“You must subordinate fire to earth!” croaked Istierinan through burned lips and broken teeth, trying blindly to get to his feet.
Mienthe only watched Tan, her expression grave and trusting.
There was no ink left in the quill, so Tan tore its sharp point across his own wrist. He wrote in his own blood, across a page that would take no other ink, a single word. The word he wrote was
AMITY
He wrote it plainly, with neither flourish nor ornament. The word sank into the page and all through the book. From the center of the earth to the dome of the sky, from one edge of the world to the other, the writing remade the law of the world.
CHAPTER 16
It was nothing a mage would have thought of. Everyone agreed about that one thing, later. Everyone, at least, who was a mage, or had ever been a mage. Certainly Beguchren Teshrichten said so, so Mienthe was sure it was true.
“It required someone with a remarkable, anomalous gift,” he said wryly to Mienthe. “Casmantium for making, Feierabiand for calling, and Linularinum for law, but I’ve never heard of anyone waking into a gift such as yours.”
“Istierinan Hamoddian was anomalous, too,” Mienthe pointed out.
“But not at all in the same way. Have some of these berries. What a splendid climate you have here in the Delta, to be sure. Fresh berries so early! No, we quite well understand Istierinan, anomalous as he undeniably was. One doesn’t think of a mage being able to sustain any natural gift; indeed, we are taught that bringing out the mage power smothers the inborn gift. Yet clearly there are and have been exceptions.” Beguchren tilted his head consideringly. “Perhaps the legist gift is more amenable to magework than making or calling. One does rather hope that such persons are rare, generally not quite so powerful, and now inclined toward a certain humility.”
They might very well be so inclined, Mienthe thought, considering what had happened to Istierinan. She had thought they ought to leave him for King Iaor to judge, or even send him back to his own king, but Kes had not been patient or forgiving with the man who was, or so she had seemed to feel, in some part responsible for her old teacher’s death. When she had destroyed him, she had not left even ash. Nor, when it came to the moment, had Mienthe tried very hard to stop her. She had not confessed to anyone her deep relief at the death of Tan’s enemy. But she was relieved. All she said aloud was, “I hope they are very rare.”
They were in the Arobern’s camp, set neatly to the east of Tiefenauer, separate and self-contained. The Arobern had thought it politic to keep all his people outside the town, lest anyone should have any impression he’d ever meant to conquer or hold it himself. Iaor Safiad himself had firmly and pointedly occupied the great house as soon as he’d arrived, two days after Tan had written his new law to govern fire and earth. Bertaud had not yet returned. Mienthe was almost certain her cousin was well—the king assured Mienthe he was well—but she longed to see him and be certain of it herself.
Iaor Safiad had not yet granted the Arobern an audience. He had sent only curt word refusing the Casmantian king leave to withdraw east toward the pass. He had, however, sent almost every available Feierabianden healer to the Casmantian camp, thus demonstrating that while he might be furious with the Casmantian king, he was at least willing to admit that the Casmantian soldiers had suffered on Feierabiand’s behalf. Everyone assumed that Iaor was much angrier with the King of Linularinum than with the Arobern—everyone assumed he would, in due course, forgive the Arobern’s presumption. The Casmantian soldiers, nodding wisely, muttered about royal pride; three or four young men had already wistfully asked Mienthe about the Safiad’s temper. She had not known how to answer their questions.
Beguchren Teshrichten had not asked Mienthe about either king. He said instead, “One does wonder whether your gift would ever have stirred if Tan hadn’t happened to break the law Linularinan legists long ago imposed on the world.” Then he paused and asked, very gently, “How does Tan do, today? May I hope that there has been some improvement?”
Mienthe began to answer, but tears suddenly closed her throat and she found she could not speak. Blinking hard, she opened her hands in a gesture of wretched uncertainty.
“I believe he will come to himself in good time, child. Recovery from such events does take time. He overused his gift, I suspect.” The mage paused and then said plainly but not unkindly, “He might have lost it. Used it up. Such things can happen, in great extremity.”
As Lord Beguchren knew better than anyone. Mienthe nodded. She swallowed, rubbed her hand across her mouth, and managed to ask, “Is there anything you might suggest?”