Mordant's Need

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  She sat there, soaking up the peace of the house, until two serving girls arrived with four buckets of hot water between them. Then she gave herself what felt like the most luxurious bath she had ever had in her life.

  Some time later, she dried her scrubbed body and her now-lustrous hair, drained the tub, and tried on the clothes Quiss had left for her.

  The undergarments were of fine linen; the shirt and skirt, of unlined sheepskin, supple and delicate against her skin, yet remarkably tough. The long skirt was wide around the hem, and had been slit to the knees both in front and in back, so that it could be worn on horseback; the shirt was decorated only by its buttons, which appeared to be polished pieces of obsidian. Both the shirt and the skirt went well with her winter boots.

  Now all she needed was earrings to match the buttons. And a mirror, so that she could do something with her hair.

  Of course, she didn’t really want a mirror – not for something as simple as vanity. What she actually desired was a chance to see what she looked like, so that she might begin to believe in herself – to believe that Geraden would notice her enough, and care enough about what he saw, to let her reach him.

  Get him out of the pig wallow—

  She didn’t trust any of the conclusions he had reached. And she couldn’t bear to see him like that.

  When Quiss came to take her back to the Domne, she went both hesitantly and eagerly, unsure of herself, and yet sure that what she wished to do was worth doing.

  ‘Da likes an early lunch,’ Quiss explained, ‘and he doesn’t like to admit that he’s too impatient to wait while you eat, so he asks you to eat with him. Also Tholden is here, and I’m sure he wants to question you. If you don’t mind.’

  Terisa couldn’t think of a quick way to describe how important the Domne and his concerns were to her, so she replied simply, ‘I don’t mind.’

  In the front room, the light had been improved by the raising of the window covers and the altered angle of the sun. Two men sat at the table, and as Terisa entered the room she had no difficulty seeing that one of them was the Domne – or that his companion was huge.

  ‘Ah, Terisa,’ said the Domne in his warm, comfortable voice, ‘I’m glad you could join us. I want someone to share my lunch. And Tholden thinks he can’t wait to talk to you.’ Gesturing toward the huge man, he went on, ‘Terisa, this is Tholden, my eldest. Another of the benefits of sons is that one of them is bound to be the right man to inherit their father’s place. Tholden is the right man for mine.

  ‘That’s fortunate, since he’s also’ – the Domne laughed softly – ‘the only one of my sons who wants the responsibility.’

  Tholden stood beside his father like a bear; his stiff hair nearly brushed the beams of the ceiling; his beard was so long and wild that it made his chest seem even thicker – and his chest was already thick enough to create the illusion that his shoulders were round and stooped. When he sketched a bow toward her, Terisa saw that his hands were ridged with calluses: they looked more like gardening implements than normal hands.

  She also noticed that he had straw and a few twigs caught in his beard. Involuntarily, she smiled. Then, trying to recover her manners, she said, ‘I’m glad to meet you. Geraden talks about you a lot.’

  Tholden grinned – a smile which lifted his beard, but didn’t soften his expression. ‘I’m sure he does.’ His voice was unexpectedly high and gentle; he sounded like a man who wasn’t able to shout. ‘Quiss and I had the doubtful pleasure of raising him after our mother passed away. He probably remembers every beating he deserved in agonizing detail.’

  Quiss went to the stove and began pulling a meal together. Politely, Terisa replied, ‘No, nothing like that. He has a higher opinion of you than you think.’ Then she asked, ‘Where is he, by the way?’

  ‘He was here,’ said the Domne. ‘We talked for a while—’

  ‘Then I sent him to help Minick.’ Tholden let his smile drop. ‘Minick is trying to explain to an assortment of farmers, shepherds, merchants, and servants how we want them to defend the walls. He’s the most meticulous man in Houseldon, and he’s certainly thorough, but he can be a bit slow, and his explanations have a tendency to confuse people. Geraden will get more done in less time, even if he has lost his sense of humor.’

  Terisa glanced at the Domne, then looked up at Tholden again. ‘In other words, you want to talk to me alone.’

  The Domne began chuckling to himself.

