The Mirror of Her Dreams (86 page)

Terisa.
Terisa.'

Naturally, she decided the noise must be coming from the door to the secret passage. She peeled the sheet off her naked back and climbed, instantly shivering, out of bed to let Master Quillon or Adept Havelock in. But that didn't make any sense. Why were they knocking so loudly, when she had forgotten to put a chair in the wardrobe to block the door?

With a wrench, her perceptions corrected their orientation. Was it really this
cold,
or was she just chilled by the effect of her dreams? Her robe was on the chair which should have been in the wardrobe: she snatched it up, got her arms into the sleeves, knotted the sash around the deep velvet. Geraden? Shivering so hard that she nearly lost her balance, she went into the sitting room and unbolted the door.

Light from the lamps outside washed inward, sweeping Geraden with it.

'Come on,' he whispered at once. 'We've got to hurry. He's leaving.'

'Leaving?' Her voice shook wildly. 'What are you talking about? What time is it?'

'Almost dawn.' He was breathing hard: he had been running. 'It's Nyle. This is our chance to find out what he's doing. Maybe it's our chance to stop him.'

'Leaving?' she repeated. Her robe seemed to hold no warmth at all. 'How can he be leaving? Where can he go?'

That's what we'll find out,' Geraden hissed. 'Just
get ready.
He was in the stables when Argus and Ribuld finally figured out what he was doing. He's probably in the courtyard by now. He'll be out the gate by the time you get your clothes on. We've got to
hurry.'

Some of his tension reached her. She turned to look for some clothes. Which clothes? Her old shirt and pants. And the sheepskin coat. The warm boots. There was still a small fire in the hearth. Why was she so
cold?
'How can we follow him?' she asked, trying to get herself under control. 'He's practically gone already.'

Geraden permitted himself a growl of exasperation. 'Argus is waiting for us. Ribuld will follow Nyle. He'll leave us a trail.
Come on.'

She got herself moving and tried to hurry.

Violent tremors made her hands fumble. As familiar as these clothes were, she had trouble putting them on. From the privacy of the bathroom, she asked, 'What's happened to the weather? I'm freezing.'

'Bitter, isn't it,' he muttered. 'The thaw is over-at least for a while. But there's no new snow. We would be better off if there was. It would slow down anybody who might be marching in this direction. And it might make it easier for us to follow Nyle.'

A part of her was glad that she was too cold and rushed to think about what she was doing. If she thought about it, it might turn out to be crazy. Her rooms were still full of nightmares. It would be good to escape them.

A moment later, she pulled on her coat and left the bathroom. 'I'm ready,' she said, although that was probably nonsense. 'Let's go.'

He took her hand, and they left.

They went down the stairs almost at a run. Holding his hand gave her the illusion that she could keep him from falling; but he didn't stumble. All she remembered about the stables was that they were somewhere near the warren of rooms where the guards were quartered. And she had never ridden a horse. The route he chose appeared convoluted because it bypassed a number of long, straight halls and passages that ran in the wrong direction. The exercise was just starting to generate a little humane warmth inside her coat when he brought her to the place where Orison wintered its horses.

The guard at the side entrance nodded sleepily and said, 'Argus is waiting. Keep it quiet. Nobody's supposed to be here this early. Upsets the horses.' Then he let them in.

The low ceiling was supported by a great number of stone pillars, as well as by bulky wooden posts which also anchored the sides and rails and gates of the individual stalls. In addition,

many of the stalls had been constructed haphazardly, with the result that the aisles between them were crooked. Consequently, the true dimensions of the place were hard to see. Its size was only apparent from one of the main aisles which met like roads in the centre of the stables.

During his tour, Geraden had taken Terisa to the centre and showed her that the stalls stretched cavernously for a hundred yards in each direction.

The ceiling multiplied noise; but the place was much quieter now than she remembered it. Still, a constant rustling murmur punctuated with staccato thuds and coughs filled the air as hundreds of horses shuffled in their sleep, broke wind, shifted positions and knocked their hooves against the slats of the stalls. So many animals put out enough heat to make the cavern warm, one of the most noticeable effects of which was to perfect the sweet, thick stench of horse droppings and urine fermenting in sodden straw. Together, the noise and the warmth and the smell were comforting in an odd way, like a return to a primitive womb. And the womb-like atmosphere was increased by the fact that at night the stables were lit only by a few small lanterns placed at considerable intervals along the aisles. Nevertheless the air made Terisa feel that she had fungus growing in her lungs.

Geraden put his finger to his lips unnecessarily and led her forward.

She spared as much attention as she could to keep her feet out of the brown piles that dotted the aisles; but she had a number of other things to think about. Now that she was more awake, she was both excited and fearful. She was going to go
out.
For the first time since this whole experience began, she was going to see the outside of Orison. On the other hand, she believed instinctively that something was about to go wrong-

Geraden spotted Argus. The guard stood near a lantern with three horses, already saddled. They nickered and snorted softly, complaining about being put to work so early in the morning. Geraden waved and hurried towards the grizzled veteran.

Bracing herself to endure Argus' crude sense of humour, Terisa followed.

Over leather clothes, Argus wore a mail shirt and leggings: over his mail, a cloak that looked like a bearskin. His iron cap was on his head, A dagger hung at his belt opposite his longsword;

but he had left his pike behind. As Geraden and Terisa reached him, he grinned, showing the gaps where several of his teeth had been knocked out. 'Good,' he leered. 'I have horses. I even have brandy.' He indicated a small pouch tied to the back of one saddle. 'You have a woman. This is going to be more fun than guard duty.'

