Chapter 10: WARDROBES FULL OF CLOTHES, LIKE A BAFFLED CHILD
'Imagery!' Saddith responded with polite astonishment. 'Are you a Master, my lady? I have never known a woman who was a Master.'
In spite of her sleepiness, Terisa sensed an opportunity for information. 'Don't women do things like that here?'
'Become Imagers?' The maid laughed delicately. 'I think not, my lady. Men say that the talent for Imagery is inborn, and that only those so born may hope to shape glass or perform translations. They believe, I'll wager, that no woman is born with the talent. But
what is the need for it? Why should a woman desire mirrors'-she gave Terisa a coy smile-'when any man will do what she wishes for her?'
From the stairs, they entered a wing of the immense stone building which Terisa hadn't seen before. Many of the rooms off the long, high halls seemed to be living quarters; and the people moving in and out of them apparently belonged to the middle ranks of the place-merchants, secretaries, ladies-in-waiting, supervisors. Terisa pursued her question with the maid.
'So you don't know anything about mirrors-or Imagery?'
'No, my lady,' replied Saddith. 'I only know that any Master will tell me whatever I wish-if I conceive a wish for something he knows.'
'That must be nice,' Terisa thought she understood what she was hearing; but the idea was too abstract to seem real. No man had ever found her that attractive.
'My lady'-Saddith appraised Terisa's figure again, nodding to herself at what she saw-'the same is true for you, if you choose to make it so.'
You mean, Terisa thought, if I unbuttoned my shirt King Joyse would tell me whatever I wanted to know? Helpless to stop herself, she started laughing.
'Perhaps,' Saddith said, 'in your world women have no need of that power.' She sounded faintly distressed by the idea- jealous of it? threatened by it?
'I don't know,' Terisa admitted. 'I don't have any experience.'
Saddith looked away quickly; but before her face turned it betrayed a glimpse of mirth or contempt.
After a while, she led Terisa up another series of stairs into what appeared to be another tower. Past a landing at the end of a short hall, they reached a wide door formed of polished wood. Saddith opened it and ushered Terisa into her assigned rooms.
It took no great effort of perception to see why they were called 'the peacock rooms'. Their walls were decorated with an ornate profusion of peacock feathers, some hanging like plumes over the dark mahogany tables, others displayed in rich fans where other decorators might have put pictures or tapestries, still others forming a kind of canopy over the large, deep, satin-covered bed. The sizeable room Terisa had entered was apparently a sitting room or parlour, its stone floor masked by rugs woven into peacock patterns, its cushioned couch and chairs painted with peacock blue and almost-black purple; but the bedroom could be seen through an arched doorway to her right. A door to
the left suggested a bathroom.
The lamps set around the walls were unlit, as were the candles in their holders on the tables; but the rooms were bright with afternoon sunlight which streamed in through several glassed windows in the sitting room and bedroom. That, however, was the only glass to be seen: though she looked for them almost at once, Terisa couldn't discover any mirrors, not above the dressing table in the bedroom, not even in the bathroom.
She shivered. Both the sitting room and the bedroom had substantial fireplaces, but neither was lit. The sunshine on the rugs made their colours burn cheerily; yet outside the windows the sky looked pale, unwarmed. The air in the rooms was too cool for comfort. And the absence of mirrors seemed to have the force of a premonition. How would she be able to tell that she was still here, still real?
'Brrr,' said Saddith. 'Orison did not know of your coming, my lady, and so no one thought to warm these rooms.' She went at once to the sitting-room hearth and began setting a fire, using wood and kindling from a firebox close at hand.
Terisa looked around her quarters. In the bathroom, she noticed dully the basin, tub and bucket (all apparently fashioned of galvanized tin), as well as the cunning arrangement of copper pipes which provided running water (none of it warm). In the sitting room, she tested the cushions of a chair. In the bedroom, she looked into two large wardrobes, which smelled pleasantly of dry cedar but contained nothing. She didn't approach the windows, however. In fact, she refused to glance at them. What she had experienced was already alien enough: she wasn't ready to find out what the world or the weather outside Orison were like.
She had been right the first time: there was nothing in her rooms that she could use for a mirror.
As she returned to the sitting room, the fire was beginning to crackle. Saddith rose to her feet. 'With your permission, my lady, I will leave you now. The King speaks truly. You are near to a size with the lady Myste-although,' she commented with a coy smirk, 'she lacks some of your advantages. I must speak with her about clothing suited to your station. And I am sure that she will be able to make some contribution to the things needed for your toilet.'
She looked at Terisa expectantly.
A moment passed before Terisa realized that Saddith was waiting to be dismissed.
This wasn't how her father's servants had treated her. Surprised, and rather gratified, she mustered her courage to ask, 'Don't you use mirrors for anything except Imagery?
They don't have to be made out of glass. How about polished bronze?'
Unexpectedly, Saddith shuddered. The Masters say the same-but how are we to believe them? Imagers have not always wished other folk well. Perhaps all Images are dangerous. Everyone knows that it is worse than death to see oneself in a glass. Perhaps the danger is not in the glass, but in the Image.' She made a gesture of refusal. 'We do not take the risk,'
Then how do you see yourself? How do you know what you look like? How do you know you're real?'
At that, the maid chuckled. 'My lady, I see what I need in the eyes of men.'
When Terisa nodded her permission, Saddith moved towards the door. In a moment, she was gone.
Terisa was alone for the first time since she had sat down in front of the mirrors of her apartment.
She was aware that she had some hard thinking to do; but that wasn't what she did. She was overloaded with strangeness, and she wanted to escape. Still avoiding the windows, she went into the bedroom. The air wasn't warm enough yet to encourage her to take off her clothes, so she simply slipped her moccasins from her feet and climbed into bed.
Clutching the coverlet tightly about her shoulders, she curled herself into a ball and went to sleep.
When she awoke, she passed straight from her usual blank slumber into a state of crisis.
There were no mirrors. No mirrors. The walls were decorated with peacock feathers, and she couldn't see herself anywhere. The bed was rumpled; but that had never been enough to tell her who she was, anybody could have rumpled the bed, if she were to see herself now she might bear no resemblance to what she was expecting, that was why she had to find some reflection of herself, had to prove somehow that-
The light had dwindled almost to twilight: it was barely enough to bring back her recollection of this place. With an effort of will, she took hold of her fear. Where she was didn't match the way she remembered it. She had an impression of changes- subtle, insidious, vast in implication-of ways in which reality had been rearranged. The dying of
the light was the first one she was able to define; and she clung to it because it was reasonable, an indication of nothing more portentous than passing time.
Then she noticed there was a fire in the bedroom hearth.
It hadn't been set recently: the flames were small over a deep bed of coals; the bars of the grate shone with cherry heat; the air was warmer than it had been.
That, too, could be explained, she told herself, insisted to herself. Judging by the light, she had been asleep for several hours. Someone had come in and lit the fire for her while she slept. It was that simple.
But the idea that people had been changing things around her while she slept was too frightening to be simple.
She pushed her feet out of bed and sat up. The soft, woven texture of the rug under her soles reminded her of her moccasins. She put them on, straightened her sleep-creased flannel shirt, and stood up.
Nothing terrible happened. Her body felt normal. The stone and mahogany and feathers showed no signs of dissolution, of translation. Her panic took a few steps backward, and she began to breathe a bit more easily.
All right. Someone had been here while she slept. Probably Saddith. That was easy to check.
Although movement seemed to require an unreasonable amount of courage, she went to the nearest wardrobe and opened it.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone