Mordant's Need

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  ‘My lord Tor,’ said Castellan Lebbick between his teeth. He didn’t get up. ‘I’m surprised you trouble to join us. Today would be a good day for men with nothing better to do to stay in bed.’

  ‘Ah, true,’ replied the lord amiably. ‘Very true. It is my extreme misfortune that there is a voice which brings me the news of this stone pile – brings me the news implacably. Its custom is to whisper, but the closer I drowse toward sleep, the louder it shouts. This morning I thought it imaginable that King Joyse himself would awaken.

  ‘Alas,’ he went on, ‘the King seems unlikely to take an interest in the great events of the day. Therefore the burden falls to his chancellor.’

  Lumbering forward to the nearest bench, he seated himself with a sigh. The stout plank groaned under him.

  ‘That’s very diligent of you, my lord Tor,’ grated Lebbick. ‘It also happens to be unnecessary. I’m perfectly capable of handling “the great events of the day” myself.’

  ‘Certainly you are.’ The Tor was like a lump of pastry dough, impervious to sarcasm – and immune to argument. ‘Doubtless you understand sieges as well as most men understand their wives. I am sure you will do everything that must be done to prepare for the coming of the Alend Monarch. Nevertheless, good Castellan, I must point out’ – he sounded kindly, almost avuncular – ‘that if the matter had been left to you, you would still be unaware of Margonal’s approach. As I say, you are prone to excess.’

  Castellan Lebbick’s eyes bulged slightly in their sockets. ‘In what way, my lord?’

  The Tor spread his plump hands. ‘Suppose young Geraden had come to you with his suspicions of his brother? What would you have done? Why, you would have arrested Nyle, of course. Instead of following him to his assignation and overhearing his plans, you would have tried to take those plans from him by persuasion or force. And if he had resisted both persuasion and force—’ The lord rolled his thick shoulders.

  ‘Or suppose again that young Geraden had given you his reasons for suspecting his brother? Suppose he had mentioned that hints dropped by the King’s daughter Elega led the lady Terisa to suspect that she was involved with Prince Kragen?’ Now the lord was no longer pastry dough talking. His voice became like the grinding of heavy stones against each other. ‘Suppose he had revealed that the guards Argus and Ribuld were following Elega – that in fact they had no other reason for being near enough to save Artagel’s life when the High King’s Monomach assailed the lady Terisa?’ His hands lay limp on his fat thighs, but his eyes grew harder. ‘Suppose he had informed you that the lady Terisa had rejected Elega’s effort to win her support for the Prince – and that, forewarned by this rejection, Elega had made herself fruitless for Argus and Ribuld to trail? What would you have done then, good Castellan?

  ‘Would you have raised a cry against her?’ At last he was not an obese old drunk: he was the lord of the Care of Tor, King Joyse’s first ally in the campaign that had created Mordant. ‘Would you have sent men to arrest her so that she could be hailed before her father and publicly accused of treason?’

  The Castellan’s face was dark with blood, but he didn’t unclose his teeth. ‘It’s already done.’

  For a moment, the Tor looked like he might rise to his feet and shout something. Instead, however, he smiled sadly and slumped back into softness. ‘Just so. And what is the result?’

  ‘We can’t find her.’

  ‘Certainly you cannot. She has gone into hiding. And she has bragged, good Castellan, that she knows the secrets of Orison well enough to remain hidden for a long time. And so the opportunity has been lost to learn her intent – the intent on which Prince Kragen’s plans hinge, the intent which will deliver Orison to the Alend Monarch without a protracted siege.

  ‘Good Castellan, you have a greater need of me than you realize.’

  Geraden looked like he wanted to applaud.

  The muscles at the corners of Castellan Lebbick’s jaws bunched. His eyes scanned the guardroom as though he were looking for the perfect stretch of bare wall against which to spill the Tor’s blood. But he didn’t rise from his chair.

  Slowly, he said, ‘Geraden, my lady Terisa – you haven’t told us where you got those creatures of Imagery. In fact, you haven’t told us how you managed to catch Nyle. He’s your brother. He knows you. Surely he didn’t let you just trip and fall on him. You’ve been telling the Tor so many stories. Why don’t you tell him that one?’

