I had to be satisfied with that. Mandor was not in the dining hall. He was not waiting for me in the room I was given, nor was he in the kitchens in the morning when the Demon and I took early meal together. The Demon asked me to call him Huld, and I did so with some reluctance. We went together up the River Banner to a horse breeder’s farm to fetch two animals for the fortress stables, and Mandor was not with us. During all this ride, I longed for Yarrel and was as lonely as I have ever been in my life. Huld was garrulous, a little, trying to make me comfortable, to make me feel relaxed and kindly. I could not. The warmth came no nearer me than the length of his glance, covert and measuring. I did not feel him in my head that day, but I knew I could not prevent his Reading me when he chose. I thanked the Gamelords I was a clumsy boy, a bobble-head, a dreamer with no Talent. If he found my dreams, I would hate it. It would be like being taken for sex, without consent, but he could hurt no one else with what I knew or dreamed, for I knew so little.
To realize that one knows nothing, that one is helpless, that one’s highest hope is to be ravished alone without injury to others, that is a lonely feeling. Then even that hope was taken from me.
“I have long admired King Mertyn,” said Huld. “He would be sorry to know his mind betrayed you into a Game against your will…”
So that was my value! That in my destruction, Mertyn might be wounded! I laughed, a sound like a bray, and Huld turned his face to me, full of surprise and sudden offense. “No, lad. No, I swear. Such a thought had not occurred to me, nor to Mandor…”
I brayed again, and when we returned to the fortress I went to the room they had given me and curled on the bed, willing myself to silence. If it were possible, I would have willed myself to death. I felt the tickle in my head and paid it no attention. Let him seek my misery and find it. Let him feel it and know I did not believe him. I think I may have cried like a child. At last I slept. And in the morning I saw Mandor again.
Hostage
HE WAS IN A TOWER ROOM, a room not unlike the one Mertyn had occupied in Schooltown, windowed and well lit. Mandor, however, was surrounded with a luxury which Mertyn would not have allowed: carpets of deep plush, couches and heavy draperies to shut out the evening cold. Mandor’s familiar form was posed against the jeweled light of an eastern window. I saw his profile, more familiar to me than my own, the long lashes lying upon his silken cheek, mouth curved into that sensuous bow, his long, elegant hand stroking the silk of his gown.
Huld spoke from behind me, “Peter is here, Mandor.” No answer. It might have been a form of wax or marble which stood against the light. I waited to feel something and felt nothing.
Until he turned.
Then I thought there had been a masquerade, and they had put Dazzle into Mandor’s clothes, for the face which looked at me was one I had seen before, hideous, a gap-faced monstrosity, a noseless, cheekless horror. Vomit boiled into my throat, and I turned away, feeling the Demon’s intrusion into my mind, hearing him say, “He sees you, Mandor.” I heard a sob, as well, and knew it came from the Prince. ‘
“How?” The word was almost gargled, and my brain formed the unwelcome image of shattered teeth and tongue bending and probing to form articulate speech.
“How?”
“He doesn’t know.” There was a silence during which I swallowed and swallowed, staring at the stones of the wall, not thinking. “Truly, Mandor. He does not know. He simply sees you, that’s all.”
“Talen’. Bahr?”
“Not any Talent or Power he knows of.”
“I was some time among the Immutables,” I said, bitterly. “Perhaps I have caught it from them.”
“It is not unknown,” Huld said to Mandor. “There are some who cannot be beguiled. Or who can be beguiled for a time, but not thereafter. You know it is true.”
I turned to confront the horror, but he had turned away, and it was only that matchless profile which I saw.
The lips moved. “Nus helb…”
“I have told Peter he must help, Mandor. If he can.”
“I would help you if I could,” I choked. “I would help anyone like you, if I could. But there is nothing I can do. I cannot see you as once I did, feel for you as once I did. I have no Talent, no Power. I have learned from Huld that I am a Shapeshifter’s son, but I do not know how that would help you.”
“Get her here!” The three words were perfectly clear, not at all garbled.
I laughed. “Get her here? Mavin? For my sake? I’ve never seen her. I don’t know her. If I did, what then?”
“Go out, boy,” said Huld, opening the door for me. “Now that Mandor has seen you, and you him, we need to talk, we kindred. I’ll come to you later.”
I brayed again, that meaningless laugh, that pawn’s laugh at the foolishness and stupidity of the world, and I went out into the gardens of Bannerwell to lie beside a fountain and think of Tossa. I summoned her up out of nothing, her colt’s grace and great sheaf of gold hair, her warm brown arms stretched wide against the sky. I dreamed her into reality, then I went with her into a world unlike our own and built a place there — built it, furnished it, plowed the soil of it and planted an orchard. I summoned Yarrel to live there, with horses and a bride for him, and Silkhands as well.
Only to have the world vanish when Huld came into the place and sat down beside me. “I will tell you what is in his mind,” he said, hoarsely. I did not reply, only begged earnestly for him to go away, to leave me alone. He did not, only sighed deeply and began to talk.
“You have seen him. There were no Healers in Schooltown at Festival time. None. It is unimaginable that it should have been the case, but it happened. We took him away, burned as he was. I sent men in all directions to find a Healer; they found one. He was drunk, incapable. All he did was make matters worse. There was no competent Healer to be found. Days passed. The tissues died. When we found a good Healer at last, it was too late. He was as you see him…
“He would not believe. We have brought Healers from as far away as Morninghill, beside the Southern Sea, summoned by relays of Elators and carried here by Tragamors. None could help him appear as once he did without his Talent, his beguilement. That is still as powerful as ever. His people see him as they always have, except for a few of us, except for himself…
“After a time, he began to believe he could have a new body, a new face …”
“A new body?”
“He began to believe that, perhaps, a Healer could take another body, a healthy, unscarred body, and somehow place Mandor’s mind within it.”
“That’s impossible.”
“So they told him. Then he twisted that thought a little. He began to believe that his own body could be changed, into another form…”
“By a Shapeshifter? But, that’s foolish. A Shapeshifter can only change himself, into a fustigar, perhaps, of a nighthorse, or some other animal shape. Shapeshifters cannot take human form other than their own.”
“Mavin is said to do so.”
“Said to do so. And, what difference, said or real? Does he mean to have Mavin pretend to be Mandor? Take Mandor’s shape? Move about as Mandor while Mandor stands in his Tower room and pulls the strings?”
“It was his intention to have me Read him, guide the Shapeshifter in changing, guide one to take not only the form, but also the thought…”
“To have you what? Read Mandor and the ‘shifter at the same time? To somehow impress one upon the other? That’s evil nonsense. Where did he get such an idea?”