Free Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) by Elizabeth Moon

ceded. Now, on a stone table, they spread out another, larger, covering the whole table. As before, when he looked closely at any one area of the map, it enlarged, showing more detail. None of that detail to the west included human names or boundaries; the gnomes had not known them.
    Arcolin quickly found the tributaries he knew, following them upstream to the area in question.
    “A prince may give only that land he holds,” Arcolin said.
    “That is Law,” the gnomes agreed in a chorus.
    “This is mine,” Arcolin said, drawing the border line of south, east, north. “From this, I granted stone-right here.”
    He defined the eastern boundary again and then the northern and southern. “I have not yet visited my western land to see that the boundary stones are properly set. When I gained this land-right from the king, after its former lord, the former lord had told me he had no vassals from here—” He pointed to the map at the edge of the stone-right. “—to the western border. He told me the border ran along a high place, not quite a ridge, from here to here.” Once again he pointed to the map. “Duke Phelan was in peace with his neighbors there and did not patrol.”
    Ten pairs of eyes stared at him. He wondered if he would ever learn to interpret that gaze. Finally Dattur said, “There are stones of Law?”
    “There should be. Your prince does not know if such stones were set.”
    “If no human dwellings are built there … or if stones not set … is that stone-right?”
    “Your prince must learn the truth: what is there, what is not there—stones, walls, buildings. Do you have witnesses to that?”
    “No, Lord Prince.”
    “Then your prince must find out. I am certain no steading was granted within this line …” Arcolin ran his finger along the map. “Until I know truth, let this be the west margin of the stone-right, but if you find an intruder has built a home, do not attack but tell me—or if I am gone, my recruit captain. Since I must fulfill a contract far from here, as you know, I will not have time to see for myself where the stones are. I will tell the king when I go through Vérella, and I will send messages to the barons as well. Now on the north, here is the line that must not be crossed.”
    The gnomes nodded. Then one said, “Lord Prince, if wanderers come into the stone-right, what is your command?”
    “Bring them to Duke’s Court for judgment. Have any of my people violated your boundary lines?”
    “No, Lord Prince. But humans do, and those who do not expect a gnome stone-right here—”
    “I will think on this,” Arcolin said. “I will talk with the barons.”
    Finally he was done—all but his estvin and his hesktak had returned to other duties. He took off the robe, which would be kept forhim to wear whenever he visited, and put on the tunic and cloak of a human instead. It felt a little strange. He bowed to the estvin and to Dattur. “I will return several times before I leave for the south in the spring. You may come to me anytime you have need, as well. Law is Law.”
    “Law is Law,” they both said.
    All the way back to the stronghold he wondered how Gird had endured all that time—seasons long, the tales said—underground, without sunlight. Surely he hadn’t eaten misiljit. The gnomes would have brought him human food—bread and cheese maybe. Probably not ale.
    They had changed Gird, made him capable of fighting a real army, capable of inventing a legal code unlike any seen in human lands before. And they were changing him, Arcolin realized.
    He had wondered if a bastard from Horngard could possibly take over Duke Phelan’s company and lands—surely, like the taunts he had heard in his youth, he must fail and bring all to ruin. Now he was a duke in his own right, a mercenary commander respected in the south, a married man with a stepson who called him “Da,” and the prince of a gnome tribe, something no human had ever been before. Once he would have