David Farland - The Sum of All Men

Raj Ahten smiled somewhat playfully. “I'm sorry my sorcerers destroyed your garden. But we haven't destroyed you, have we? You can grow another garden. I have some fine gardens, near my villas and palaces in the South. Trees from the far corners of the world, rich soil, plentiful water.”

Binnesman shook his head. “Never. I can never have another garden like the one you burned. It was my heart. You see...” He clutched at his robes.

Raj Ahten leaned forward. “I'm sorry. It was necessary to clip your wings, Earth Warden.” He spoke this title with solemnity, with more respect than he'd shown anyone else this night. “And yet, Master Binnesman, I truly did not want to harm you. There are few notable Earth Wardens in the world, and I've tested the efficacy of the herbs that each of your kind grows, studied the ointments and infusions you provide. You, Binnesman, are the master of your craft, of that I am sure. You deserve greater honor than you have been accorded. You should be serving as hearthmaster in the Room of Earth Powers in the House of Understanding—not that fraud Hoewell.”

Iome marveled. Even in far Indhopal, Raj Ahten knew of Binnesman's work. The Wolf Lord seemed almost omniscient to her.

Binnesman watched him from beneath bushy brows. The wrinkled lines of Binnesman's face were wise, and after years of smiling, made him look kind and soft. But there was no kindness behind his eyes. Iome had seen him smash bugs in his garden with that calculating gaze. “The honors of men do not interest me.”

“Then what does interest you?” Raj Ahten asked. When Binnesman did not answer, he said softly, “Will you serve me?”

The tone of voice, the subtle inflections, were all such that many another man would have prostrated themselves.

“I serve no king,” Binnesman answered.

“You served Sylvarresta,” Raj Ahten gently reminded him, “just as he serves me now!”

“Sylvarresta was my friend, never my master.”

“You served his people. You served him as a friend.”

“I serve the earth, and all people on it, Lord Raj.”

“Then will you give yourself to me?”

Binnesman gave him a scolding look, as if Raj Ahten were a child caught doing wrong when he knew better. “Do you desire my service as a man, or as a wizard?”

“As a wizard.”

“Then, alas, Lord Raj, I cannot take a vow to serve you, for it would diminish my powers.”

“How so?” Raj Ahten asked.

“I've vowed to serve the earth, and no other,” Binnesman said. “I serve the trees in their hour of need, as well as the fox and the hare. I serve men with no greater and no less devotion than I serve other creatures. But if I break my vow to serve the earth, if I seek instead to serve you, my powers would perish.

“You have many men who will serve you, or who will serve themselves in your interest, Raj Ahten. Content yourself with them.”

Iome wondered at Binnesman's words. He lied now, she knew. He did serve men more than animals. He'd once told her it was his weakness, this peculiar devotion to mankind. In his eyes, it made him unworthy of his master. Iome feared that Raj Ahten would see through the lies, punish Binnesman.

The Wolf Lord's beautiful face was untroubled, and it seemed to Iome to be full of kindness.

Binnesman said softly to Raj Ahten, “You understand, as a Runelord, you must care for your Dedicates, or else in time they would starve or sicken. If they died, you would lose the powers you draw from them.”

“The same principles apply to me...or to your flameweavers. See how they feed the fire, knowing they will gain strength from it in return?”

“Milord,” the flameweaver at Raj Ahten's side whispered, “let me kill him. The flames show that he is a danger. He helped Prince Orden escape from his garden. He supports your enemies. The light within him is against you.”

Raj Ahten touched the flameweaver's hand, calming her, asking, “Is it so? Did you help the Prince escape?”

Don't answer him, Iome wanted to shout. Don't answer.

But Binnesman merely shrugged. “He had a wound. I tended it, as I would if he were a rabbit or a crow. Then I pointed his way into the Dunnwood, so he could hide.”

“Because?” Raj Ahten asked.

“Because your soldiers want him dead,” the herbalist answered. “I serve life. Your life, your enemy's life. I serve life, as surely as you serve death.”

“I do not serve death. I serve mankind,” Raj Ahten said calmly. His eyes hardly narrowed, but his face suddenly seemed harder, more passionless.

“Fire consumes,” Binnesman said. “Certainly, when you surround yourself with so many flameweavers, you too must feel their tug, their desire to consume. It has you in its sway.”

Raj Ahten casually leaned back on the throne. “Fire also enlightens and reveals,” he said. “It warms us in the cold night. In the right hands, it can be a tool for good, even for healing. The Bright Ones and the Glories are creatures of the flame. Life comes from fire, as well as from the earth.”

“Yes, it can be a tool for good. But not now. Not in the age to come. Certainly no beings of the greater light will come do your bidding,” Binnesman said. “I think that you would do better to rid yourself of these...forces.” He waved casually at the flameweavers. “Other wizards would serve you better.”

“So you will serve me?” Raj Ahten asked. “You will supply my armies with your herbs and ointments?” He smiled, and that smile seemed to light the room. Certainly Binnesman will help him, Iome thought.

“Herbs for the sick and the wounded?” Binnesman asked. “I can do this in good conscience. But I do not serve you.”

Raj Ahten nodded, clearly disappointed. Binnesman's devotion would have been a great boon.

“Milord,” the flameweaver hissed, glancing from brazier to Raj Ahten, “he is not truthful. He does serve a king! I see a man in my flames, a faceless man with a crown! A king is coming, a king who can destroy you!”

Raj Ahten studied the herbalist, leaning even closer in his chair, the green flames from the brazier licking the side of his face. “My pyromancer sees a vision in the flames,” he whispered. “Tell me, Binnesman, has the earth granted you such visions? Is there a king who can destroy me?”

Binnesman stood straighter, folded his arms. His fists were clenched. “I am no friend of the Time Lords, to know the future. I don't gaze into polished stones. But you have made many enemies.”

“But is there a king whom you serve?”

Binnesman stood for a long moment, deep in thought, his brows furrowed, Iome almost believed that the old herbalist would not answer, but then he began to mutter, “Wood and stone, wood and stone, these are but my flesh and bone. Metal, blood, wood and stone, these I own, these I own.”

“What?” Raj Ahten asked, though surely he could not have failed to hear the old man.

“I serve no man. But, Your Lordship, a king is coming, a king of whom the earth approves. Fourteen days ago, he set foot in Heredon. I know this only because I heard the stones whisper it in the night, as I slept in the fields. A voice called to me, plain as a lark, The new King of the Earth is coming. He is in the land.' ”

“Kill him!” the flameweavers all began shouting at this revelation. “He serves your enemy.”

Raj Ahten tried to silence their yammering with an upraised hand, and asked, “Who is this Earth King?” His eyes blazed. The flameweavers kept calling for Binnesman's death; Iome feared that Raj Ahten would grant their boon. The light in their eyes increased, and the woman at the brazier raised her fist, let it burst into flame. In a moment, Raj Ahten's desires would not matter. The flameweavers would kill Binnesman.