Law of the Broken Earth (4 page)

“Yes, Mie, and about you, though not right at first. I could see he’d been working around to something, but I didn’t rightly know what, and then after I knew what, I’d no idea of why. But I couldn’t see what harm it would do to answer his questions, so I told him.”

“Yes, but what did you tell him?”

“Well, the truth! That your mama died when you were
three and your father barely noticed you except when you got in his way; that Lord Beraod had a temper with a bite to it and couldn’t keep staff no matter he paid high; that you had twenty-seven nurses in six years and hardly a one worth a barley groat, much less a copper coin; and that—” He paused.

Mienthe looked at Tef wonderingly. “What?”

“Well, that I’d let you follow me about, I suppose,” Tef said gruffly. “So this man, he said Lord Bertaud, Boudan’s son, had come back to the Delta and meant to be lord here, only he needed staff, and would I want to come be a gardener at the great house? I said I wasn’t any younger now than I was then, but he said Lord Bertaud wouldn’t mind about that. And then he said the lord would be sending for you, Mie, so I gave my house to my nephew’s daughter and packed up my things, and, well, here we are.”

Mienthe thought about this. Then she asked, “But
why
did he send for me?” and waited confidently for the answer. It never occurred to her that Tef might not know.

Nor was she disappointed. Tef said briskly, “Well, that’s simple enough, I expect. You know the old lord, Lord Berdoen that was your grandfather, you know he was a terror, I suppose, and rode his twelve sons with a hard hand on the rein and whip, as they say.”

Everyone knew that. Mienthe nodded.

“Well, Lord Boudan, your cousin’s father, he had just the same cold heart and heavy hand as the old lord, so they say. Anyway, Lord Boudan, he sent his son to serve at court—that was while the old king was alive, but by all accounts, Prince Iaor liked Bertaud well and kept him
close. So even after Lord Boudan and then the old king died, Lord Bertaud didn’t come home—not but for flying visits, do you see. He’d hated his father so much he couldn’t stand any part of the Delta, is what I’d guess, and so he stayed on at court. And he still is close to the king, from what they say about this past summer: They say Iaor sent your cousin as his envoy to Casmantium after that trouble this summer, did you hear about that?”

Mienthe shook her head uncertainly, meaning that if her uncle had said anything about it at the time, either he hadn’t said it to her or she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Well, I don’t know much about it, either, but there’s been talk about it around and about the Delta because of your cousin’s being our right lord, do you see? And some folk say one thing and some another, but I guess there was some kind of problem with griffins coming over the mountains into Feierabiand early in the summer, but it all had to do with Casmantium somehow, which
that
part makes sense, I guess, since everybody knows that’s where griffins live, up there north of Casmantium. And Lord Bertaud was important in getting it all to come out right, somehow, and then the king sent him to Casmantium after it was all over, to escort the young Casmantian prince to our court as a hostage—”

“Oh!” said Mienthe, startled, and then put a hand over her mouth to show she was sorry for interrupting.

“Well, that’s what they say, though how our king made Casmantium’s king send him, I’m sure I don’t know. He must be about your age, I guess. The young prince, I mean.”

“Oh,” Mienthe said again, feeling intensely sorry for the displaced Casmantian prince. “I suppose he was
sad to leave his home and go somewhere to live with strangers?” She supposed he might even have been sorry to leave his father, too, though that required some imagination.

Tef patted her hands. “Oh, well, Mie, a boy that age might be ready for an adventure, maybe. And you know, our Safiad king’s a decent sort by all accounts. Anyway, I’ve barely seen your cousin to speak to, you know, but somehow I don’t think he’d be the sort to lend himself to anything that wasn’t right and proper.”

“He seems kind,” Mienthe whispered.

“He does that. Anyway, besides about the young prince, I heard tell of something about a wall in Casmantium, but I can’t rightly say I know what that was about, except it was about the griffins again and likely needed some kind of mageworking to build. They say the Wall is a hundred miles long and was built in a single night, but I don’t know as I believe even the greatest Casmantian makers and builders could do that. Not even with mages to help.”

Mienthe nodded.

“Well, your cousin’s no mage, but I guess he built that Wall, or maybe had it built, somehow. Whatever he did, he came out of it with honors from both the Casmantian king and our king, which you can maybe guess or else our king wouldn’t hardly have sent his own men to serve Lord Bertaud here in the Delta, would he?”

Mienthe wondered again why her cousin had come back.

“Oh, well,” said Tef, when she asked him. He paused, picking up a clump of dark earth and crumbling it thoughtfully in his fingers. “You know, Mie, I think
maybe Lord Bertaud was hurt somehow in all that mess this summer, and don’t fool yourself, if there was any kind of battle, I’m sure it was a right mess. They always are. Or maybe he was just tired out. I wonder if maybe he… well. What I think is, when it came right to it, when he found he needed a place to shut himself away from everything and just rest, somehow he found himself thinking of the Delta. It’s in his blood, after all, however hard a man his father was.”

Mienthe nodded doubtfully. “But—” she began, and then exclaimed, “Oh!” as she suddenly understood something else. “
That’s
why he dismissed all the staff here—because he’d hated his father’s house so much and didn’t want anyone here who’d been here when he was a boy! Is that why?”

“I should think so. He’s allowing the staff to reapply, but the word is, only the younger staff have a chance to come back—it’s just what you said, he doesn’t want anyone here who reminds him of those bad years. And that’s why he sent for you, do you see, Mie? Because he saw you in your uncle Talenes’s house and you reminded him of himself, that’s what I expect happened, and he decided to rescue you just as the king once rescued him.”

