“Well, that’s not good, if Istierinan is going to keep coming after you to try to get it back. And not good for anyone else, if he’s willing to cross into the Delta and invade even our great house to get it,” Mienthe observed, with some justice. “And with the king himself in residence! Or the queen, at least—I suppose Iaor was actually gone before they came after you. I suppose that might be why they thought they had a chance, right then; everything was confused, with everybody coming and going.”
Tan thought about that, and about the scene in the barn, and about the agonizing but surprisingly uneventful flight back through the marshes and across the river. He said slowly, “Do you know, I wonder whether Istierinan is operating on his own in this. Mariddeier Kohorrian is a clever, ruthless man and a good king, and I don’t think he would send agents to strike openly across the river into the Delta.”
Mienthe made an interested sound.
Her eyes were quite pretty when she was so intent, Tan noticed—she was rather a pretty girl overall, but she didn’t show herself off—indeed, she was so little given to flamboyance a man could simply look right past her.
She said, “Maybe he’s the only one who knows something got stolen, and he’s trying to keep it that way.”
And, yes, she was clever. Tan cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “That seems very possible.” He began to smile. “And he thinks I have whatever was stolen, and so he let the real thief get away. Poor Istierinan! Going after the wrong man is no way to win back the regard of the old Fox!”
“It won’t seem nearly so amusing if he keeps coming after you,” Mienthe observed tartly.
“No, I imagine not.” Tan tilted his head, letting his smile broaden. “One might as well enjoy these little moments of irony, esteemed Mienthe. Appreciating the humor life presents to us is what keeps us young. What a lot it is presenting us with at the moment, to be sure. Griffins and mages, legists and spymasters—”
The door opened.
Mienthe rose with a slightly guilty air, though by the time she turned she had done a creditable job of putting on an air of innocent inquiry.
Tan made himself smile as well as he waited for the door to swing back far enough to show him their visitor. Probably it was not Istierinan or his pet mage—ah. Almost as frightening: Their visitor was Iriene herself.
The healer was frowning. That much did not surprise Tan at all.
“You,” Iriene said severely, with only the briefest nod for Mienthe, “should be lying flat. I left strict instructions. In fact, as I recall, I gave you strict instructions. And here you are sitting up.”
Tan rapidly considered and discarded half a dozen possible replies, from the flippant to the meek, and replied with almost no hesitation, “Truly, esteemed Iriene, I’d rather try standing and walking. One never knows what necessity might arise. Sitting upright seemed a reasonable compromise, besides being more respectful to Lady Mienthe.”
Iriene gave him a hard stare and a short nod, acknowledging both the impudence and the possibility of sudden necessity. “Just so you understand that if you undo all my fine work through impatience, I won’t bother finding the time to do it over again. It’s not easy doing work that detailed, you know, even when I’m at my best. Which I’m not, lately, so don’t push your limits or you might find them before you want to, you hear me?”
“Yes, esteemed Iriene,” Tan agreed meekly.
“Esteemed Iriene—” Mienthe said hesitantly.
The healer-mage turned her hard look on Mienthe. “And don’t you be fussing my patient,” she warned.
“No, I won’t—I haven’t,” Mienthe said, just as meekly as Tan had. “I don’t think I have. But, Iriene, I wondered… that is, people think… people say… I must have found Tan by magecraft. But I don’t think I have any mage power. I don’t feel as though I do.”
Iriene’s gaze became inquisitive. She looked Mienthe up and down. Then she shrugged. “You don’t have the look of it to me,” she said. “But I’m not the best one to ask, Lady Mienthe. I’m barely a mage myself—I heal. That’s what I do. That’s all I do.” She paused, glanced at Tan, and shrugged again. “Him now. Events want to slip around him. Even I can see that.”
“Events want to—?” Mienthe began.
“And what precisely does that mean?” Tan demanded at the same time, much more sharply.
Iriene said to Mienthe, “You don’t see it?”
Mienthe looked closely at Tan, who found himself flushing under her regard. But then she only opened her hands in bafflement and said to Iriene, “No, esteemed healer, I don’t think I see anything.”