The Mirror of Her Dreams (60 page)

She carried a well-laden tray to a table while Terisa closed the door. That man,' she said as if she intended to be overheard, 'ought to be more civil. I can perform my duties very nicely without the benefit of his instructions.'

Putting down her tray, she surveyed Terisa.

Her immediate reaction was a gleam of mirth and a quick giggle. 'My lady, you look awful!' At once, however, she made an effort to swallow her amusement. 'My poor lady, how terrible! To be buried like that. And to be recovered in such a state, with all those men around-' She frowned. 'What a shame that this dull gown was not damaged more. A few strategic tears would have done much to make your appearance more appealing.'

The maid continued to babble, apparently controlling her desire to laugh by saying whatever came into her head. Until that moment, Terisa had had no idea what to do. But the sense of weakness which made her want to simply fold at the knees and forget everything came to her rescue like a flash of inspiration.

'I need help,' she murmured. 'I'm so weak.' Her voice sounded wan and distant in her ears. 'I want a bath, but I keep passing out when I try to get undressed.' She had left enough dust on the rug to make that statement credible. 'I can't seem to get warm.'

Through the fog in her head, she felt remarkably clever. No one could say that she was really lying. And she would gain precious time while Saddith arranged to have hot water brought to her rooms.

But her imitation of frailty was perhaps a little too convincing. With increasing sympathy, Saddith came to her and took hrr arm. 'My poor lady, lean on me. You should sit down.' Gently, she moved Terisa towards a chair. 'It will take me only a moment to begin heating water. Then we will remove that foul gown, and I will bathe you.'

Unable to raise a reasonable objection, Terisa allowed herself to be seated.

Saddith went into the bathroom; Terisa heard running water; then the maid emerged carrying the tin bucket, which she set in the fireplace as close to the grate as possible. As she added wood to the fire, she announced, 'It is too cold in the bathroom. I will bathe you here.'

Pushing back the rug, she made room in front of the fire. Then she brought the tub from the bathroom and positioned it next to the hearth. After that, she began unfastening Terisa's gown.

For the first time since childhood, Terisa had the experience of being undressed and washed like an invalid. It made her acutely self-conscious.

The result was undeniably pleasant, however-sitting in the tub before a hot fire while Saddith poured warm water through her freshly scrubbed hair. The relief of being clean and warm compensated for the embarrassment of Saddith's comments on her body. When she heard the unmistakable sounds which indicated that guards were now on duty outside-unmistakable because Master Quillon complained peevishly about the delay as he left-she felt almost equal to her next trick, which was to get rid of Saddith without allowing the maid to bring her any clothes.

This feels wonderful,' she murmured. 'I think I'll just soak here for a while,' it'll be all right for you to leave, 'and then go to bed.'

Saddith nodded approval. 'I will bring you a robe.'

'No, thanks.' Terisa barely escaped betraying her fright. 'I don't need one. The fire's warm, and I have plenty of towels.' Hoping it would help, she added shame-facedly, 'I don't wear anything in bed.'

'Nonsense, my lady,' replied the maid. 'What if you change your mind and decide to eat something before going to bed? You must not risk a chill.'

Before Terisa could stop her, Saddith walked into the bedroom.

Terisa nearly fell out of the tub. Water splashed and steamed on the hearth as she scrambled to her feet.

But Saddith returned almost immediately with the burgundy velvet robe in her arms and a puzzled expression on her face.

'What's the matter?' asked Terisa, her heart hammering.

'Nothing, my lady.' Saddith shook her perplexity away. 'I cannot remember leaving your robe on the chair when I cleaned the room this morning.'

Terisa felt so light-headed with relief that she almost collapsed. Myste was more quick-witted than she would have believed possible. 'I got it out'-she seemed to hear herself from far away-'when I thought I was going to be able to undress myself.'

'My lady,' Saddith said reprovingly, 'you must not stand there wet.'

As calmly as if she were levitating, Terisa reached for a towel.

Saddith wound a second towel around her hair while Terisa dried herself. When she was done, she stepped out of the tub and let Saddith lift the robe onto her shoulders. 'Thanks,' she said again. 'You can go now.' She had lost the capacity to be subtle. 'I'll be all right.'

The maid studied her for a moment. Then she winked. 'I believe,' she said mock seriously, 'that I recognized the voice of one of your guards. He has a good reputation in these matters. You may find it restful-and rewarding-if you ask him to warm your bed. If I had come so close to death, I would be eager to remind myself-she moved her hands suggestively down her thighs-'that life is worth living.

'He is the tall one with the green eyes,' Saddith added, laughing happily as she let herself out of the room.

Immediately, Terisa rushed to the door and bolted it.

When she turned around, she found Myste standing in the doorway of the bedroom. The lady's face wore a distracted and thoughtful expression.

'That was close,' breathed Terisa. 'I don't know how you can think so fast.'

'Hmm?' Myste murmured. Her mind was obviously elsewhere. 'Oh, the robe.' With a shrug, she dismissed the subject. Terisa, I think it is not a good idea to leave that chair in your wardrobe.'

'Why not?' Surprise and reaction gave Terisa's tone a note of asperity. '
I
don't know where those passages go. I've got to do something to keep people out of here.'

A smile quirked Myste's lips. 'I see your point. The precaution is tempting. The difficulty is that the position of the chair announces to anyone who sees it that you are aware of the passage. I want to ask how you chanced to notice it-'

Terisa held her breath.