Geraden brushed that remark aside. 'How far ahead do you think he is?'

'She's in my debt, don't you think?' Argus persisted. 'I don't care how fine a lady she is. The finer the better. I've risked my life for her twice now. She owes me a little gratitude.' He reached a grubby hand towards Terisa's cheek.

'Argus.' Suddenly, Geraden clamped a hold on the guard's wrist. Though Argus was much larger, Geraden wrenched his hand down. 'Do not trifle with me.' Strength echoed in his voice -strength which Terisa hadn't heard for a long time. 'Nyle is my brother. How far ahead is he?'

Involuntarily, Argus winced. 'He has his own horse,' he replied as if he were surprised to find himself backing down. 'He didn't have to get permission to take it and go. And he didn't have to stand around here waiting for you. But Ribuld has him. We should be able to catch up.'

'Then let's go,' said Geraden impatiently. The echo was gone. 'Who gets which horse?'

This one's mine.' With a slap to its rump, Argus shifted a raw-boned roan stallion out of his way. 'You get the mare.' He indicated a smaller horse the colour of fresh axle-grease. 'She likes to kick, but you can handle her. At least she's tough. The lady can have the gelding.'

Terisa found herself staring at a horse with rancid eyes, a mottled coat, and an expression of sublime stupidity.

With an effort, she cleared her throat. Her voice sounded small and lost. 'I don't actually know how to ride.'

Argus flashed her a look that might have been anger or glee. 'Geraden mentioned that. He didn't explain why you have to come with us. I mean, if you can't ride, and you think you're too good to spread your legs for a man who saved your life, why bother?' He gave a massive shrug. 'But at least he warned me.

'The only way this gelding can hurt you is if he steps on you.

He hasn't got the brains to do anything except follow the nearest thing he recognizes-and the only thing he ever recognizes is another horse. Just hold on to the saddlehorn and let him do the rest.'

Still she hesitated, Geraden and Argus stared at her. Abruptly, Geraden came and took her to the side of her mount. Holding the stirrup, he said, 'Put your left foot here, grab the saddlehorn, and swing your right leg over. Leave the reins where they are. We'll adjust the stirrups when you're in the saddle.'

She looked at him hard and saw that his eyes were dark with suppressed urgency. Swallowing a lump of alarm, she nodded her head. Then, before she had time to panic, she put her foot into the stirrup and lunged for the saddle.

Argus caught her on the other side and squared her in her seat. The ceiling seemed perilously close. Argus and Geraden made her stirrups longer or shorter without consulting her. The gelding shifted its weight. She gripped the saddlehorn until her knuckles ached. To no one in particular, she said, 'Why am I doing this?'

'Because'-Argus flashed his remaining teeth-'you've heard it said that a few hours on a horse makes a woman desperate for a man.'

Geraden was already on the mare. 'If you don't stop harassing her,' he muttered, 'I'm going to wait until we're several miles from here, and then I'm going to break all your legs and leave you to walk back.'

Argus let out a guffaw which made several of the nearby horses whinny in protest and brought an angry insult from a watching stablehand whom Terisa hadn't noticed before. Argus wasn't daunted, however. Chuckling to himself, he took hold of the gelding's reins and tugged the beast into motion behind him.

Terisa clung to the saddle while Argus led her and Geraden out to one of the main aisles and along it towards the closed passage which went in the direction of the courtyard.

The guards at the main entrance lifted the gate without a word: apparently, Argus had already spoken to them. But when he and his companions reached the gate to the courtyard-with Terisa shivering again at the sudden drop in temperature-he had to stop and speak to the sentries for several minutes. She saw him point at Geraden, heard him mention Artagel. Finally, the gate opened, and the horses crunched out into the frozen mud of the courtyard.

'One more gate,' Geraden told her softly. Then we can start hurrying.'

The sky was clear above the high, dark walls of Orison, but most of the stars were gone, washed out by the oncoming grey flood of dawn. The air was so sharp it cut her throat: she could feel it in the bottom of her lungs, pricking like needles. From horseback, the ground looked faraway and dangerous. The cold seemed to make the leather of her saddle slick; because she couldn't stick to it, she had trouble keeping her balance over the stiff-legged lurch of the gelding's stride. Geraden looked like a shadow beside her. Argus was nearly invisible against the darkness of the wall ahead.

Other people moved in the courtyard, waking up, getting ready for another day. Small lights flickered on the inner balconies. A few more showed in the bazaar. One or two cooking fires had been started. She barely noticed them.

The predawn gloom and the shadow of the wall hid the gate; but she remembered it-a massive shutter raised or lowered by winches. Because Mordant was said to be at peace, the gate stood open during the day. At night it was down.

When the horses reached it, Argus dismounted and went to talk to its guards. For some reason-perhaps because his back was turned-his voice was an indeterminate murmur, but the sentry could be heard clearly.

'You're out of your mind, Argus.'

Argus made some response.

'We
had
to let him out. He's a son of the Domne. We don't have any orders to keep him in.'

Again.

Try explaining
that
to the Castellan.'

Geraden shifted in his saddle, fretting. Terisa could feel her face freezing stiff.