She pulled the covers tightly over her shoulders and blinked at him in confusion. ‘How—?’
‘The wardrobe.’ His smile stretched wider. ‘I was exploring hidden passages and had the good fortune to find your room.’
‘Where—?’ She sat up a bit. Her mind refused to function. She had been more deeply asleep than she realized. How had she gotten out of the habit of putting a chair in that wardrobe? ‘Where were you? I thought I would see you.’
He seated himself on the edge of the bed, then reached out a hand and ran his fingertips down the line of her neck from her ear to her shoulder. ‘I was required at home. I think I have mentioned Esmerel?’ His touch felt like a signature on her skin. ‘My grandfather called it our “ancestral seat,” though Esmerel is not really as grand as that. My father is still less grand, however, and does not use such language.’
Master Eremis plucked lightly at the sheet she held in front of her. ‘In his blunt way, he demanded my presence. I seems that one of my brothers killed the other – although with that pair the truth has often been difficult to determine. My father wanted me in front of him while he decided whether to disinherit the survivor in my favor.
‘Esmerel is in the Care of Tor – fortunately a ride of only two days beyond the Broadwine. I have just returned.’
She could hardly swallow. If he went on looking at her like that, she was going to forget everything that had happened while he was away. His fingers were curled gently over the edge of the sheet covering her. Soon he would begin to pull it down, and she wouldn’t be able to resist. She didn’t know that she wanted to resist. Her head seemed to be full of forgotten dreams. It was impossible to think.
With an effort, she asked, ‘What did he decide?’
The Imager shrugged to show his disinterest. ‘My father hates me. As do – or did – both my brothers. So it is remarkable that they have always done what I wished. I have no use for Esmerel at present. Therefore my brother will inherit it. If my father has the good sense to die soon.’
He leaned toward her, and his mouth took hers again. The scent of cloves seemed to fill her senses. His hand urged the sheet downward, and his tongue had to be answered. No, she couldn’t resist. His palm rubbed her nipple until she shivered at his touch; then he cupped her breast possessively. She was his—
Somehow, she pushed him back. A flush on her cheeks, and breathing raggedly, she faced him as well as she could. ‘Why does your family hate you?’
His smile was gone: his eyes burned with an intensity that made her melt. ‘My lady, I did not come here to discuss my family. I came to claim you at last.’
Without thinking, she rolled away from him and got out of bed. Momentarily defying her nakedness, she went to the chair where she had left her robe. Her hands shook as she pulled the velvet onto her shoulders and knotted the sash; her voice shook as she spoke.
‘You were gone for a long time. I waited for you. I wanted to help you. I was ready—’ Ready to do almost anything. ‘But you didn’t come. I didn’t hear from you.’
Despite her resistance, she was close to panic at the thought that he might take offense and leave, that by retreating from him she had sacrificed her chance to be touched and kissed. He didn’t look offended, however. His smile was too acute to be affectionate; yet he gazed at her with a new eagerness, as if she had become a challenge.
‘My lady,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I regret that you did not hear from me. That was not my intention. I sent word to you several times. But perhaps my messages were intercepted.’
She started to ask, Who would intercept—? before she understood what he was saying. He hadn’t meant to leave her without saying goodbye. That changed everything. Didn’t it? Almost babbling, she said, ‘You sent messages with Saddith. But she’s your lover. She wants you for herself, so she didn’t give me any of your messages.’
For an instant, the Master’s eyes widened as if she had surprised him. A grin quickly altered his expression, however. Now his excitement was unmistakable. His tone was both careful and jocose as he said, ‘My lady, you cannot possibly be jealous of a maid like Saddith. Nearly all the men she has ever known have been between her legs. I can believe that she did not deliver my messages. But I cannot believe it matters that I have taken advantage of her crass charms.’
