A ghost of a frown flicked over Ustal’s face, as if he were unsure whether he’d been reprimanded. “You do not offer a direct answer, my Regent.”
“I will,” Anna promised. “As a lot of people have found out, I can be very direct … especially if I’m pushed.”
Those words did bring a frown, but, again, Ustal seemed to push the expression away. “I look forward to your decision.”
“Thank you, Lord Ustal.”
“And I will not detain you, but wish you a safe journey, both to Sudborte, and then to Dubaria. If you would convey my regards to Lord Jearle and Lord Nelmor?” Ustal offered another bow. “Fussen respects and honors its Regent.”
“Thank you, and I would be most happy to carry your greetings to Lord Nelmor and Lord Jearle.” Anna did not move until Ustal bowed a third time, and slipped away.
Then she lifted the lutar case. Rickel’s and Kerhor’s boots echoed hers as they walked through the hazy early-morning light toward the stable. The ostlers slipped away when she headed toward the gelding’s stall.
Farinelli whuffed as she quickly brushed her mount before saddling him.
“I know. It’s clean, but it’s not home.” She tightened the girths, then checked them again. The last thing she or Farinelli needed was a loose saddle.
Jecks appeared at the end of the stall, and Himar stood behind the white-haired lord.
“Lady Anna,” asked Jecks, “if you are near-ready …”
“You can tell everyone to mount up. I’ll be right there.”
Himar vanished silently, and in moments, Anna could hear the echo of orders in the courtyard, then the sounds of boots and hoofs.
After accepting the saddlebags from Jecks, who in turn had taken them from Kerhor, Anna fastened them behind the saddle, then strapped the traveling mirror and lutar in place before leading Farinelli out into the courtyard, where she quickly mounted.
“The road to Sudborte runs south from the main square of Fussen,” offered Jecks, riding his mount up beside Anna and Farinelli.
Himar glanced at the sorceress, and Anna nodded, then flicked the reins gently. Anna and Jecks led the way out of the keep.
The sorceress waited until the column was well out of Fussen and in good order on the south road before she turned in the saddle and beckoned for her chief player to ride beside her.
Liende eased her mount next to Farinelli, looking at Anna for direction.
“Could you tell how Lord Ustal’s players feel about him?”
Liende looked back toward Skent and Jecks, then toward Anna, lowering her voice. “He has but three, a flute player, who is barely that, an old violinist, who is as good as Kaseth was, and a younger violinist, who is better than Delvor … and might someday be adequate. They said little, but their words would convey that Lord Ustal is to be preferred to his sire …” Liende let the words hang.
“That sounds like Lord Vlassa was not to be preferred at all,” suggested Anna.
“He whipped a cooper to death who protested when his armsmen brought the cooper’s consort to Vlassa’s bed.”
Anna winced. “He wasn’t exactly beloved. Anything else?”
“The lady Yelean was promised to Ustal’s brother Falar, until Lord Vlassa took to his bed with his last illness.”
Worse and worse … “And … ?”
Liende shrugged. “None knew … or would say.”
“What else?”
“Lord Vlassa could not sing, even the simplest of spells, and so had: young Ustal sing them for him.” Liende’s shrug was expressive. “Many lords have neither seers nor players, you must understand. Only the powerful lands like Fussen.”
Anna refrained from wincing. So Ustal has a much longer experience with sorcery, and with his father’s cruelties … . “Did anyone say anything else about Ustal’s brother?”
“Nay, Lady Anna, save the young violino player, who mentioned that Falar rode out of Fussen a half year ago, a week after Lord Vlassa’s death, and none in the keep had seen him since.”
“Thank you.” Anna nodded, and the chief player eased her mount back toward her position at the head of the players.
After a moment, the Regent beckoned for Skent to join her.
The dark-haired page nodded to Himar and urged his mount forward. “Yes, Lady Anna?”
“Did you find out anything about Lord Ustal … or Fussen … that would be good for me to know?”
