Mordant's Need

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  His reply was clearly intended as a joke, but she accepted it simply because she was relieved to get away from his seriousness. ‘I never thought about it that way,’ she murmured as she let him guide her down the corridor to the sguardroom.

  From the guardroom, they returned to the ballroom and the main halls of Orison. Now she wanted him to leave her; she couldn’t go on talking to him and still keep her emotions hidden. With frustrating gallantry, however, he insisted on escorting her most of the way toward her rooms. She was unable to detach herself from his attendance until they reached the tower that held her rooms. After thanking him abruptly, she hurried up the stairs as if she were fleeing from him.

  But of course what she really fled from was the danger he represented – the danger that she would betray the choice she had to make before she was sure of it. She had said yes to Master Eremis, and yes again; but the illness in her stomach was getting worse. Artagel bore just enough resemblance to Geraden – and she had been just dishonest enough with him – to make what the Imager wanted of her vivid and appalling.

  Pretend friendship.

  Watch him.

  Tell him nothing.

  She feared she would throw up before she reached safety.

  When she approached her door, however, one of the guards stepped forward, gave her a stiff bow, and said with gruff courtesy, ‘My lady, you have a visitor.’

  For a second, she thought her knees were going to fail again. A visitor. Now? Oh, please. But she was tired of being so weak. Her emotional nausea itself acted like a kind of strength, enabling her to keep her legs under her, her head up, her voice quiet. ‘Who is it?’

  The guard seemed discomfited. ‘We couldn’t refuse to let her in, my lady. You’ve never asked us to keep visitors out of your rooms.’

  His self-defense made no sense, but Terisa didn’t try to understand it. ‘Who is it?’ she repeated.

  ‘The lady Elega.’ At once, the guard added, ‘We couldn’t refuse her, could we? She’s the King’s daughter.’

  From a distance, Terisa heard herself say, ‘Of course not. You did the right thing.’ But she wasn’t paying much attention. The lady Elega – Myste’s impatient and discontented sister. Terisa hadn’t spoken to her since their awkward, disappointing lunch. On that occasion, Elega had protested, We are women like yourself, not self-serving men hungry for power. We can be trusted. This pretense is not needed with us. When Terisa had refused to give up her pretense of ordinariness, the lady Elega had looked the way Terisa herself felt now.

  What does she want this time? Terisa wondered dimly.

  Then it came to her, and a sting of adrenaline ran down her veins.

  Myste.

  With a pang of embarrassment, she realized that she was standing slack-faced in the hall while one of the guards held her door open and both men made obvious efforts to appear unaware of her distraction. Pushing herself into motion, she entered her sitting room as if she were still in a hurry.

  Elega stood before one of the windows, much as Myste had once stood. And, like Myste, she was beautiful. But her beauty seemed to be a reflection of the lamp-and firelight in the room, a contrast to the lowering gray winter outside the glass. In its own way, her skin was as pale as her short blond hair; and both emphasized the striking violet flash of her eyes. Although she was clad and jeweled like a queen, her manner was too forthright, too assertive for ornaments. Nevertheless she had a queen’s spirit, a queen’s instincts.

  She left the window at once. As the door closed, she moved a few steps toward Terisa; there she stopped. Her gaze reminded Terisa of another contrast between the King’s daughters. Unlike Myste’s, Elega’s glances were so immediate and fiery that they threw what she saw into stark relief. Both, however, were able to convey an impression of excitement, a sense of possibilities. ‘My lady,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Terisa. I hope you will forgive this intrusion. I did not know when you would return – and I did not want to wait in the hall.’

  Terisa didn’t feel equal to the situation. All she wanted to do was huddle near the fire to drive the cold out of her bones and drink wine until her stomach either calmed down or got rid of its distress. But she had to face Elega for Myste’s sake. Responding almost automatically, she waved a hand toward the wine goblets and decanter, which Saddith had mercifully replenished. ‘Would you like to join me? I’m going to have some wine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Elega obviously had no interest in wine. Nevertheless she accepted the goblet Terisa handed her as if she appreciated the gesture.

