Read Online The Mirror of Her Dreams by Stephen Donaldson - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Donaldson
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manner. 'I think it would be a good idea if you met him right away. He needs to know about you, no matter what some of the Masters say. He'll understand how important you are. And he might be willing to tell you what's going on around here.'
When he said this, her mood soured. The reference to 'how important' she was restored her sense of the unreality of the situation. One way or another, she was a mistake: she was the wrong person. In consequence, she felt a sudden, irrational reluctance to meet King Joyse. He might laugh like her father at the idea that she was important.
'Geraden,' she asked awkwardly, 'is there really a reason for all this? You're not just doing an experiment on me, are you? Practising your translations?'
Somehow, he looked straight into her face and saw what she was feeling. At once, his expression sobered: empathy softened his gaze. 'My lady, I swear to you on my heart that the need is urgent. King Joyse would have the head of any Imager who did frivolously what we've done to you-though there are some,' he digressed momentarily, 'who might attempt it, if they weren't restrained by the Congery.
'In addition, I swear to you,' he went on, 'if your translation is an accident-a mistake of any kind-I'll do everything anybody can do to restore you to your own world.
'And one thing more, my lady.' His tone and his gaze grew sharper. 'I'll find a way to get you back to your own world anyway, if King Joyse or Master Barsonage or somebody doesn't decide to start treating you better soon.'
Meeting his eyes, Terisa found that she believed him in spite of herself. The whole idea was secretly amazing-that any man, however accident-prone, would look at her and make promises so seriously. To cover her astonishment, she turned a little away from him. Then, as distantly as she could, she said, 'You'd better call me Terisa. I'm not anybody's 'lady'. I don't want the King to get the wrong idea.'
She felt rather than saw his approval. Thank you. I think you're doing the right thing. I have a good feeling about this.' He put one hand tentatively on her arm. 'Shall we go?'
His attention was focused on her as though he wanted to make more promises. In reply, she gave him the polite, noncommittal smile she had perfected by the time she was a teenager-and groaned to herself because her response to him was so much emptier than his to her. But she went on smiling that way while she nodded her assent.
He gestured past one of the pillars. 'This way, then.'
She was thankful that he let go of her arm as he guided her towards a door.
The door was a massive wooden construction supported with iron struts and bolts: it looked like it had originally been intended to seal people out of this chamber-or seal them in. In, she decided when Geraden opened the door, swinging it outward. But its bolts were arranged so that it could only be locked from the inside.
As he led her through the doorway, they met two guards in the corridor.
The men were both large, rough, poorly shaved veterans with the look of hard service about them. They wore mail shirts and leggings over their leather clothes and close-fitting iron caps on their heads. Each had a longsword at his belt and gripped a pike in his right hand. One of them was marked by an old scar that ran from his hairline down his forehead, between his eyes, and beside his nose almost to his mouth. The other had lost several teeth.
The one whose teeth were missing stared at Terisa in a way she didn't find reassuring; but the other addressed Geraden like a familiar comrade, asking him if there were any Masters remaining in the chamber.
When Geraden shook his head, the guard relaxed his stance. Then we're off duty for a while. Listen, Geraden. Argus and I have a small keg of ale waiting. What do you think? Would you and'-he flicked a suggestive glance at Terisa-'your companion like to join us for a drink?'
'I think, Ribuld,'
When he said this, her mood soured. The reference to 'how important' she was restored her sense of the unreality of the situation. One way or another, she was a mistake: she was the wrong person. In consequence, she felt a sudden, irrational reluctance to meet King Joyse. He might laugh like her father at the idea that she was important.
'Geraden,' she asked awkwardly, 'is there really a reason for all this? You're not just doing an experiment on me, are you? Practising your translations?'
Somehow, he looked straight into her face and saw what she was feeling. At once, his expression sobered: empathy softened his gaze. 'My lady, I swear to you on my heart that the need is urgent. King Joyse would have the head of any Imager who did frivolously what we've done to you-though there are some,' he digressed momentarily, 'who might attempt it, if they weren't restrained by the Congery.
'In addition, I swear to you,' he went on, 'if your translation is an accident-a mistake of any kind-I'll do everything anybody can do to restore you to your own world.
'And one thing more, my lady.' His tone and his gaze grew sharper. 'I'll find a way to get you back to your own world anyway, if King Joyse or Master Barsonage or somebody doesn't decide to start treating you better soon.'
Meeting his eyes, Terisa found that she believed him in spite of herself. The whole idea was secretly amazing-that any man, however accident-prone, would look at her and make promises so seriously. To cover her astonishment, she turned a little away from him. Then, as distantly as she could, she said, 'You'd better call me Terisa. I'm not anybody's 'lady'. I don't want the King to get the wrong idea.'
She felt rather than saw his approval. Thank you. I think you're doing the right thing. I have a good feeling about this.' He put one hand tentatively on her arm. 'Shall we go?'
His attention was focused on her as though he wanted to make more promises. In reply, she gave him the polite, noncommittal smile she had perfected by the time she was a teenager-and groaned to herself because her response to him was so much emptier than his to her. But she went on smiling that way while she nodded her assent.
He gestured past one of the pillars. 'This way, then.'
She was thankful that he let go of her arm as he guided her towards a door.
The door was a massive wooden construction supported with iron struts and bolts: it looked like it had originally been intended to seal people out of this chamber-or seal them in. In, she decided when Geraden opened the door, swinging it outward. But its bolts were arranged so that it could only be locked from the inside.
As he led her through the doorway, they met two guards in the corridor.
The men were both large, rough, poorly shaved veterans with the look of hard service about them. They wore mail shirts and leggings over their leather clothes and close-fitting iron caps on their heads. Each had a longsword at his belt and gripped a pike in his right hand. One of them was marked by an old scar that ran from his hairline down his forehead, between his eyes, and beside his nose almost to his mouth. The other had lost several teeth.
The one whose teeth were missing stared at Terisa in a way she didn't find reassuring; but the other addressed Geraden like a familiar comrade, asking him if there were any Masters remaining in the chamber.
When Geraden shook his head, the guard relaxed his stance. Then we're off duty for a while. Listen, Geraden. Argus and I have a small keg of ale waiting. What do you think? Would you and'-he flicked a suggestive glance at Terisa-'your companion like to join us for a drink?'
'I think, Ribuld,'
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