"They are not just a fairytale," Rianor said, quietly. "And yes, if Houses will suffer because of whatever the Bers choose to do with this, Qynnsent will be one of the first, together with Laurent. Not Waltraud, even if the danger might be by their bordersa"for a part of my news is that they have a Ber of their own. Another piece of news is that the Bers now have Waltraud-independent reasons to hate me."

"Besidesa"" Desmond looked at Rianor for permission to speak, unsure if Rianor had said all he wanted to say.

"Besides, we did not pay much attention to this, but we in Qynnsent were allocated to buy a smaller amount of flour than usual this past autumn. The Bers gave us less than usual."

"Yes." This from Mathilda. "I have been making inquiries. It is not only us, it is mostly everyone. And it is not for lack of grain. All of Qynnsent, Waltraud, Laurent, and Iglika sold more grain than usual this last autumn, and so did Kadisha and Maeron from Dobria Province."

The four Balkaene Houses usually produced sixty percent of Mierenthia's grain, the two Dobria ones providing another twenty.

"High Lord," Desmond said, swallowing. Desmond was paler now, shadows evident beneath his eyes. Desmond must be very tired and in physical pain, Rianor suddenly realized. Strangely, he felt fine himself.

"High Lord, had I known yesterday what I know today, I would not have left you alone in the stables. Do me a favor, will you? Stop sending Robert away and wandering alone as you are apt to do. Or, no, Robert is just a manservant, that will no longer be enough. You should always have guards with you. Why is it now, of all times, that there is a former-n.o.ble Ber, and a Waltraud on top of that? I only know of three or four such other cases for more than seven hundred years of history. I thought she was dead."

"So did her family."

Rianor stared at a candle. "Or else they were very good actors. And I know that most n.o.bles area"but Donald isn't. And I am wondering if the Bers would, after all, benefit House Waltraud. You saw what they did to Merlevine when she saw Donald."

"Perhaps only Donald didn't know about her. Perhaps all of the rest, herself included, were good actors."

"Perhaps. It is so little that we know, of anything."

"In any case, there is a House that the Waltrauds hate even more than they hate us, and you have been told just which lady almost bled to death onto you yesterday, haven't you? Which lady's life you so obviously saved?"

"Mabelle of Laurent."

"Yes, High Lord Maurice's wife, whose son Merlevine of Waltraud murdered. Armand, the First Counselor of Laurent, sent a message of friendship to me today. I think the High Lord will send one personally to you. They owe us now. We should use this; we should see what information we can get from them, and if needed, what help."

"Excuse me?" That was Linden, who had been silent for some time. "Would you mind telling us what happened yesterday?"

Her eyes were too bright on her pale cheeks, and her good hand was cradling the bandaged one. She tried to standa"and sat back, her face paler and her eyes brighter. "Rianor, the rest of us might be of some help if we knew what exactly you two were talking about."

Well, it was true, Rianor had not yet told his own story. Linden, at least, might be of help, and of course Mathilda and Master Keitaro might, even though Rianor did not expect the old master to necessarily talk now. He often gave his help when least expected. As for the other women, Nan already knew the story, for she had heard it last night while caring for Desmond, and Rianor did not expect much help from Inni or Jenelly. Those two were only at Council because all lords and ladies of a House must be.

Right now Jenelly's face had acquired the greenish tint she'd had in the elevatora"even the partial news must have been too much for hera"and Inni was embroidering as if she had not heard anything, her fingers nimble, her face calm. Why did Rianor not simply send those two to sleep? Nan, too, come to think of it, for tonight she was too silent and shocked.

Why did he have to deal with them?

The answer to this question came a few minutes later, after he had told of his Fireheart experiences (leaving what had happened before and after that for later). It was Inni who reacted first, suddenly raising her head from that cloth of hers.

"What you say is impossible, my lord" she declared at Rianor's prompting look, her voice calm and quiet. "A holy temple's windows cannot be broken, for they are crafted with Magic even stronger than that of unbreakable gla.s.s. Unbreakable gla.s.s will become breakable, in time, but the Master himself has blessed the holy windows. The holy stone walls, too, will never crumble. "

Then she bent over her embroidery again, her eyes yet again unfocused. Her fingers had not stopped working.

"Wretch it," Linden whispered beside her.

Well, yes, things were wretched. Especially if Innia"Master-devoted, embroidering Inni who had no interests and questions inside hera"would know something so important, and Rianor would not.

But perhaps she knew it because she was Master-devoted. She had not had a reason to fight the knowledge. For her it was naught but one of all the ingrained, unquestioned truths, which she did not understand and thus did not truly know. Rianor, on the other hand, must have thoughtfully rejected this to be truth long agoa"and thus forgotten it.

