Nevertheless he couldn’t stop trying. The bare idea of surrendering to Eremis made him sick. There had to be something he could do—
A riot against Castellan Lebbick?
Deliberately, he opened his mouth. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to take a deep breath, focus his eyes on the mediator.
“Why Lebbick?” That wasn’t exactly the question he wanted to ask, but it was close enough. “Why did they turn against Lebbick?”
Master Barsonage shrugged his massive shoulders. “The maid Saddith.” This subject was considerably less personal for him. “He beat her – beat her nearly to death. She was maimed by it.
“She incited the riot to gain revenge.”
Suddenly, as if Barsonage had murmured the words and made the gestures to perform a translation, Geraden’s weakness was gone, banished. There wasn’t any pit of blackness around him: there was only a room he knew fairly well; a room which on this occasion didn’t have enough lamps lit, with the result that the corners were obscure, like hiding places.
“Master Barsonage” – Geraden was mildly astonished by his own calm – “why did he beat her? That’s where it started – the ‘series of coincidences.’ What did she do?”
Geraden’s interest obviously took the mediator aback. He hesitated for a moment, as if he thought he ought to steer the discussion in a more useful direction. Whatever he saw in Geraden’s face, however, persuaded him to answer.
“The story is that she went to his bed, the night after the lady Terisa’s disappearance. She said that she grieved for him in his distress and wished to comfort him. Those who were willing to doubt her – and they were few after the extent of her injuries became known – said that she offered herself to him so that he would elevate her above the position of a chambermaid.”
Again Geraden wanted to explode. “And that didn’t warn you?” he snapped. “It didn’t make you suspicious at all? Didn’t you remember she was Eremis’ lover? I told you that. I told you he’s been using her. Didn’t it ever occur to you that he might have sent her to Lebbick? What have you done with your mind?”
“Geraden.” Master Barsonage’s face turned hard; his eyes glittered. “You are no longer an Apt. No one could deny that you have become an Imager. Yet I remain the mediator of the Congery. I expect your respect.
“I have admitted my fault. I did not foresee the danger to your glass. In other matters, however, I have not earned your anger.”
With difficulty, Geraden restrained himself. “I’m sorry,” he gritted, unable to unclench his jaws. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just terrified for Terisa.” At once, he went on, “Do you mean you were suspicious of Eremis? What did you do?”
The mediator studied Geraden for a moment, then apparently decided to let himself be mollified. Shrugging again, he replied, “The relationship between Master Eremis and the maid was of interest to me, naturally. But it was a matter of inference only – hardly a demonstration of treachery. And his public display of loyalty was impressive. I might,” he admitted wryly, “have dismissed my suspicions, inevitable though they were.
“However, your brother Artagel came to speak with me—”
Geraden held himself still, waiting.
“After the lady Terisa’s show of talent,” Master Barsonage explained, “the Congery at last went to work with a will, showing the kind of dedication King Joyse has always wanted. Respecting the strictures he had placed upon us from the first, we began to search for tools of defense, ways in which we might preserve Orison, or even Mordant – methods to oppose or assist you and the lady Terisa when we learned the truth about you.”
Half-smiling, the mediator digressed to say, “Prince Kragen seemed on the verge of breaking Orison’s gates when you distracted him. I can assure you, however, that he would not have been able to enter this castle without my consent.”
Then he resumed, “In this work, Master Eremis at first took no part. He was assumed to be resting after the exertion of refilling the reservoir.”
Geraden held his breath.
“The day after the riot, however, he came to me to announce that he was ready to take up his duties among the Congery.
“He could not know that I had had a long conversation with Artagel several days previously.
“Artagel informed me that – despite his own evidence – Castellan Lebbick was now convinced of your innocence. He was convinced of Master Eremis’ guilt. And his reasoning was persuasive. From Artagel, it was very persuasive.”
Master Barsonage sighed. “Unfortunately, Geraden, there was no proof. There was no basis on which Master Eremis could be accused, no way it could be shown that the man who had saved us from Alend had done so for Cadwal’s benefit rather than our own.
“Therefore I could not turn against him. I could not so much as deny him his place in the Congery, for fear that he would be alerted to my distrust. And yet I also could not further expose the Congery to his betrayal.
“Geraden, I have not served you well – but I have served the King better. I concealed the Congery’s true work from Master Eremis. I lied to him about it. I allowed him to see no sign of it, play no part in it. He does not know how well prepared we are to assist in the defense of Orison.”
Geraden cleared his lungs slowly. His head was clear, and a number of things seemed to be growing clearer around him. After all, there was really no way Master Barsonage could have predicted that Eremis would use Saddith to start a riot in order to cover up an attack on his, Geraden’s, mirror. But to keep the Congery’s work secret – to do practical labor on Orison’s behalf without allowing the knowledge to fall into Eremis’ hands—That was well done.
And Artagel trusted him, trusted Terisa. Even Castellan Lebbick had trusted both of them, despite Master Eremis’ manipulations.
There was hope. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he had the strongest feeling—
“What did you tell him?” he asked the mediator softly. “What kind of lie did he believe?”
Unexpectedly, Master Barsonage smiled – a grin so sharp it seemed almost bloodthirsty. “I told him that we have dedicated all our resources to discovering how our enemies are able to make use of flat mirrors without going mad.”
A muscle twitched in Geraden’s cheek. Yes, that was a lie which would be believed by anyone who was convinced of the Congery’s fundamental ineffectuality. “Wasn’t that true?” he asked.
The lift of the mediator’s shoulders was like his grin. “There was truth in it. I have asked two of the Masters to concentrate on that question. The rest of us, however, have been laboring for more immediate results.”
Geraden felt his courage coming back to him, his hope growing stronger. “Good,” he pronounced.
“How did Eremis react?”
“He offered his help.” As he spoke, Barsonage lost his look of fierceness; it faded into a more familiar bafflement. “In fact, he proposed the most plausible theory I have ever heard. He suggested that the translations are done, not with one mirror, but with two. A flat glass is placed in the Image of another mirror, and then both translations are enacted simultaneously, so that the flat mirror functions like a curved one and therefore doesn’t exact the usual penalty.”
“He told you that?” Geraden was startled; his still-fragile self-confidence flinched. “Then it must be wrong.” His own theory must be wrong.
“It is,” sighed Master Barsonage. “Did you know that translation pulverizes glass? I did not. Yet it is true. We have attempted Master Eremis’ suggestion three times, and each time the flat mirror was reduced to powder as it passed into the Image of the curved mirror.”