Law of the Broken Earth(102)

CHAPTER 12





In his life as a confidential agent, and even before that, Tan had lived through his share of terrifying moments. Yet, oddly, he could not recall ever being so frightened in his life as he was when the door shut behind him and closed him into a small, private, comfortable room with the small, elegant Casmantian lord Beguchren Teshrichten and the tall mage Gereint Enseichen.

It was perfectly reasonable for the confidential agent of one country to be afraid if he fell into the power of a different country. Certain obvious events were likely to unfold from that point. But an awareness of that fact did not explain Tan’s fear, and he knew it did not.

Mienthe had insisted on staying close by him, which Tan considered very nearly heroism as it meant she must postpone her bath. He had considered prompting her to go with the Casmantian lady, as the Arobern clearly wished. Compliance with the Arobern’s wishes might well have been tactically the wiser course. But, though he was ashamed of the depth of his own need for her support, he was too grateful for her presence to make any effort to send her away.

Because he was ashamed and angry as well as frightened, Tan said sharply, “Well, Lord Beguchren, as there is no great need to dissemble, shall we be plain? You mean to pry open my mind and heart and discover what is written there. Is that not true?”

Mienthe, shocked and distressed, took half a step forward, but Lord Beguchren only gave Tan a slight, imperturbable smile, tipped his head toward a chair drawn up near a wide fireplace, and said mildly, in smooth, unaccented Terheien, “If you will sit, we will make an effort to discover whether or not that will be necessary.”

Tan did not move.

“He is frightened,” said the tall man. Gereint Enseichen. His tone was matter-of-fact, utterly lacking in censure. He added wryly, “You have this effect on ordinary men, my lord. I well remember our own first meeting.” As he spoke, he rearranged the chairs in the room so that four of them formed a neat rectangle in front of the fire, a porcelain lamp hanging behind each. Then he settled in one of the chairs, folding up his long limbs with every sign of satisfaction. “Honored lady, if you will?” he said to Mienthe, indicating one of the remaining chairs, and, “My lord? Honored sir?” he added, nodding toward the others.

The white-haired Casmantian lord was not quite smiling, but nevertheless he looked amused. He said mildly, “Well, but I was constrained by a royal command to terrify you, Gereint,” but he also moved to take the indicated chair.

“You terrified me for a great long time after that,” the mage said. “You still do.” He did not sound in the least terrified, but rather warmly affectionate.

Tan saw very clearly that the two men, however different they might seem, were close friends. For some inexplicable reason, he found this reassuring. And he did not want to frighten Mienthe by letting her see his own fear.

She laid a tentative hand on his arm. “You probably should sit, do you think?”

Tan’s knee was making itself a trifle obvious: A long, slow ache had spread from the knee all the way up and down his leg. He gazed for a moment at Mienthe’s anxious, earnest face and then found himself able to walk forward, almost without limping, and take his place in the appointed chair. The stiffness of his movements owed nothing to his bad knee. He did not understand why he could not mime relaxation, amiability, dense stupidity… He had drawn one mask or another across his own manner for so long that he would have thought the exercise had become effortless. But all masks seemed far out of reach today. He said sharply, to the mage, “What is it you see in me? What do you mean by saying that, what, events turn around me?”

“A very good question,” agreed the Casmantian mage amiably. He regarded Tan with great curiosity for a moment, then looked away, wincing slightly. He told the fire, “One certainly understands why mages have no difficulty tracking you. It’s quite a remarkable effect, when you try to examine it closely.”

“I wish I—” Lord Beguchren began, but cut that thought short.

“As do we all,” said Gereint Enseichen, in a tone both wry and deliberately brisk.

Mienthe gazed at him for a moment, then at the elegant Lord Beguchren. She started to speak, then visibly changed her mind about what she meant to say and said instead, “Whatever Tan is, I can’t be a mage. Isn’t that right? I don’t see anything strange when I look at him. And my cousin said I couldn’t be a mage because I didn’t hate his friend. Kairaithin, I mean. The griffin mage.”

Lord Beguchren regarded her thoughtfully. “If I remember your story correctly, after you were forced to flee Tiefenauer, you went directly to your father’s house at Kames, to which you had directed the honored Tan. Why did you go there, rather than north to find your lord cousin?”