Стивен Дональдсон - The Mirror of Her Dreams

“Did he hurt you?”

He was her friend. He must have a good reason for snarling at her as if she had broken his heart. She struggled to concentrate. The room was full of disaster. She had to think .

Heavy boots hammered the stone. Three guards burst into the room with their swords out. Master Eremis had certainly gotten their attention. Once in the room, however, they hesitated, waving their blades warily, until Geraden snapped, “There’s a wardrobe in the bedroom with a passage behind it.” Then they charged away. The boards of the wardrobe resounded as they went through it.

How many different kinds of pain were there? There was the dull ache where Master Eremis had gripped the back of her neck. There was the grief that seemed to throb in the secret places of her heart. There was the sharp strain around her chest which grew tighter every time Geraden spoke to her in that clenched and bitter tone. There was the belabored sensation inside her skull, as if her mind had been beaten with clubs.

And somewhere else – somewhere indefinable – there was a new certainty as pure as a knife. It needed a name. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much: because she had no name for it.

Dully, she said, “At least now we know he and Gart aren’t working together.”

“Terisa.” That word would have sounded like a cry if Geraden hadn’t whispered it so softly.

Before she could reply, another voice intervened. “Don’t torture yourself, Geraden,” Castellan Lebbick said from the doorway. Four more guards clattered past him on their way to the wardrobe. “She isn’t worth it.”

She scrambled to her feet so that she wouldn’t appear so defeated in front of the Castellan.

Geraden stood with his back to the wall, his arms folded like fetters across his chest. His face looked like a stone mask from which all the joy had been chipped away. Firelight reflected out of his eyes, as dry as fever.

“Save your insults, Castellan,” he rasped quietly. “We don’t need them.”

Castellan Lebbick cocked an eyebrow. “All right. I’ll be civil. You be cooperative. For a change. What happened?”

Geraden seemed to shrink slightly, as if he were being compacted by the pressure of his grip on himself – as if he were squeezing himself down to his essence. “We were attacked. The High King’s Monomach tried to kill her again.”

A grin pulled the Castellan’s lips back from his teeth. “And you’re still alive? How did you manage that?”

“Master Eremis saved us. He fought Gart off until the guards could get in.”

“Master Eremis? What was he doing here?”

Bitterly, Geraden didn’t look at Terisa.

With an effort, she met Lebbick’s gaze. “He came to see me.”

“And do you always receive him dressed like that?”

In shame, she bit her lip. Shame was yet another kind of pain. Somehow, she murmured, “He came when I was asleep.”

The Castellan turned back to Geraden. “Apparently, Master Eremis was welcome. In that case, what were you doing here? I doubt that either one of them invited you.”

“When I arrived,” Geraden said like a piece of the wall where he stood, “her guards said she was alone. Don’t you want to know how he got in? Don’t you want to know how Gart got in?”

“Go on. Tell me.”

“Both of them used the secret passage behind her wardrobe.”

At that, Castellan Lebbick drew a hissing breath through his teeth. “Ballocks! How did they know about it?”

“Saddith and Master Eremis are lovers. In fact, she volunteered to be Terisa’s maid to please him. She noticed the chair in the wardrobe and told him about it. I presume he told Gart.”

“Wait a moment. You said Master Eremis saved you. Now you say he is in league with Gart?”

“Where else could Gart find out about the passage?” retorted the Apt. “Who else knew enough to tell him? There’s just me and Terisa. Saddith and Master Eremis. And you, Castellan. Even Artagel doesn’t know about it.”

Involuntarily, Terisa remembered that Myste knew.

Clenching his fists on his hips, the Castellan rasped, “All right. If Gart knew, why didn’t he use it to kill her long ago?”

“At first,” Geraden said, “he didn’t know. Saddith told Master Eremis where Terisa was, but she didn’t know any more than that. I don’t know when she found the passage. And I don’t know when he got her to tell him about it. I certainly don’t know how busy Gart is. But I think Master Eremis decided he wanted to let her live because he wanted her for himself. He didn’t tell Gart about the passage until the Alend army arrived and they both ran out of time.”

Abruptly, Castellan Lebbick turned on Terisa. “Is this true? Have you been making it worthwhile for Master Eremis to keep you alive when he really wants you dead?”

His tone made her wince. She was starting to understand Geraden’s hurt, and his reasons dismayed her. Nevertheless she met the Castellan squarely.

“He did save us.” And her certainty was precise, if only she could put a name to it. “He said he’s going to make Geraden answer for this in front of the Congery.”

She wasn’t prepared for the virulence with which Lebbick snarled under his breath, “Bitch!” Fortunately, he swung back to Geraden too soon to see her flinch.

“I have a few questions myself. I want to know how you suddenly became an expert on what Saddith does or doesn’t tell her lovers. And I want to know some of the things you haven’t told me yet.

“But as it happens, you’re not my only problem right now. I have the rest of Orison to worry about. I’ll wait until the Congery meets.

“When my men come back from not finding Gart, tell them to report to me.”

Brusquely, Castellan Lebbick strode to the door and left.

Without thinking about what she was doing, Terisa turned toward the fire so that she wouldn’t have to look at Geraden. She was afraid to look at him. He was so hurt— And almost everything he believed about her was true. He had saved her from her own weakness. Master Eremis had claimed her – and she had resisted him so little. Even choosing against him, she had been unable to struggle. Shame seemed to demoralize her; she couldn’t face the accusation of his pain.

Yet her cowardice disgusted her. He had never let fear prevent him from doing anything for her. At last, she forced herself to turn again and meet his distress.

“Geraden, I—”

He hadn’t shifted his stance an inch. Dim gray from the windows and dull red from the hearth lay along the stone lines of his cheeks and jaw, his straight nose, his strong forehead. Not a muscle moved. His hair curled into darkness.

But his eyes were closed.

This was her fault: he was in so much pain because of her. Because he had found her nearly naked with Master Eremis. Because he had seen the Master touch her so intimately. Helplessly, she asked, “What’re we going to do?”

He didn’t open his eyes. Perhaps the sight of her was intolerable. When he spoke, he couldn’t restrain his voice. It shook as if he were freezing.

“I need to know whose side you’re on. You don’t have to tell me anything else. You have to make your own choices. I can’t tell you who to love. But I’m going to have to stand up in front of the Masters and tell them everything I can think of. They aren’t going to want to believe me. I’ve spent too many years making too many mistakes.

“You’re my only witness. You’re the only one who can tell them I’m telling the truth. If you’re planning to call me a liar—” He couldn’t go on.

She wanted to reply at once, but his distress closed her throat. What could she say? Nothing was adequate. He had touched her near the point of her certainty, but she still didn’t know what to call it.