Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) by Christine Pope Page A

burst out, “No cheat! Not — deal — ” And he trailed off into a flood of incomprehensible syllables.
    …Incomprehensible to both Kadar and Althan, that was clear from the puzzled looks on both their faces. But I found I understood the brown-haired stranger well enough, once those first words awakened in my mind a vocabulary I had not used for some time.
    “He says he is not the cheat,” I broke in. “He says that Master Haddimer here cheated him, and tried to renege on their deal.”
    If I had suddenly sprouted wings and flown out of the chamber, I do not think I would have evoked a more astonished reaction from the Mark. His eyebrows lifted, and the incredulity was clear in his tone as he remarked, “‘He says’ — how do you know what he says?”
    “Because he is speaking Selddish,” I replied calmly, then added in an undertone, so only he might hear my next words, “If you had bothered to learn anything about me, save who my relatives are, then you might have known that I have been schooled in many of the languages of the continent, along with mathematics and history and geography. At any rate, as we can now hear both sides of the story, I think we should continue.”
    For a few seconds Kadar continued to stare at me, as if really looking at me for the first time. Then he nodded. “Yes.” He leaned forward. “Tell him to proceed.”
    Perversely pleased I had been able to offer the Mark something of value besides my family connections, I turned to the man and asked in Selddish, “Can you tell me what happened?”
    Which he did, launching into a lengthy and impassioned speech about how he had found himself overburdened with flax seed following the plague that had swept Seldd only the year before. In Marestal we had been able to escape the ravages of the disease, save for a small outbreak near the docks, but we had heard it devastated the lands east and north of us: Purth and Farendon and Seldd. As Seldd’s main export was its fine linen, I could see how, with more than a third of its population lost to the plague, there would be an excess of flax seed.
    So this merchant, one Dhirne, had loaded up his pack animals and undertaken the perilous trek through the Opal Mountains’ one safe pass to bring his seed to North Eredor, where he might at least get enough money for it to see his family through the winter. He had met with Haddimer, a seed merchant, and struck as good a deal as he could, considering the language barrier. But when the day of payment came, he was given copper instead of the silver he was promised. The resulting row had gotten both men thrown out of the tavern where they were conducting their business, with the proprietor telling them to take their argument to the Hall of Grievances, or he’d set the City Watch on them.
    I related all this to Kadar, who listened with narrowed eyes. As I concluded my translation of the Selddish man’s woes, Haddimer cut in angrily and said, “And you believe this, your Highness? It’s a pack of lies from beginning to end!”
    Kadar straightened, mouth tight. I knew I would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of the glare he directed at the other man. “Are you calling the Mark’s consort a liar?”
    Haddimer blanched. “No, your Highness — that is, I am certain her translation is accurate, but that Dhirne is lying to her.”
    “Do you think he is lying?” Kadar asked me. He sounded as if he genuinely wanted to hear what I thought.
    Here was one situation where I could use my magic, and do so quickly enough that no one need know what I had done. Again, it was a quiet spell, one that only required a few seconds of mental preparation; anyone watching me would have merely thought I closed my eyes to consider the question more deeply. But in that small space of time I was able to mouth the words without speaking them, uttering the spell that would reveal any falseness clinging to either of the two men. And so I saw in my mind’s eye the cool