King Joyse nodded again. “Rostrum wine,” he said to Terisa. “Have some. We’re celebrating.”
She stood in the center of the thick blue-and-red rug and tried to watch all three men simultaneously. “What’re you celebrating?”
Adept Havelock giggled.
“Are we celebrating?” The Tor’s voice sounded damp. “I thought we were grieving.”
“Grieving? My old friend.” King Joyse glanced at the Tor kindly. “What for? This is a celebration, I tell you.”
“Oh, of course, my lord King.” The Tor waggled a hand. “A celebration. I misspoke.” His fatigue was plain. “Orison has been invested by the Alend Monarch. Your daughter has poisoned our water. While we sit here, the men of Perdon die, spending themselves without hope against Cadwal. And the royal Imager, Adept Havelock” – he inclined his head courteously in Havelock’s direction – “has burned to death our only clue as to where – and who – our chief enemy is. We do well to celebrate, since we can accomplish nothing with sorrow.”
“Nonsense,” replied the King at once. Although his expression was grave, he appeared to be in good spirits. “Things aren’t as bad as you think. Lebbick knows a trick or two about sieges. We still have plenty of Rostrum wine, so we don’t need much water. As soon as he realizes we can’t reinforce him, the Perdon is going to back off and let Festten through. That will stop the killing.”
He seemed unaware that what he was saying didn’t convey much reassurance.
“And the death of the prisoner?” inquired the Tor glumly.
King Joyse dismissed that question. “Also, we have another reason to celebrate. The lady Terisa is here. Aren’t you, my lady?” he asked Terisa, then went on speaking to the Tor. “Unless I’ve gotten it all wrong, she’s here to tell us that she has found a new cure for stalemate.”
Again Adept Havelock giggled.
For a second, Terisa nearly lost her head. A cure? A cure for stalemate? She wanted to laugh feverishly. Did King Joyse really think this was all just one big game of hop-board? Then they were all doomed.
Fortunately, she caught hold of her reason for being here before all her thoughts veered off into panic. Geraden. That was the important thing. Geraden.
“I don’t know anything about stalements. Or cures.” Her tone was too curt. She made an effort to moderate it. “My lord King. I came because I’m worried about Geraden. Master Eremis is going to try to ruin him in front of the Congery.”
The King gave her his attention politely. “Ruin him, my lady?”
“He and Master Eremis are going to accuse each other of betraying Mordant.”
“I see. And don’t you call that a stalemate?”
“No.” She wasn’t getting through. She had to do better. “No, my lord King. The Congery will believe Master Eremis.” And yet she was certain—” But he’s lying.”
The Tor twisted in his seat to study her more closely. With a show of effort, Adept Havelock picked up his chair, turned it, and plumped it down again so that he could sit facing her.
King Joyse, however, gazed toward the fire. “Master Eremis?” he asked as if he were losing interest. “Lying? That would be risky. He might get caught. Only innocent men can afford to tell lies.”
“My lady,” said the Tor quietly, “such accusations are serious. Master Eremis is a man of proven stature. The Congery might have some justification to take the word of one of their own number over the charges of a mere failed Apt. How do you know that Master Eremis is lying?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she say? The piece of information lodged in her brain refused to come clear. Something Master Eremis had said, or revealed— Or was it Geraden? After a moment, she admitted, “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“I see, my lady.” The old lord returned his attention to the fire. “You simply trust Geraden. That is understandable. I trust him myself. There is no help that I can give you, however. I am no longer my lord King’s chancellor.”
What?
Adept Havelock grinned at her.
King Joyse sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair. “My old friend was wearing himself toward his grave with the business of Orison. He doesn’t want to admit he’s no longer young. Sadly, it’s true.”
“My lord King,” the Tor explained, “has given instructions that I am not to be obeyed, except in matters of my personal comfort. With the arrival of Alend’s army, my power ended.” He snorted to himself. “You may imagine Castellan Lebbick’s delight. Remember, he thinks it possible that I am a traitor myself. He did not like my interest in our defenses. Though my lord King does not say so, I believe he has taken away my position to protect himself in case the good Castellan’s suspicions prove correct.”
At that, King Joyse jerked up his head. His watery eyes were suddenly acute, and his mouth twisted. He didn’t reply to the Tor, however. Glaring at Terisa, he demanded, “Just what is it you want, my lady?”
She was startled: for a moment, she had lost herself in empathy for the old lord. Almost stammering, she said, “Geraden doesn’t stand a chance in front of the Masters. Master Eremis will chew him to pieces. You’ve got to stop them. Don’t let them do this to him.”
“But if Master Eremis is telling the truth,” returned the King in a voice like a rasp, “Geraden deserves to be caught and punished.”
“No.” She couldn’t think. It was maddening. “You don’t believe that.”
King Joyse aimed his gaze at her like a nail and spoke as if he were tapping his words into wood. “That is not the point, my lady. At the moment, it isn’t him I doubt. It’s you.”
She blinked. Her heart began to labor again, pounding alarm in all directions. “Why?”
“Are you surprised? You underestimate me. I warned you this game is dangerous.
“After we talked, I had Myste’s rooms searched. She took nothing personal with her – none of her little mementos of childhood, none of her favorite gifts. Does that seem likely to you? If she had gone back to her mother, she would have taken everything she could carry.
“You lied to me, my lady. You lied to me about my daughter.”
Inside her chest, a cold hand knotted into a fist. Both the Tor and Adept Havelock squinted at her as if she were being transformed to ugliness in front of them.
“Where did she really go?”
This was what Terisa had feared: King Joyse had found her out. She had learned the danger of lies when she was still a child. Falsehood had been exquisitely tempting to her; her dread of being punished had made her ache to deflect every manifestation of parental irritation, discontent, or disapproval. She had learned, however, that the punishment was worse when she got caught.
In simple defensiveness, she tried to counter as if she had cause to complain. “How did you know she came to see me? Were you having your own daughter spied on?”
Adept Havelock swung his chair back to face the fire, sat down again, and began to twiddle his fingers.
The King continued to glare at her for a moment. She met his gaze because she was afraid to do anything else. Then, abruptly, he too turned away. “You were warned,” he muttered. “Remember that. You were warned.
“My lord Tor, be so good as to summon the guards. I want this woman locked in the dungeon until she condescends to tell me the truth about my daughter.”
“No!” The cry burst from her before she could stop it. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you anything. Geraden needs me. If I’m not there, he’ll have to face the Congery alone.”
None of the men were looking at her. The Tor emptied his goblet, but didn’t trouble to refill it.
Terisa took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “She went after the champion. She thought he needed help.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
To Terisa’s astonishment, King Joyse’s profile quirked toward a smile. But almost at once his expression turned sorrowful, and he leaned his head morosely to rest against his chair again. “More wine would be nice, don’t you think?” he commented in the direction of the ceiling.