is.
‘But it is not enough for me.’
Terisa considered this. ‘What do you mean?’
Saddith replied with a lubricious grin, and her eyes sparkled. ‘My lady, it is in their beds that men put aside their pretenses and become the enslaved children that they are in their hearts. When I learned this, the village of my birth could no longer hold me. A soldier of Mordant could not bear to be parted from me, and so he found me a place in the tavern near his camp. A cook of Orison could not bear that my body should suffer the grimy hands of soldiers, and so he found me a place in his kitchens. The dear son of an overseer could not bear to displease me, and so I was given the work of a maid. The beds of men have lifted me this high, and they will lift me higher.
‘Do you remember, my lady, that I spent last night with a Master? Already, my position in Orison rises.’
Her complacency made this information sound to Terisa like an announcement in a foreign language. Under no circumstances would she have revealed to anyone that Master Eremis had touched the curve of her bosom.
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