Simply because the lord’s eyes were so blue, so exact, she assented to the risk.
“We told him the truth,” Geraden answered the Fayle. “We’ve both become Imagers. Terisa is an arch-Imager. The ghouls have started getting worse, haven’t they? Just recently?”
It was the lord’s turn to nod.
“That’s because of us. Eremis knew we were coming here. Or he figured it out. We were at Houseldon first. Then we were in Sternwall. Where else would we be going?
“He wants to kill us before we find a way to hurt him.”
“And have you found a way?” the Fayle inquired dryly.
“We’ve been trying. That’s why we went to Sternwall – why we came here. We’ve been trying to gather support for the King.” Geraden took a deep breath. “And if we can’t do that, we want to find somebody who can help me make a mirror.”
“You have no glass?” The Fayle’s gaze was sharp.
Geraden straightened his shoulders, and Terisa thought she heard a distant echo of strength in his voice, a strange menace. “My lord,” he said, “a number of things would be different if we had as much as one small mirror between us. For one, we would have helped you fight those ghouls.” He was speaking through his teeth. “That’s what our talents are good for.”
After a moment, however, the menace faded from his tone. “Unfortunately, we’re helpless. So far.”
The Fayle considered Geraden and Terisa for a while. He turned away to request food and more wine. Then he commented, “Perhaps you should tell me your story now. While we eat.”
Geraden glanced at Terisa again. She nodded without hesitation. She was remembering the way the old lord had left the meeting Master Eremis had arranged between the lords and Prince Kragen. Queen Madin is a formidable woman, he had explained in an apologetic and even vaguely foolish tone. Whatever choice I make here, I must justify to her. His peaked shoulders and elongated head should have made him look silly as he walked out on Eremis’ plotting. And yet he hadn’t looked silly at all. His clear loyalty had made him admirable.
Under the circumstances, she didn’t know what to expect from the Fayle. She was willing to trust him anyway.
Apparently, Geraden felt the same. As soon as the decision to speak freely had been taken, he began to relax.
He didn’t try to include everything, however. He still wanted an answer from the Fayle. So he only described the broad outlines of what he and Terisa had learned, what they had done. The Fayle flinched at the news of what had happened to Houseldon, what was happening to Sternwall; but Geraden kept on talking. Whenever the lord stopped him with a question, however, he replied in more detail.
Most of the men were listening openly now. A few of them fingered their weapons in anger or fear. But because their attention wasn’t on Terisa she was able to ignore them.
While Geraden and the lord spoke, she drank her wine, ate the food placed in front of her, and did a little calculating backward. That brought her to the unexpected realization that thirteen days had passed, thirteen, since her translation from Orison. In thirteen days, anything could have happened, anything at all. Prince Kragen could have taken the castle – and the Congery. High King Festten could have taken the castle and the Congery and Prince Kragen. On the other hand, Castellan Lebbick could have stuck a quiet knife in Master Eremis’ back.
“The problem is,” she put in when Geraden paused, “we’ve been away from Orison too long.” Abruptly, she became the focus of attention. Swallowing a rush of self-consciousness, she forced herself to say, “Thirteen days for me. Fourteen for him.
“We don’t have any way of knowing what’s happened in the meantime.”
“So perhaps,” the Fayle murmured slowly, “this strange policy of the King’s has already come to its crisis. Perhaps he is already victorious. Or perhaps he has already been defeated and killed.”
“We can’t know,” she agreed. “All we have to go on is that when we left Orison Eremis was still working hard to look innocent. And since then he’s been working hard to get us killed. He’s still afraid we can hurt him somehow.” She shrugged. “It isn’t much. But as long as he’s afraid of us, we have something to hope for.”
“That’s something else we might be able to do if we had a mirror,” Geraden added. “Get an Image of Orison. See what’s going on.”
The Fayle faced Geraden acutely. He looked at Terisa, searched her. After a moment, he spread his hands. The gesture was small, but it seemed full of resignation.
“I have no glass, and no way to make it. I have no Imagers – what use do I have for mirrors? Every product or tool of Imagery which has ever been found in the Care of Fayle, I have given to King Joyse and Adept Havelock.”
By degrees, his gaze drifted away toward the fire. “Without Imagers, my Care is helpless against these ghouls. You have been away from Orison for thirteen or fourteen days. I have not seen Romish since the day I returned from Master Eremis’ meeting. I have been in the saddle, in the villages of my Care – fighting—”
Terisa had never heard him sound so old.
“I cannot win this struggle. In the end, I must fail.” He wasn’t looking at his men. His men didn’t look at him. None of them contradicted him. “You saw that I have failed Aperyte. It is only one among many villages dead, gutted—
“These ghouls are too many. I have hardly enough trained horsemen for four bands such as this one. I must fail.”
“Then, my lord,” Geraden said softly, formally, hinting at authority, “fight another way. Gather your men. Strike at Eremis in Esmerel. While any hope at all remains.”
The old lord studied the heart of the fire. His erect posture didn’t shift, didn’t sag, but his hands hung between his knees as if they were useless. After a while, he whispered, “No.”
“My lord—” Geraden began.
“No,” breathed the Fayle. “Joyse is my King – and the husband of my daughter. I love him. I do not understand this policy. I do not like it. Yet I love him.
“But he has never” – one hand came up into a fist, fell again – “in all his years of warfare against Cadwal and Alend and Imagery, he has never asked a lord for aid when that lord’s Care was under attack. He came to me, freed my people. He did not ask me for any help until my Care was safe.
“He will not ask me now. He has no wish to break my heart.”
Geraden tried again. “My lord—”
“No.” The Fayle didn’t sound angry: he sounded sad. “Today we saved Naybel. You were witness. Tomorrow – or in five days – or in fifty days” – now both hands were fists, beating the rhythm of his words against each other – “we will spring another trap, and it will succeed. People will live who would die if I left them to the mercy of these ghouls.
“Do you hear me, Geraden? Did your father ride away from his Care? Did the Termigan?
“I will not leave my people to die undefended.”
“I understand, my lord.” Geraden’s voice was as soft and sad as the lord’s, but there was no bitterness in it. “It doesn’t matter how desperate King Joyse is. He wouldn’t want you to abandon your own Care. He didn’t create Mordant or the Congery because he was desperate. He created them because he believes the same things you do.”
The Fayle stared into the fire, nodded several times. In a voice like a winter breeze, he sighed, “Thank you.”
Geraden hesitated momentarily, then ventured to say, “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change our problem. Is there anything you can do to help Terisa and me?”
With a shift of his head, the lord brought his blue gaze to Geraden’s face. For an instant, Terisa thought he was angry. Then, however, she saw a suggestion of a smile touch his old mouth. “That is true, Geraden,” he said. “My stubbornness does nothing to change your problem. You and the lady Terisa are Imagers, and the evil of Imagery must be met and answered by Imagers. That is your ‘Care,’ in a manner of speaking.