Mienthe glanced at him, then looked back at the captain and nodded. “All right. And what else?”
“Oh, well… that royal—” Geroen visibly edited what he’d first intended to say, continuing only after a perceptible pause, “The esteemed captain of Her Majesty’s guard, he’s sent men of his north as fast as they can ride, after His Majesty, and that’s all very well, but he’s not proved willing to let any man of his stand duty more than half a stone’s throw from Her Majesty, which is all very well, but I’m not having him stand like a stone statue with his—anyway, begging your pardon, my lady, but I’m not having it. I want those men of his used for something better than house ornaments, and I thought maybe you might see your way to asking Her Majesty about that, my lady.”
“Yes,” said Mienthe, nodding. “I can do that.” She was clearly relieved to be given a task that she understood, one within her proper bounds. “Very well. I’ll speak to Temnan, but I’m not sure you’ll get any of his men, because I’m going to wake the queen. I think Her Majesty should leave the Delta—tonight, at once.” She hesitated. “That is, if you think…”
“Yes, my lady,” Geroen said stolidly. “I think that’s well advised.”
Mienthe nodded quickly, relieved. “But maybe she’ll spare at least a few of her guardsmen to help us here.” She turned to Tan and went on, her tone a mix of justifiable incredulity and wonder, “All of this for you?”
“I don’t see that it can be,” Tan said hastily. “Truly, Mienthe—esteemed lady, I mean; forgive me. But whatever was in that book, it cannot possibly have been sufficiently important to justify, well, all this.”
“It must be,” Geroen disagreed. “If Linularinum’s willing to start a war over you, then they obviously think you’re important enough to justify it, eh, or they wouldn’t, would they? And they have, and what else do you think could have brought them to it?”
“The griffins’ Wall,” Mienthe suggested, and lifted her hands in a little shrug when they looked at her. “Well, I mean, suppose Linularinum learned about the Wall cracking even before we did, maybe, and Mariddeier Kohorrian thought if Iaor and Bertaud were distracted enough in the north, maybe he could try to interfere down here in the Delta? And maybe he’s just decided to use Tan as an excuse? Is that possible?”
Tan honestly did not think it could be. “Kohorrian is a little too clever to try anything quite so blatant, I think. Not when he must know how little the Delta would welcome any attempt to forcibly change its allegiance.”
“I don’t know,” said Mienthe, and then to Geroen, “I wonder if you might be able to send a man of yours across to the Linularinan force? With a wand, I mean.” She meant a white courier’s wand, which in this context would show a request for parley. “He could ask what it is they want. He could try to find out whether the man behind this is that enemy of Tan’s, Istierinan, I mean, or whether it’s someone else, or whether Mariddeier Kohorrian himself is provoking us, and why. Or, at least, why he says he’s doing it. I’ll write a letter for a man to take across.”
“Yes, good,” Geroen agreed. He rubbed his face with a big hand, blinking wearily. “I should have thought of it myself. At the very least it may set those Linularinan bastards back a bit by their heels. Begging your pardon—”
“Good. Good. All right. Send me someone, then, and Tan, would you see if there’s paper in that desk? Or, no, I don’t suppose you’d better touch any legist’s things—”
“No,” agreed Tan, startled at the sharp anger he felt at that casual statement.
I don’t suppose you’d better touch any legist’s things.
He hid the anger, put it down: how stupid, how unreasoning a reaction. The sort of emotional reaction that could get a man killed, if he wasn’t able to set it aside. He was indeed sensibly afraid to use his gift; Mienthe was quite right. It wasn’t her fault anyway, but Istierinan’s. He closed his eyes for an instant and took a breath, then clambered to his feet and came to lean over the young woman’s shoulder. “Perhaps I will be able to suggest some phrasing you might use.”
“Yes, please. Geroen, find someone to act as courier, please, and find a white wand for him. I’m sure my cousin has some in his study. And do send word at once if anything happens, will you? And send someone else to tell the queen’s captain I want to see him.”
The captain braced his shoulders back. “Yes, my lady.”
But they never had a chance to send the letter, nor even to speak to the captain of the royal guardsmen. Mienthe’s idea to write a letter had been a good one, and there ought by rights to have been time to write out a dozen fair copies if she’d been so inclined.
