“No,” Tenar said. “I have never understood men like you.
She turned and set off down the road.
Something like a stroking touch went up her spine, and her hair lifted up on her head. She turned sharp round to see the wizard reach out his staff towards her, and the dark lightnings gather round it, and his lips part to speak. She thought in that moment, Because Ged has lost his magery, I thought all men had, but I was wrong/-And a civil voice said, “Well, well. What have we here?”
Two of the men from Havnor had come out onto the road from the cherry orchards on the other side of it. They looked from Aspen to Tenar with bland and courtly expressions, as if regretting the necessity of preventing a wizard from laying a curse on a middle-aged widow, but really, really, it would not do.
“Mistress Goha,” said the man with the gold-embroidered shirt, and bowed to her.
The other, the bright-eyed one, saluted her also, smiling. “Mistress Goha,” he said, “is one who, like the King, bears her true name openly, I think, and unafraid. Living in Gont, she may prefer that we use her Gontish name. But knowing her deeds, I ask to do her honor; for she wore the Ring that no woman wore since Elfarran.” He dropped to one knee as if it were the most natural thing in the world, took Tenar’s right hand very lightly and quickly, and touched his forehead to her wrist. He released her and stood up, smiling that kind, collusive smile.
“Ah,” said Tenar, flustered and warmed right through- “there’s all kinds of power in the world!-Thank you.”
The wizard stood motionless, staring. He had closed his mouth on the curse and drawn back his staff, but there was still a visible darkness about it and about his eyes.
She did not know whether he had known or had just now learned that she was Tenar of the Ring. It did not matter. He could not hate her more. To be a woman was her fault. Nothing could worsen or amend it, in his eyes; no punishment was enough. He had looked at what had been done to Therru, and approved.
“Sir,” she said now to the older man, “anything less than honesty and openness seems dishonor to the king, for whom you speak-and act, as now. I’d like to honor the king, and his messengers. But my own honor lies in silence, until my friend releases me. I-I’m sure, my lords, that he’ll send some word to you, in time. Only give him time, I pray you.
“Surely,” said the one, and the other, “As much time as he wants. And your trust, my lady, honors us above all.”
She went on down the road to Re Albi at last, shaken by the shock and change of things, the wizard’s flaying hatred, her own angry contempt, her terror at the sudden knowledge of his will and power to do her harm, the sudden end of that terror in the refuge offered by the envoys of the king-the men who had come in the white-sailed ship from the haven itself, the Tower of the Sword and the Throne, the center of right and order. Her heart lifted up in gratitude. There was indeed a king upon that throne, and in his crown the chiefest jewel would be the Rune of Peace.
She liked the younger man’s face, clever and kindly, and the way he had knelt to her as to a queen, and his smile that had a wink hidden in it. She turned to look back. The two envoys were walking up the road to the mansion house with the wizard Aspen. They seemed to be conversing with him amicably, as if nothing had happened.
That sank her surge of hopeful trust a bit. To be sure, they were courtiers. It wasn’t their business to quarrel, or to judge and disapprove. And he was a wizard, and their host’s wizard. Still, she thought, they needn’t have walked and talked with him quite so comfortably.
The men from Havnor stayed several days with the Lord of Re Albi, perhaps hoping that the archmage would change his mind and come to them, but they did not seek him, nor press Tenar about where he might be. When they left at last, Tenar told herself that she must make up her mind what to do. There was no real reason for her to stay here, and two strong reasons for leaving: Aspen and Handy, neither of whom could she trust to let her and Therru alone.