Law of the Broken Earth: The Griffin Mage Trilogy: Book Three

by Neumeier, Rachel

  “He can’t walk on that,” Geroen said to one of his men, oblivious of or indifferent to Mienthe’s interest in the things the Linularinan spymaster had abandoned. “You and Sepes, carry him. Jump to it, now, do you think we’ve got all year for this?”

  “Wait—” Tan began, nodding toward the table.

  “Shut up!” Geroen ordered curtly. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? I’ll give you a hint for free! Not near as much as there’ll be if we’re caught this side of the river. Keier—”

  “Tan, can you…” Mienthe looked at him in concern, her voice trailing off. She closed the book again and tucked it back in the abandoned satchel, so that was all right. And she began to collect the inks and quills as well. The instincts of a spy, Tan thought, to take away anything odd for later perusal at leisure. He was almost amused despite the brutal circumstances, but he was glad to see someone had the right impulse, since Geroen clearly did not.

  “I’m well, I’m well,” Tan assured Mienthe, through his teeth because he had to choke back a groan of pain as he tried to take a step. The attempt proved ill-advised. “You have that book safe, all those things?”

  “Yes—”

  “You, and you.” Captain Geroen pointed a thick finger at two of his men. “Get him up and out. Lady, if you will, this is not the time to dither about looking at—Did you find anyone?” he interrupted himself to demand as some of his men reemerged from the far gloomy reaches of the barn. And, to the reluctant shakes of their heads, “Too much to expect, I suppose. Lady—”

  Mienthe said meekly to Geroen, “Yes, Captain, of course. Is everyone here? Wasn’t there any sign of the, um, the men who…”

  “Nothing but shadows and starlight as far as we could see,” said one of the men who’d gone after Istierinan. He added a little defensively, “Once they were out of this building, there were a thousand places to hide, and there’s not much moon tonight.”

  “It’s not likely a lot of Delta guardsmen off the streets will find Istierinan Hamoddian or his men,” Tan put in. “Those weren’t some petty street-thugs, Geroen. That was the Linularinan spymaster. He might have been struck by an arrow, but those men he had won’t be fools. Although you might have taken them by surprise, you aren’t likely to take them up now.”

  Geroen grunted, scowling at any possible excuses. But he didn’t order his people after Istierinan, either. He said instead, “Nor I wouldn’t want to. Last thing we need here, another spy! You men, get our spy out of that chair. Our way’s still clear, is it, Jerren?”

  Tan wondered, briefly, what kind of animal Jerren bespoke. Something that could see in the dark, presumably. Rats? Owls? But then the two young men the captain had assigned to him lifted him up and he lost all interest in any questions other than How far to the river? and How long till I can lie down? and, impolite but honest doubt: So do you have a half-skilled healing mage anywhere in Tiefenauer?

  The barn proved to be set to one side of an abandoned farmyard, not far from a decrepit house. A stretch of briars and poison ivy and other coarse brush indicated an abandoned pasture, and a timber fence in ill-repair outlined a rutted gravel road. It was not quite raining, but heavily overcast, with a fine mist blowing on the wind.

  A lot of horses came up out of the brush. In the dark, the sound of their hooves crunching through the undergrowth took at least a year or two off Tan’s life, until he managed at last to make out their riderless state. Strangely, the animals moved all together, not one straying away from the herd—ah. Of course some of Geroen’s men would be able to speak to horses; living in Linularinum, Tan had become less accustomed to everyone and his cousin having that sort of gift, but there was a lot of Feierabianden blood in the Delta.

  “You can’t hardly ride with that leg,” Geroen began.

  “I’d rather ride than walk, and I’d drag myself along by my teeth to get out of this place,” Tan assured him. “Just get me up on a horse and I’ll stay there, I promise you.”

  Though this claim was true in its essentials, getting up into the saddle of even the most patient beast proved even less entertaining in practice than Tan had envisioned. But he was up at last, and they were all moving.

