Storm Breaking

'Ritually tied to the land?' he asked. 'Just what does that mean?'

'The monarchs of Rethwellan—and I presume, of Hardorn—have always taken part in a very old ritual known as earth-binding,' she told him. 'Because we in Valdemar do not have that particular ritual, I can't even begin to tell you how it works, or why, but when it is over, every major injury or change to the land is instantly sensed by the monarch. Ancar obviously never participated in that ritual, or he could not have done the things he did—I suspect that, as in Rethwellan, the earth-binding is part of the Hardornen private rites that take place just before the public coronation. Ancar crowned himself, without the usual rituals, so—' She shrugged. 'My stepfather says that those who even have earth-sense latently can have it aroused by such a rite.'

'The point here is that the people of Hardorn have found some of the priests of the old ways who know that ritual,' Darkwind continued, as she glanced at him to cue him to take up the narrative. 'They think that if you were to be tested for earth-sense and had it even latently, that would qualify you for the Hardornen crown. And if you were to undergo the earth-binding ritual, thus awakening the earth-sense and binding you to Hardorn, you would be a—a safe monarch for Hardorn, because you would be unable to harm, abuse, or misuse your land the way Ancar did.'

'Because harming the land would hurt me.' He lifted one eyebrow skeptically.

:Is he going to laugh?: Elspeth sounded dubious, and Darkwind didn't blame her. This was such a primitive, unsophisticated concept—for someone from the Eastern Empire, so sophisticated in the ways of magic that its power was used for practically everything, this must seem incredibly savage and crude.

But he didn't laugh, and in fact, he seemed to be thinking the concept over. 'Can you tell me anything else about this earth-sense? Just what does it entail? How do you learn to use it.'

'Among my people, it isn't very complicated,' Darkwind told him. 'You don't so much learn to use it as you learn to keep it from using you. It's rather like Empathy in a way, or extremely strong Mindspeech. You actually learn how to shut it out so that it doesn't affect you all the time.'

'Interesting. I can see how it would be inconvenient to be affected adversely by the very condition you are attempting to remedy.' His brows creased in thought. 'And does it go the other way? Does the physical condition of the King affect the land?'

'Havens, no!' Elspeth exclaimed. 'For one thing, the King is not exactly as—as monumental as a country! It would be like a flea stepping on a horse. For another, it's only a sense, like the sense of smell, and...' She trailed off in confusion as Darkwind shook his head.

'I hate to have to contradict Elspeth, but that's not entirely true, Duke Tremane,' he said, feeling the need to be totally frank. 'Under certain very specific circumstances, the health of the King who is bound to the land can affect the land. He can, in fact, sacrifice himself—give up his own life—to restore the land to its former health. This is something that my people know, and that the Shin'a'in not only know, but have even, very rarely, practiced. I must also say, however, that I personally do not believe that the Hardornens ever practiced that form of earth- binding. As with all crafts, there are scores, even hundreds or thousands of ways to do them, and nothing that they told us gave me any indication that they even know such a possibility exists. And I must also point out that to be valid, to have any chance of working, the sacrifice must be a self-sacrifice, entirely voluntary—and indeed eagerly sought by the sacrificial victim.' He managed a thin smile. 'Hauling one's King to the stone of sacrifice and spilling his blood upon the ground only serves as a sort of gruesome fertilizer to the local grass; it won't change anything else without that will to be sacrificed.'

Tremane's brows crept halfway up his forehead as Darkwind imparted that choice bit of information, but he made no comment. After a moment, he stood up.

'I'd like to go think about this for a little,' he said. 'I assume you have a way of contacting someone if I make a decision?'

'I can find a contact,: Gwena said firmly in both their minds.

'We do,' Elspeth told him.

'Then give me—about a mark,' he replied. 'I'll send for you, if you have no objections.'

Since it had been a very long time since breakfast, and this would provide an excellent excuse to send their Imperial aide in search of food, Darkwind had no objections whatsoever, and neither did Elspeth. With a polite exchange of bows, they retired to their own quarters, leaving him sitting back in his chair, staring at the ducal ring on his finger, clearly deep in thought.

They were about halfway through a solid, if uninspired meal of bread and cold sliced meat and pickles, when Gwena announced that she had found the contact she had promised. :Go to the Hanging Goose Tavern after dark,: she told Darkwind. :It will have to be you, since I don't think that Elspeth would be welcome in this particular tavern, and if there are two of you, he might suspect a trap.:

Elspeth exchanged a wry glance with Darkwind and shrugged, applying herself to her food.

:You want to speak to the bartender who dispenses the beer, not the one who handles the harder drinks,: she continued. :You tell him, 'I drink my beer very cold.' He is supposed to reply, 'That's an odd habit,' and you say, 'I picked it up in the West.' He'll nod and ask you what your message is. He has a perfect memory, he'll pass it on word for word. If Tremane decides to take the gamble, I suspect you'll have your delegation, priest included, within a few days. Maybe sooner. They might have moved someone into a village nearby, hoping you would be able to offer him the proposition soon after we arrived.'