Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Anna could feel her heartbeat speed up at the words, knowing how much it cost Jecks to offer any admission. “You’re not old, and I’m glad to see I still have some effect on men.” She paused, then added, “Particularly men of judgment and experience.”

  Is there a slight blush there? Good! Anna smiled.

  “Some have questioned that judgment … .”

  “I wouldn’t.” Anna broke off as Jearle stepped forward.

  “Regent Anna, Lord High Counselor Jecks … one would scarcely know that you had ridden from Falcor so recently,” said Jearle in a resonant baritone. The Lord of Denguic bowed, deeply and dramatically and declaimed, “We are honored, mightily honored.” He smiled even more broadly. “When you were announced by my messenger, I must say that I was most pleased to learn that you had made Lord Jecks your chief counselor.”

  “Lord Jecks has always been my chief advisor,” Anna replied. “The title merely affirms that.”

  “The magnificence of Westfort has restored us from the rigors of the journey,” offered Jecks, with a hearty laugh following his words, clearly trying to move the conversation away from his title.

  “And the hospitality of its lord,” Anna added sweetly, keeping a smile on her face. Remember … Mother always said you’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar … except Jearle’s more like a cockroach.

  The graying Lord of Denguic made a sweeping gesture to the woman standing to his left and back two paces, almost between the armsmen in red and black. “Might I present my consort, Livya. My dear, the Regent, the lady Anna, and Lord High Counselor Jecks.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Anna said, inclining her head. “Westfort is both imposing and charming.”

  “We are so honored that you have come to grace Westfort.” The white-haired and thin-faced woman in the loose and dark red gown smiled and offered a gesture of respect somewhere between a curtsy and a bow.

  “And my heir, Brellyt.” Jearle beckoned for a broad-shouldered and red-bearded and red-haired man to step forward.

  “I am honored, Regent. Most honored.” Brellyt bowed.

  Anna would have been impressed by the shy nature of the young man’s smile, except for the seeming contradiction of the hardness of his eyes.

  “If you would lead the way, Regent … .” Lord Jearle gestured toward the open double doors flanked by the armsmen.

  “Thank you.” Anna inclined her head ever so slightly, then swept through the door, careful to keep a dazzling smile in place as she and Jecks walked toward the seat at the head of the long table.

  She stood there, surveying the long and dark table, on which gleamed silvery cutlery and shimmering crystal. Seven-branched candelabra, set at intervals on the polished dark wood, lit the hall and the table, which was set for more than twenty people. After waiting for her entrance, others followed Jearle into the hall. Anna stood and waited, as if holding court, until people gathered at places around the table.

  Realizing that she was in a situation where no one would sit until she did, Anna seated herself. So did everyone else.

  As soon as he sat to Anna’s right, the gray-haired Jearle smiled broadly once more, revealing teeth remarkably even and white for Defalk. “Regent and sorceress of power … I cannot tell you how greatly your message and your decision to visit Denguic and Westfort has cheered all of us.”

  Anna wanted to shiver at the oiliness she sensed in Jearle’s words, but replied with the phrase she had rehearsed, “A regent must know those in power in the land she serves, and you are most gracious to receive us all so warmly.” You sound as false as he does, but that’s politics … or diplomacy … or something.

  Jecks sat across the table from Jearle, with Jearle’s consort Livya to his left. Brellyt sat to his father’s right. Anna could see Liende, Himar, and Skent farther down the table, interspersed with those who had to be Jearle’s retainers or relatives.

  A serving girl filled Anna’s goblet with a ruby liquid, then those of Jearle, Jecks, Livya, and Brellyt.

  “The Mylelot, that comes from the Guereck Valley—it is at least as good as the Neserean vintages from Ferantha.” Jearle smiled again, revealing his teeth once more.

  Anna returned the smile and took a small sip, admitting to herself that the wine was good. Not great, but good, and certainly better than many she had tasted in Defalk. “Excellent, and far better than any I have tasted recently.”

  “That is why I made sure we had an ample supply for your visit, honored Regent, and Lord High Counselor … .”