But Istierinan, or someone, had evidently sent men
upriver and across the Sierhanan by boat long before he’d begun making threatening gestures toward the bridge. Linularinan soldiers must have crossed into Feierabiand, along some quiet, dark stretch of river where no one was watching—maybe the Linularinan commanders had sent a small force across first to establish a bridgehead and stop any warning being sent south, because it was from the north and east that Linularinan soldiers first made their way into Tiefenauer.
“This night has been past imagining! How I wish Bertaud was here!” Mienthe said passionately when they had this last news. She stared in despair at Tan.
Tan shrugged helplessly, not pointing out that the night was far from over even yet. But he said, “Though it might be as well if your lord cousin was here, Lady Mienthe, you’re doing well enough on your own.”
Mienthe stared at him, but Geroen himself flung open the door and strode in before she could say anything, if she meant to.
Her Majesty, Geroen informed them, had agreed that she and her daughters should withdraw at once, north toward Sihannas. Niethe wanted Tan and Mienthe to come with her. Tan agreed that the queen’s withdrawing was a fine idea, but he said at once, “But not with me in her party. No.”
Mienthe met his eyes, and he knew she agreed with him: He must not accompany the queen’s party, in case they were all wrong and the Linularinan force was in fact moving solely because of Tan.
Tan said, “You, however, should certainly go with the queen.”
“Oh,” said Mienthe, appearing very much surprised
by this idea. “No, I can’t possibly. No, I’ll stay here. It’s only right—”
“It’s only foolish,” growled Geroen. He glowered at Mienthe.
Mienthe lifted her chin. “I can’t possibly abandon Tiefenauer. I’m staying.”
Geroen glared at her even more furiously. “Out of the question!”
“I won’t—I’ll—” began Mienthe.
“Anyway, Her Majesty’s ordered you to make ready, so if she says you’re going, you’re going,” Geroen said with clear satisfaction. “Better tell your maids. I’ll tell them in the stables to get horses ready for you and your women.”
Tan tapped his cane gently against the floor, waited a beat to collect both Geroen’s and Mienthe’s attention, and said gently, “Captain Geroen, you are captain of the Tiefenauer guard and therefore Lady Mienthe’s servant. You are not her lord cousin, to bid her come and go.”
Geroen flushed. He opened his mouth, but shut it again without speaking.
Mienthe, having recovered something of her ordinary poise, said firmly, “My maids may certainly go north, Captain, but Queen Niethe will assuredly reconsider her command to me.” She was furious. Her eyes snapped with anger and determination. “I’m quite certain that Her Majesty will not be comfortable commanding the Lady of the Delta. I will not abandon the Delta or Tiefenauer or this house, Geroen; not for your urging or the queen’s command. I’m certain my cousin would agree.”
Geroen glared wordlessly at the young woman, then gave Tan a grim look. “Well,
you
, I guess, won’t give me
such trouble, so you think which way you want to ride out,” he snapped, and strode out before either of them could argue.
Tan shook his head, trying not to laugh. “That’s an uncommonly determined man, is my opinion. I’ve no astonishment he was slow of promotion and tended to be assigned hard duty—night captain of the prison guard, indeed! He’s hardly a courtier, is he?”
Mienthe gave Tan a long look. Then she did laugh. “You like him, don’t you? I’d think you’d prefer men who were, what, subtle and obscure and quoting poetry…”
Tan smiled back at her. “Ah, well… I like a man who knows his mind and his duty, and it’s novel to meet one who doesn’t give a thought to arranging his words prettily. One can understand his frustration.”
The young woman shook her head and insisted, “Yes, but, Bertaud would perfectly well understand that I can’t leave.” But her tone was uncertain.
Tan wondered who had taught her to doubt herself. It seemed to him she needn’t. Not at all to his astonishment, later in the stableyard, while everyone sorted out horses and baggage by the light of torches and lanterns, Mienthe continued her steady refusal of all invitations and exhortations and, eventually, commands to the contrary.
