Law of the Broken Earth(68)

But even that thought was not quite enough to make him smile.





CHAPTER 8





Mienthe had been glad to see the queen and her little daughters heading out of Tiefenauer. She was relieved to know they would soon be safe in Sihannas. But she’d never for an instant intended to leave the town herself. She didn’t understand why anyone had supposed she would flee. Even if she wanted to—and she was willing to admit to herself that maybe she did—she couldn’t. How could she? She was sorry Bertaud would worry when he heard she had refused to leave Tiefenauer, but he would understand. She thought he would. She was fairly certain.

Anyway, by the time her cousin heard about Linularinum’s boldness, she hoped that Tan’s enemies would have learned that he had escaped them. Then the Linularinan force would go away again and she could send her cousin that word, which would be much better than having him just hear that Tiefenauer was under attack.

Anyway, Bertaud must be in the mountains now, as hard as he and the king had intended to ride. He might be looking down at the Wall right now. Then he would have other things to worry about than herself or even the Delta.

As few as five days for the Wall to break, that’s what the griffin mage had said. Maybe as many as ten, but maybe as few as five. Four, now. Or even three, by the coming dawn. But maybe as many as seven, she reminded herself. And anyway, the Wall wasn’t her concern. Bertaud would fix the Wall. He would get his griffin friend to help him and put things right.

And after he did, she wanted him to find a message waiting for him that assured him she was safe and the Delta was safe and the Linularinan force had once more withdrawn to its proper side of the river.

She hoped she would be able to send him that message. She thought she would. Anyway, she doubted she was personally in any danger. No matter how enraged Tan’s enemies might be, they would undoubtedly think backward and forward before doing harm to the Lady of the Delta.

No. She was safe enough. Tan was the one who, Mienthe thought, might face pursuit and danger; Tan, who despite any other suggestions he might have made, was clearly the Linularinan objective. Or one objective, at least, for it did not seem reasonable that such an outrageous Linularinan action had only Tan in mind. Though, indeed, in recent days, Mienthe had lost confidence in caution or good sense or even clear sanity on the Linularinan side of the river.

Mienthe stood in the unlit solar, looking out across the gardens and the town but following Tan cross-country in her mind. The road to Kames was rougher and narrower than the river road, deeply rutted by traffic in the muddy spring, despite all that makers had done to build the road properly. And the countryside was cut through by numberless streams and sloughs and even a small river or two. A man couldn’t ride fast on that road, never mind how skilled a rider he might be or how good the horse.

She wanted urgently to know Tan was safe—she even almost wished she’d gone to Kames with him. At least she wished she could have. She could have made sure he was welcomed by the staff at her father’s house. Sighing, she turned away from the windows, went out into the lantern-lit hallway. There were three guardsmen there, assigned to stay with her while this strange night played itself out. She wanted to ask them what was going on out in the town, but of course they would know no more than she. Less, since they hadn’t been gazing out the solar windows. Unless—“Has there been news?” she asked them.

They shook their heads. “We’d have sent any messages on to you anyway, my lady,” one of them said. “But there’s nothing. Only what we knew already. There’s fighting. But so far as we know, for all they caught us by surprise, we’re still holding them on the other side of the square.”

Mienthe nodded.

“We’ll send immediately if there’s any other word,” the guardsman promised her.

“Yes,” murmured Mienthe, and went back into the solar. She opened one of the windows and let in the chill of the night air and the distant sound of shouting and battle. Closer at hand there was almost no sound at all: The few remaining servants were keeping close and quiet, as though if they were very still, danger might not find them. Though in fact there was another faint sound, like someone singing… Well, no, that was ridiculous; the sound was nothing like singing, but then Mienthe did not know how better to describe it.

The sound was getting louder, too, though it was still very faint. It might not be at all like a melody, but it was also not the sort of patternless sound the wind might make whistling past thin leaves or knife-edged grasses. It wound up and around, up and around, up and around.