Dattur glanced back at him and then stared again at Arcolin. His accent thickened as he spoke. “It is that a pact, a binding, made between dragon and rockfolk in old age. It is not to speak. It is not to fail. Hakken failed, being not of Law. Bad … bad came. Dragon gave task to us—to rockfolk of Law. Each princedom made binding.” His eyes closed; Arcolin felt the stones of the floor trembling against his boots.

“Dattur, no!” Arvid said. Dattur’s eyes opened, but he did not look at Arvid.

“It is must.”

“No! As your master, Dattur, I command you. Do no rock magery here!”

The stones quieted. Arcolin felt cold chills, a reaction to a threat he had not recognized. What had the gnome thought to do? And why had the gnome obeyed Arvid?

“What happened to those?” Dattur asked Arcolin.

“They were cast out of their stone-right by a dragon,” Arcolin said. “In winter. I took them in; by now they will have moved into new stone in my domain.”

“You … you saved them?”

“I was not,” Arcolin said, his voice roughening as it did every time he thought of those exiles, “going to see women and children starve and freeze in the snow.”

“You are their prince,” Dattur said, as if he announced that apples grew on apple trees: simple fact.

Arcolin stared. “Prince? No, I’m no prince. A peer of Tsaia, yes, but not a prince.”

“Prince of new place,” Dattur said. “Who gives stone is prince.”

“But—”

“Is no question. It is that you are prince of … of Arcolinfulk.”

The gnome appeared perfectly serious; gnomes always did.

“But I’m not a gnome. And I don’t know your Law, only Girdish law.”

“Is no question. It is that a princedom falls, a prince fails, the fulk kteknik … and if new stone-right, then new prince. Law.”

“Oh,” Arcolin said. It was all he could think to say. Then, “I thought the estvin would become the new prince.”

“No. Law. You.”

“They didn’t tell me,” Arcolin said. Dattur’s expression made it clear that he thought Arcolin should have known, and probably the gnomes in the north thought the same.

“I wish you luck,” Arvid said. He had a glint in his eye that suggested secret amusement. Dattur rounded on him.

“Is no luck. Is Law.” He turned back to Arcolin. “It is necessary that the prince learn Law, to speak Law to the people.”

“I cannot go north now,” Arcolin said. “I have duties here. Contracts.”

Dattur considered for a moment, then nodded. “Contract is law under Law. Promise given must be kept. And you have king, is it not? Oath to king?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said.

“Oath is law under Law. Is right; you cannot go until fulfilled.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE