The Shadow Sorceress: The Fourth Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  Wilten glanced to the bottom of each scroll before he began reading, as if to assure himself of who was writing each one. Unlike the two chief players, the Defalkan overcaptain frowned more deeply with each line he perused. As he passed the scrolls to Alcaren, Wilten cleared his throat and, looking at Secca, shook his head.

  Secca returned the headshake with a faint smile, and waited for Alcaren to finish reading.

  Alcaren read through both scrolls quickly, his eyebrows lifting slightly, then passed them to Richina, seated to Secca’s right. Richina looked at both briefly and then returned them to Secca.

  Secca took another study of the faces before looking across the table directly at Wilten. “Overcaptain…you looked concerned. I would be most interested in your thoughts.”

  “I am most concerned,” Wilten began, “most concerned.” He gestured toward the grayness beyond the window that he faced. “Snow has made all the mountains impassable. Here the rain has turned the ground into swamps and bogs, and two mighty fleets patrol the southern coast of Liedwahr. We have six companies of lancers, not even a full six companies, yet we are being asked to find our way to Dumar in some fashion, and there take on perchance fifty or more companies of Sturinnese lancers with thunder-drums to back them. For all we know, there may be even more lancers than that.”

  “It does appear difficult,” Secca observed. “The glass shows that the Sturinnese have not yet taken Dumar. While they continue to fight and to push back the Dumarans, the Sea-Priests’ efforts are costing them lancers. If we wait for the weather to allow us to travel through the mountains to Dumar, they will doubtless have taken all of Dumar, and will have forces and thunder-drums awaiting us.”

  “We could have more lancers and more sorceresses, could we not?” asked Wilten.

  “Lord Robero can muster at most forty companies of lancers,” Secca pointed out. “And he cannot call up the levies unless Defalk is invaded. He would not hazard all those lancers in Dumar. So we might gain little in additional lancers, but much in greater numbers of enemies were we to wait until late spring or early summer.”

  “Any number would be most helpful,” Wilten offered. “Most helpful.”

  “That is true, but we cannot count on such.”

  “Against the Sturinnese?” The older overcaptain raised his eyebrows.

  “Will Lord Robero send lancers southward against the Sturinnese if this Belmar becomes the Prophet of Music in Neserea and if the Liedfuhr sends fifty companies into Neserea?” asked Secca.

  Wilten did not answer.

  “Will Lord Robero wish to send us another sorceress if such should happen?” Secca pressed.

  “These are most perilous times,” murmured Wilten.

  “Indeed they are,” Secca agreed, as she turned her gaze on Alcaren. “What do you think, overcaptain?”

  “I cannot speak fairly of what is best for Defalk. I will not try.” Alcaren shrugged. “I can only say that, from what history shows, waiting has benefited none in opposing Sturinn. Your great sorceress is the sole leader in Liedwahr who did not wait to face the Sea-Priests. In fact, she is the only one in the world who did not wait, and she is the sole leader to have bested them.”

  Palian nodded, and Secca turned to the chief player.

  “What the overcaptain says is so,” began Palian. “I was there. Some told her to wait, and she did, but only briefly, until she knew what spells she would perform and how she would use them and where. She attacked the Sturinnese in the rain and storms when others would have waited, and she prevailed.”

  Delvor offered a brief smile.

  “Chief Player Delvor?” asked Secca.

  “I can add little, except that I would rather see battles waged with sorcery fought in lands other than mine.”

  Alcaren nodded to that comment.

  Secca glanced around the table once more. “Lord Robero would wish we find a way to Dumar, and soon. While Overcaptain Wilten is most correct in noting that having more lancers is better than having less, there is no certainty that we will have more if we wait, and great certainty that we will face more enemies. The problem is not one of will, but of manner. We need a way to travel to Dumar that will not exhaust our lancers and players and that will not take forever.”

  Alcaren cleared his throat.

  Secca gestured for him to speak.