  Tan had opted to allow his bad leg to hang loose rather than try to get his foot into the stirrup. Now he rapidly decided that had been a mistake—though he knew any other decision would have been just as agonizing—yes, and falling off would be even worse, though at the moment, even worse was something of a theoretical construct. He braced himself against swirling dizziness with a hand on the pommel and tried not to scream or sob or throw up, all bad for his reputation as well as inconvenient when trying to run away.

  He’d have liked to sink into blind misery and just endure while Geroen’s men got him home. In fact, he rather felt that he deserved to. He could hardly kick his horse to get it up beside Geroen’s, but when the captain came past him, he managed to gather enough shards of control and rationality to ask, “How far to the border? What do you figure are the chances of meeting the wrong sort of patrol between here and there? Are these all the men you have?” There were nineteen men, Tan knew, some distant part of his mind having made an automatic count. Nineteen men and Bertaud’s little cousin. Not the sort of force he could quite imagine facing down, say, a company of regular Linularinan soldiers under Istierinan’s command. Even if they had any right to try, which they arguably didn’t, on this side of the river.

  “Not far,” Geroen said briefly. “But too far, if we run into the wrong sort of trouble. Can you canter?” He gave Tan a close look. “Never mind! Even a trot would have you off in a trice, a blind crow at midnight could see that.”

  Tan could hardly deny it. He wondered just where Istierinan might have got to, and with whom, and in command of what resources. And just what their chances were of finding out the answers to all those questions. Far too good, he feared.

  Mienthe rode over. Even in the dark, anyone could see that she was tense, excited, worried, determined, very young, and, most of all, decidedly female. Why, why, why had Geroen brought her? If they did encounter any regular Linularinan soldiers, it would be blazingly obvious she was somebody important. The Linularinan authorities would have every reason to believe the Delta had deliberately sent her to lend formal authority to some nefarious purpose, and what would Bertaud say if they got his cousin taken up by enemy soldiers on the wrong side of the river?

  But she was still self-possessed, and she still had the leather satchel over her shoulder, Tan was relieved to see. She said, to Tan but mostly addressing Geroen, “Tan, I’ll get up behind you.” Then, as the captain began to protest, “No, it only makes sense! I’m the only one here light enough to let the horse carry two at speed, and I can keep him from falling. Then we can make better time, and if you only have one horse to guard rather than two, won’t that simplify everything in case of, well, in case?”

  It would, unquestionably. Though Tan also had an uncomfortable vision of the horse stumbling at some unforgiving moment, with both of them falling, to yield twice the disaster they’d otherwise face. Even so…

  “Over you get, then,” Geroen said gruffly. Tan couldn’t tell whether he was also suffering from a too-vivid imagination. He sounded ill-tempered enough either way.

  Mienthe slid across from her horse to Tan’s without even dismounting. She sat close behind him, her thighs bracing his, her small hands firm on his hips. He immediately felt much more secure in the saddle. The horse’s gait smoothed out as it, too, recognized the steadiness of its second rider. Under other circumstances, Tan would have enjoyed having the girl behind him. He tried to think of an appropriate quotation for this sort of situation—he knew there was one—but the agony radiating from his knee not only ruined his memory but also ensured, very decisively, that he’d be thinking no impure thoughts about Lord Bertaud’s cousin.

  Geroen waved, and the horse lunged forward into a canter along a road they could only barely see; one had to just trust the horses knew
where they were putting their feet. “It’s not far to the river,” Mienthe said to Tan. She didn’t quite shout, although nervous excitement made her speak much more loudly than necessary. That was as well, as Tan was tending to lose words and phrases among the waves of pain that beset him.

  Tan was certain they would find a company of Linularinan soldiers between them and the river, yet they met no one. This astonished him, until he remembered Istierinan falling with an arrow in his back. They passed half a handful of travelers on the road, so they would be remembered, but Tan could not bring himself to care. They found no one waiting when they finally waded out of the marshes proper and into the mud at the river’s edge, which was his sole concern.

