"His Majesty is fond of praise, whereas this one finds talk a bit too cheap for her liking, even to please an emperor. Anyway she has found special favor by virtue of her uncommon vow, and has shown iron resistance against breaking it in the face of honed steel. As Royal Scribe, she is sworn under oath to strictest secrecy and loyalty."
"She'll never talk, eh? And what better way to keep the king's secrets? A great pity. But, seeing she shall never speak again, how did she swear her oath of loyalty to his Majesty?" Mearch asked smugly.
"She can give the nod, and that with a true heart, which is more than most so-called honest witnesses are called to testify with their lying lips. That will be all, then, I trust?"
"Aye," Mearch said. "I get the idea. Even so, from what you have said of her, I still say one could not give in equal trade one's best stallion for such a woman. But I have a stallion, my best, that she may have, for to ride upon. Send her down to me at the stables in a week. No, better make it two weeks. My men only just caught this one particular horse recently, and I still have to break him in, if I can."
"What are you saying? Do you mean, an unbroken, ungelded stallion?" Ibi asked in disbelief.
Mearch shrugged.
"He has already broken three of my best trainers' numbskull heads, but never -never!- have I seen such a fine creature," he barely glanced at Si'Wren, and added, "or woman. But I, Mearch, can break him to ride without ruining his spirit. It takes much strength, courage, wisdom of the heart, and patience, and one dares never use too heavy a hand in the matter. Yet it is possible, I think, but only by me. That girl and that horse; they are the same. I feel it. It will be right. You will see."
Mearch turned for the door.
"No harm will come to her," he called over his shoulder on the way out.
Ibi studied the surface of his desk until Mearch was safely gone.