“Begging your pardon, Lady Anna …” Skent glanced at his mount’s mane. “There were not many who’d speak at my end of the table, and what they said …”
“Tell me what you did hear.”
“Lord Ustal spends much of his time flying his falcons. The mews is bigger than some folks’ cots.”
Anna reflected. The stable had also been clean, well swept, and the horses she had seen well fed and groomed. “He cares for his animals, then.”
“That he does, and the armsmen’s quarters are good. My room was there.”
“How did the girls behave?” Anna asked. “Were there any serving girls or others you saw?”
Skent frowned. “Few enough, and most were quiet. They said nothing, and slipped away as quick as they could.”
“Thank you, Skent.” Anna definitely didn’t like the picture she was getting.
“I tried, my lady.”
“In something like this, that’s all I can ask.”
Skent dropped back to where he had been riding beside Himar, and, at Anna’s gesture, the overcaptain rode forward.
“Can you add anything?”
Himar smiled ironically, the expression lifting his drooping mustache. “He has spent over a hundred golds on having new blades forged for his personal guard, and has sent a farrier and the second-in-command of his armsmen to Heinene to see what beasts the grassland folk will sell.”
“Shrewd—they would have to sell with the grass fires,” Anna said. “Anything else?”
“He spars only with the foremost of the armsmen, and can best them all—and he had one whipped for not striving to his best against him.”
“Did they say anything about Falar?”
“Not in so many words.” Himar tugged on the right end of his mustache before continuing. “Lord Ustal has recently hired twoscore of armsmen, yet it appears that he has but the same number as his sire, and Jirsit heard tell that a serving girl had consorted with one of the newer armsmen … he thought that her first consort had been killed in a skirmish, yet … there has been no talk of brigands or raiders, or of Nesereans …” The overcaptain shrugged.
“So … there have been some hidden battles between the brothers?” Anna nodded slowly.
“That … that is what I heard.” With a nod, Himar dropped back.
Anna rode silently for a time.
“You are quiet, my lady,” Jecks said.
“Ustal is going to be a problem.” The difficulty Anna faced was simple. While everything she’d seen and heard indicated that Ustal was generally pleasantly despicable, his actions were within what most Defalkans would have considered acceptable behavior for a lord—and certainly within the bounds of acceptability as defined by most members of the Thirty-three.
“Many lords are like Ustal,” observed Jecks. “Perhaps wiser in some ways, perhaps more discreet, but not that different.”
“That’s why he’s a problem.” Anna frowned, then glanced at Jecks. “Liende said that not that many lords could use a glass or scrying pound … .”
Jecks smiled. “I could not, for I cannot hold a tune, and never had I players until Liende and the others fled to Elheld.”
Anna frowned. So … perhaps many lords knew far less about what occurred than she had thought. Messengers cost coins, and that meant communications were not exactly that frequent or speedy in Defalk. “I have to think about this.” And a lot of things.
Jecks nodded slowly, but did not speak as they continued southward.
Sudborte itself was scarcely more than a hamlet, with a single row of stores, i
ncluding a single-storied chandlery that could not have been more than five yards wide and not that much deeper.
A red hound sat on the narrow porch of the chandlery, tied to one of the posts. His eyes followed the horses, but he did not howl or bark. Anna wasn’t sure whether the dog might not have offered the slightest pleading moan, as though he would have liked to follow the riders. While Anna could sense someone observing her, no one stepped onto the porch. The single street of Sudborte remained deserted, at least until well after the Regent’s force had passed through the town itself.
The keep was on the west side of Sudborte, a square structure less than twenty-five yards on a side, with rough-quarried, redstone walls six or seven yards high. There was only one tower, rising another two yards above the parapets of the walls and set to the right of the single wooden gate. Several outbuildings of wood, including what appeared to be a stable, had clearly been constructed later.
A pair of armsmen stood on the parapets above the open gate, but neither had a weapon at hand as the column rode toward the keep.
“Lady …” Himar cleared his throat.