  “There’s a ford?” Tan muttered when he’d realized they’d stopped. He squinted blearily out across the wide expanse of water. For all the sluggish current, the river looked deep here. The water looked like pewter in the dim light, stark angular silhouettes of cypress knees black against the slow-moving glimmer.

  Then he watched incredulously as one clumsy but solid-looking rowboat and then another were drawn out of the hidden darkness behind the cypress knees. All that way along the road and then through the marshes, and they’d come out at the riverbank just where the rowboats had been hidden? His opinion of Geroen, already fairly solid, rose another notch.

  And he was very, very glad there were boats. Though he was not entirely certain he would be able to make it down from this horse without collapsing into unconsciousness and then into the black swamp mud. Drowning in a foot of water! There would be a stupid death. Though, no, of course, he realized muzzily. Mienthe was right behind him. She would drag him out… A guardsman reached up to help Tan down, and he found he’d been right about at least one thing: Black unconsciousness was indeed waiting for him. The last thing he was aware of was Mienthe’s sharp exclamation of dismay as she snatched at his arm.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mienthe had been frightened from the moment she’d realized that Tan was missing and that, with Bertaud gone, she was the only one who could possibly order a raid to get him back. But she had not been utterly terrified until she realized she had actually managed to persuade Geroen not only to obey that command, but to take her with him.

  Then, once they were committed, Mienthe had been terrified she’d lose her sense of Tan’s position and that she wouldn’t be able to find him after all. She was terrified they’d run into a Linularinan patrol and have to either run or fight, neither option at all desirable. She was terrified they’d find Tan and be unable to get him back, or find he’d already been killed. Right at the end, before they’d found the barn, she’d even thought that she might just be wrong about what she thought she knew. The conviction that she knew Tan’s position was very strong, but once that doubt had occurred to her, it had crept persistently about in the back of her mind no matter how she tried to ignore it.

  But then they had found Tan after all, and there hadn’t been a lot of Linularinan soldiers, and Tan had still been alive—though what had been done to him was brutal, and getting away again was a nightmare.

  Then Mienthe had been terrified they’d be caught by Linularinan troops after all, or guardsmen, or spies, or whoever had been in that barn with Tan. But then they’d found the boats, and Tan had fainted, which made getting him across the river much less awful, even though by that time the mist had changed to a cold and very unpleasant drizzle.

  And no one had tried to stop them, which amazed Mienthe. She suspected Geroen was also astonished at how lucky they’d been, though he was so gruff it was hard to tell. She was still amazed she’d managed to persuade him that yes, really, she did know where Tan was, but no, she couldn’t explain it to anybody else. But when she’d insisted, instead of ignoring her, Geroen had said, in an extremely neutral tone, “Well, lady, I hadn’t heard you’d gone for a mage, but it could be useful now and no mistake.”

  Mienthe couldn’t believe she really might be developing mage power and she was a little ashamed of letting Geroen think she was. But she certainly hadn’t tried to stop his arranging the raid. And she’d agreed with him about informing the queen—or at least, she’d agreed with him that the queen shouldn’t be informed. Mienthe hadn’t wanted to argue with Niethe or her royal guardsmen, and neither, apparently, had Geroen. Instead, they’d agreed that they should move fast. And they had, so fast they’d very nearly got to Tan before his Linularinan enemies had got him across the river. But not quite.

  But to Mienthe’s intense gratitude, the captain hadn’t quit even then, but had instead pulled success right out of the teeth of looming defeat.

  Now they were back in Feierabiand and it wasn’t even dawn yet, which seemed incredible. She supposed Bertaud and the king must be most of the way to Sihannas by now, and knew nothing at all about what had happened to Tan or what she had done, which seemed in a way even more incredible.

  Tan was more or less conscious again, which was unfortunate. Mienthe, riding in the cart next to him, flinched every time the cart jarred across an uneven cobblestone. Tan himself seemed beyond flinching for anything so minor. It had nearly stopped raining, but it was still impossible to tell whether the moisture beading on his face was rain or tears. Mienthe thought Tan was definitely due his share of tears, all things considered.