Terisa’s emotions were in an alarming muddle. Her relief that he had tried to send word to her lasted only a moment. It was replaced almost at once by the sense that the information came too late. It didn’t change anything after all. She had made her commitment without him – had put herself on Geraden’s side. And not just by default: not just because the Apt was present and Master Eremis was absent. She had chosen Geraden because to distrust him – to spy on him, to betray him, as the Master had demanded – was intolerable. If only Eremis had come to her sooner. She bit her lip to try to keep her distress from showing on her face.
Still smiling, he studied her narrowly. After a moment, he said, ‘Saddith is of no importance, however. I will dispense with her to please you. You asked about my family.’
She nodded dumbly, hanging on every word he said while her heart hurt.
‘It is a small family. Esmerel is a small estate, though beautiful. My grandfather was a man of high intelligence – and even higher refinement. He had an exceptional understanding of both knowledge and pleasure. And he dabbled in Imagery. In truth, one of our family legends is that he was acquainted with the arch-Imager Vagel. Of course, that was before the wars for Mordant, during which the arch-Imager went into High King Festten’s service.
‘Unhappily, my grandfather had but one son, and that one son was a lout. Beauty and refinement were as blank as stone walls to him. He understood nothing except violence – and the pleasures of violence. When he came into possession of Esmerel, he spent years debauching its beauties as well as himself. Then he became a petty brigand to preserve some semblance of wealth in his “ancestral seat.”
‘The accidental result of his debauchery was that he had three sons. The first was an exact duplicate of himself – therefore much loved. The second was a bit smaller, a bit less muscular, and a bit more cunning – therefore tolerable.
‘I was the third.’
The Master’s voice was part of his spell. Terisa expected him to move toward her. The way he studied her made her feel that he was moving toward her. Her pain seemed to hypnotize her. But he remained motionless beside the bed.
‘Fortunately,’ he observed, ‘I was a good deal stronger than I looked. To all appearances, I was the runt of the litter, and my father despised me accordingly. For that reason, my brothers sought to earn his approval by tormenting me.’ He spoke calmly, but the glint in his eyes was as calm as a hatchet. ‘On one occasion, I recall, they locked me in a wooden shed and set it afire to see what I would do.’
Breathing through parted lips as if she were rapt – or appalled – she asked, ‘What did you do?’
He chuckled. ‘I tricked them. I was no heir to Esmerel, but I was my grandfather’s heir in intelligence. Before I was old enough to be afraid, I was clever enough to protect myself. And soon I learned that the surest protection was to turn them all against each other. So I set out to teach each of them that he needed my help against the others. With a little judicious prodding, I was able to make them do whatever I wished.’
Drawn by what he described – things that must have been acutely painful, things that reminded her of closets and fading – she took a step toward him. ‘What did you make them do?’
He betrayed a glint of anticipation. ‘I made them all good citizens of the Care of Tor. I tamed my brothers. I deprived my father of his debaucheries. And I made them restore the resources of knowledge which Esmerel had once boasted, so that I could claim my grandfather’s true inheritance. It was his interest and researches that led me into Imagery.
‘Since leaving Esmerel, I have done what I can to keep my family from bestiality. But a distance of two days’ ride seems like the world
to men like them. I regret that there was nothing I could do to prevent the altercation that left my father’s firstborn dead.’ His manner suggested that his regret wasn’t especially profound.
She took another step. His pale gaze seemed to be devouring her. ‘You came to claim me. What do you want me to do?’
He opened his hands as if to show her their strength. ‘Take off your robe.’
She touched her sash as a giddy acquiescence swept through her. But she shook it away. ‘I mean after that. What do you want me to do for Mordant?’
‘Why must there be an “after that”?’ he countered. ‘I will content your womanhood in ways you have not dreamed.’
In a small voice, she insisted, ‘I want to help you. I want to help Mordant.’
‘Very well.’ As though he were confident that she already knew and had accepted the answer, he replied, ‘Together, we will persuade Castellan Lebbick and the Congery that Geraden has betrayed us.’