  ‘“Creatures of Imagery”?’ The lord smiled pleasantly at Geraden. ‘Yes, young Geraden. Do tell us.’

  Geraden glanced back and forth between the two men, gauging where he stood with each of them, before he shrugged and said, ‘All right.’

  Just a few minutes ago, Terisa would have sworn it as impossible, but now she found that she was too warm. She loosened her coat a bit, shifted it back from her neck.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking straight,’ admitted Geraden stiffly. ‘Nyle wasn’t the real danger. I should have let him go so we could concentrate on trying to catch Prince Kragen. But that never crossed my mind. Stopping him was too important—’ In an awkward way, he seemed to be asking for understanding. ‘He’s my brother. I couldn’t let him make a traitor of himself.’

  The Tor nodded in an absentminded fashion; his attention appeared to be elsewhere. Sourly, Castellan Lebbick muttered, ‘It was a little late for that, don’t you think?’

  Geraden flushed. He didn’t permit himself to react, however.

  ‘But I made a mess out of that, too. He got away, and we were stuck out there without our horses.

  ‘That was when those “creatures of Imagery” attacked. They came from the east, but that could have just been because of the terrain. I thought they were after the lady Terisa, so I wasn’t ready for it when they came for me.’

  ‘You?’ demanded the Castellan. ‘They came for you, boy?’

  ‘That’s what it looked like.’ With a visible effort, Geraden held himself steady. ‘We separated. They ignored her. All three of them chased me.’

  Although he still didn’t seem to be paying attention, the Tor’s expression was beatific, as if he had just received a piece of good news. ‘Young Geraden, you are a wonderment. I have mentioned – have I not? – that you underestimate yourself. Even the lady Terisa of Morgan does not have such enemies.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ snarled Lebbick. ‘That seems especially plausible because you’re still alive. You were alone against the three of them. What did you do? Accident them to death?’

  Somehow, Geraden retained his self-command. Carefully, he said, ‘I used a club on their horses. Two of them went down. One was killed. The other is your prisoner.’

  ‘No,’ Terisa breathed.

  Castellan Lebbick ignored her. ‘And the third?’

  ‘Nyle got him. He saw them heading toward us, so he came back. Terisa and I might both be dead if it weren’t for him. While he was still thinking about that, I knocked him out. I hit him with a tree branch. That was how I caught him.’

  ‘No,’ Terisa repeated. She couldn’t help herself: it all came back to her. It was as vivid as dreaming in front of her.

  ‘He was fighting for his life,’ she whispered. ‘I had to help him. Didn’t I? I can’t spend my whole life just sitting on my hands and wondering when I’m going to fade. I can’t. That’s worse than doing something wrong. Isn’t it?

  ‘He got two of them off their horses. He stunned one of them. The other went after him with those swords.’ She shivered as though she had become cold again, but the truth was that she could hardly bear the weight of her coat. ‘I had to help him. I killed— With a club. I hit him from behind and broke his skull.’ A small patch of red fur on the back of the skull had turned wet and begun to gush blood. ‘Then Nyle came.

  ‘Geraden didn’t kill anybody.’

  She ran out of words and fell silent.

  The men stared at her. Geraden’s throat worked as if he were choking on her name. After a moment, the Tor rumbled gently, ‘My
dear lady, of course you had to help him. You would not forgive yourself if you had not helped him. And perhaps you would both be dead.’

  Castellan Lebbick turned away. ‘Women.’ Every line of his posture was knotted and bitter. ‘Always women. It’s indecent. If I’m ever saved by a woman, I’ll do away with myself.’

  Then he rasped, ‘But the horses. That’s the point. The saddles and tack, my lord Tor. Tell him about the horses and saddles and tack, Geraden.’

  In his uncertainty, Geraden faced the Castellan while he spoke to the Tor. ‘Our attackers were obviously creatures of Imagery. But their horses looked normal to me. I didn’t notice anything else.’

  Abruptly, Lebbick jerked to his feet. ‘Normal horses, my lord Tor. Normal saddles and tack. What do you make of that?’