“Yes…” Mienthe said softly. She could see this was true, that it must be true. Her heart tried to rise up and sink both at once. From being afraid that she would not be able to please her cousin and that he would send her back, she found herself afraid that she would not be able to please him and that he would be disappointed in her. Her famous, important cousin might not be sorry he had rescued her, but he would be sorry he had rescued
her
. That he had not found a girl who was clever and pretty
and graceful—someone he could be proud of having rescued. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she rubbed her sleeve fiercely across her eyes—she never cried, and here she was weeping twice in an hour!

In an hour. Mienthe jumped to her feet and said, “He said half an hour!” and then she
really
wanted to cry, because here she had barely arrived at the great house and already she was letting her cousin see how careless and stupid she was—

“Hush, Mie, it’ll all be well,” Tef promised her, patting her foot because he couldn’t reach her shoulder. “Do you think he didn’t know we’d get to talking? Hand me my crutch, there’s a sweet girl, and don’t cry.”

If you are a little delayed, no one will mind
, her cousin had said, Mienthe remembered, so maybe Tef was right. She tried to smile, but still said anxiously, “But we should hurry. To the—to the staff hall, he said.”

“The staff hall it is, then,” Tef agreed, climbing laboriously to his feet.

Six years later

T
iefenauer, largest town of all the wide Delta, was a place of broad streets and ancient cypresses and swamp oaks. Wooden boardwalks lay beside all the important streets, allowing passersby to keep out of the winter mud that sometimes flooded even over the cobbles. Deep drainage channels ran underneath the boardwalks, so that only the greatest storms of spring and fall would flood the town. Even so, winter and spring and fall were the seasons when Tiefenauer bustled with energy and life.

In the summer, when the days grew long and the air hung motionless and heavy, the town became as somnolent as the air. Flowers of purple and red tumbled from every balcony, and it seemed that every house in Tiefenauer had at least one balcony. Fat bumblebees hummed placidly among the flowers, and all the people of Tiefenauer hung out little pots of sugar water to attract
the large purple-backed hummingbirds, and the little red-throated ones, to their balconies. Larger birds darted among the branches of the great trees and nested in the streamers of moss that festooned them.

Years ago, Tan had lived in Tiefenauer for one long, lazy summer that stood out, jewel-bright, in his memory. He wished fervently that it was summer now. The Delta was seldom so terribly cold, but it surely seemed cold enough. He knelt, shaking and half frozen, in the dirty straw of his cell, and tried not to laugh. There was nothing the least amusing in his situation, except that it was so utterly, perfectly ludicrous.

He said to the prison guard—a brawny young man with broad shoulders, big hands, and, currently, an expression of grim distaste, “I suppose everyone begs you to carry messages to their friends and promises rewards for the favor. But does everyone ask you to take a message to the lord himself? Not even a message. Just a name. I swear to you, he’ll know that name. I swear to you, he’ll want to see me. He
must
see me. It’s—”

“Desperately important, I know,” interrupted the young guard. He gave a scornful, uneasy jerk of his head. “Of course it is. But they’re busy up in the great house. Anyway, it’s against the rules. That’s enough for me! Do you think I want to be stuck down in this pit forever? I’ll warn you, though, don’t trouble offering a bribe to Jer when he comes on duty. He’ll take your money and give you nothing for it.”

“If I had anything to bribe either of you with, I’d risk it,” Tan assured the young man. “Unfortunately, all I can offer is a promise that if you take my name up to the great house, you’ll not remain a prison guard.”

“Because I’ll be a prisoner myself?” the guard said, not quite as naive as he looked. “Indeed, I would be in your debt, esteemed sir. I said, it’s against the rules.” He half turned, preparing to go on with his rounds.

Tan longed to pound his hands against the floor and shout. But it wouldn’t help, and anyway he was too tired. He made himself speak softly instead. “Well, I’m sure that’s a comfort to you. When I’m found murdered in this cell, I hope you will wonder how far you are responsible. But you won’t need to reproach yourself, will you? You’ll know you followed the
rules
.”

The guard turned back, frowning. “I think you’re safe enough in our keeping.”

Tan laughed out loud. “You think, what? That I’m some thief or common thug? I’m asking you, begging you, to take my name to the Lord of the Delta himself, and you think I’m a
thief
? Is that what you think?”

The young guard opened his mouth, shut it again, turned his back, gave Tan an unsettled look over his shoulder, and walked out. The door slammed behind him with disheartening finality, leaving Tan alone in the dark and cold. Tan pressed his hands over his eyes. Perhaps a little less sarcasm, a little more humility? If he had not learned a measure of humility tonight, he surely never would.

He eased himself back to sit against the wall. The stone was dry enough, but cold. It seemed to suck the warmth right out of his bones. After a moment he hunched away from it and huddled into the straw. The window of his cell admitted, at the moment, nothing past its bars more alarming than the chill air of earliest spring and little curls of mist. Tan wondered how long it would
take for Linularinan agents to track him to this cell. How they would laugh, to find him so stupidly trapped, and by his own people! And then someone would throw a poison dart through that window or, much worse, bribe the prison guards to release him into their hands. And after that…

It was appalling that only the basic integrity of a young prison guard who didn’t break the rules might protect him from his enemies. He knew, of course, that no such integrity could possibly protect him well enough.

The outer door swung back suddenly, letting in the bright swinging light of lanterns and the heavy tread of boots. Tan straightened, then got to his feet and tried to look intelligent and at least somewhat respectable. The young guard had come back, and with him was the officer of the watch: a powerful man with a harsh, brutal face.