When he said that, her heart gave a lurch – and then her courage was gone, as if he had kicked out the bottom of her spirit. Geraden? Was he back to Geraden? Still arguing that Geraden was in league with Gilbur and Vagel? Or did he have some new accusation to level against her only friend? She barely had the fortitude to ask, ‘What has he done?’
‘Done? What has he not done? Has he not convinced you that I am a traitor?’
She shook her head.
‘Then he is wiser than I thought. You would have become suspicious of him if he had tried to turn you against me.’
The Master considered her for a moment, then said, ‘Because he has been wise, you will probably not believe that he arranged to leave you alone in the bazaar so that Gart could attack you. You will probably not believe that his failure to stop Elega was no accident.’
She stared at him in frank horror.
‘Those are subtle points,’ he went on. ‘I grant it is difficult to credit him with such subtlety. But I will tell you something you must believe. Cadwal is marching. Have you never asked yourself why Cadwal is marching? Have you never wondered why High King Festten feels he must attack now?’
Terisa didn’t reply. Her mind was blank with dismay. A new accusation. New reasons to believe that the only man who cared about her and encouraged her and stayed with her was a traitor.
‘In the ordinary course of events,’ Eremis explained, ‘the High King’s spies must have told him that Alend was coming to Orison. What would he do?’ His voice was like the wind, growing harsher as it filled the room. Light from the hearth made his face unnaturally ruddy. ‘On one side is the risk that Orison might fall, giving the Congery into the Alend Monarch’s hands. But with Castellan Lebbick – if not our good King – defending the castle, that is unlikely. On the other side is the certainty that the forces of Perdon would be drawn to Orison’s support. Alend and Mordant might easily cripple each other in that battle – and then everything the High King wants could be taken almost without cost. Why did he not wait for his enemies to destroy each other?
‘I will tell you why, my lady.’ The Master made a short, brutal gesture with both hands. ‘He did not wait because he knew of Elega’s intentions. He knew our danger was greatly increased by the fact that Orison would be betrayed from within by Prince Kragen’s allies.
‘Think, woman. How could High King Festten have known that Orison would be betrayed to Alend? By Imagery, his Monomach can enter or leave the castle – although how this is done remains a mystery. But access to our halls does not give him access to our secrets. Who but a traitor would tell Gart that Elega meant to poison the reservoir, depriving us of water and exposing us to summary defeat?’
‘No,’ Terisa murmured. She wanted to collapse into a chair. ‘No.’
Master Eremis ignored her protest. ‘And who but Geraden knew the danger?’
‘But he was attacked,’ she objected. ‘By Imagery. Twice. They tried to kill him – Gilbur, Vagel—’
‘Whelp of a bitch!’ Eremis sounded furious. ‘Those were ploys, woman. Tricks. They show only that Gilbur and Vagel are desperate that you do not turn against their ally. By attacking Geraden, they make him appear innocent. The truth is that they feint his death for the same reason that they actively desire yours – so that you will not expose him.
‘If he had not been rescued as he was, I assure you that they would have recalled their insects before he was slain.’
She was no longer looking at the Imager. She wasn’t looking at anything. Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘How could I expose him?’
‘You have been with him for many days. You have watched him, spoken to him, studied him. And you met in private in your own world, before he translated you here. You alone possess the knowledge – the experience – that will persuade the Congery of his treachery.’
‘No,’ she repeated softly. She wasn’t speaking to him, however. She was speaking to herself. She hardly heard what he said: she heard only his voice, his anger, the threat of losing him. Geraden was no traitor. Of course not. She knew that precisely because she had spent so much time with him. But she was being forced to a choice. No, more than that. She was being forced to do something about what she believed. She couldn’t defend Geraden without turning her back on Master Eremis and everything he represented.
‘You said you wished to help Mordant.’ He spoke in a hectoring tone that reminded her of her father. ‘While you protect the man who betrays us, we are doomed.’
What could she do? She couldn’t argue with him. She had never been able to argue with her father. She could only take his side or refuse. That was clear enough.
Quietly, she asked, ‘What are you going to do to me?’
