“Huh,” said Iriene. “And that griffin who came to see your lord cousin. You were there when he was? You met him? That’s right, is it?”
Mienthe nodded.
“And did you hate him, then?”
“Hate him,” Mienthe repeated, clearly still baffled. “No, I don’t think so. I thought he was frightening—and beautiful—and dangerous. But I didn’t see any reason to hate him. I mean, he’s my cousin’s friend. Or something like a friend, I think,” she added, with a finicky air of conscientious precision that made Tan want to laugh, though at the same time he appreciated it; so few people could manage to say anything at all with precision.
“Then I don’t think you’re rising into mage power,” said Iriene. “I couldn’t say what else might be coming along for you.”
Mienthe gazed at her. “Do our mages detest, um, theirs?”
“Oh, yes. Passionately,” Iriene assured her. “Overpoweringly. Not that I’ve ever seen a griffin mage, you know, but that’s what I understand. Meriemne—that elderly mage in Tihannad, do you know her?—she wrote up a warning and sent it around after all that bother six years ago. She said the loathing earth mages feel for fire ruins their judgment when they encounter a griffin mage.” The healer lifted a sardonic eyebrow as she added this last. “As though anything’s likely to ruin Meriemne’s judgment. Hah! I don’t think so. Anyway, I don’t suppose it’s ever likely to matter, down here in these marshes, but I don’t think you can be rising into mage power.”
Mienthe nodded solemnly. Tan couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed by this verdict. He said, “Esteemed Iriene, before you go, may I ask also about the odd book Mienthe—Lady Mienthe—brought back from Linularinum?”
“Oh, yes,” Mienthe said, clearly much happier now that they weren’t talking about her. “It had blank pages. All the pages were blank. Have you seen it? I think it’s in my cousin’s study—I could get it—”
Iriene held up a hand, shaking her head. “Books and such are matters for a legist, not a mage,” she said firmly. “Healing’s my business. Let me look at that knee of yours, esteemed Tan, and we’ll see if you might be able to hobble down to a proper breakfast tomorrow morning, if not supper tonight. Though I warn you, you are not to attempt to walk without a cane, much less run, regardless of any unfortunate necessities that may arise.”
“Queen Niethe’s sending a formal protest across the river,” put in Mienthe, before Tan could produce his own sharp response.
“Is she?” Tan was amused. “Yes, I imagine if the old Fox realizes that Her Majesty’s taken official notice of Istierinan’s indiscretions, he might very well haul Istierinan around on a close rein. And if he hasn’t known, what a treat for him when he finds out.”
Mienthe’s mouth crooked. “I’m sure. So rest easy, if you please, and try not to press the esteemed Iriene’s goodwill too hard, do you hear?”
Tan bowed his head, trying to present the very image of perfect docility.
Mienthe laughed and rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you, then, but I hope I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow—if not supper tonight.” She made a face. “Supper will be with the queen and all her ladies.”
She did not actually say And I’m going to hate every minute of it, but Tan heard that in her tone, and no wonder. A girl with so little artifice, thrown in among all those court ladies? Even ladies of Feierabiand’s court would not be short of artifice. Mienthe would be like a sparrow caged among canaries in that company. Though he was a little surprised he cared how the girl fared among the queen’s ladies, Tan found himself wishing he could attend the supper himself. He could support Mienthe—he could be so subtle neither she nor anyone else would realize what he was doing, and yet make certain she did herself proper credit.
But he knew without asking that the healer wouldn’t change her mind or her prescription for rest. Tan didn’t protest Iriene’s swift, ruthless examination—he wouldn’t have dared, and anyway he, too, hoped to see Mienthe at breakfast. No doubt a passing urge for the young woman’s company was quite well explained by boredom. And she was, after all, reasonably pretty.
Mienthe was sorry to leave Tan—he was so interesting, and he seemed clever, and she knew he must be terribly bored left on his own with nothing but orders to rest. But if she was the Lady of the Delta, it was her task to make sure her cousin’s household was fit to entertain the queen without shaming the hospitality of the Delta, and she’d neglected that duty terribly.