  From the stove, Quiss said, ‘I warned you subtlety would be wasted on her.’ Her tone made it clear that she wasn’t laughing at Terisa.

  ‘Silence, upstart woman.’ Without so much as glancing in his wife’s direction, Tholden swung his arm and managed to slap her across the bottom. ‘Don’t be pert. Women should be seen and not heard. As much as possible.’

  Rather than retorting, Quiss looked at Terisa and rolled her eyes in mock-despair.

  Terisa herself wasn’t amused, however. Holding herself still, she asked in a neutral tone, ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you trust him?’

  Tholden opened his mouth as if he had been stung; the Domne waved him silent. ‘Terisa,’ the older man said quietly, and this time she could hear his years in his voice, ‘I would sell my soul at the word of any of my sons. Even Nyle, who seems to have forgotten who he is. But this Geraden who came storming into Houseldon only yesterday, warning of imminent destruction – who is he? He isn’t the Geraden who left us for Orison with more hope in his heart than most simple flesh and blood can hold. It’s not just that he has become hard. I know him better than that, Terisa. He has become closed. He talks about defending his home as if the mere idea was terrible.

  ‘A change like that’ – the Domne spread his hands – ‘it could mean anything.’

  ‘And you want me to explain it,’ said Terisa stiffly.

  The lord and Tholden nodded together. Quiss watched mutely from the stove. ‘I will sell my soul for him now, if I must,’ murmured the Domne, ‘without another word from you – or from him. But I would prefer to understand what I’m trusting.’

  Without warning, Terisa found that she wanted to say, It isn’t your fault. It isn’t anything you did. He’s just been so badly beaten— He’s failed you, he’s failed Artagel and Nyle, he’s failed Orison and King Joyse – and now, when it’s too late to do any good, he finds out he really is an Imager. He could have made a difference. He went through all those years of humiliation, and now it’s too late.

  But the words refused to be spoken. They weren’t hers to say: they were his. She could feel it in the room that she couldn’t try to explain him without erecting a wall between him and his family – a wall with pity on one side and loneliness on the other. The more they knew about his pain, the more difficulty they would have confronting it, challenging it. She herself was almost paralyzed by knowing too much. If he didn’t speak for himself, he would never be whole again.

  So she said, ‘I’m sorry. That’s between you and him. He’ll have to tell you himself.’

  Then she said, ‘But I trust him.’

  Tholden was scowling. Quiss concentrated on her pots and pans as if she were leery of what she might say if she spoke. But the Domne smiled at Terisa with sunlight in his eyes.

  Distinctly, Tholden asked, ‘Do you consider yourself a friend of his?’

  Almost without interrupting her preparations, Quiss swung an elbow into her husband’s ribs. Then, ignoring his muffled grunt, his sharp glare, she lifted two platters heaped with food and carried them to the table. ‘Sit down, Terisa,’ she said, ‘eat,’ placing one platter in front of the Domne, the other before the chair nearest Terisa. ‘If I’ve given you too much, don’t worry about it. I’m used to cooking for this great ox and the farmers he consorts with.’

  A bland expression on her face, Quiss pulled out the chair and held it for Terisa.

  On the platter, Terisa saw fried yams, panbread, greens, some kind of meat covered with gravy, and what looked like apple fritters. If
she ate all that, she wouldn’t be able to move for two days.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tholden. With a hand like a shovel, he gestured toward the chair. ‘Please sit down. Eat.’

  When Terisa still didn’t move, he added, ‘I don’t mean to question your integrity. I’m just scared. I don’t like the way Geraden has changed. I don’t like the news from Orison. I don’t like what he says it means. Houseldon has never been very good at defending itself.’

  ‘Good enough,’ put in the Domne gently.

  ‘So far,’ countered Tholden. ‘But I don’t want to watch people I’ve known and worked with all my life get killed because something horrendous has happened to Geraden.’

  The Domne pointed at the chair Quiss held. ‘Terisa, sit down. I haven’t heard him apologize that much in twenty years. In another minute, you’re going to hurt his feelings.’

  Terisa sat down and let Quiss adjust the chair.