Right now he wondered which one of them was the greater fool.

Not only a Magic-wielding apprentice, then, but also a Magic-wielding master. Or, alternatively, temple Magic that had failed.

Or, Magic that was fake. Rianor already had his doubts about that temple. Had anyone tried to purposely break temple windows before him at all? You could do it with normal unbreakable gla.s.s if you tried hard enough.

At least, he could.

"They did not take you, thank the Master. Oh, my boy, they let you go."

Nan had spoken for the first time in many minutes, her voice full of tears, even though her eyes were dry.

"My boy, they don't take n.o.bles, usuallya"and yet they took that Waltraud girl last year. She is sharp, that one, from the inside, like a knife. I have seen her. I attended lady Eleora during the girl's Symbols, twelve years ago, and I heard the girl's screams even in the servants' hall when she hit little Orlin of Iglika and rendered him unconscious. The boy had hurt her, the girl claimed, but lady Eleora said that he had simply shown his watch, never touched her. Everyone thought the incident arranged by the High Lord of Waltraud, and yet ... I am not surprised that one such as her would commit murder."

Or one such as me, Rianor thought, but said nothing.

"And there is something I must tell you all." Nan sighed. "This girl has great Magic. Otherwise, she would not have survived."

"Survived ... what?" This from Linden, a tentative question.

After a long pause Nan sighed again, herself staring at a candle. "I will tell you this, too. But first tell me, Lind, do you know where new Bers come from?"

"Yes, I know. It is possible to get the information, even though it is not widely publicized. They raise babies, but not their own, for they are all celibate. They take others' babies but never n.o.ble ones and only sometimes those of middle-cla.s.s commoners. Usually it is poor or unwanted babies they take, those who would not be truly missed. In this, at least, the Bers are considerate."

Linden was silent now. Rianor looked at her and then at Nan.

"They say that this is not doing the babies a favor," he said, "so that fools won't go freely offering their children to be Bers. They say that a Magical life is a hard life, and life committed to serving the Master's world. No one sees the babies again until they have become Bersa"and not all of them do become Bers. Of course, the Bers say that the only safe way to grow Magic in a person is for this person to be raised as a Ber, by Bers. That if Magic somehow grows outside of this system, it is wild Magic, aberrant and perilous. Which, exactly, was the Magic I sought."

He saw Linden shift uncomfortably at this, but then she controlled herself.

Nan did not notice, her eyes still on the candle. "Yes, my boy, and this, too, is the Magic they destroy." She was listening, at least. "Unless it is Magic too stronga"unless it is Fire Magic and strong enough to make it worthy for them to take it. They burn people. Yes, my lady Jen, they do."

She waited a moment for Jenelly to stifle her gasps. "They do not even cook them like food, but burn them alive and uncleansed, and with open fire. Whatever that is. I have never seen it and never wish to. But even though the Bers would not cleanse their victims before burning, they would heal them if they were too sick or wounded. The Bers prefer burning strong, healthy people; I do not know if the reason is to give those people a better, minuscule as it is, chance for survival, or if it is to make them suffer longer. Some Bers can heal, and some of those can heal even better than Master Healers; only the Commanders of Life and Death have skills that those Bers lack."

Nan sighed. "All this is information that, but for the Bers themselves, only Mentors and Master Healers know. And, but for the Bers themselves, only Commanders of Life and Death ever see the aftermath of a Ber burning.

"Few people are ever burned. It is only those who show signs of wild Magic, as well as some unforgivable criminals. Sometimes, some of them survive. That Waltraud girl must have survived burning. She must be stronga"and the Bers must have known it. A n.o.ble murderer would usually go to prison, often a comfortable one. n.o.ble crimes are more easily forgiven than the crimes of othersa"or were. Rianor, my boy, I have already told you all the secrets of Master Healers who are not Commanders, all the secrets I know. Only a few rituals are left, but I will tell them to you, too, later."

She looked haggard as she said it; it must have been a difficult decision for her. Rianor was grateful to her for it, but he was also irritated. It had taken her so long to decide. Her doubts had taken valuable time that could have been focused on solving the problems at hand.

Why was it so hard for humans to concentrate on the task at hand? Humans were so difficult to work with. Despite all that Rianor thought and felt about Bers, at some moments he could understand why Bers and Mentorsa"or anyonea"would want to control humans' thinking.

"I see, Nan. Thank you for telling me this. I remember now that the last time when there were n.o.ble Bers was just before the Great Fire in Year 400a"when, indeed, the Bers were so weak that they almost let Mierber itself burn. What you have just told us confirms what we already suspected. The Bers need all the power they can get."

