The Shadow Sorceress: The Fourth Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  Secca waited.

  “Liedgeld. If matters continue as they have, and usurpers raise forces in Ebra or Neserea, we may need to raise more armsmen and lancers, and that will require raising the liedgeld.” Robero smiled apologetically.

  Secca nodded. She understood the troubles that would cause. She also understood the message behind the information. If the sorceresses of Defalk did not support Robero in one way, they would certainly have to support him more directly against those traditional lords still holding lands in Defalk.

  “We will have some appropriate gifts for you to convey to Hadrenn. By tomorrow, or the next day, so that you could leave on the day following.” Robero stood. “I know it is a troubling time for you, for Anna was close to you, but we cannot squander what she gave us by failing to act.”

  Secca understood that, she suspected, far better than Robero, as she bowed before departing the audience chamber.

  23

  As the two sorceresses stood beside the reflecting pool in the liedburg of Falcor, Clayre’s voice filled the chamber.

  “Show us now, and as you can,

  the acts of Belmar, lord and man…”

  The waters of the pool rippled, then silvered before presenting an image. The dark-haired young lord stood in a chamber, apparently an audience hall that had been emptied, with six players behind him. Secca squinted to make out the room. Then her eyes focused on the pair of players to the left side of the group.

  “That’s a dancing hall…or it was,” Clayre said. “Just like the one that once was in Abenfel.”

  “Two of those players are using small thunder-drums,” Secca said. “I can’t tell how, but that would allow him to mix Clearsong and Darksong.”

  After a moment, Clayre released the image and turned to the younger sorceress. “It’s a good thing I’m taking the players from Falcor.”

  “You keep checking on him. You don’t want him sneaking up on you. You know what trouble Anna had with drums and Darksong. And he comes from a heritage where drums and dancing run in the blood. That is not good.”

  “I will be very careful. He is a sorcerer.”

  “He’s probably very sneaky because he’s not that strong. If he were strong enough to wrest gold or silver from the earth, we would probably know it from disruptions in the Harmonies.”

  Clayre raised her eyebrows.

  Without answering, Secca thought for several moments, then lifted her own lutar.

  “Show us now, whether near or far,

  who pays and stands behind this Belmar…”

  The water shivered, then silvered over, then presented two separate circular images that barely touched. The first was a thin figure in gray who stood at the railing of a ship. The second showed a man with a blonde beard seated at a writing table in a lamp-lit and paneled library of some sort.

  “He could be any holder anywhere that we don’t know,” offered Clayre.

  “He’s probably Neserean,” Secca suggested. “Only Kinor and Robero have libraries like that in Defalk.”

  “That looks like a Sturinnese vessel.” Clayre pointed at the ship and the figure on the deck. “You don’t even look surprised.”

  “Who else besides Sturinn?” asked Secca. “The Council of Wei likes the stability a strong Defalk provides. They wouldn’t cause trouble in Neserea. Belmar can’t possibly pay for armsmen and all those players. We know the Sturinnese have always wanted a foothold in Liedwahr. Why would they change now?” She cleared her throat and sang the release spell.

  “Let this scene of scrying, silver filled with light,

  vanish like the darkness when the sun is bright…”

  “What about the Ladies of the Shadows?” asked Clayre as the image in the pool died away. “They don’t like sorcery.”

  “No, but there don’t seem to be many in Defalk.”

  “That we know of,” Clayre pointed out.

  “That’s because Brill was the only sorcerer in the whole land for a generation, and because the Corians banned sorcery from the beginning—and they won.”

  Clayre shook her head. “Why did you think about the second spell?”

  “If Belmar happened to be that strong a sorcerer, he wouldn’t need backing from anyone. He isn’t.” Secca shrugged. “I thought I’d seek his backer, just to see if he had one.”

  “Because you can sense disruptions in the Harmonies as far away as Worlan?”

  “Sometimes I can. Can’t you?”

