Law of the Broken Earth(55)

But he did not object. He collected his cane and his balance, rose, bowed his head courteously to the queen, and retired so that she could, as she so clearly desired, speak privately to her own people: to Iriene if she saw any point to it, and to her own guardsmen and perhaps to whatever ladies and advisers she most trusted.

Mienthe must not have been one of those, for she took the queen’s words as a dismissal as well and rose, tucking the book under her arm, to accompany Tan. Well, she was young, and Lady of the Delta rather than a constant companion in the Safiad court, undoubtedly loyal to her cousin more than to the queen. On reflection, Tan was not astonished that Queen Niethe did not keep the girl close now. At least she did not seem to take her dismissal as a slight.

Then Mienthe gave him an anxious, sidelong look, and Tan realized that in fact she had deliberately excused herself from the queen’s presence in order to stay close to him—that she did not trust any protection Iriene could provide, that she did not trust the guardsmen, no matter how alarmed and alert they might be. She had rescued Tan from his enemies twice, and felt keenly the responsibility of both those rescues. He was surprised he had not understood at once. He felt a sudden, surprising warmth of feeling toward this young woman, so earnest and so astonishingly ready to assume deep obligations toward a chance-met stranger who was not even truly one of her own people.

Mienthe, unaware of the sudden shift in Tan’s regard, tapped the empty Linularinan book against her palm, glanced quickly up and down the hall, and said hesitantly, “I’m—that is, I have a comfortable couch in my sitting room.” She had clearly forgotten her own authority in this house, for she did not make this suggestion into an order, but ducked her head apologetically as she offered it. “You might… I know you have your own room upstairs in the tower, and I’m sure that is probably perfectly safe for you, now. But I wonder if you might rather… a couch where no one at all knows to look for you… where I would be able to see you myself… I know it’s not really a proper suggestion…”

The windowless tower room seemed now, in Tan’s reflection, rather less like a refuge and more like a trap. A couch in a room where no one would expect to find him, a last-minute offer no one had overheard, from this young woman who’d shown such a gift for extracting him from the hands of his enemies… That seemed very practical. He was not too proud to say so. He said, which was even the truth, “I think it’s a very proper and brave suggestion, from the Lady of the Delta to a guest who’s under her protection. I’ll accept, lady, and thank you for the consideration.”

Mienthe looked relieved. She nodded her head to show him the way. “I was going to ask one of my maids to bring tea, but maybe it would be better not to let the kitchen know where you are, either. Though my maids are discreet. I think.”

In Tan’s experience, maids were never discreet. He didn’t quite know how to say so. He could hardly suggest young Lady Mienthe invite him to stay unchaperoned in her own rooms.

“Karin can be discreet,” Mienthe said, in the tone of one coming to a necessary conclusion. “She chatters, but that’s all just show for the young men. She won’t talk about anything important.”

Tan said nothing.

“I swear I won’t tell,” the young maid Karin promised solemnly when Mienthe told her that Tan might be spending the night on a couch in her sitting room. She was a buxom girl with an outrageously flirtatious manner. “Not even my string of lovers,” she added at Tan’s doubtful glance, and winked. Oddly, Tan felt the girl might actually be telling the truth about her discretion, if not her string of lovers.

Mienthe made Tan take the best couch and settled in a cane chair, tucking her feet under her skirts like a child. “Well,” she said, looking at Tan, and stopped, clearly not knowing what to say, and small blame for that.

The maid had settled, more or less out of earshot, across the room on the hearth of a fireplace. She busied herself with some sort of needlework, pretending, in the immemorial way of maids everywhere, not to listen.

“So,” Tan said, low enough that the maid might not overhear, “and are you rising into mage power, Lady Mienthe?”

“No!” said Mienthe at once, but then hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. How can one tell?”

Tan, not being a mage himself, had no idea.

“And you?” Mienthe said. “Do you feel anything? Have you, since you found that book?”

Tan had to admit he could not tell. “It’s all very… very…”