  Terisa took a longer draught than good manners or wisdom suggested and refilled her goblet. Without thinking to offer Elega a seat, she sat down in the chair nearest the fire. The flames were oddly entrancing. She hadn’t realized how cold she was. How long had she stood in Master Eremis’ cell with her shirt open—?

  ‘Terisa?’ She heard Elega as clearly as a voice in a fever. ‘Are you well?’

  With an effort, she pulled her attention away from the fire. ‘Too much is happening.’ Unlike Elega’s, her own voice sounded muffled. ‘I don’t understand it all.’ In an effort to be polite, she added, ‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s on your mind?’

  For a moment, Elega hesitated. Her doubts were plain in her face. I must look awful, Terisa thought vaguely. Abruptly, however, the lady became resolute. First she accepted a chair. Then she asked softly, firmly, ‘Terisa, where is Myste?’

  It was symptomatic of Terisa’s condition that she leaped from this question to the conclusion that King Joyse had somehow seen through her lie. With an inward wince, she replied suspiciously, ‘Did your father send you to talk to me?’

  Elega raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘No. Why would he?’ Gradually her tone took on a tinge of contempt. ‘I doubt he knows that she is gone. And if he does know – and if he thought to have me ask for him the questions a father should ask – I would refuse. I am his daughter, but he has broken that duty for me by breaking all other duties for himself.

  ‘No,’ she repeated, pushing the subject of her father aside, ‘I ask because I am afraid. My sister is not the wisest or the most practical woman in Orison. Her dreams often do not contain enough plain sense for ballast. I fear she has done something very foolish.

  ‘Terisa, where is she?’

  Terisa turned back to the fire to avoid Elega’s vivid gaze. So her lie to the King hadn’t been caught. That was a relief. Unfortunately, Elega’s question still had to be answered.

  Staring into the flames as though they might hypnotize her and thereby make her strong, Terisa murmured, ‘What are you afraid she’s done?’

  ‘I hardly know.’ The lady’s uncertainty sounded sincere. ‘I freely admit I do not understand her, Terisa. She prefers dreams to realities. I know that she is hurt – as I am – by what our father has done, and especially by his humiliation of Prince Kragen. That the King of Mordant’ – she forgot her concern for a moment in anger – ‘should actively seek war with Alend is abominable.’ Then she steadied herself. ‘But what Myste might do because of her pain, I cannot guess. Perhaps she has left Orison for some mad reason.’ Her tone tightened. ‘Perhaps she has gone after Prince Kragen, thinking to persuade him to ignore the extent of his insults.’

  Elega had come just close enough to the truth to frighten Terisa. Dimly, she asked, ‘What makes you think I know where she is?’

  Again, Elega hesitated. When she spoke, her tone was carefully neutral, distinct but unaccusing. ‘First, because I doubt that anyone else in Orison would assist her in anything greatly foolish. She is the King’s daughter. Orison’s people value her too highly to help her into trouble.

  ‘But primarily,’ she went on, ‘because I have seen how she responds to your insistence that you are only an ordinary woman.’

  Terisa gazed vacantly into the fire and waited.

  ‘It was an astonishment to me,’ admitted Elega frankly. ‘I consider that people are as ordinary or as exceptional as they choose to be
. Oh, I am assured that no one can conceive a talent for Imagery or statecraft by effort of will’ – she didn’t sound entirely convinced – ‘and it is true past argument that anyone who has the misfortune to be born a woman must oppose the prejudices of all the world in order to prove herself. Yet I believe that in the end I am limited only by the limits of my determination, not by accidents of talent or preconceptions of sex.

  ‘Myste,’ she sighed, ‘thinks otherwise. She does not want to open doors. She dreams that doors will be opened for her. And she sees you, Terisa, as proof that into any life – be it drab and dreary enough to numb the mind forever – a door of magic and mystery may open, offering the least drudge an opportunity for grandeur.’ Her tone suggested frustration rather than disdain. ‘In the meantime, it behooves us to be contented while we wait.

  ‘I have no reason to believe that you know where she is. Yet I think you do, if anyone does. You are a flame which she is too mothlike to resist.’

