Law of the Broken Earth (20 page)

She could not read even a single letter of the words she saw. Nor did she hear them. Though they seemed real and meaningful, they were not at all like spoken words. But she knew what they said. Or she knew, at least, that part of their purpose was to close tight and hold hard, and yet another part was to flex and move against pressure, only all those concepts were wrong—Mienthe didn’t mean “hold” or “flex” or “pressure,” or even “purpose.” It was very strange to have concepts in her mind that she couldn’t actually grasp.

Then Mienthe found herself blinking once again at the ordinary sitting room. Tan was sitting with his head bowed against his hand, his face hidden. He made no sound, but obviously he was in some distress, though she did not know exactly why. There were no marks of any kind on the paper that rested on his knee.

Iriene was staring at both of them. “Well,” she said. “Well… that was no ordinary mageworking, was it? It wasn’t anything I recognize. How strange. Was that legist-magic?”

“Yes,” said Tan, not looking up. “Though it wasn’t anything I recognize, either.”

“Oh,” said Mienthe. “Legist-magic? That explains the words, and why they’re written out rather than spoken,
and I suppose it also explains why I couldn’t read them—because I’m not a legist.”

“Words?” asked the queen, puzzled.

“Written?” said Iriene, at nearly the same time. “Did
you
see something, Lady Mienthe? What did you see?”

“
Purposeful
words?” asked Tan, looking up at last.

“But surely you saw them, too?” Mienthe asked him. “You’re a legist—didn’t you understand them?”

Tan touched his forehead gingerly with the tips of two fingers, as though not perfectly certain the top of his head was still attached. “I don’t… nothing’s very clear… I wonder
what
Istierinan had hidden in that study of his? Something that only a legist could take, and not even quite realize he’d taken it?”

“Oh!” Mienthe jumped to her feet and was through the door before she’d even realized that she’d forgotten to take proper leave of the queen. But the book was right there on the shelf where she had known she would find it. The fat little book with its expensive leather binding and its thick, heavy, blank pages, with no sign that anybody had ever written a single word in it.

Mienthe found she had no difficulty imagining thin, ornate writing filling the book, black and spidery across all its fine pages. She only wondered what the writing might have said.

T
an recognized the book, of course—recognized it at last not merely as the blank-paged book Istierinan had brought to that memorable interview in the barn, but from before that as well—from that last rushed day and frantic night in Teramondian, when everything had suddenly fallen into order and he’d slipped past Istierinan’s watchful eye and into his private study. Years of work used up in that one night, years of moving in all the right circles to gain knowledge of disaffected younger sons and yet with all the right steps to gain the trust of their weary fathers as well… Tan had not in the least minded acting as one of Istierinan’s close-held Teramondian agents. He’d gradually established himself as one of Istierinan’s most useful agents in the Fox’s court, and that night he’d poured out every last drop of credit he’d ever gained. But he’d judged it worth the cast, and so it had been.

And now here this one small book was again, which he had hardly noticed at the time. Not that it was poorly
made. It was, in fact, superior workmanship all through: top-quality paper that would take ink beautifully, a tooled leather binding. He was afraid to touch it himself in case that, too, might serve as a trigger for Istierinan’s mage—and surprised again by the blaze of anger he felt at being forced to such timidity. But he asked Mienthe to page through the book for him. He watched in growing unease as the young woman turned one blank page after another. Finally he asked her to shut the book again.

Queen Niethe, curious, held out her hand, but one of her ladies took the book instead and held it for her so the queen would not touch it. That seemed a wise precaution to Tan, though he doubted it was necessary. Nevertheless, a weak-minded fear of the book ironically filled him now, when it was too late to evade whatever magic it had contained.

He had looked at this book and evidently taken the writing out of it, and he did not even remember what it had said. It was some trap Istierinan had left for a thief or a spy, and he had fallen into it. The writing in the book had got into his mind. Of course it had. Where else would it have gone? What had it done to him? What might it be doing still? No doubt it had rendered him vulnerable to Istierinan’s mage—no doubt he was still vulnerable—and who knew what Istierinan might be able to do to him through it? Tan wanted to run in circles, screaming. Only years of hard-held discipline, a disinclination to look like a hysterical fool in public, and his injured knee allowed him to stay sitting calmly in his chair.