  “You know I can’t. I don’t know why you’re merely the Sorceress of Mencha.”

  Secca laughed gently. “You couldn’t stand the quiet of Loiseau. Anna knew that.” Just as she had known that leaving Secca in the same liedburg as Robero would have created too much friction.

  “You and Robero don’t do well together, either,” Clayre acknowledged. “Redheads seldom do, and Robero’s more stubborn even than Birke and Lysara put together.”

  Secca didn’t comment.

  “I heard he introduced you to Lythner.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “I have my ways.” Clayre grinned.

  “Lythner didn’t seem that interested. He was most polite.”

  “How could he be otherwise? He’s very handsome, and all say he was most kind and loving to Cynelya.”

  “You, too?”

  Clayre shrugged.

  Secca wondered. Did all of Defalk think she was miserable? Or somehow needed a man? Almost any man? “What do you plan to do with Belmar?”

  “Whatever I must, I suppose.” Clayre lifted her shoulders, then let them drop in a gesture that was not exactly a shrug.

  “He’ll be waiting for you.”

  “He would not try a sneak attack on a mere sorceress, do you think? He is, after all, a Neserean holder and a direct descendant of the Prophets of Music, the most rightful heirs to Neserea,” said Clayre mockingly.

  “How do you know he’s in the line of descent?” questioned Secca, an amused tone in her voice.

  “Besides his claim? I don’t, except that I understood all holders in Neserea claimed to be descendants of the Prophets.” Clayre grinned. “In some ways, I worry about the man in the study more. When I get to Esaria, I’ll call up that image for Aerlya and Annayal and see if they recognize him. Someone has to know who he is.”

  “You’d best be careful getting there.”

  “I will be. I’m insisting on two companies of Robero’s best lancers. He must be worried. He didn’t even quibble.” Clayre looked at the blank waters of the reflecting pool, then at Secca. “It must be nice to have your own lancers.”

  “It’s still hard to believe they’re mine. Paying them amounts to most of the rent coins. Five companies do not come cheaply.” Secca hating hedging the answer, but Anna always had, and seldom had following Anna’s example hurt Secca.

  “That must be why she kept Loiseau so small,” offered Clayre.

  “It’s one reason.” Secca gave Clayre a wry smile. “Also, it makes it less attractive for those with large entourages to come and visit.”

  “Birke has observed that, but he’s the lord of Abenfel, and that comes with having the largest liedburg in Liedwahr. Every time Robero visits, Reylana begs servitors from her father.”

  “Do you know how Gylaron is doing?”

  “He’s getting weaker. Gylan takes his father’s guidance, but he really runs Lerona on a daily basis. Reylana has been traveling back and forth since summer. She usually takes one of the children on each trip.”

  “I always liked her,” Secca said.

  “Birke was very fortunate, but, then, father let him wait for a suitable consort. It irked Fylena greatly.”

  “She never had to worry. Your father was very traditional.” Secca understood that. As Clayre’s father’s second consort, Fylena had pushed to make sure that both Clayre and Lysara had been consorted quickly and in a fashion that would not threaten her sons’ inheritance of Abenfel. Fylena still worried about the unconsorted Clayre and the powe
r she held in Falcor as the Lord’s Sorceress.

  “Anna wasn’t.” Clayre began to replace her lutar in the case.

  Both sorceresses laughed.

  Secca knew they had more scrying ahead, but trying it immediately would offer nothing new and tire them both. She lowered her own lutar into its case.

  24

  Although the noonday sun beamed through a cloudless sky, its weak light was not enough to offset the chill wind that blew out of the east and into Secca’s face as she rode past the dekstone on the east side of the road town of Zechis. Hoping it would not be too dark before they reached Pamr, Secca glanced up as Richina cleared her throat.

  “Is Lythner as handsome as they say?” asked the younger sorceress.

  Secca shook her head, wondering what Clayre had planted in Richina’s thoughts. Or had it been Alyssa?