  As Jearle talked, and Anna smiled, unbidden, Henry Higgins’ words from My Fair Lady slipped into her mind … Oozing charm from every pore … he oiled his way across the floor … Was Jearle that bad? She wanted to nod.

  “Have you visited any other lords before coming to Denguic?” asked Jearle.

  “We have just come from Fussen, where we met Lord Ustal,” Anna said. You hope the news won’t upset him too much, but he’ll find out sooner or later … .

  “The succession, I imagine. Difficult situation, there, most difficult.” Jearle took a modest swallow of the ruby wine, then gestured for Anna to serve herself from the platter heaped high with slabs of meat and held by a serving girl. “Our most tender lamb, lady.”

  “Thank you.” Anna took three slabs, sensing young Brellyt’s eyes open as she did.

  “Have you any thoughts on the succession?” asked Jecks.

  “Ha … you jest, of course. A lord had best not comment on the affairs of his neighbor.” Jearle laughed, and the sound was as oily as his words.

  “His sire was not known to have been the most accommodating of souls,” Jecks pursued.

  “Accommodating, Lord Jecks? I don’t know as I’d ever heard that word in the same sentence as Lord Vlassa’s name before.” Jearle shrugged, still smiling. “They say the son is quite accomplished, in arms and elsewhere.”

  “He presents a fine appearance,” Anna said.

  “As did his sire, years back … but none of us present the appearance now as we did then … save for you, Regent. And you, the stories say, paid most dearly for your youth.” Jearle paused, then added. “That is what one hears.”

  “The Regent has taken more wounds than most,” Jecks affirmed. “Two crossbow bolts, a knife, and possibly others I know not of.”

  “Lord Jecks is modest,” Anna interjected. “My wounds came through … unfamiliarity. He has exhibited far greater bravery and skill.”

  “Begging your pardon, Regent, but it is said that you took Dumar with but twentyscore lancers.” Jearle raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s about right. We started with fifteen, I think, and Lord Sargol and Lord Birfels offered some aid as well.”

  “And how many armsmen did you face?” asked Brellyt.

  Anna tried to remember. “About five thousand … two hundred fifty–score … that’s about how many we killed in battle.” She didn’t want to think too long about the innocents killed in the flooding or in the destruction of Envaryl.

  Brellyt’s gulp was audible.

  “She destroyed almost five hundred-score of the Evult’s lancers and armsmen,” Jecks added.

  “The strongest ruler of Defalk in generations,” Jearle observed, “and a regent.” He laughed humorously. “Would we had had more such.”

  Although Anna trusted the man less and less, she smiled and took another sip of wine, and another helping of the heavy-cheesed potatoes.

  “Have you any news on the new Prophet?” inquired Jearle.

  “Very little except that the Liedfuhr has sent fiftyscore Mansuuran lancers in his support,” Anna answered politely.

  “The lord Behlem brought well over three hundred–score armsmen through the West Pass before you vanquished him. So thick they were that one could not see the road,” Jearle said. “Far more lancers and armsmen there were than ever seen or gathered in Defalk.”

  Anna understood where Jearle was taking the conversation, but only said, “There were so many that th
ey could not be quartered within the liedburg at Falcor.”

  “Yet the lady Anna vanquished them and their Prophet,” Jecks pointed out, “and without assistance.”

  “Ah, yes … sorcery, was it not?” Jearle beamed. “Most welcome indeed. And what a sight it was when they marched back, their packs and tails dragging.” He smiled.

  “Many things are called sorcery,” observed Jecks mildly. “At times, entire forces of armsmen have vanished, and there have been no sorcerers within deks. Other times, bridges have been built without masons.”

  Livya’s eyes clouded, and she coughed gently. “There are many tales about the Regent, and how she came from the mist worlds. Alas, we have never been privy to them, and if it would not be too wearisome to repeat that tale, Regent, I for one would be most pleased to hear it from the one who lived it.” A warm smile crossed her face.

  Anna didn’t trust Livya’s smile any more than her consort’s, and she had a good idea that the Lady of Westfort was more than either ornament or broodmare. Whether Jearle had gotten Jecks’ point or not, the lady Livya certainly had. “If you don’t mind hearing an old tale, I would be more than pleased to tell you … .”