‘Take off your robe,’ he snapped. ‘Your body, at least, will not disappoint me.’
Now at last she understood the anger and secret triumph she had so often heard in her father’s voice, the desire to inflict pain. For that reason, what she had to do was clear to her in the end – clear and simple – and so difficult that it was nearly impossible.
Her hands were on the sash of her robe. Deliberately, she pulled it tighter.
‘No,’ she said to the Master.
She thought that he would shout at her or strike her. He started toward her, and his expression sharpened into a grin of violence. Instead of shouting, however, he whispered intensely, ‘My lady, I have claimed you. I have placed my hands and my kisses where you will never forget them.’ He was close enough to grasp her shoulders. Echoing firelight, his hot gaze held her. ‘Every curve of your flesh and pulsebeat of your womanhood desires me, and I will not be refused.’
He pulled her to him and kissed her forcefully. Somehow, her robe was gone from between them. He felt as hard as iron against her inexperienced belly.
She didn’t struggle: she was too weak to struggle. But her body had gone cold; her nerves and her sore heart no longer responded to him. His kiss was only pressure against her face, nothing more. His hardness had lost its fascination.
No, she protested. I said no.
Someone knocked at her door so hard that it thudded against the latch.
Swearing viciously, Master Eremis pushed her away. For an instant, he measured the distance to the wardrobe. ‘Do not answer!’ he hissed.
She was about to faint. ‘I forgot to lock it.’
Without waiting for admission, Geraden burst into the room and slammed the door behind him.
But when he saw Terisa standing near the entryway to the bedroom with her robe open and Master Eremis near her, he stopped as if he were turned to stone.
Convulsively, she jerked the robe closed and sashed it. Surprise and mortification made her feel like a lunatic. She sounded like a lunatic as she asked, ‘How is Artagel?’
The Master’s eyes were savage.
Geraden stared at Terisa as though she were appalling. ‘I didn’t go see him.’
‘Then what did you do, boy?’ inquired the Imager. ‘It must have been quite interesting, if it drives you to enter a
lady’s bedchamber so discourteously.’
‘Terisa.’ With the light of the hearth behind him, Geraden’s features were dark. His gaze glittered at her out of the shadows. ‘Tell him to leave.’
Master Eremis made a snickering noise in the back of his throat. She was facing Geraden: she didn’t know that the Master had moved until she felt him beside her. He put one arm around her waist. With the other, he slid his hand into her robe and began to fondle her breast. ‘The lady Terisa,’ he said, ‘does not wish me to leave.’
Shame flushed down the length of her body. ‘Please,’ she breathed to Eremis, to Geraden, on the verge of weeping. Don’t do this to me. It doesn’t mean what you think. ‘Please.’
‘In fact, it was interesting,’ Geraden replied in a voice thick with blood. ‘I had a talk with Saddith.’
Terisa felt Master Eremis stiffen. Slowly, he took back his hand, although he didn’t release her. ‘What an odd thing to do. Almost as odd as the urgency you attach to it. Are you quite sure you are well, boy?’
With an effort, she swallowed the distress that clogged her throat. She felt that she was fighting for her life. ‘What did Saddith say?’
Without a glance at the Imager, Geraden retorted, ‘Your guards told me you were alone. How did he get in here?’
She knew immediately that Master Eremis didn’t want her to answer. She could feel his will in the harsh strength of his grasp.
‘The wardrobe,’ she said thinly. ‘The secret passage.’
Geraden nodded once, abruptly. ‘And how did he know it was there?’
In an even tone, as though he were in danger of becoming bored, Eremis drawled, ‘He had no idea it was there. He was exploring a passage new to him and found the lady Terisa’s rooms by chance.’
The Apt turned a gaze like stone on the Master. Shadows shifted along his jaw. ‘Actually, that’s not true.’ Then he addressed Terisa again. ‘How did Saddith become your maid?’
She was having difficulty breathing: the pressure growing in her chest seemed to cramp her lungs. ‘King Joyse told her to take care of me.’
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