  This view of Myste struck Terisa as so poignant – and so mistaken – that she didn’t know how to reply to it. If anything, Elega’s ideas seemed less realistic than Myste’s, rather than more. And Terisa had questions of her own about the King’s eldest daughter. But that wasn’t the point, of course. What she thought didn’t matter. In this situation, only her promise to Myste mattered.

  As if she were reading her answer in the flames and coals, she murmured, ‘She came here yesterday because she wanted to get into the passage behind my wardrobe.’ She felt rather than saw Elega stiffen. ‘She used it to sneak out of Orison without being stopped.’ Behind the soft snap of the fire and the distant soughing of wind past the edges of the tower, the silence in the room was intense. ‘She went back to her mother.’

  For a moment, Elega remained still – so still that Terisa couldn’t imagine what she was doing. Then, in a tone soft with surprise, as if she had just received a revelation, the lady breathed, ‘That cannot be true.’

  Anxiety twisted through Terisa. Half involuntarily, she turned to look at Elega.

  The lady had risen to her feet. Her eyes flashed as though their violet depths were lit by lightning. Yet her demeanor remained quiet, almost perfectly self-possessed.

  ‘I believe that Myste has left Orison. Thank you for telling me how it was done. But she has no intention of going to the Care of Fayle, to Romish – to Queen Madin, our mother.’

  Because she was lying, Terisa wanted to protest that she wasn’t: she wanted to use all her distress and fear to feign as much anger as possible. But she was restrained by Elega’s eagerness. It bore so little resemblance to the reaction she had expected.

  With slow caution, she said, ‘She was disgusted by what the King did to Prince Kragen. She couldn’t stand to watch him destroy himself and Mordant anymore, so she decided to go back to the rest of her family.’

  ‘Terisa—’ The lady’s arms made a gesture of appeal, which she controlled abruptly. ‘Do not continue. That is unimportant now. A lie is an exercise of power, and I rejoice to see it. You are not passive – you are no longer content to hide behind a mask of ordinariness. You have decided to take your part in Mordant’s need. That is a great step – a step which I can only hope Myste has taken also – and I honor you for it.’

  Nonplussed to the point of chagrin, Terisa stared at her visitor. Simply because she had to say something, she muttered, ‘I’m not lying.’

  Elega shook her head decisively. ‘I will attempt to persuade you this charade is not necessary with me.’ But then she paused. Her eyes scanned the room as if searching for the best line of argument. In an abstract way, like a woman digressing momentarily while she prepared her thoughts, she asked, ‘Terisa, what do you consider Orison’s greatest internal weakness?’

  Taken completely by surprise, Terisa said without thinking, ‘The water supply.’

  The lady didn’t appear to be paying attention. ‘In what way?’

  ‘If you poisoned the reservoir, the whole castle would be helpless.’ Not permanently, of course. The small spring under the walls supplied some water. The open roof and the collecting pipes could bring in large quantities during any heavy snow-or rainfall. But for a few days, at least—

  Why were she and Elega having this conversation?

  Smiling, the lady Elega returned to her chair, seated herself, smoothed out her skirt. The electricity of her gaze made Terisa shiver. Without transition, she said in a relaxed, conversational tone, ‘You have been in Orison for some time now. I fear that you have seen few of us at our best. Nevertheless you have had time to form impressions, perhaps even to draw conclusions.

  ‘What do you think of us? Is there hope for Orison and Mordant? What is your opinion of King Joyse?’

  Baffled and vexed, Terisa was tempted to retort, No, I don’t think there’s any hope. Not as long as you insist on behaving like this. But she could feel danger around her. Whatever she said would have consequences. Carefully, she replied, ‘I think he knows what he’s doing.’

  Elega’s smile seemed to grow a degree brighter. ‘And the Congery? What do you think of the Imagers? They have put us in grave peril. Are they honest? Or perhaps I should ask, Are they honorable?’

  Terisa shrugged. She wasn’t about to begin discussing either Master Eremis’ or Geraden’s ideas with the King’s strange daughter. ‘Some of them seem to be. Others don’t.’ Then she added, ‘I don’t think very many of them expected the champion to go wild like that.’

  This answer gave Elega less satisfaction, but she didn’t dwell on it. ‘And the lords of the Cares? What are your opinions of them?’