  Anna launched into the tale of how she had come to Liedwahr, all too conscious of Jecks’ eyes upon her as she spoke—and of the assessing speculation of both Jearle and Livya.

  19

  “Lord Nelmor.” Anna inclined her head, then took the armchair on one side of the table in the private study, so that Nelmor and Jecks would have to sit on the other side. Anna hoped that might give the Lord of Dubaria the impression, subconscious or otherwise, that he and Jecks were on the same side. The dark-paneled walls of the room reminded her vaguely of Jecks’ study, although she recalled Jecks’ study as being and smelling far cleaner.

  “You are most kind to visit Dubaria. I do not believe any from Falcor have come so far north and west since before the time of Donjim,” replied Nelmor as he seated himself. “It may have been even longer.”

  Jecks slipped into the other armchair slightly after Nelmor was settled.

  “We were persuaded to go to Fussen, and since we were there, we wished to show support for those who supported the Regency from the beginning.” Anna smiled warmly. “We also wished to inform you about the successes and the challenges ahead.”

  “I think I would hear of the successes,” said Nelmor. “I face challenges enough each week.”

  “So do we all,” said Jecks.

  “We have managed to pay off the debts Lord Barjim ran up to the Ranuan Exchange,” Anna began. “That should make it easier for the Thirty-three to trade there. We have repaired the ford on the Chean River to restore the road to Ebra. We have received the fealty of Lord Hadrenn of Synek … .” Anna paused at the expression on Nelmor’s face. “You had not heard that the western third of Ebra had asked to become part of Defalk?”

  Nelmor shook his head. “Ah … truthfully, no, my Regent.”

  “The armsmaster of Dumar is our appointment, and we are expecting golds from Dumar by harvesttime. Most of the damages of the Evult’s flood have been repaired in Falcor, and if the weather holds …” Anna continued with every promising scrap she could remember, ending with, “ … and many holdings are expecting far better crops than in recent years.”

  “Better news than I have heard in many years.” A sardonic smile crossed the tall lord’s face. “And the news that is less promising?”

  “There is another war brewing in Ebra, between Lord Bertmynn of Dolov and the freewomen of Elahwa—”

  “Freewomen?”

  “The local women. They took the city and started to rebuild it after the flood. They have received blades from the South Women of Ranuak,” Anna explained. “Lord Bertmynn does not appear pleased.”

  “Ah … that explains Lord Hadrenn’s desires.”

  “Better to have a third of Ebra behind us, than none at all in these times,” suggested Jecks.

  Nelmor nodded slowly.

  “A number of the merchants and crafters in Fussen have petitioned the Regency to replace Lord Ustal with his younger twin brother,” Anna said.

  “And what has the Regency decided, if this lord might ask?”

  “The Regency does not feel,” Anna said carefully, “that the Regency should act unless many lives are in danger or unless Defalk itself is in danger. Or unless a lord defies the Regency,” she added. “None of those has happened.”

  Nelmor pulled thoughtfully at his left earlobe. “Wise guidelines, I would say. Yet you seem less than pleased.”

  “I think that there will be trouble unless things change,” Anna said bluntly. “Lord Ustal is far too hard on his people and his crafters.”

  “Lord Vlassa was said to be hard,” Nelmor pointed out.

  Anna merely nodded.

  “Other troubles? Surely, Defalk faces more difficulties than those?”

  “Ebra seems to be the problem. The Sturinnese could be sending golds to Lord Bertmynn. They did to Lord Ehara, you might remember.”

  “I had heard such.”

  “There were twoscore ruined Sturinnese hulls in the bay at Narial,” Jecks said mildly, “and some hundred and fifty–score Sturinnese lancers that Lady Anna destroyed.”

  And one Lord Jecks was most unhappy about at the time, Anna recalled. She also remembered how she’d exploded at Jecks, and how they’d barely spoken for over a week.

  “You saw these?” asked Nelmor.

  “I did.”

  “Lord Jecks was also wounded with an enchanted Sturinnese javelin,” Anna pointed out. “That’s why we’re concerned about Sturinn sending golds to Bertmynn.”

