“I will.” She turned to Himar. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, before the turn of the day’s second glass.” The overcaptain glanced toward the receiving-room doors.
“You may go …” Anna laughed gently. “I haven’t left you much time.”
Himar eased back the straight-backed chair and rose. He bowed. “I will have most of the experienced lancers accompany us.” He looked at Jecks. “Would you not agree, Lord High Counselor?”
“I would insist … but that is the Regent’s decision.”
Anna had to laugh at the mock-seriousness in both men’s voices. “All right. All right. You’ve made your points.”
Himar bowed, a twinkle in his eyes. “We will be ready.”
As the receiving-room door closed behind the overcaptain, Anna’s eyes went to Jecks. “You have a scroll to write.”
“Alas …” He shook his head “I would be with you.”
“You can ease my worries more by holding Falcor.”
“That I can accept, but I do not like it.”
From somewhere, half-familiar words came to her, and she murmured them, “Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart.” Will your heart be stone … if you even survive?
Jecks did not speak, and Anna reached out and touched his arm. “I know. I don’t like it either.”
Jecks rose, gracefully as ever, muscular and competent, and bowed. “I will send the scroll, and then inform young Jimbob and Kinor of their duties.”
“Thank you.”
After Jecks had left, Anna looked at the stack of scrolls and groaned. Too much to do … but if she didn’t get moving to deal with Rabyn, she’d have even greater problems. And she needed to look in on Lysara again … and …
She took a swallow from the goblet before reaching for the bell to summon Halde.
“Yes, Regent?” Alseta peered into the receiving room.
“Is Halde still there?”
“He awaits your pleasure.”
“Have him come in.”
Halde stepped into the room, then immediately bowed. “I rode as quickly as I could, Regent.”
“You did fine, Halde.” Anna motioned to the chair across from her. “I don’t have much time. So this will be quick. Are you willing to be my saalmeister?”
“Yes, lady. Herstat has told me much.”
“Loiseau has never had a saalmeister, not in years and years, anyway. I have told everyone there to expect you. Serna is the housekeeper, and she has a chest of five hundred golds for your use in maintaining the place. Those must last until spring—at least …” Anna quickly ran through brief backgrounds on the older and more experienced staff members. Then she looked at the dark-haired and dark-bearded young man. “Do you understand?”
Halde bowed and nodded. “I trust I do, Regent. If I mark your words, your holding almost does not need a saalmeister, saving that you will be there seldom, and my task is to make sure that all goes well with those who already do their jobs well, to ensure it is guarded, because there has always been a sorcerer to guard before, to make the rounds to collect the rents and to refrain from collecting the rents where there has been death or trouble, and to discover ways to manage those aspects of the hold once handled by sorcery.”
“And anything else that you feel should be done and isn’t being done—after you discuss it with Serna and Quies.” Anna paused. “I am not saying that their judgment should override yours, but I do not want you making a decision—except where there is no time—without talking it over with them so that you know how it will be received and can adjust your plans for implementing things, if necessary.”
“A light but gently firm rein?” Halde offered a smile.
“Yes … and I will expect a scroll from you every two weeks, sooner if you think necessary. The armsmen there know they will have to act as couriers on occasion.”
Halde bowed again.
“If you have any questions later … send me a scroll. Lord Jecks will know where to find me.” Anna stood. “Oh … one other thing.” She grinned. “What is a good saalmeister paid?”
Halde swallowed … for the first time. “Ah … I know not. I received two silvers a week as the assistant at Synfal.”
“All right. Let’s start at twice that, with an initial bonus of five golds for taking the job, and if either of us thinks you should get more … then we’ll talk about it.”
Anna fumbled with her belt wallet, glad she’d filled it before leaving Loiseau, and then extended seven golds. “That’s your bonus plus your pay until close to spring. You tell me when I’m supposed to pay you again.”
Halde’s eyes widened as the words sank in. Then he shifted his weight from one boot to the other, uneasily.
“I operate on trust, Halde.” Anna’s eyes fixed on the saalmeister. “If I can’t trust someone … they leave. I don’t have time to do your job and mine, and if you aren’t doing yours, I’ll know soon enough. Understood?”
“Yes, Regent. You … are most generous.”
“I hope you’ll always feel that way. Now …” She gestured toward the pile of scrolls. “I have to read those before I leave tomorrow.”
Halde bowed again.