  The lord pursed his lips. ‘These creatures were mounted after their translation. Either they stole mounts and gear for themselves, or they were equipped by their translators. Equipped and instructed.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Castellan Lebbick faced the lord like a fuse burning dangerously close to powder. ‘The horses were normal. The saddles definitely didn’t come from Cadwal – in Cadwal they use barbed stirrups – but they could have come from anywhere in Mordant or Alend.’

  ‘And the tack?’ asked the Tor obligingly.

  ‘The tack—’ Lebbick stifled a furious gesture by clenching his fists on his hips. ‘The tack includes a hackamore you won’t find anywhere in Cadwal or Alend or Mordant – anywhere except the Care of Tor.’ His glare was hard enough to strike sparks from flint. ‘Only your people use it, my lord Tor.’

  The Tor gazed back at the Castellan as though Lebbick were a curious specimen pinned to a mounting board.

  ‘Perhaps,’ the Castellan gritted, ‘you think this is just another of my excesses.’

  He took Terisa so completely aback that a moment passed before she grasped how serious he was. The Tor? In league with Vagel against Geraden and King Joyse and Mordant? Her legs were weaker than she realized: she had to sit down. Riding a horse wasn’t easy. Without quite noticing what she was doing, she went to the nearest bench and seated herself beside the lord.

  Geraden was aghast. ‘You can’t mean that,’ he protested. ‘Do you know what you’re saying?’

  Without warning, Castellan Lebbick grinned. His teeth flashed fiercely.

  ‘Oh, I am sure that our good Castellan knows entirely what he is saying.’ The Tor had resumed his pastry dough aspect, impervious to affront. ‘One of Mordant’s greatest problems has always been that the vile attacks of Imagery which harass us come from no known source. My son was killed by an enemy who might be hidden anywhere in Alend or Cadwal – or Mordant.’

  ‘If indeed your son was killed,’ the Castellan interrupted. ‘I only have your word for that – and the word of your men. The corpse you showed us could have been anybody.’

  Geraden went white at this insult to the lord. The Tor, however, shrugged it aside. ‘But now,’ he persisted, ‘we have taken a great step forward. Now we know where to look.’

  ‘In the Care of Tor.’ Lebbick was remorseless. ‘In your domain, my lord.’

  The Tor permitted himself a subtle flare of anger. ‘Astonishing, is it not?’

  ‘Unquestionably,’ the Castellan grated with pleasure.

  ‘Unfortunately’ – the Tor’s ire was instantly gone – ‘a search is impossible at present. We are otherwise occupied. Please tell me what you are doing to prepare Orison for siege. It is reported that Prince Kragen places great faith in the Alend Monarch’s ability to master us almost without difficulty. That seems absurd on its face – and yet I doubt that Prince Kragen is given to trusting the absurd. It is a pity that we cannot question – or observe – the lady Elega. That is beyond help, however. We must be very ready, good Castellan.’

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ retorted Castellan Lebbick. ‘By my estimation, we still have a few days left, but I’ve sent out scouts to make sure. The fact that the Armigite is a traitor probably has one advantage for us.’ As he spoke, he seemed to fall unconsciously into the manner of an old soldier delivering a report. ‘We can assume Margonal will use the main roads through Armigite. They’re the easiest, quickest route. So his army shouldn’t be hard to find.

  ‘Also, I’ve sent messengers to the Cares that ought to help us. Fayle. Perdon.’ Glowering at Geraden, he commented, ‘What the Perdon hears isn’t going to be what your dear brother had in mind.’ Then he resumed his report. ‘I’ve sent men to the Termigan, but he’s too far away to do us much good.

  ‘I haven’t had time to talk to the Congery yet, but I’ll do that soon. Maybe I’ll finally be able to scare some sense into those Imagers.’

  Apparently, none of the Masters had seen fit to announce their intention to disband the Congery.

  ‘In the meantime, I’m calling my garrisoned troops into Orison. Most of the men hunting for the Congery’s champion’–he was snarling— ‘have come back, and I won’t send them out again. The only men I’m going to risk outside are the ones who still have a chance to locate Prince Kragen before he joins his father, and the ones who’re trying to backtrack those creatures. I’ll have all my strength here and organized by dawn tomorrow.’

  The Tor nodded, but didn’t interrupt.