Anna nodded. “You can take some men and check it out.”
Himar looked puzzled for a moment, and Anna almost grinned. Sometimes, Earth colloquialisms did not translate even though the languages were similar. “Make sure it’s safe,” she added, reining up. Jecks and the players reined up as well, while Himar took a score of armsmen and proceeded.
“At times, my lady, you do trust too much,” Jecks murmured quietly.
He was probably right, although she had trusted not so much in Falar’s goodness as her own sorcery. But sorcery isn’t always that precise … or your spells aren’t.
“That’s why I listen to you and Himar.” She smiled impishly. “I did wear that breastplate, you remember, and I did enchant those shields.”
“That you did, my lady, and for that all of us are grateful.” A hint of a smile flickered in the hazel eyes of the white-haired lord, but not upon his lips.
Shortly, Himar rode back. “It appears safe enough. There are but a handful of armsmen, but we will keep watch.” He glanced toward Liende, suggestively.
Anna smiled wryly and called, “Chief player! Have the players standing ready. When we dismount, have them run through the short flame song.” They need to be in practice for that sort of thing anyway.
“Yes, Regent.”
Anna turned in the saddle and unfastened the lutar case, then extracted the instrument, holding it while Jecks leaned over and refastened the empty case in place. Then, they followed Himar toward the small redstone keep.
A red-haired young man stood by the open gate, with but two armsmen beside him. As Anna reined up, he bowed deeply. “Regent, welcome to Sudborte. I am Falar.” He stood, waiting, almost as if Anna might order his capture or death.
“This is the Regent,” Jecks announced.
“And that is Lord Jecks, High Lord Counselor of Defalk,” Anna said, “Overcaptain Himar, and Chief of Players Liende.”
Falar paled ever so slightly, even as he bowed to each figure.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Anna said.
“I had hoped for that, Regent and sorceress.” Falar bowed again. “I can but offer meager hospitality, far less grand than can my brother, Lord Ustal.” Unlike his brother, Falar was red-haired, with a pale freckled complexion, and barely taller than Anna. He was slender and lacked the overt muscular toughness displayed by Ustal or even the wiriness of some armsmen. Yet, he offered a smile that held a hint of roguishness.
Himar deployed lancers both outside the keep and within the courtyard, some mounted, and some on foot. Liende set the players to practicing in a shaded corner on the east side behind the open gate.
Anna dismounted, carefully, still holding the lutar, and Falar led them to a hall—less than ten yards long and half that in width—where he gestured to the single chair at the head of the table flanked by benches. “If you would, Regent?”
Anna sat. Rickel and Lejun stationed themselves behind her, while Jecks sat on the bench to her left, leaving the one on the right for Falar.
“You wished to tell me …” Anna began gently.
“Lady, Regent, sorceress, I am not a powerful-looking man. My brother is. He looks like a lord should look. He believes he is a lord, but he is not the lord for Fussen.”
“Why do you believe you should be the heir to Fussen?” Anna asked bluntly.
“Because Ustal will ruin Fussen. He has already begun. I do not believe I would be the best lord, but I will not ruin the land and its people.” Falar cleared his throat. “I do not speak well of myself, but I have waiting some folk, in hopes you would come. If you would but hear their words?”
“Who are these folk?” asked Jecks, his voice even.
“Tradespeople, crafters, Lord Jecks. I would have the Regent hear each in turn, if that would be acceptable.”
Jecks glanced toward Anna. She nodded.
Falar gestured toward the slim youth who stood in the doorway of the hall. The youth ducked out of sight, then returned with a stooped figure who walked to the foot of the table—a a good four yards from Anna.
“This is Gheratt,” Falar explained. “He is the millwright at the sawmill.”
Gheratt was a wiry man, slightly taller than Jecks, slightly stooped with gray-and-brown hair. He wore a clean brown tunic, dark blue trousers, and battered brown-leather boots. “My sire built the mill to the west of here, on the Eisig River. Then Lord Vlassa told him that a tenth part of what he took in would go to Fussen. Lord Ustal has sent a scroll demanding a fifth part.”