  “Has this yet occurred?”

  “Only in small amounts so far,” Anna fudged.

  Nelmor nodded. “And what of the new young Prophet of Music—our nearest threat? Have you heard aught promising or less so?”

  “He has fiftyscore Mansuuran lancers to add to his armsmen,” Anna replied, “and a regent who is an officer sent by his grandsire. Right now, he has sent some of his grandsire’s armsmen to Elioch, but none of his own armsmen.”

  “That bears watching, but it would be good if no other lancers near Elioch.” After a silence, Nelmor asked, “How do you find Tiersen and Ytrude?”

  “They have not sent you scrolls?”

  “Alas, I have not sent a messenger. How would they? They would not have imposed upon you, your grace, and even had they, I would just have received such.”

  “Ytrude seems to be settling in at Falcor,” Anna observed. “She is shy, but she seems bright.”

  “Bright she has always been.” Nelmor cleared his throat. “And what of Tiersen?”

  “He seems thoughtful, but I have not had as much time to observe him.”

  “You are like my sister, Lady Anna. And yet you are not.” Nelmor shrugged.

  What that meant, Anna suspected, was that Gatrune was direct, and Nelmor thought Anna was, but that he was reluctant to admit anything, since he was a lord, and lords admitted nothing. At least, Defalkan lords of the old style didn’t.

  “You were most supportive to send Tiersen to Falcor,” Anna began slowly, “but he will learn more about those who will be his peers in years to come, before he must make decisions about them and their families. He has also begun to learn other skills.”

  “It is said that you are instructing the fosterlings in another way in which to keep the accounts of their lands. Why would you find this necessary?” Nelmor’s expression was that of a quizzical frown.

  “I have already learned, Lord Nelmor, that not all those who keep the accounts of their lords are as honest as they profess. The accounts and figures Dythya is teaching them will allow them to check those accounts quickly. This will give them greater control—and they will have to spend less time on accounts.” She smiled. “That way, Tiersen can devote more time to those matters you feel are most important without leaving his fate in the hands of others.”

  “And Lord Dannel has said that
some who instruct them are lowborn,” Nelmor added cautiously.

  “I was not born into a lordly family of Defalk, In fact, they’d have called your grandparents peasants, since they worked a farm in an Appalachian holler. “Nor was Arms Commander Hanfor. Nor Tirsik the stablemaster. Yet we all do certain things better than others. I felt that your son and daughter should learn about the uses and limits of blades from the best and how stables should be run from a good stablemaster. Sometimes, the best instructor is a lord, such as Lord Jecks here. Sometimes, they are not.”

  “Your words are wise, Regent, yet Lord Dannel is not pleased.”

  “Lord Dannel is not pleased, Lord Nelmor, because his son is not as quick-witted nor as skilled in arms as his sire. He is not pleased because his son refuses to learn and blames it upon his instructors.” Anna forced another smile. “As Arms Commander Hanfor has told me,” she fibbed, “it is a poor lancer who blames his blade or his mount.”

  Surprisingly, Nelmor laughed. “True. Has he not wit enough to find better mount or blade, or to use what he has, soon enough he will be dead.” The laugh died away. “Yet Lord Dannel has suggested a match between Lord Birfels’ eldest daughter and his youngest.”

  “That match is not suitable.” Anna looked straight at Nelmor. “Your son, or the son of another lord, would be far better. That is, if those involved like each other.” Based on her past meetings with the proud lord, that was as much as she dared suggest to Nelmor, and the not-quite-direct approach would give him the opportunity to consider such a match without the impression of pressure.

  “Why should their likes matter?” asked Nelmor, his tone curious.

  “I did not say ‘love,’ my lord Nelmor,” Anna pointed out. “But I have observed the poisoning of one lord by a consort who was ill suited and the abuse and treachery of another lord who refused to heed his consort. Defalk cannot afford that kind of scheming. I would prefer that matches have some acceptance by both parties.” Her tone turned dry. “It is easier upon all the rest of us.”

  A smile crossed Jecks’ face, and after a moment, Nelmor chuckled. “You appear so young that sometimes I forget that you have seen far more than that lovely face displays.”