Tan dropped his hand and gave the mage a cold stare. “Of course you cannot read Terheien as well as you speak it. We might have considered that earlier.”
“Ah,” said the mage, with a quick gesture of apology. “No, in fact that should not signify in such an exercise—not so long as you understood what you read.”
“You are not a legist,” Lord Beguchren murmured.
Everyone looked at him.
“Gereint is not a legist,” the small, elegant Casmantian lord repeated. “That was legistwork and nothing, perhaps, meant for other eyes. What does the legist gift encompass?” He paused, looking expectantly at Tan.
“Law,” Tan said, since it was clearly expected of him, though everyone knew this. “Especially written law. Contract law. You do have legists in Casmantium.”
“Yes,” agreed Lord Beguchren. “Not as Linularinum has, however. You look very Linularinan yourself, you know. You are Feierabianden by conviction, perhaps, rather than by birth?”
“Does it signify?” Tan snapped.
Mienthe said quickly, “There’s thorough mixing of blood along the river, you know, Lord Beguchren. Especially in the Delta.”
“Yes,” the Casmantian lord repeated. His expression was unreadable, but a subtle intensity had come into his voice. He tapped the arm of his chair very gently. “You are a very strongly gifted legist,” he said to Tan. It wasn’t a question. “The legist gift has to do, as you say, with written law, contract law. They say one should count one’s fingers after signing a Linularinan contract—”
“And the fingers of your children and grandchildren in the next generations. So they do.” Tan was not pleased to have that old censorious line recalled. He said, “In Linularinum, tight contracts are admired; in Feierabiand, and Casmantium as well, no doubt, signatories frequently have more concern with how contracts can be broken than with how they may most advantageously be kept.”
“Even the most ambitious Casmantian merchant would probably say, ‘How they might be most honorably kept,’ ” Lord Beguchren said. “But then, Casmantium is not a nation of legists.” Perhaps fortunately, he held up a hand to forestall Tan’s first, intemperate response. He said patiently, “What I am trying to say, perhaps with less grace than I might, is that a mage, most especially a Casmantian mage, is not likely to immediately grasp the more complicated elements of legist-magic. What was in that book was law—written law—contract law, and well set about with the strongest possible legist-magic. I doubt whether Mariddeier Kohorrian would provoke Iaor Safiad over any specific contract, however important. I greatly doubt whether Istierinan Hamoddian would so vehemently pursue a confidential agent who stole from him long after the stolen information had been passed on, if the only other item stolen were a specific piece of legal work, no matter how elegant.”
“Well?” Mienthe asked. “So it was some sort of important magic Tan took. We knew that already! But meant to do what? We still don’t know! We haven’t gotten anywhere!”
A terrible binding, Tan thought. An immensely strong legal binding, something the kings of Linularinum needed to bind their courts or their country to order. Or something else, something worse. Something that would undoubtedly do terrible things to any careless legist strong enough, and unfortunate enough, to accidentally lay his hand on it. Particularly a legist who had deliberately deceived and betrayed the Linularinan king and court.
“Indeed, this remains an excellent question,” said Lord Beguchren at last, still very softly. “To discover what Linularinum has lost and we might have gained… Gereint. Do you suppose you might find, somewhere in this house, a decent quill and a book of blank paper?”
Gereint shook his head. “My lord, forgive me; I have evidently not been clear. I believe that very book, as well as the writing it contained, is an integral part of the work.” He looked at Tan. “I feel certain—please tell me plainly if I am mistaken—but I feel certain that you cannot possibly write out any part of that work save you have the book itself to write it in.”
Tan turned this idea over in his mind. He saw… he thought he saw… at least he thought it was possible that he saw a faint glimmer of how to do that sort of work. One would make a book that was not precisely a book, or not only a book; one would write in it with quills that were not ordinary quills, cut with special care to pick up precisely the right kind of ink… One would take this book and write in it using words that were not ordinary words, language that was not everyday language, the sort of language that could not be spoken, for it was meant only for the eye and hand and mind of another legist…