  “We traveled here partly by riding, but part of the way on fast coastal schooners of shallow draft. It may be that the counselors know of some such. While those vessels will not suffice for travel to Dumar, they might aid in reaching Encora. They could carry us to the south of the Sand Hills. From there the riding to Encora is swift and mostly upon dry roads.”

  “That would not get us to Dumar,” Wilten pointed out.

  “No,” Secca admitted, “but it would get us closer, and should the Sturinnese vessels move, or should we find a sorcerous way to remove them, we could travel swiftly. Even if we could not, we could travel across Ranuak well before spring and take the passes through Stromwer. At the very least, we would be in better position to strike earlier, even were we required to wait for spring.”

  “That is true.” Wilten’s words were heavy, almost as if grudged.

  “I will see if I can meet with Counselor Veria tomorrow. Perhaps there is some way we can get to Encora.” As she stood, Secca did not mention that she had already requested a meeting with the counselor. “I would like a few moments with the chief players next…and you, Richina, after you take a message. We must discuss spellsongs.”

  As Wilten and Alcaren rose, Secca beckoned to Richina. Bending forward, she said in a low voice, “Would you ask Overcaptain Alcaren, most discreetly, if he would meet with me after the players depart?” She added quickly. “I want his opinions without Wilten around, and I don’t want to announce that.”

  Richina smiled. “Yes, lady.” She turned and followed the overcaptains out into the corridor.

  Secca waited until the door closed before reseating herself. She looked at Palian. “Is there any other choice?”

  “None that I can discern, lady. The Sturinnese have planned this for many years, perhaps waiting until Lady Anna passed, and they will pour more and more lancers into Dumar if once they hold the land.”

  Secca inclined her head to Delvor.

  The brown-haired man smiled. “I am not a sorcerer, nor a lancer, but those who wait give more venues to their attackers.”

  All three looked up as Richina slipped back into the chamber. The younger sorceress nodded to Secca, then seated herself.

  “Could all your players perform upon a vessel?” Secca looked once more to Palian.

  “If it did not pitch too wildly, I would guess, lady,” offered Palian. “That is but a guess, for none of us have attempted such.”

  “I would say it would be easier for the second players,” suggested Delvor. “Strumming and fingering the strings is easier than bowing under difficult conditions.”

  “The falk-horn and woodwinds would not be so affected either,” mused Palian. “You ask because we may need to defend ourselves at sea?”

  “That is possible,” replied Secca. “I did not wish to request vessels unless we have a sorcerous defense.”

  “We would need to play where there is no water or spray,” Palian said.

  “And high enough on the vessel that our tones—and yours—would carry,” added Delvor.

  “We would also need a vessel with enough space for all to play,” Secca continued.

  There was silence around the table. The red-haired sorceress looked to Richina. “Do you have any thoughts on this?”

  “What about the wind? If it were behind us…”

  “Then it would carry the spells further.” Secca’s lips curled as she wondered how many more things they did not know. “Is there anything else?”

  Palian shook her head.

  “No, lady,” murmured Delvor, as did, a moment later, Richina.

  “You may go, but if you do think of other considerations
,” Secca said, rising, “I would hear them.”

  Once the three had left, Secca walked to the window, where she stared into the gray and the rain that now fell in heavy leaden drops that occasionally splatted against the glass. The gray and the rain and the gloom weighed on her, and she realized that she missed the sunlight, the light, and the grace of Loiseau. Would she ever even see her hold again? At times, she had to wonder.

  At the thrap on the door, she turned. “Yes?”

  “Overcaptain Alcaren,” announced one of the guards, Easlon, Secca thought, from his voice.

  “If you would have him enter.” Secca stepped toward the table and waited.

  Alcaren stepped inside and bowed. “You requested my presence, lady?”

  “I did. You are very perceptive, and most gallant, overcaptain,” Secca said.

  For the first time since she had met the Ranuan, Alcaren looked almost puzzled, as if pondering how to respond. After a moment, he offered the boyish, embarrassed grin. “I fear you have me at a loss, Lady Secca.”

