She went to take a bath.
When they were clean, and dressed in the new clothes Prince Kragen had provided for them – comfortable traveling clothes sewn of leather as supple as kidskin – they ate breakfast. The impression that they were keeping the Alend Contender waiting nagged at the back of Terisa’s mind; nevertheless she let him wait so that she would have a last chance to talk to Geraden. She had to prepare herself for Orison.
“We’re aren’t likely to get much of a welcome, you know,” she said between bites of honeyed bread and souffléed eggs – an unexpectedly rich sample of the Alend Monarch’s hospitality. “I tried to make the Castellan think I might be innocent, but Master Gilbur did a pretty good job of wiping that out.” She didn’t mention Artagel. “Everybody there has spent the whole time thinking you killed Nyle and I’m in league with the arch-Imager.”
Geraden nodded. “It won’t be much fun. But I’m not too worried. We’ll have Prince Kragen with us. We’ll be under a flag of truce. No matter what Lebbick and everybody else thinks of us, they’ll leave us alone.”
He chewed for a moment in silence, then added, “What I’m worried about is that mirror – the one that attacked the Perdon when he came here to get King Joyse’s help.”
Suddenly, Terisa found a sick taste in her mouth. “Didn’t Eremis change all that? He used those creatures to try to kill us outside Sternwall. He may have used them to kill Underwell. What can he still do?”
“Well, he must have switched flat mirrors in the Image of the world where those creatures come from. Otherwise he couldn’t have attacked us. But he’s had plenty of time since then. He could have switched the mirrors back.
“In any case, the point is that he has a glass that shows the approach to Orison, the road. He’ll be able to see us go in. He’ll be forewarned.”
She thought about that while the taste in her mouth changed to an old, settled anger. Then she muttered, “At least he’ll be surprised. He won’t have any idea how we managed to talk Prince Kragen into this.”
It did her good to be angry. Facing down Castellan Lebbick – or the Tor and Artagel, who had turned against her – would be hard enough. But confronting Master Eremis would be worse. The more she loved Geraden, the more her skin crawled at the memory of the things Master Eremis had done to her.
She could see Geraden’s eagerness in his eyes, in the way he moved: he was starting to hurry. She had never been as confident or as clear as he was; but she, too, felt a need for haste. By tacit agreement, they left the remains of their meal. They had nothing to pack, nothing to carry. They kissed each other once, like a promise; then they went out of the tent.
Prince Kragen was waiting for them. They caught him in the act of pacing back and forth across the open area among the luxurious tents.
He was dressed in his ceremonial garb: a black silk doublet and pantaloons covered by a brass breastplate with a high polish; a sword in a gleaming brass scabbard on his hip; a spiked brass helmet on his curling hair. The sheen of the metal emphasized his swarthy skin; it made his black eyes glitter and his moustache shine. And his impatience only increased the self-assertion of his bearing, emphasizing his habit of command.
Three horses were held ready beyond the tents. They, too, were dressed for show, with satin and silk streaming from their saddles and tack, gilt cords knotted into their manes and tails. Around them, an honor guard was already mounted: ten men to carry the Prince’s pennon, and his dignity.
Terisa didn’t see Elega anywhere.
Prince Kragen nodded to Geraden, bowed to Terisa. In a tightly reined voice, he explained, “The lady Elega sends her goodwill to you – and to her father – but she cannot bid you farewell. She has already been placed under guard. The Alend Monarch intends to assure that no mistakes are made with us, and the lady Elega is his only means to that end. Even I do not know where she is held. Therefore I cannot enable the King’s men – or his Imagers – to find her.”
Terisa swallowed hard. The sun was up, but it didn’t seem to be enjoying its work. The light over the encampment and against the walls of Orison was thin, unconvincing; the air had a cold taste, more like a residue of winter than a part of spring. The castle’s battlements looked bleak, as if they had been abandoned. If anything happened to her and Geraden there – but especially if anything happened to Prince Kragen – Elega would be in serious trouble.
“My lord Prince” – Geraden changed the subject awkwardly – “you must have heard about the mirror that attacked the Perdon. If he didn’t tell you about it himself, surely Elega did?”
“Yes.” A subtle shift in his expression suggested that Prince Kragen was glad to discuss something other than Elega. “But I must confess that I am baffled. Our siege engines have no approach to the gates, except along the road. Our rams must pass through the Image which struck at the Perdon. Yet nothing has been translated against us.
“You have told me that Master Eremis is in league with Cadwal to destroy Mordant – and Alend as well. For that reason, his power has been used to defend Orison against us. Yet we are now within hours – within a day at most – of breaking down the gates, and he has done nothing to hinder us.”
Breaking down the gates. Terisa’s stomach twisted. So it was now or never. If she and Geraden couldn’t get King Joyse to accept an alliance, Orison would fall almost immediately.
The muscles along Geraden’s jaw bunched; but if he was worried about Orison’s vulnerability to Prince Kragen he didn’t admit it. “He probably hasn’t given you trouble,” he said, “because you haven’t been attacking very hard. If you’re about to break in, and he still isn’t using Imagery, I’d guess his trap is just about ready to spring.”
Prince Kragen nodded darkly. Without a word, he beckoned for the horses and his honor guard.
In a moment, Terisa found herself being offered a charger so big that she couldn’t see over its back. Oh, shit, she muttered to herself. That was one thing she had learned in Mordant, anyway: after some practice, she was now able to say oh, shit without sounding like she expected to have her mouth washed out with soap. If she fell off that beast, she might take days to hit the ground.
Unfortunately, Prince Kragen had already mounted; Geraden was swinging up into the saddle of his horse. This probably wouldn’t be a good time to ask for something smaller.
Somehow, she climbed onto the charger’s back.
The reins carried so many streamers that they looked like the lines of a maypole. She was afraid to move them: they might make her horse shy. But Prince Kragen and Geraden weren’t having any trouble. Apparently, these beasts were trained for ceremonial occasions. Nothing embarrassing happened as she guided her mount to Geraden’s side.
“Simply as a precaution,” the Prince announced, “we will avoid the road. We will ride to the walls directly, and around them to the gates.”
Geraden seemed to think that made sense.
Prince Kragen nodded to his honor guard. His standard-bearer raised the green-and-red pennon of Alend, then affixed a flag of truce below it. The soldiers took their formal positions around their Prince and his companions.
In formation, the riders left the encampment.
The charger’s strides made the distance shorter than it had any right to be. Before she had time to accustom herself to the beast’s gait, Terisa found herself moving into what looked like arrow-range of the castle. She could see men on the walls now, watching, pointing; some of them hurried from place to place. She tried to stifle the fear that they would ignore the flag of truce and start firing, but it refused to go away.
Luckily, there was still some common sense left in Orison. None of the men on the battlements bent their bows. None of them made any threatening gestures.
Instead, the castle’s trumpeter winded his horn, sending a forlorn call like a wail of defiance into the skeptical sunlight. As the riders rounded the corner of Orison and neared the entrance, they heard the great winches squeal against the strain of raising the battered and deformed gates up into the architrave.