"They have never taken High Rulers, my boy. And yet ..."

No, of course they would not take High Rulers. They must be truly desperate to go to such an extent of stupidity. Besides, what reason would they come up with? High Rulers already had Magic of their own. Magic was thrust upon a High Ruler's shoulders.

What, after all, were the Aetarx, and why did the Bers, otherwise so jealous of all things Magic, not take care of them themselves? Why did they need High Rulers, and why was the position hereditary? Nothing else in Mierenthia, but for n.o.bility itself, was. A First Counselor's first child would become a n.o.ble but not necessarily a First Counselor; a Healer's first child would not necessarily become a Healer.

And why had they not taken Linden? She had been just a commoner at that well.

Because of the Waltraud girl.

Now Rianor knew who the female Ber had been, the one who had filled everyone's bucket with fire with naught but a glance. The male Ber had been a bully; he had abused Linden while she was weak but had not known how to react to his victim's own outburst. The woman, however, had been, as Nan had put it, as sharp as a knifea"and she had taken the man away.

Why?

And ... Rianor looked at his apprentice. She was still cradling her hand, a frown splitting her forehead. She was deep in thought, but had she thought of what Rianor just had?

These days, the Bers also took n.o.bles.

Rianor would take her out of the House only if very strictly necessary.

She was what her parents had refused to become. She was a prisoner of Qynnsent.

Rianor

Night 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 The danger that the Bers expected must come from Balkaene, the Council decided. It was a strange province, their Balkaene, perhaps because it lay so close to the only Edge that reprobates or fools could reach, perhaps for other reasons. It was a fact that, even though eighty percent of Mierenthia's grain was grown in Balkaene, fifty years after the introduction of the larger, more productive and more efficient Factory Farms, Balkaene only had two of thema"and they provided less than half of Balkaene's yield.

The rest of the production came from the lands of individual peasants and the communal lands of villages, all under the jurisdiction of one of the four Houses, all owing their yield to the respective House in exchange for some money and the periodic services of Master Growers, Butchers and other Crafters, as well as Mentors, Militia, infrastructure, and the protection provided by armies. The armies belonged to the Houses themselves. As for the rest, the Houses contracted them from their respective governing bodies, such as Head Mentor, Central Militia Headquarters, or Growers or Butchers Guild. The fees for all services were regulated by the Bers, and sometimes there were no fees at all, when the Bers subsidized the respective governing body directly from taxes.

This system was indeed similar to what was true for other provinces and Houses. Or what had been true. In the last fifty years the direct dependency between a House and its villages had somewhat lessened in other places. The Bers would pay a House for locating a Factory, a Mill, a Mine, or a Factory Farm on the House's land. Officially the products would still be considered to come from that House, but the Bers would employ Master Crafters and regular citizens and villagers directly, by themselves, without relying on the n.o.bles. In addition, most people would be employed in those places and few would be left to work on individual lands.

That was for the better, everyone knew. It was dangerous to work the land directly, or even to produce whatever a Master Crafter would physically produce with her or his Craft without the protective environment of the Mill, Farm, Mine, or Factory. Besides, n.o.bles still received income from the Ber Factories and Factory derivatives located on their own lands. The n.o.bles were allowed to trade with a part of the production, and the Bers paid directly for the rest of it.

Fifty years ago the world had been different, but it had worked as it had only because people had not known better. People had not had canned food and had not had so many and so good clothes and shoes, and furniture, and what not fifty years agoa"or fire so warm and abundant. Progress and industrialization was a blessing for everyone (except perhaps for wretches, but no one knew for certain what it was that Bers made them do).

And why would anyone care about what the system was or had been? Why would people wonder about anything if their lives were clean and comfortable, their duties straightforward, and everything else taken care of? Even Rianor had not much thought of where the food he ate and the fabric for his clothes came from.

Now, he wondered, when the world was suddenly not stable any longer. Now, he asked why Balkaene did not have a single Mill built even though the old mills were long ago destroyed, and Balkaene had to send the grain at least two hundred kilometers away. Or, now he wondered why the Sunset Lands in the Northwest had many Mills but no Metal Factories, even though they grew no grain. The Bers paid House Fredelbert and the others to have Mines on their lands, to get something from the mountains that was supposedly used to make metal.

And why was it that peasants could own animals in Balkaene just like they owned land, and why was it the peasants themselves who were cowherds, pig keepers, shepherds and such, needing naught else for this but periodic Master Crafters' rites and Mentors' blessings. Elsewhere, these days animals for food were only raised in Factory Farms. Or why bother with raising food animals in Balkaene at all, when there were so few of them there compared to those in Mierenthia's central parts and the Northlands.