He said, trying for a calm tone, “I’m only surprised I did not recognize it at once. But I had other things to think about when Istierinan was, ah, making inquiries.”
He hesitated. Then he admitted, “This book was in Istierinan’s study, on a shelf with a few others and a trinket or three and several jars of ink. I glanced through it… it wasn’t set apart. I didn’t think it special. I suppose I thought it might contain the key to a cipher or such, but…” He stopped.

“But it was blank?” Mienthe said.

“No…” Tan said absently. Why
had
he concluded that this little book held nothing of interest? Not because its pages were empty; at the time, it had held writing. But he had no memory now of
what
writing it had held. That… that was unexpected. Both the current state of the pages and the failure of memory. Tan could read a dozen books in quick succession and afterward give a very close approximation of what each had said; a fine memory for written language was part of the legist gift. He rubbed his palms on his sleeves as though he had touched something unclean and looked at Iriene.

The mage, frowning, held her hand out for the book. The queen’s lady gave it to her.

The mage ran her fingers across the leather of the book’s binding, opened it to touch the fine, thick, unmarked paper within, closed it again, held it briefly to her lips, shook her head, and declared, “I can’t tell a thing about it, but I don’t think it’s ever held any kind of magecraft.”

“Of course not,” Tan said, just as Queen Niethe asked, “Oh, but surely it must have, esteemed Iriene?” and Mienthe said in a surprised tone, “But that can’t be right,” and Captain Geroen snapped, “Of course it has! Why else would Linularinan agents be so interested?”

Everyone stared at Tan.

Tan cleared his throat. But, since he was committed, he also said, “It’s a legist’s book. Or it was. It held law. Written law—law a master-legist set down stone-hard. Binding law. Until I read it. I wonder if any legist reading this book would have stripped the words out of it, or if it was something about me? My gift?”

From their expressions, Tan rather thought that neither the queen nor any of the guard officers in the room understood what he was saying. Geroen gave a wise, knowing nod, but that was only bluff, Tan could see. The queen looked honestly blank—well, likely she had little to do with any legists or legist-magic. Iriene at least knew that the legist gift was not the same as magecraft, but Tan took leave to doubt whether the healer knew much more than that.

Mienthe, now… Mienthe had taken the blank book back into her hands. She, too, had nodded, but in her case, and not really with surprise, Tan thought what he’d said might have actually made sense to her. She was stroking her fingertips across one of the book’s empty pages, her expression abstracted.

What law was it, that Tan now held? He could feel nothing foreign or unfamiliar set into his mind… Would he feel it? Or had it simply restructured his mind and he had not even noticed?
There
was a pleasant thought!

But whatever the book had done to him, whatever he’d done to it, he knew with a profound certainty that he did not want to touch it again himself.

A guardsman came in, hesitated for a moment just inside the door, and finally came over to murmur to Captain Geroen. The captain’s expression, from stern, became thunderous. He bowed his head awkwardly to the
queen, begged Mienthe’s pardon with a vague word about seeing to his duty, and went out. Queen Niethe seemed to think little of his going, but Tan found himself meeting Mienthe’s eyes, a common thought of Istierinan and secretive Linularinan agents occurring, he was certain, to both of them. Tan had, once again, this time knowing the risk, set his hand to a quill. Who knew what Istierinan’s mage might have done in that moment?

“Not twice in the same night,” murmured Mienthe, aloud but more or less to herself. “Not once we are alarmed and alert. Surely not.”

“No,” Tan agreed, but heard the doubt echo behind his own words.

Queen Niethe glanced from one of them to the other, but said nothing. They were all silent for a long moment and then another, waiting for any alarm to ring through the house. But there was nothing. The queen said at last, “No, indeed. Of course not.” She rose with practiced, stately grace and said to Iriene, “So the mystery has begun to be solved, has it not? We know about the strange book and the legist’s magic in it; we know why the sly Linularinans have become so bold; we are alarmed and alert. There is nothing more to do tonight?”

Iriene did not quite like to declare one way or another, but thought they might send the book to Tiearanan, where the best mages in Feierabiand studied and wrote and crafted their work. Or maybe they should look for a skilled legist who might know what a book like this one had held?

Tan did not say,
You will hardly find a legist more powerfully gifted than I am on this side of the river
, though he might have, and rather tartly. It was true that he would not
mind another competent legist’s opinion, but he doubted the competence of any Feierabianden legist that might be found. Linularinum for law; everyone knew that, and it was true.

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.”