  ‘Because we’re near the end of winter, our stores are low. That’s a problem. But there are quite a few merchants and villages we can call on for supplies. That won’t cause them any unfair hardship – with a war about to start, most of them are going to want sanctuary in Orison anyway, so they might as well pay for their safety with food. If Margonal gives us three days, we should be as well stocked as possible.

  ‘But our biggest problem is that breach in the wall.’

  Again, the Tor nodded. This time, however, his eyes were closed. He looked like he was going to sleep.

  ‘Without that,’ Castellan Lebbick rasped, ‘I could hold Orison against anybody. Long before our stores were gone, at least one of the lords of the Cares would take it into his head to come to our rescue. But that breach changes things. I’ve had all the stonemasons I could find working to build a rough curtain wall across the gap. It’s serviceable, but it won’t take the kind of pounding Margonal is going to give it.

  ‘Am I boring you, my lord Tor?’

  The lord opened one eye. ‘Not at all, good Castellan. I am merely resting my mind from the chore of trying to imagine the source of Prince Kragen’s confidence.’

  The Castellan’s mention of the champion reminded Terisa that she wanted to ask a question. She felt that she was coming back to herself now, recovering some presence of mind and attention. But this wasn’t her chance to speak.

  ‘Young Geraden,’ the Tor went on, ‘can you remember exactly what Nyle and the Prince said to each other?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Geraden answered. ‘Prince Kragen was worried about Elega. Nyle told him about your talk with her. That shows she knew you were suspicious of her. And it proves she and Nyle were in communication before he left this morning. Then he said that she said that you won’t be able to interfere with her part of the plan.’

  Castellan Lebbick grunted. The Tor raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Nyle had trouble believing that. But – let me try to get it right.’ Geraden looked at the ceiling while he searched his memory. ‘Prince Kragen said, “I regret that she is at hazard. But she has assured me many times that her role is secure. We must trust that she will do what she has said.” ’

  ‘Is that all?’ demanded the Castellan.

  Geraden shrugged. ‘Nyle still wasn’t convinced. But Prince Kragen said, “The lady Elega’s safety and success depend upon secrecy.” He was pretty careful. I’m not sure Nyle realized how many of his questions weren’t being answered.’

  ‘Poor Nyle,’ the Castellan sneered.

  ‘Unfortunate,’ contributed the Tor thoughtfully. ‘What can one woman hidden in Orison do to ensure the success – the instant success – of the Alend Monarch’s siege? I conf
ess that I am baffled. I need wine.’

  With an effort, he heaved himself to his feet. The bench under Terisa flexed in relief.

  ‘Good Castellan,’ he murmured, ‘I suggest that you question your prisoners. But try not to harm them. You really must curb your instinct for excess. I suspect that Nyle will be more amenable to persuasion than force. Perhaps he will speak frankly if he can be made to believe that Elega has been caught – that the only way to spare her distress is by revealing what he knows. And the creature of Imagery may let slip something helpful.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice, my lord Tor,’ Castellan Lebbick replied. ‘Question the prisoners. I would never have thought of that.

  ‘While you’re waiting for me to tell you what I’ve found out, what will you be doing?’ His question was an obvious reference to the lord’s drinking.

  The Tor sighed. For a moment, his thick flesh dropped into lines of sorrow. ‘Good Castellan, I trust you more than you know. I am sure that you have done everything in your power. Nevertheless I am not content with matters as they stand. I will make one more attempt to interest King Joyse in the fate of his kingdom.’

  With that, he waddled out of the guardroom.

  At once, Lebbick turned a glare like the cut of a hatchet at Terisa and Geraden. ‘I like that. I’ve been wrestling with this problem for years, and one fat old man thinks he can solve it by howling outside the King’s door.’

  Here it comes, Terisa thought glumly. Now he’s really going to tear into us.

  She was wrong: the Castellan had more imagination than that. There was malice and anticipation in his tone as he said, ‘You two still haven’t told me what I want to know. But I don’t want to be accused of excess. And you won’t be leaving Orison anytime soon. You’ll have plenty of time to talk yourselves into telling me the truth.

  ‘In the meantime, I want you to help me question the prisoners. You should enjoy that.’