  “He is not?”

  “No. He is very handsome, and very charming. Some say that he is intelligent, loving, and kind—and no, I am not considering consorting to him. That is a decision that must wait until after our trip to Synek.”

  “Our trip? I can come?”

  “You had best come. You trust too much in the words of others, even mine.” Secca laughed.

  “I could not help but overhear your words with the Lady Clayre before you went to see Lord Robero.” Richina eased her mount closer to Secca’s.

  “I am most grateful for your discretion.” Secca paused, then asked, “What do you think of Falcor?”

  “I would rather live in Loiseau or even Suhl.” Richina frowned.

  “Why?”

  “I could not say, save I feel all watch in Falcor, and none would care should any slip upon a stone step or tumble from a parapet.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Secca said with a slight laugh. “You must recall that those in Falcor must balance the wishes and the needs of all of the Thirty-three, and never can a ruler satisfy all. Many who walk the corridors there, while not wishing ill directly upon others, may not be all that displeased at misfortunes falling on others.”

  “And the Lady Clayre contends with such daily.”

  Secca nodded. “So does Jolyn. That is why she is willing to undertake road-building and arduous sorcery anywhere away from the liedstadt.”

  “You did not tell Lady Clayre, yet she is also a sorceress,” Richina pressed.

  “Nor did Anna, and, as you will come to see, nor should any sorceress who holds Loiseau.”

  “There is that much difference in how a sorceress in Falcor and one in Loiseau views Defalk?”

  “No. There is much difference in how each would use the knowledge of Loiseau. You will see, I promise you.”

  Another long silence followed, a stillness broken only by the low moan of the fall wind. Secca adjusted her jacket again.

  “Lady, why did she stay so much in the shadows?” asked Richina abruptly. “The Lady Anna, I mean.”

  Secca leaned forward slightly in the saddle and raised her voice. “If you would allow us a few moments in the van and some space, Quebar…?”

  “Yes, lady.” With a knowing smile, Quebar reined his mount to the left edge of the dusty stone road, and Savyn eased his mount to the right.

  The red-haired sorceress waited until a good ten yards had opened between her mount and Quebar’s before she gestured, and then turned her face to Richina. “Why did she stay in the shadows, you mean, when she could have ruled far better than Robero?”

  Richina nodded.

  “One must not only rule, but prepare for those who will follow you. Anna had no children here in Liedwahr, nor could she summon them from the Mist Worlds without risking their death, and she could have no more children here. Robero was the heir. Could she have done aught otherwise?”

  “But why…did she not…?” Richina broke off, gesturing almost helplessly.

  Ignoring the implied direct question, Secca pondered for a moment before answering. “She kept Defalk and most of eastern Liedwahr safe, and she found a lord she could love, and a holding she appreciated. Would that all of us were so fortunate.”

  “Lady, please do not avoid my question.”

  Secca fumbled with the topmost button on her jacket. “When she was first regent…how did she rule?”

  “She ruled well.”

  Secca shook her head, shifting her weight in the saddle. She feared the afternoon would be long. “How?”

  “By sorcery. She destroyed the Black Monks, and killed the evil Prophet of Music, and cast down the rebellious Lord of Dumar, and—”

  “With each action, she created the need for more action, did she not? Until she had to use her sorcery to replace almost half the Thirty-three and destroy armsmen across all of Liedwahr?”

  Richina’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. “We have had no wars and little fighting since.”

  “Do you think that all the men and women in Defalk suddenly changed, that they would so quickly stop their plotting and fighting?”

  “But they did,” Richina protested.

  “The fighting stopped. Lady Anna saw to that, but long before Robero became Lord of Death. Do you remember the story of the broken bridge?”

  “When the bridge over the Mittfal collapsed, and flung Lord Klestayr and his eldest into the river?” Richina nodded. “That was how young Dostal became Lord of Aroch.”

  “And what happened? Or did not happen?”

