smile seemed to grow harder, sharper. "Then I am glad it was never my intention to harm you. If I were to hurt you now, everyone would assume that there is some justice in your accusations.
"But I do not hold a grievance against you. I will demonstrate," he said smoothly, "the injustice of those accusations."
"How?" she shot back, trying to shore up her courage—trying not to think about the fact that she had betrayed Geraden to the Imager. "What new lies have you got in mind?"
His smile flashed like a blade. "No lies at all, my lady. I will not lie to you again. Behold!" Flourishing one hand, he produced a long iron key from the sleeve of his cloak. "I have come to let you out."
She stared at him; shock made her want to lie down and close her eyes. He had a key to the cell. He wanted to let her out, help her escape—he wanted to get her away from the Castellan. She was too confused, she couldn't think. Start over again. He had a key to the cell. He wanted— It didn't make any sense.
"Why?" she murmured, asking herself the question, not expecting him to answer.
"Because," he said distinctly, "your body is mine. I have claimed it, and I mean to have it. I do not allow my desires to be frustrated or refused. Other women have such skin and loins as yours, such breasts—but they do not prefer a gangling, stupid, inept Apt after I have offered myself to them. When I conceive a desire, my lady, I satisfy it."
"No," she said again, "no," not because she meant to argue with him, but because he had given her a way to think. "You wouldn't risk it. You wouldn't take the chance you might get caught here. You want to use me for something."
Then it came to her.
"Does Geraden really scare you that badly?"
Master Eremis' smile turned crooked and faded from his face; his eyes burned at her. "Have you lost your senses, my lady? Scare me? Geraden? Forgive my bluntness—but if you believe that Geraden Fumblefoot frightens me in any way, you are out of your wits. Lebbick and his dungeon have cost you your mind."
"I don't think so." In a manner that strangely resembled the Castellan's, she clenched her fists and tapped them on the sides of her legs as if to emphasize the rhythm of her thoughts, the inevitability. "I don't think so.
"You know what he can do. You pretend you don't, but you know what he can do better than anybody—better than he does. Gilbur watched him make that mirror. You knew something unexpected was going to happen when the Congery decided to let him go ahead and try to translate the champion. That's why you argued against him. You weren't trying to protect him. You wanted to keep him from discovering who he is.
"The reason you tried to get him accepted into the Congery was just to distract him, confuse him—make it harder for him to understand.
"When Gilbur translated the champion"—she swung her fists harder, harder—"you left Geraden and me in front of the mirror, directly in front of the mirror. You probably pushed him. You wanted the champion to kill him." To kill both of us. The Master had been trying to take her life as well for a long time. But that was the only flaw in her convictions, the only thing which didn't make any sense: why anybody would want to have her killed. "There isn't any doubt about it. You're definitely afraid of him."
This time, the bark of Master Eremis' laugh held no humor, no mirth at all. "You misjudge me, my lady. You misjudge me badly."
She didn't stop; it was too late to draw back. "That's why you're here," she said, beating out the words against her thighs. "Why you want to let me out. You want me to be your prisoner. You know he cares about me," cares about me, oh, Geraden! "and you want to use me against him. You think if you threaten to hurt me he'll do whatever you want." 69
"You misjudge me, I say. It is not fear. Fear that puppy? I would rather lose my manhood."
She heard him, but she didn't
"But I do not hold a grievance against you. I will demonstrate," he said smoothly, "the injustice of those accusations."
"How?" she shot back, trying to shore up her courage—trying not to think about the fact that she had betrayed Geraden to the Imager. "What new lies have you got in mind?"
His smile flashed like a blade. "No lies at all, my lady. I will not lie to you again. Behold!" Flourishing one hand, he produced a long iron key from the sleeve of his cloak. "I have come to let you out."
She stared at him; shock made her want to lie down and close her eyes. He had a key to the cell. He wanted to let her out, help her escape—he wanted to get her away from the Castellan. She was too confused, she couldn't think. Start over again. He had a key to the cell. He wanted— It didn't make any sense.
"Why?" she murmured, asking herself the question, not expecting him to answer.
"Because," he said distinctly, "your body is mine. I have claimed it, and I mean to have it. I do not allow my desires to be frustrated or refused. Other women have such skin and loins as yours, such breasts—but they do not prefer a gangling, stupid, inept Apt after I have offered myself to them. When I conceive a desire, my lady, I satisfy it."
"No," she said again, "no," not because she meant to argue with him, but because he had given her a way to think. "You wouldn't risk it. You wouldn't take the chance you might get caught here. You want to use me for something."
Then it came to her.
"Does Geraden really scare you that badly?"
Master Eremis' smile turned crooked and faded from his face; his eyes burned at her. "Have you lost your senses, my lady? Scare me? Geraden? Forgive my bluntness—but if you believe that Geraden Fumblefoot frightens me in any way, you are out of your wits. Lebbick and his dungeon have cost you your mind."
"I don't think so." In a manner that strangely resembled the Castellan's, she clenched her fists and tapped them on the sides of her legs as if to emphasize the rhythm of her thoughts, the inevitability. "I don't think so.
"You know what he can do. You pretend you don't, but you know what he can do better than anybody—better than he does. Gilbur watched him make that mirror. You knew something unexpected was going to happen when the Congery decided to let him go ahead and try to translate the champion. That's why you argued against him. You weren't trying to protect him. You wanted to keep him from discovering who he is.
"The reason you tried to get him accepted into the Congery was just to distract him, confuse him—make it harder for him to understand.
"When Gilbur translated the champion"—she swung her fists harder, harder—"you left Geraden and me in front of the mirror, directly in front of the mirror. You probably pushed him. You wanted the champion to kill him." To kill both of us. The Master had been trying to take her life as well for a long time. But that was the only flaw in her convictions, the only thing which didn't make any sense: why anybody would want to have her killed. "There isn't any doubt about it. You're definitely afraid of him."
This time, the bark of Master Eremis' laugh held no humor, no mirth at all. "You misjudge me, my lady. You misjudge me badly."
She didn't stop; it was too late to draw back. "That's why you're here," she said, beating out the words against her thighs. "Why you want to let me out. You want me to be your prisoner. You know he cares about me," cares about me, oh, Geraden! "and you want to use me against him. You think if you threaten to hurt me he'll do whatever you want." 69
"You misjudge me, I say. It is not fear. Fear that puppy? I would rather lose my manhood."
She heard him, but she didn't
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