Law of the Broken Earth(10)
Tan longed to pound his hands against the floor and shout. But it wouldn’t help, and anyway he was too tired. He made himself speak softly instead. “Well, I’m sure that’s a comfort to you. When I’m found murdered in this cell, I hope you will wonder how far you are responsible. But you won’t need to reproach yourself, will you? You’ll know you followed the rules.”
The guard turned back, frowning. “I think you’re safe enough in our keeping.”
Tan laughed out loud. “You think, what? That I’m some thief or common thug? I’m asking you, begging you, to take my name to the Lord of the Delta himself, and you think I’m a thief? Is that what you think?”
The young guard opened his mouth, shut it again, turned his back, gave Tan an unsettled look over his shoulder, and walked out. The door slammed behind him with disheartening finality, leaving Tan alone in the dark and cold. Tan pressed his hands over his eyes. Perhaps a little less sarcasm, a little more humility? If he had not learned a measure of humility tonight, he surely never would.
He eased himself back to sit against the wall. The stone was dry enough, but cold. It seemed to suck the warmth right out of his bones. After a moment he hunched away from it and huddled into the straw. The window of his cell admitted, at the moment, nothing past its bars more alarming than the chill air of earliest spring and little curls of mist. Tan wondered how long it would take for Linularinan agents to track him to this cell. How they would laugh, to find him so stupidly trapped, and by his own people! And then someone would throw a poison dart through that window or, much worse, bribe the prison guards to release him into their hands. And after that…
It was appalling that only the basic integrity of a young prison guard who didn’t break the rules might protect him from his enemies. He knew, of course, that no such integrity could possibly protect him well enough.
The outer door swung back suddenly, letting in the bright swinging light of lanterns and the heavy tread of boots. Tan straightened, then got to his feet and tried to look intelligent and at least somewhat respectable. The young guard had come back, and with him was the officer of the watch: a powerful man with a harsh, brutal face.
“Well?” he said to Tan.
“Esteemed Captain,” Tan said immediately, and bowed.
“You don’t consider our protection here adequate, is that right? You’ve got special enemies, that’s what I hear. You think you’ll fare better if your name goes up the hill, do you?”
“If you please to send it, esteemed sir, and I swear to you it will be recognized.”
The captain looked Tan up and down with obvious distaste. “You’re safe enough here, I assure you, so you may set your heart at rest on that account.”
Tan bowed his head and said nothing.
“Huh. A prodigal cousin, are you? Got in bad company and came dragging home to beg pardon and payment of your debts from the lord?”
“If you like,” Tan agreed obligingly. He tried to look dissolute and repentant.
“You think Lord Bertaud will be happy to hear your name, do you? Not likely! Theft, brawling, murder: What else do you drag at your heel? You think the lord will pardon all that for whatever blood you might have in common?” The captain sounded like he doubted this. He said with grim satisfaction, “You think he wants some bastard half cousin up at the great house now, with the king’s household in residence? If you had the sense of a turnip, you’d hope no judge had time for you until next month, after the king’s gone back to Tihannad, if you hope for mercy from Lord Bertaud.”
Tan gazed at the captain. He said slowly, “King Iaor is here?”
“You didn’t know?” This time, the captain sounded honestly astonished. “Earth and sea, man, where have you been the past six years? It’s that long since His Majesty began breaking his annual progress in the Delta for a month or more! Ever since Lord Bertaud came home.” He looked grimly pleased to crush Tan’s hopes.
“If Bertaud doesn’t know my name, Iaor will,” Tan declared at once, hoping it was true.
The captain scowled. “Lord Bertaud, man, and King Iaor, man! Let us have some respect!”
Tan bowed apology. “I beg your pardon, esteemed Captain. I meant no disrespect.” He tried to remember a name that both Bertaud and the king might recognize.
“Well,” the captain said, looking at him hard. “And what name is it that they’ll know, up at the great house?”
“Teras son of Toharas,” Tan said, hoping that this was true.
“Huh.” The captain turned his head and fixed the young guard with a cold eye. The young man straightened his back and swallowed. “Since you and the prisoner are both so concerned for his safety, you can stay on after your shift and keep an eye on him,” said the captain. “Without extra pay, of course.” He walked out.