Once Halde had left, Anna glanced at the piles of scrolls and reached for the one closest to her. Lord …
72
After setting aside the scroll from the Rider of Heinene, Anna sat in the pool of candlelight behind the writing desk in her own chamber, massaging her forehead. Lord Vyarl’s missive had been one of the few she had received not asking for anything, but merely thanking the Regent for her kindness and generosity in seeing that grain had come to the grasslands people after the fires of summer. She’d liked Vyarl when she’d met him the summer before, and the scroll reinforced the impression of honesty and dignity she had gotten then. Too bad there aren’t more like him. But there were few enough in any society, from what she’d seen on two worlds.
Though it was still comparatively early in the evening, not much past what would have been eight o’clock on Earth—the second glass of the night on Erde—she was tired, and had to repress a yawn.
Maybe it had been the de facto memorial service … or all the details that kept inundating her … or … or … Who knew? All she knew was that it was early, and she had more scrolls to read, and she was tired.
Maybe some cheese and bread would help—that was something she had to concentrate on remembering. She broke off a chunk of the crusty bread and used the knife on the side of the small wooden platter to cut a sliver of white cheese. After eating both slowly, she massaged the back of her neck, then looked out through the open shutters into the purpled darkness. A cool, not quite chill, breeze slipped into the chamber.
Thrap!
“Yes?” Anna glanced toward the closed door.
“The lady Secca,” Fielmir announced.
“She can come in.” Anna stood, leaving the pile of scrolls on the writing desk, lit by the pair of candles with polished-brass reflectors. Better lighting at night—that she did miss about Earth.
Secca slipped into Anna’s chamber and bowed. “Are you all right, Lady Anna?” One hand remained behind her back.
Anna couldn’t help smiling, warmed by the little redhead’s question. “Are you all right? Yesterday and today have been hard days for you.”
“I cried a lot. I couldn’t help it.” Secca sniffed. “I tried not to, but I really couldn’t …” The redhead sniffed again.
“You’re allowed to cry after things like that happen—even when you’re a lady.” Telling Secca earlier in the day about her mother’s death had been hard enough for Anna.
“Why is everyone calling me ‘Lady’? Is that because … ?” Secca looked almost as if she were going to break down and cry again. “I didn’t want anything like that to happen. Not even to Kurik.”
“I know.” The sorceress nodded somberly. “But you are the Lady of Flossbend.”
“It seems funny. Jeron was going to be lord after Papa. O
r Kurik. Even Lysara’s older, and she’s not a lady.” Secca tilted her head to the side, then straightened. “I’m sorry about Resor and Cens. I’m sorriest about poor Lysara, though. Tiersen looks awful. I think he loves her, you know.”
“He does,” Anna said.
“Do you think someone will love me like that?”
“Yes. When you’re older.” Anna smiled. How could they not love you, child?
“Will you let me show you something?” Secca stepped sideways and looked down at the floor stones. “And you won’t get angry? It can’t wait; it really can’t.”
“Secca … I won’t get angry. Not at you.”
“I was going to wait, but I heard Kinor say you were leaving tomorrow.” The little redhead eased a small mandolin from behind her back. “Don’t say anything yet.” Then she took a stick of pencil wood and walked to the cold hearth, laying the wood in the iron grate. After she drew herself erect, Secca cleared her throat, almost as if in an unconscious imitation of Anna, and her fingers gripped what seemed to be a pick, drawing it over the mandolin’s strings, as if to check the sound. Her voice was clear and on key.
Fire, fire, burn so bright
burn well and warm and light … .
A tongue of flame wrapped around the stick of wood, flickered, and died to almost nothing, before seeming to catch.
Anna swallowed.
“You used a bigger spell, but I couldn’t make my fingers work right for that long, so I used just part of your spell … it’s shorter.” Secca bit her lip, lowering the mandolin slowly. “And I used a piece of copper—it was a part of a mirror—to pick at the strings.”
“Secca … you sang that right on key.”
A faint smile crossed the girl’s lips. “It was hard. I had to practice the tones without words, the way you do, and … it was hard.”
“Singing is always hard, if you do it right.”
“Will you … can you teach me?”
Anna nodded slowly. “If you promise not to try any more spells without showing me the words first.”
“I haven’t tried any more. I used yours because I saw you do it.”
“You remembered that spell from last winter?”
“It was almost spring,” Secca pointed out.
Anna laughed softly, wonderingly. “You are a special child … a special young woman.”
That brought another smile. “Papa was right to send me here.”