  “His armsmen cast down their arms and did not proceed against Lord Kinor.”

  “Would Lord Kinor have lost?” Secca pressed.

  “He had more armsmen, and armsmen better trained. He should not have had difficulty.”

  “But he would have lost armsmen, would he not?”

  Richina nodded.

  “Now…had I been there, or Clayre, or Anna, and called forth the flame arrows, could Kinor have lost?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How many of the armsmen of Aroch would have died? And then, when he became Lord of Aroch, how would Dostal have raised levies?”

  “Seldom have the levies been raised.”

  “True enough. But the armsmen are there to command the levies. Often they were not, not when Anna came to Defalk. Far too many died in skirmishes between lords. If Defalk is to remain strong, lords must not fight against each other.”

  “The bridge collapse wasn’t an accident?” Richina said slowly.

  “There is more than one way to use sorcery, child.” Secca paused. “Folk forget that because of the first years of the Regency.” She laughed without mirth. “That is all for the best. Anna had no choices when first she came to Defalk. She had power, and little knowledge of the people and the land, and no time to learn either. Nor were women or sorceresses respected. For many years, all that those in Liedwahr respected was the power that they could see. Many rebellious lords had heard of the destruction of others, yet would not believe until it befell them. It took many years before Anna could be assured that she could leave Falcor, and all believed that she would again raise the fire arrows or the floods, or cause the land to sink under those who would not support Lord Robero.”

  “That is why you fear the days ahead?”

  Secca nodded. “All of us are considered pale shadows of Lady Anna.”

  “You? With all you have done?”

  “Me, most of all, for I have indeed stood in the shadows.” And I fear the glare of an unforgiving sun, and what may need to be done.

  25

  Narial, Dumar

  Darksong stands high in the clear night sky, and Clearsong has set more than two glasses earlier. Several trading vessels are moored in the deeper part of the harbor, but two tall-masted schooners are tied up at the deep-water piers on the western side, just south of the main part of the city of Narial. The night is still, with not even a whisper of wind.

  The only sounds in the harbor are the gentle lapping of night-dark water against the piers and the hulls of the vessels, and the occasional reports of the Harbor Watch, words vanishing into the night, unheard
except for those standing duty on the vessels in port.

  Beyond the harbor, beyond the horizon, well out of earshot from the fleet of warships there rises the sound of thunder-drums. The skies darken, near instantly, clouding over the bright points of the stars and of Darksong, and there is a rumbling from deep beneath the sea.

  A swell of water rises to the north of the warships, a hillock perhaps three yards high that disappears into the darkness as it races northward. The hillock swells with each furl it moves toward the shore, yet, before it, with a sucking, hissing sound, the sea recedes out of the harbor, seemingly before the rising water can reach the land.

  The half-dozen vessels drop onto the harbor mud, their masts tilting at various angles. Yells and curses in a handful of languages fill the night air, but only for a handful of moments before a darkness looms out of the south, a darkness that rises swiftly into a wall of water more than thirty yards high. The wall of black water races northward across the exposed mud and sand, far faster than the swiftest of horses, engulfing the beached vessels, then the piers, before crashing nearly a dek inland.

  Among the structures flattened are the barracks of both the Harbor Watch and the coastal guards.

  When the waters recede, the only structure left intact within a dek of the harbor is the single stone bridge across the Falche, a structure dating back nearly three decades.

  26

  With the dull anguished chord that seemed to echo through the night, Secca sat bolt upright in the bed of the guest chamber at Pamr. Her eyes were gummy, and every muscle in her body protested, but the anguished chord seemed to reverberate on and on, intensifying the aches and the muscle strains caused by the riding she had done, riding whose extent was more than she had been used to doing recently.

  Her first thought was that she was suffering a nightmare, but she could smell the scent of the perfumed oil she had rubbed into those muscles, and in the dimness of the room she could see the lutar case on the table, and her belt wallet beside it. And her muscles hurt.