Queen Niethe thought Mienthe’s stubbornness was perfectly exasperating and terribly dangerous and possibly illegal, but, as Mienthe was not shy of pointing out, Tiefenauer was not merely another Feierabianden town. Neither the queen nor the captain of her guard nor even Geroen quite dared put Mienthe on a horse by force, especially after she said flatly that they’d have to tie her hands to the pommel to make her stay in the saddle.
Tan was not actually surprised that the young woman could hold with such firm purpose to her refusal, though he saw that everyone else was, possibly excepting Captain Geroen. He gazed after the queen’s retreating party with an obscure feeling of satisfaction, though when he caught Mienthe’s gaze he shook his head in mock dismay. “So sad!” he exclaimed. “There they all go, and us left behind bereft.”
Mienthe gave him a distracted glance—then looked again, more carefully. “Should you be standing on that leg?”
Perceptive girl. Tan had thought his grip on his cane was subtle. Evidently not. Rather than pretend he hadn’t been leaning heavily on the cane, he smiled and said, “This leg does insist on joining me, even in locations bereft of chairs. The esteemed Iriene is not here to scold me, fortunately. I’m sure I’ll soon be seated. On a horse, unfortunately, but we all have one or another burden to bear.”
Mienthe stared at him, and then laughed—a little grudgingly, but she laughed.
“Ah, look,” Tan said, tipping his head to indicate she should turn, “here are some of those earnest young men of Geroen’s—Tenned, my friend, and how does this fine night find you?”
The young guardsman in question, in company with another of the same kind, ran an exasperated hand through his hair and then glared at Tan, perhaps mimicking Captain Geroen. “I’d thank you twice over, esteemed sir, to get into the house and out of our way.” He looked at Mienthe and added in a far more conciliatory tone, “And you, my lady, if you would be so kind.”
Tan threw an exaggerated glance around. “Anybody might be out here,” he said in a low, urgent voice. And then, speaking in a normal tone, “Unfortunately, that’s even true.” He hesitated and then looked at Mienthe. “Esteemed lady—”
“Yes,” Mienthe said, meeting his eyes. “You should leave, of course. Tenned and Keier can go with you.” She gave the two young guardsmen a stern look. Neither of them objected.
“Not north,” said Tan.
“No,” Mienthe said distractedly, and might have gone on, but a distant ringing, clashing sound cut her off. For a long moment, everyone in the stableyard stood perfectly still, listening.
“There’s fighting to the south,” Tan said, which they all knew. “And the west, of course. I’ll go east.”
Mienthe hesitated an instant and then came unexpectedly to take Tan’s hands and look seriously into his face. “Be careful, Tan. Be careful, don’t take chances, be quick, be safe! Go to my father’s house, it’s just north of Kames. Use my name—Keier, they’ll know you in Kames, won’t they? Tan—” She pressed his hands in hers and then let go. “You’ll be well. See to it that you are. You still need to write out some Linularinan court epics for me, eventually. I’ll expect it, do you hear?”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Tan said, bemused and oddly pleased. “And you, don’t take foolish risks, esteemed Mienthe. I need someone who will properly appreciate Linularinan court poetry.”
Mienthe managed a smile and then turned to run inside. Tan would not have laid odds on what Mienthe might do. Too brave for her own good, and then a deep
sense of personal responsibility… He discovered that he was personally concerned for her safety, a good deal more so than he’d have expected, and blinked in surprise.
But the young woman, and the great house, and the city entire, would likely be safer after Tan was safely away. He looked at Tenned and Keier.
“We’ll get on the road at once, esteemed sir,” said Tenned, indicating a waiting horse. “East should be safe enough, but if you’ll pardon me, I think we should hurry—”
The distant sounds of battle underscored his words.
“I suspect you’re right,” Tan agreed, and limped rapidly toward the horse one of the grooms held. He even allowed Tenned to help him mount, when ordinarily he would not lightly have let anyone see such evidence of his weakness.
But as they rode out of the stableyard, he could not help but glance back over his shoulder at the great house, defiantly lit with lanterns beside each door and lamps in each window. He wondered at which window Mienthe was standing, watching everyone ride away. She would have guardsmen all around her, and perhaps one or another servant too loyal or elderly to flee the house. Tan knew that. But somehow he pictured her standing alone, with the lamplight catching in her eyes and glowing through her wheaten hair, and the dark violent night pressing against the glass before her.