  Secca thought for a moment, but could see no answer that would not lead to greater difficulty and misunderstanding—no answer except the truth, much as it grated on her to have to speak it. “Our blade skills are close, although you are somewhat better. You are far stronger than I, and larger. You allowed me to retain more respect than I deserved. I appreciate it.”

  Alcaren bowed again. “I learn much of you as time passes, lady, and it is a pleasure. Would that all ladies of power had your determination and grace.”

  Secca could hear that the words were more than formality, and carried a touch of warmth unusual for the always polite and discreet overcaptain.

  “For your grace…and kindness, I thank you.” Her words sounded too formal, but anything less formal might have been misunderstood. So she added quickly, “That was not all I had in mind, but I did want you to know that.” Why she did, Secca wasn’t totally sure, except that Alcaren’s grace had made her feel small in spirit, and she hated feeling petty—even if she had been. “Would you sit down?”

  Alcaren took the same chair he had used earlier.

  Secca seated herself as he did, then spoke. “I wanted your thoughts on other matters. We have discussed storm spells, overcaptain. You have been a trader. Are there any types of storms that are more deadly to a vessel than others, or any more deadly to a warship?”

  “All storms can damage a ship, but few are strong enough to sink a good vessel outright.”

  “A strong thunderstorm?”

  “Such might rip away sails if the master were caught unaware, and break a mast, perchance, but the ship would remain sound.”

  “What of typhoons?”

  “A strong typhoon can drive a ship upon the coast or rocks or shoals.” Alcaren frowned. “A good master can keep a good ship far enough at sea to avoid such—unless the storm is most sudden and far larger than likely to be created by sorcery.”

  “Sometimes, in the spring, there are whirlwinds—they can tear apart a cot,” Secca offered.

  “Waterspouts can do such to a ship as well.” Alcaren smiled. “But they are infrequent and most capricious, and they seldom last long.”

  “I wonder if we could create such,” mused the sorceress.

  “If you could, and if you could direct such, you might destroy many ships.”

  “We will have to think.” Secca nodded. “For we cannot be sure to reach Dumar before late spring, except by ship.”

  “Spring—that will be too late.”

  “Not for Wilten,” said Secca with a laugh.

  “I do not understand why you have as overcaptain such a soul as Wilten,” Alcaren said slowly. “At a time when you must act, or risk losing all, he sees not that.”

  “That is true,” Secca replied. “And that I brought him, that also is my failing. He is the most experienced of my officers. Before you joined us, I relied more heavily on Stepan. He was the arms commander for Lord Hadrenn.”

  “The one whose body you sent home with an honor guard?”

  “He gave good advice, and understood much. He held off the last attack of the Sturinnese before they broke, and saved the victory.”

  “Ah…that explains much.” Alcaren nodded. “Still…you inherited Wilten as your most senior officer from the great sorceress, and she was no stranger to battle…” The Ranuan fingered his chin.

  Secca paused to think. Why had Anna retained and promoted Wilten? Then she smiled. Of course!

  “Why do you smile?”

  “In her later years, Lady Anna wished to avoid pitched battles. She was able to deal with most matters with subtle sorcery. Would a senior officer who was more aggressive have been suited to such a post?”

  Alcaren smiled knowingly. “And the lady died just shortly before you were required to leave on your expedition, and you trusted in her choices.”

  “I had not worked that closely…” Secca shook her head. “Before this winter, it was years since any sorceress in Defalk had been in a pitched battle.”

  “That is, alas, true of most of us,” Alcaren pointed out. “In that, those of Sturinn have us at a great disadvantage.” He smiled. “You have fought more battles than all those lancers in Encora who did not come to Elahwa.”

  “What of the others?” Secca asked.

  “The Matriarch sent ten companies in addition to the SouthWomen. Perhaps six companies worth remained when you routed the Sea-Priests. Those who could ride began the long coastal ride back to Encora within days.”

  “How many companies could the Matriarch raise?”

  “There are twenty. There would be twenty still, but with the strength of sixteen, or perhaps more, if new recruits have been found.”

  The two looked at each other, and Secca knew they understood the same truth—not enough lancers existed in all Liedwahr to stop the Sturinnese by force of arms.