  Now it was her turn. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’m scared, too. And I’m groping. Quiss says Geraden didn’t tell you much about me. He didn’t tell you I’m new at all this. I’ve never been in a place like this. I’ve never met people like you.’ I’ve never been important before. ‘And I’m not used to having enemies.

  ‘I want to help. I’ll do anything I can. I just don’t want to talk about things that Geraden ought to tell you himself.’

  Tholden studied her hard for a moment. Then he grinned – a new smile that brightened his whole face. Abruptly, he swept a chair out of his way and sat down opposite her. ‘When you’re done eating, push that plate over here. I could use a snack.’

  From the stove, Quiss gave Terisa a look of grave, sky blue gladness. Then, wiping her hands on her apron, she turned to the Domne. ‘Da, I’ve heard a rumor that some of the women are panicking. They don’t know where to hide their daughters – or themselves. With your permission, I’ll go try to talk some sense into them.’

  The Domne nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Tell them to come here if we’re attacked,’ said Tholden. ‘This house will be our last bastion, if everything else goes down. We’ll put the women and children down in the beer cellar, and the rest of us will protect them as long as we can.’

  With one hand, Quiss placed a brief touch of affection on her husband’s shoulder. Nodding to Terisa, she left the room and the house.

  Calmly, as if everything were normal, the Domne picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat.

  Terisa was moderately hungry, but she couldn’t force herself to tackle all that food. These people were seriously considering the necessity of hiding their women and children in a beer cellar while Houseldon was destroyed. Facing Tholden, she said, ‘Ask me something. Let me help.’

  Tholden met her gaze squarely. ‘When Geraden got here yesterday, he thought we were going to be attacked almost immediately. Now he says we’ve got time to plan our defense. As long as you’re here, he thinks Master Eremis doesn’t have any reason to attack us right away. What do you think?’

  Without hesitation, she said, ‘I think he’s wrong.’

  The Domne cocked an eyebrow. His mouth full of yams, he asked, ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think he realizes how dangerous he is. Or how dangerous Eremis thinks he is. Eremis has been working hard for a long time now to keep him from understanding his own talent. And he’s tried to have him killed. I don’t think Eremis will believe he’s safe until Geraden is dead.’

  ‘That’s speculation,’ murmured Tholden.

  ‘This isn’t.’ Terisa spoke with the confidence of a woman who had been able to out-think Castellan Lebbick. ‘Eremis can’t possibly know how Geraden’s feeling. And he can’t possibly know there aren’t any mirrors here. Now that Geraden knows what his talent is, Eremis has to be afraid of being attacked himself.

  ‘And that’s not all. Geraden thinks Eremis will postpone attacking Houseldon until after he’s done with Orison. But the last thing he was doing in Orison was refilling the reservoir. That doesn’t sound like a man with a trap ready to spring. It sounds like a man who wants to help Orison fight off Prince Kragen until Cadwal is in position.

  ‘If I’m right, Eremis has time to strike at you right now.

  ‘And he knows I’m here.’ This had to be said, although it was difficult for her. The Domne and his son needed to know the extent of their danger. ‘Master Gilbur saw the mirror change. He knows I’ve discovered my talent, too. He knows I can go anywhere in Mordant – or Cadwal or Alend, for that matter – if I just know what it looks like. If I just know how to visualize it. I could show up in his rooms some night when he’s asleep and nail him to the bed.

  ‘He’s not just afraid of Geraden. He’s afraid of me.’

  He needs to be afraid of me. I’m going to make him afraid of me. Somehow.

  The Domne continued to eat without any obvious concern; but Tholden watched Terisa with growing chagrin on his face. When she was done, he muttered as if no one were listening to him, ‘Sheepdung. I’m not used to this myself. I’m not Artagel – I never wanted to be a soldier. What am I supposed to do?’

  The Domne put down his knife and fork. ‘What are you doing?’