Why could Balkaene peasants drive donkey carts by themselves?

Why did Balkaeneber City only have two Factories while other cities had many?

Cities were different from the rural parts of the provinces, and it had been the cities that were industrialized first. Even now, it was only the cities that supported running water and fire for commoners; at least, they had supported running fire and water when the pipes had worked.

Rustic places, on the other hand, had never stopped relying exclusively on wells.

Ber influence had been more direct in cities than in rural places even before the industrialization. Even then, the Bers had appointed the City Executives and the higher-ranked Mentors and Militia directly, and they had always had to ratify Crafter Guild leaders, even if those were chosen by their peers.

The Guilds, in turna"with the ritually-prescribed help of Mentors and Bers at certain times of the yeara"worked with common citizens. They taught them, employed them, promoted them in their professions, and so forth. The n.o.bles did have dwellings in the cities, but they did not have duties in the citiesa"and the Bers had built their city Factories first, before directly intruding with them and the Farms and Mines and Mills into the n.o.bles' own lands.

Perhaps this intrusion was not about food and production only, Rianor suddenly thought. The existence of Factories and such on n.o.bles' lands did make it more awkward for n.o.bles to attack others' lands with armies. Would n.o.bles truly have abstained from fighting for a whole hundred years if the Factories and Farms and Mines and Mills had not existed for fifty of those?

In any case, Balkaene was not like other provinces. It was more backwards than other places, and wilder. Superst.i.tions, too, grew more freely and were tolerated more easily in Balkaene.

Perhaps there was a reason.

"Balkaene must be a weak spot for the Bers," Rianor told his Council. "Besides, I have wondered before and now I am wondering even more: why have the Bers never claimed Balkaene's Edge? It, too, could be a fertile piece of land, for all we know. Why have they not pushed 'the land of the Lost Ones,' as they call it, further away?

"Because they cannot, I think. And Balkaene itself, so close to this place and separated from the rest of Mierenthia by mountains and a narrow pa.s.s, is difficult for them to manage. I am starting to think that Balkaene itself is not an Edge only because it is needed for food.

" 'Edges are creeping closer,' the red-robed Ber woman told me yesterday. Yesterday, I thought it was all empty Ber words, words without substance but that of molding human minds into a shape of Bers' choosing."

"But you do not think so today," someone said.

He did not.

Qynnsent would fortify their lands in Balkaene and increase the size and the training of their armies. n.o.ble House armies had been token armies in the last hundred years; the Bers had wanted it so, had even made laws about it. Rianor knew how woefully unprepared his people would be for an actual fight.

But how did a House fight against Bessove? Or against Bers.

They would fight with what the High Lord had been planning to gain even before planning to fighta"with knowledge.

They would seek Master Millers, for a start. These were all employed in the Mills now and their old, pre-Factory mills were destroyed, but perhaps in the times to come access to such people would still be useful. Besides, Qynnsent's people in Balkaene would try to learn about Bessove as much as possible, and Qynnsent should also learn what they could about the Bers; this was not just a High Lord's whim any more. And they should learn about the symbols in their own House. What did the symbols mean? Could they perhaps be used by non-Bers? Besides, Rianor had found Linden ...

Rianor started explaining about the symbols first, and then he would tell the others about Linden and about Dimna. Unfortunately, Nan did not know much more about Dimna and Commanders than he himself knew or could figure out. She had earlier told him that the terrible price Commanders paid was that sometimes when the Trial was invoked their patients would not heal but die, and that Commanders, like High Rulers, slowly succ.u.mbed to madness.

Rianor sighed and ran his hands along his temples. The headache was coming back. He could not feel the Aetarx at all now, and yet the weight of being the High Lord had suddenly become greater than before.

Linden was still standing close to him as he was showing one of the shower heads and its writing, and now she leaned to look at it closer. Then, she shifted her eyes to Rianor's face and he caught her hand without truly intending to.

His tiredness melted. She wavered.

Rianor jerked his hand back, pushing her almost roughly away. She sat, fell rather, into a chair, her hands trembling, her breaths short and ragged.

"Eat again," Rianor snapped at her. "Now."

She looked as if she wanted to defy him but could not find the strength. He risked approaching her close enough to force a mouthful of bread between her lips and the rest of the loaf into her hand. Then he pulled back, his own hands feeling like trembling.

What had she done, the fool? Or, what had he done to her?

Rianor realized it now. Earlier, she had gone through the Dedication rite and he had truly felt better, whereas she had almost fainted.