  In reaction, alarm flushed through Terisa. How did—? Trying to cover her fright, she jerked to her feet, went to the wine decanter, and refilled her goblet. How did Elega know she had met the lords of the Cares? Suddenly, the whole room felt threatening, as though the walls were transparent and the floor might yawn open. Elega knew because someone had told her. That was simple enough. Or because she had had a hand in the attack on Terisa. That wasn’t so simple. But still somebody must have told her about the meeting. Who would have any reason in the world to do that?

  Unexpectedly, Terisa found that she had reached her limit. She was already in distress – and Elega was making no sense at all. Apparently, she was trying to probe Terisa, test her somehow. But for what?

  She drained her goblet, faced the King’s daughter squarely, and said, ‘Prince Kragen and I were talking about you. You’ve made a conquest. He’s really quite impressed. What did he say about you?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘He said if you were an Alend you would “stand high among the powers of the Kingdom.”’ Then she stopped to let Elega draw as many inferences as possible.

  The lady rose to her feet immediately to meet Terisa’s stare. Her smile was like the lights in the dining room of Terisa’s mirror-walled apartment: it was on a rheostat which made it brighter at every turn. ‘Terisa,’ she said softly, ‘you take my breath away. Is this what being ordinary means in your world? That place must be brave beyond conception. You have begun working to shape events with a vengeance.

  ‘I understand you,’ she affirmed. ‘Do you understand me?’

  Terisa didn’t answer. She was afraid to open her mouth.

  ‘Terisa,’ Elega urged in a whisper, ‘I have said that this charade is not necessary with me. You can no longer pretend passivity – and you need not pretend ignorance.’

  Still Terisa didn’t answer.

  Slowly, Elega’s brightness dimmed. She didn’t give up, however. ‘Since you have mentioned Prince Kragen, perhaps you will tell me your impression of him.’

  With an effort, Terisa recovered her voice. ‘Did you know the Alend monarchy isn’t hereditary? It has to be earned. That’s what he’s doing here. He’s trying to earn the right to become the next Alend Monarch.’ She studied Elega closely, but the lady’s expression betrayed nothing except its underlying intensity. ‘I think that’s more important to him than peace.’

  This riposte wa
s rewarded with a slight widening of Elega’s eyes, a slow congealing of her smile. The way her pleasure curdled reminded Terisa that she had no real idea what was going on. Elega clearly understood what Terisa was saying better than Terisa did herself.

  In a voice scarcely louder than a whisper, the lady asked, ‘Do you not believe that you can trust me? We are women, you and I – despised in a world of men. There is no one here whom you can trust but me. No one else intends as much good to both Mordant and yourself. What may I do to convince you?’

  That, at least, was a question Terisa could meet. Without hesitation, she said, ‘Tell me what’s going on. Before you ask me to trust you, start trusting me.’

  Slowly, Elega nodded in acknowledgment. She was no longer looking at Terisa, and her smile was gone. ‘You are better at this than I suspected. I cannot trust you until you have first trusted me. I have more to lose.’

  Sadly, she turned to go.

  In her confusion and frustration, Terisa wanted to demand, What is that, exactly? What have you got to lose that’s more than everybody else in this mess? But she let it go. Instead, she said before Elega reached the door, ‘Just tell me one thing. What makes you think I’m lying about Myste?’

  The lady paused with her hand on the latch. A different smile touched her mouth, a smile like the affectionate and faintly condescending one she had occasionally given her sister. ‘You do well, as I have said, Terisa. But you do not know Mordant well enough to exert power without risk. Plainly, you do not know that what you have said of Myste is impossible. Romish is too far. In this winter, it would be easier for a lone woman to rebuild our breached wall than to cross the Demesne and Armigite on foot.’ A suggestion of triumph. ‘I doubt that you intend me to believe my sister has decided to kill herself.’

  Still smiling, she left the room.

  Terisa hardly noticed her departure. She was remembering the way King Joyse had stood in front of her with his eyes squeezed shut and tears spilling down his cheeks, in anguish at the idea that Myste had gone back to her mother. If you lie to me, he had said like a appeal. If you dare lie to me –But he must have guessed even then that she wasn’t telling the truth.