  Tholden made a dismissive gesture. ‘You know what. Wester is sending farmers and their families here as fast as he can talk them into it. Every empty hogshead and barrel we’ve got is being filled with water and positioned around the stockade, in case of fire. Every pitchfork and scythe and axe in Houseldon is being sharpened.’ Slowly, a frantic look came into his eyes, and his hands knotted on the table in front of him; but he kept his voice steady. ‘Banquettes are being knocked together inside the wall, so that anyone with a bow will have a place to stand. Minick – and Geraden, I hope – are laying out lines of retreat. They’re trying to explain to the men with bows how to retreat – how to use the houses for cover, how to set ambushes.

  ‘What good is that going to do against Imagery?’

  Listening to him, Terisa understood how he felt.

  The Domne was undismayed, however. ‘Who knows?’ he said calmly. ‘I don’t. I can’t see the future.

  ‘But I can see you’re the right man for the job. You’ve already thought of things that wouldn’t have occurred to me. You’ll think of more. If Artagel were here, he wouldn’t be able to defend Houseldon any better.’

  Tholden wasn’t convinced. With a sour snort, he asked, ‘Is this what you call selling your soul at the word of one of your sons?’

  At that, the Domne sat up straighter in his chair; his eyes flashed. ‘Tholden, I know you think you’re a grown man, but you still aren’t too old to be punished for disrespect. Maybe I’m only your father, and half crippled as well, but I’m still man enough to prune your apricots within an inch of their lives. Consider that before you risk being pert with me.’

  Involuntarily, Tholden smiled. His beard rustled on his chest. Nevertheless his eyes remained full of trouble, and his smile didn’t last long. Too worried to sit where he was, he pushed himself up from the table. ‘Excuse me, Terisa,’ he murmured. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to eat lunch without my help. I’ve lost my appetite.’

  With the hunched gait of a man who was accustomed to ducking under doorways and low ceilings, he left the house.

  The Domne watched him go and sighed. ‘You don’t know it, Terisa,’ he commented after Tholden was gone, ‘but those are the saddest words anyone has said in my house for a long time. “I’ve lost my appetite.” I hope you aren’t planning to tell me the same thing.’

  Terisa meant to say Yes. The pile of food on the platter daunted her. The size and consequences of the danger she and Geraden had brought to Houseldon daunted her. Yet the way the Domne looked at her seemed so warm and companionable, so willing to accept whatever she represented, that when she opened her mouth the word which came out was, ‘No.’

  He smiled approvingly as she lifted her fork to sample Quiss’ panbread and gravy.

  For several minutes while she ate a little of every
thing on the platter, he sat in silence, gazing out into the sunshine through the nearest window. She had the impression that he was waiting for her to finish; but he didn’t seem impatient. In fact, he appeared quite content to look out on the street and nod amiably at anyone who caught his eye. If war was coming to Houseldon, it didn’t show on the face of the Domne. Geraden had said of him, The things he values most don’t need to be fought for because they can’t be hurt. Yet Terisa wasn’t sure that was accurate. Despite his look of contentment, she thought he cared deeply about a number of things which could be hurt very easily.

  When she put down her utensils to indicate that she was done, he glanced over at her, then returned his gaze to the window. In a relaxed way, as if he were continuing an earlier conversation, he asked, ‘What was your impression of Nyle?’

  Her stomach knotted around the food she had just eaten. Cautiously, she countered, ‘What did Geraden tell you?’

  The Domne’s manner disarmed anxiety. ‘That you think Nyle is still alive. That this Master Eremis still wants to use him against us. That’s not what I want to know. What did you think of him? How is he?’

  Because the answer was painful, she said shortly, ‘He’s miserable.’

  ‘Ah,’ sighed the Domne as if he had both expected and feared her reply.

  This time, she let herself say, ‘I don’t blame him. Everything he believed that got him into trouble – everything about King Joyse and Orison and Elega and Prince Kragen – it was all plausible. King Joyse has been working for years, setting himself up to be betrayed. Nyle was just unlucky enough to fall into the trap – the same trap Elega fell into herself. He believed what his King wanted him to believe.’

  Ignoring the Domne’s reputation as one of the King’s dearest friends, she went on, ‘He’s really just a victim. Eremis probably would never have been able to get his hands on Nyle if Nyle hadn’t been stuck in the dungeon with nowhere to turn for hope.’