“Did he offer a reason?” asked Jecks.
“Nay, ser. Not excepting that he expected a reckoning in writing … and who would keep that?” asked Gheratt. “I be a miller, not a scribe.”
“He claimed you weren’t paying what you owed and asked for twice that?” asked Anna.
“Aye …” Gheratt said, “and his men said he’d take the mill iffen I didn’t pay, either in coin or timber.”
Falar gestured again. Gheratt stepped back, replaced by a younger, burlier, black-haired man wearing coarsely woven gray-linen trousers and shirt. “This is Reytal, the smith in Sudborte.”
“Lady … Regent …” the smith stammered. “It be … like … always … My tariff to the lord’s … been four blades a year … one each season … .”
Anna kept her nod to herself. From what she’d heard, even a cheap blade was worth half a gold, and that meant the smith was paying the equivalent of between two and six golds a year.
“At summer turn, the armsmen came … told me … Lord Ustal … said that I must provide eight blades now … .”
After the smith came a cooper, and then a weaver, and a fuller, and each had a similar tale to tell, and Anna listened to each.
When the fuller had left the small hall, Falar looked to Anna. “They were all I could gather when I heard you might be coming, but others would say the same. If you wish, you could talk to any crafter … .”
“They seem to tell the truth,” Jecks said, “but all tell the truth as they see it.”
“That is true, but all tell of vastly increased tariffs, tariffs they can scarce pay,” responded Falar. “You saw the armsmen. I had to hire such, for my dear brother sent his after me, and yet I raised neither blade nor word against him then.”
“You do now,” pointed out Jecks.
“Would you not … after this?” asked Falar, his eyes turning to Anna once more. “Might I ask your inclinations on the succession?”
“You can, but it’s something I’ll have to think about,” Anna replied, as she stood and glanced at Jecks.
“Will you stay?” asked Falar. “We have but little, yet it is yours to command.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, Falar, but much as we would like to do so, we need to be on our way,” Anna demurred. And well out of Lord Ustal’s lands … if only for my peace of mind.
“I cannot say how gratef
ul I am that you even heeded my plea and came to hear what I would say for the folk of Fussen.”
“Falar … I will always listen.” Anna forced herself not to say more beyond that promise. “And I will let you know my decision after I return to Falcor.”
“More than that can no man ask.” The younger son of Vlassa bowed, offering his charming smile.
After inclining her head in return, Anna followed Jecks back to the courtyard, flanked by her guards, where she mounted Farinelli.
When the column was northbound, a good dek from the keep, Anna turned toward Jecks. “What do you think, my lord Jecks?”
“I would suggest prudence. If you remove Ustal now, none will understand why, save a handful of tradesmen.”
“And the Thirty-three will be upset.”
“Some would be most upset; others would defer to your judgment.”
Anna nodded slowly. So you have to let things get bad enough that everyone can see the reasons for your actions … and all the time, people will suffer She shook her head, sadly.
“Think you that I am mistaken, my lady?”
“No, my lord. I think you’re right. That’s why I’m bothered.” Anna stared blankly at the dusty road ahead, and the long afternoon of riding to come. “That’s also why we have to visit Lord Jearle in Denguic.”
18
Jecks took Anna’s arm as they neared the great hall of Westfort, where Lord Jearle waited, smiling broadly, several paces from the open doors of the hall. On each side of the doors stood an armsman in red and black.
“You make a striking appearance, my lady,” Jecks whispered. “Lord Jearle has not taken his eyes from you.”
Striking? In simple green gown with a costume, gold-plated link necklace, and green slippers? “I don’t think Lord Jearle’s eyes are on me for my appearance, Lord High Counselor. I’m so thin I look more like a boy.”
“No one would ever mistake you for such,” Jecks replied, his voice low. “You even take away this old warhorse’s breath.”
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 11