'-but you owe me no explanations. We must simply hope that your maid will not volunteer what she knows to the wrong ears. I assure you, however, that your life will become much more burdensome if Castellan Lebbick sees a chair in your wardrobe.'

'Oh.'
Terisa let the air out of her lungs in a sigh of self-disgust.

'You're right.' Why wasn't she able to think of things like that for herself?

At once, Myste became reassuring. 'I doubt that you have any cause for worry. Your maid has already told everyone she is likely to tell. And Castellan Lebbick has had no reason to search your rooms.'

'I hope so.' Terisa made an effort to relax. Of course the Castellan had no reason to search her rooms. She was probably safe. And Myste's kind refusal to pursue the question of how she had become aware of the passage was another relief.

By degrees, she began to feel that her bath had done her a lot of good. And a tray of food was waiting for her. When she sniffed it, she discovered that she was hungry. Inviting Myste to join her, she sat down to a meal.

Myste had left her cloak in the bedroom. Taking off her bandolier, she accepted Terisa's invitation.

While they ate, Terisa returned to the subject of Myste's intentions. 'You were telling me why you think the champion needs your help. That's the point, isn't it? At least that's what I don't understand. You don't even know him. What difference does he make to you?'

The lady cleared her throat with a swallow of wine. 'You ask several questions at once. The truth is probably nothing more profound than that when I heard of his plight it wrung my heart

-and when I thought that I might help him the pain turned to gladness. But I will try to give you reasons.

That he needs help is obvious. Consider.' Her gaze was fixed on something beyond the wall of the room. 'He is a man of war, accustomed to hostility on all sides. Subjugation and destruction are his life. And now-suddenly, without explanation-he is alone in a world surely as unfamiliar to him as any he has ever conquered.

'You are aware of the great debate of Imagery. Do the people, places, and creatures seen in mirrors have independent existence, or are they merely like reflections in a pool of water, unreal apart from the glass in which they have been cast? Is the champion a man, deserving the rights and respect of a man? Or is he, in effect, nothing more than an animal-a being like a horse that can be decently, even honourably deprived of its own will?

Terisa, by either standard he must have help.'

Myste's excitement impelled her to her feet. She began to pace the rug. 'If he is a man-as my father would surely insist he is -then what the Masters have done is abominable. We cannot judge whether he is a good man. Perhaps he is a foul enslaver- that lies outside our knowledge. But any man deserves better than to be wrenched out of life, away from world, home, family, purpose, and explanation, to serve what are, essentially, the whims of Imagers. Think of him! He knows no one here, understands nothing. He was not invited to cast his lot among us. To him, we must appear simply as enemies. He will fight us until weapons, food, and hope fail him. Then he will die.

'If he is a man, his death will be murder.

'If he is less than a man,' she continued after a long pause, 'a being comparable to a horse or a hunting dog, then it is his right to have help. There is a responsibility which accompanies the service we impose on animals. In exchange for what we take away, we give food, shelter, healing, perhaps even kindness. If we do not, few will call us admirable. Does not a champion with the mind and needs and desires of a man deserve at least as much consideration as a beast? Even if he did not truly exist until the moment of his translation, he is real now and should not be harried to death simply because, like an animal, he does not understand what we require of him.'

Perhaps reaction to the day's events left Terisa punchy: perhaps her emotions were bouncing out of control. Whatever the cause, her heart lifted as she listened to the lady. She was glad that she had decided to help Myste, very glad. This was worth doing. Simply because she wanted confirmation, she said, 'Maybe all that's true. But what does it have to do with you? Why do you think you have to sneak out of Orison and chase after him on foot in this weather?'

Myste frowned for a moment. Then she smiled self-depre-catingly. There you touch me on my weakest point. I am a bundle of romantic ideas which defy common sense.' As she spoke, however, she became stronger. 'Yet I have always believed that problems should be solved by those who see them- that when a difficulty presents itself the person who becomes aware of it should answer it instead of trying to pass it to someone else.' Her voice cast hints of passion like glints of gold in the firelight. This is more true rather than less for a king's daughter. What is a king, if not a man who accepts responsibility for problems when he sees them? And should his daughter not do the same?'

Her eyes flashing like Elega's, she faced Terisa. 'But the truth,' she said as intensely as a cry, 'is that I
want
to go. I am tired of waiting for my life to have some kind of purpose.'

At once, however, she made an effort to tone down her manner. ''Romantic', as I say,' she laughed awkwardly. 'But I cannot claim that I have been happy since the hall of audiences -since my father'-she was uncomfortable mentioning him- 'forced you to play hop-board against Prince Kragen. When my mother and Torrent left, I remained in Orison because I thought I had a purpose. I wanted there to be at least one person at the King's side who would believe him if he chose to explain himself. Perhaps I could not help him solve Mordant's problems, but I could offer him the company and support of my willingness.

'But when for a whim he insulted an ambassador of Alend to the point of war-for a
whim,
Terisa!-and I went after him, he refused to hear me.' She couldn'tkeep her emotion down. ' 'My daughter and that Kragen mean to betray me,' he snapped. 'They have already begun. Do not hover. I am tired of daughters.' Then he slammed his door.'

Again, Myste was silent for a while. But then she shrugged; and that small gesture seemed to restore her balance, her excitement. 'I am still enough his daughter to want to take action when I see a need. And I do
not
want to watch him continue as he is going.'