  Finally, she eased back the chair. “Thank you, overcaptain. I will meet with the counselor in the morning, if she will see me. Then we will know what we may do.” Secca stood, forcing herself to move smoothly, and not to show the stiffness she felt.

  Alcaren also rose, speaking as he did. “She will see you. Elahwa will not remain the Free City unless Defalk remains strong and with power in the hands and spells of the sorceresses.”

  Power in the hands of the sorceresses? Secca could feel an unseen and cold mantle of…something…dropping onto her shoulders.

  Alcaren smiled, half sadly, then bowed, before turning and departing.

  Secca watched him go, almost with regret. What else could she have said?

  Outside, the heavy rain splatted against the glass of the windowpanes, as the late afternoon darkened into a gloomier dusk.

  94

  Secca pulled off the dripping green felt hat after she hurried up the steps and under the outside columns of the Council building. She squeezed the water from the hat, folded it into her belt, smoothed her hair, and then stepped toward the single guard.

  “Counselor Veria is expecting you, Lady Sorceress,” the tall woman in the crimson guard’s uniform told her.

  Again, Secca felt somewhat overguarded as Dymen and Achar followed her inside and down the corridor to the counselor’s chamber. Both guards remained outside when Secca entered and closed the door.

  The sorceress bowed. Veria did not rise from behind the table-desk, but inclined her head to the chairs. Secca took the chair on the right side.

  “You requested this meeting, Lady Sorceress,” Veria said.

  “I did. Yesterday afternoon, I received several scrolls from Falcor.” Secca extended the two to the counselor.

  “You received scrolls? In this weather?” Veria looked at the two rolled sections of parchment, but did not begin to read them.

  “By sorcery,” Secca explained. “Those scrolls were written yesterday. We can send scrolls in a bronze tube. It is exhausting, perhaps the only sorcery a sorceress can do for a day—or longer—and a sorceress can send less than a handful in a y
ear. It is seldom used because there is usually so much of greater import.”

  “A scrying glass takes less effort?”

  “Much less,” Secca admitted.

  “Scrolls sent hundreds of deks in moments.” Veria shook her head. “I almost understand the wailings of the Ladies of the Shadows.”

  Secca offered a polite smile.

  After a moment, the counselor began to read the scrolls.

  Secca took in the chamber. The outside wall was the same polished blue marble, while the inner walls were the golden oak—but none of the walls bore any decorations, except for the simple baseboards and crown moldings. Even the bronze brackets and wall lamps were simple and smooth metal, and the glass mantels of the lamps curved gently.

  Veria set down the scrolls, then belatedly extended them to Secca, who rerolled them and slipped them inside her jacket.

  “You wish our assistance in getting to Dumar, I take it?” asked the counselor.

  “That might be difficult. You might help us reach Encora, I was led to believe.”

  “No doubt by Alcaren?”

  “We did discuss it,” Secca admitted.

  “The Matriarch would be pleased to see you, for she—as do I—knows that without sorcery, Liedwahr cannot resist the Sturinnese.” Veria paused, and her eyes met Secca’s. “Not all in Encora will be pleased to see a sorceress, and even less would they be pleased were they to know the extent of the sorceries you have accomplished. I have seen you raise the wind, and dispel the fog. I have seen you call forth fire and lightning, and direct arrows through sorcery.” The counselor’s smile was faint and chill. “I doubt that I have seen near all that you can or may do.”

  “I have ideas,” Secca offered, “but whether any will work…that remains to be seen.”

  She paused for but a moment. “Is Alcaren right that you might be able to assist us? You had suggested that you might when I met you first.”

  “Alcaren is correct, and I did suggest such. We have no means that would aid you in reaching Dumar, but it is possible that we could find enough coastal vessels to land you along the southern side of the Sand Hills or perhaps farther south. It might be dangerous. The Sturinnese do have shallow draft patrol schooners, but they have but few, for they are ill-suited to deep ocean crossings. We have not seen any in a season or more. The larger war vessels dare not venture into the shallows.”