Law of the Broken Earth(137)

There was a little pause.

The Arobern, moving slowly, seated himself in the chair. He set his broad hands on his knees and looked at Iaor Safiad without speaking.

“Your son,” said King Iaor, with deliberate emphasis, “has grown into a fine man. He should make any father proud. No doubt Lord Beguchren told you.”

“Yes,” said the Arobern.

There was another pause. Iaor broke it. “You took every chance,” he said, with the same slow, deliberate emphasis. “I am grateful.”

The Arobern bent his head just enough to show he had heard, then met the other king’s eyes again with somber intensity.

“Shall we agree we are mutually indebted? And that we are not likely to find ourselves at odds during the lifetimes of our children? Feierabiand is glad to count Casmantium as an ally.”

“Casmantium, the same.”

Iaor nodded. He said grimly, “Then, as we are allies, I will tell you that I intend to send a courier to Linularinum. To Kohorrian’s court. I will bid Mariddeier Kohorrian attend me here in Tiefenauer. Do you think he will obey my summons?”

“Ah.” The Arobern leaned back in his chair. After a moment, he smiled. It was not a kind expression. “I will send a man also, is this what you intend? Perhaps a soldier, to stand behind your girl courier? And Lord Bertaud will send a man of his, am I to think so? Yes. Then, yes, Kohorrian will come. You wish me to leave a man of mine here also, to stand at your back when you scold Mariddeier Kohorrian?”

Iaor did not precisely smile in return, but there was a glint of hard humor in his eyes. “I thought you might be persuaded to leave me Lord Beguchren Teshrichten for the purpose.”

“Ah.” The Arobern tapped his heavy fingers on the arm of his chair.

“I should be pleased to see Lord Beguchren turn his tongue against Mariddeier Kohorrian rather than against me. And, in truth, I should value his counsel. I consider that he owes me at least so much. What surety would you require?”

The Arobern’s eyebrows rose. “From you? I would be ashamed to ask for any surety from you, Iaor Safiad. I will bid Lord Beguchren act as my agent in this matter. I think he may even be pleased by the task.”

King Iaor briefly inclined his head.

The Arobern nodded in return, paused, and then asked, “And I? What will you have of me, Iaor Safiad?”

“I will expect you to withdraw from my country quietly and in good order. As, of course, you entered it.”

The Arobern, regarding Iaor warily, made a gesture of acquiescence. “As soon as you give me leave to go.”

“I give you leave.” Iaor gripped the arms of his chair and rose. Then he paused, looking down at the other king, and added, “As a hostage one will not touch has no practical use, I will release your son. When you return to Casmantium, Prince Erichstaben may go with you.” He added to Erich, in a much different tone, “I’ll miss you, boy, especially when my daughters pester me to teach them dangerous tricks with their ponies.”

The young man flushed, grinned, and answered, “Well, Your Majesty, and I’ll miss the little girls! May I thank you, and beg you to make my apologies to them for leaving without bidding them farewell?”

“Perhaps I’ll send them to Casmantium for a visit,” Iaor said to him. “In two years. If your father approves.” He gave the Arobern a hard stare.

The Arobern got to his feet and bowed, very slightly. “Of course, Casmantium would be honored to welcome the little Safiad princesses,” he said formally.

Erich smiled, a swift, affectionate smile. He glanced at Mienthe and the smile became wry. But then he looked back at his father and the smile slipped altogether.

King Iaor crooked a finger at Mienthe and walked out.

Mienthe followed, all her nerves on edge. She hadn’t said a single word, even to say good-bye to Erich. She wondered how soon the Casmantian force would leave—soon, probably, at dawn, perhaps—She wondered whether King Iaor would mind if she went out to the camp again, to bid Erich and his father farewell? Because the king was indeed very angry, she knew, for all he showed it so little. She might not have realized it, except that to her new perception, the echo of his anger filled the space around him like a dark mist.

The door closed behind them, and the king stood still for a moment in the hallway, breathing deeply. Then he turned to Mienthe—she tried not to flinch—and took her by the shoulders. “Mie,” he said, smiling with forced good humor that did not touch his eyes. He let her go, but indicated with a nod that she should walk with him. “What I am considering—tell me, Mienthe, would you perhaps consent to escort my daughters to Casmantium in a few years’ time? I believe I might not object to a possible connection between my house and the Arobern’s, and my daughters are not so much younger than Erich. I do not like to ask Bertaud to go, but you seem on good terms—excellent terms—with the Arobern and his people.”