  But there was the great house at last. Unfortunately, the house wasn’t waiting for them quietly, as Mienthe had expected and hoped. The lanterns, set high on their tall poles, blazed through the gardens and before every door. Lamps glowed in every window, and the main doors stood wide open to the chill darkness of the streets, and there were Delta guardsmen and royal soldiers everywhere.

  Captain Geroen set his jaw, not quite looking at Mienthe where she sat in the cart. “Her Majesty got it out of my officers where we’d gone, I suppose.”

  Biting her lip, Mienthe nodded. Geroen was right. Queen Niethe must have found out where they’d gone, and even if she approved the result of what they’d done, she might be really angry at their lack of… finesse. Even if she wasn’t, she would certainly tell King Iaor all about it. Possibly worse, either Niethe or the king would unquestionably tell Bertaud.

  But she said optimistically, trying to sound firm and decisive, “This is the Delta, and her Majesty isn’t the Lady of the Delta. With Bertaud gone, I am. He said so.” She hesitated. That had sounded firm, hadn’t it? She wished she felt the truth of the statement with half that firmness. But she continued, “So if I approved our, um, raid, then even the queen hasn’t anything to say about it. Or not much.” But she couldn’t help but add, “I think.”

  “Huh,” said Geroen, clearly not reassured.

  “I had hoped she wouldn’t find out,” Mienthe admitted in a smaller voice. “I suppose she’ll tell Iaor. And Bertaud.”

  “I suppose she will,” Geroen agreed glumly, clearly not looking forward to facing her cousin. “Likely your lord cousin will break me right back to prison guard when he finds out about this. If he doesn’t toss me in a cell myself.”

  Mienthe shook her head, though privately she wondered whether Geroen might be right. If they’d been clever and quick enough, they would have recovered Tan before the Linularinan spymaster had got him across the bridge. Then they wouldn’t have needed to charge off through the marshes and across the river on a wild and completely illegal raid of their own. Bertaud might be really furious, especially with Geroen, because the captain had let her come on the raid.

  Mienthe said stubbornly, “Linularinum started it. And I had to go along, or we’d never have managed. Besides, by the time he finds out, it’ll be so long ago, maybe… Anyway, we did get Tan back. And we didn’t get caught.”

  “Both matters of the greatest importance,” Tan put in from the bottom of the cart, not opening his eyes. His voice was barely audible, but his tone had recovered a thread of mocking humor. “Be a pity to stop here and let all that effort go to waste.”

  Geroen grunted a laugh, signaled the cart’s driver to stop, swung o
ff his horse, and offered Mienthe a hand down from the cart.

  The queen, followed by a scattering of staff and servants, came out the open doors at just that moment. She stood for a moment, staring at them. Then she came down the steps and made her way over to the cart. The queen took Mienthe’s hand, to her immense relief seeming not so furious after all. Her pretty mouth set as her glance encompassed Tan’s pale, pain-drawn face.

  “A smashed knee,” Geroen said briefly, not quite meeting the queen’s eyes.

  “I’d never have lived through the night if not for this rescue,” Tan managed in his thread of a voice. Mienthe hoped the queen would remember to mention that to her husband, as well as the rest.

  “I asked for your staff to send for a mage skilled in healing as soon as I understood where you’d gone,” Queen Niethe told Mienthe. She touched Tan’s throat, then his forehead. She frowned down at him. “Already fevered—well, the mage will see you right, and for that I’m truly grateful.” She turned to wave at the hovering servants.

  Iriene was the only mage in Tiefenauer skilled in healing, and she was in fact skilled at no other kind of magecraft. But she was a very skillful healer indeed. Folk came from all over the Delta to see her. Mienthe had seen Iriene repair a terribly broken elbow once when one of the upper-house maids’ child had fallen out of a window; she could surely fix Tan’s knee. And the queen had already sent for her. A tension Mienthe hadn’t quite realized she’d felt eased.