“Yes, he was.” If not for the reasons he thought.
Secca glanced at the still-burning stick of wood. “Will you let me light the fire sometimes when we play Vorkoffe?”
“Sometimes,” agreed Anna, with a smile. “Who taught you to play the mandolin?”
“I asked Palian. She helped me. I made her promise not to tell anyone. She’s teaching me how to play the violino, too. When she’s here. I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll tell Liende that Palian is to help you learn to play the violino. It can’t hurt for a lady to know some sorcery.”
“I don’t want to be a lady. I’d rather be a sorceress like you.”
“I’m both a sorceress and a lady. I don’t see why you can’t be both—if you work hard.” Anna paused. “It works better that way.”
“Will you teach me sorcery?”
“Not at first. First, you have to learn how to control your voice all the time. You shouldn’t do sorcery—or not much—until you’re as old as … say, Clayre. That’s Lysara’s younger sister. She may be coming to Falcor.” If Birfels will let her after this mess.
“That long?”
“That long. You have a lot to learn if you want to do sorcery right.” Anna nodded slowly. Will you get to see this redhead grow up? First, Irenia, and then the separation from Elizabetta, and now Lysara nearly being killed … all redheads. Anna wondered how Elizabetta was doing, in a world that seemed increasingly distant.
Yet, for all the differences between Earth and Erde, she was seeing more clearly how similar the two worlds were behind their superficially different façades. Was it that you didn’t want to see—or didn’t have to?
She pushed the thought away, stepping forward to hug the one little redhead she could … while she could.
73
WEI, NORDWEI
Only a fraction of the bright afternoon sunlight penetrates the nearly closed heavy green draperies that frame the second-story window of Ashtaar’s Council office. The counselor looks at the polished black agate spheroid on the shimmering surface of her table-desk. She does not reach out to touch it, but forces her eyes to the blonde seer sitting in the straight-backed chair across from her. “You were saying, Gretslen?”
Gretslen leans forward. “The Sorceress of Defalk has overreached herself. The harmonies could only have fated it to occur.”
The dark-haired Ashtaar continues to look at the head seer. “How has she overreached herself? If you would explain … ?”
“When she left Defalk to meddle in Ebra once more, the peasants in Pamr revolted. She put down the revolt, but it cost her two parts in ten of her lancers, and another score to remain and guard the hold. The lord of the north also rebelled, and his efforts took another threescore of the sorceress’ lancers. Rabyn and the Mansuurans now hold much of the Western Marches of Defalk, and the Regent has but half the lancers and armsmen she possessed but a season ago, while young Rabyn has begun to use the drums of Darksong.”
“That may be,” points out Ashtaar, “but you have told me that Hadrenn has sworn allegiance to Defalk, and that the sorceress-Regent extracted some condition from him regarding Elahwa, for his armsmen have gone to Dolov, but not to the port city. That would seem to ensure that she faces trouble with neither Ebra nor Ranuak.”
“She paid a high price for such peace,” counters the seer. “More and more of the lords of Defalk have come to despise the sorceress. Lord Jearle has not so much as sent a single armsman against the Neserean invaders. Nor has Lord Ustal. Only Lord Nelmor, and he has been most careful but to harry them, and seems not minded to blunt their advance.”
“From this you would conclude what?” asks the spymistress.
“The sorceress is greatly weakened, and she will fail.” A slow smile creeps across the seer’s face.
Ashtaar frowns, and she finally picks up the agate oval, letting its coolness suffuse her without speaking.
“You have doubts?” questions Gretslen.
“She has gambled, but she is not that weakened yet. We shall see,” says Ashtaar politely. “Please keep observing Rabyn and his drums.”
“You have doubts … when her land is in revolt and her Western Marches have fallen? She is powerful, but this is the first time she has faced all that a ruler of Defalk must face. No one can rule Defalk. No one ever has.”
“You are correct in your second statement. We will see about the truth of the first.” Ashtaar sets aside the black agate. “Be certain that you and your seers scry all that there is to see and not just those events which would support your wishes.”
“Yes, Counselor Ashtaar.” Gretslen bows her head, as if to conceal a smile. “We shall follow your orders.”
“You may go.” Ashtaar waits until the door shuts before she sighs.
74
The paving stones of the liedburg courtyard—wet from the predawn rain—glistened even in the shadows cast by the early-morning sun. Anna strapped the lutar behind the saddle, then patted Farinelli on the neck before mounting. “Easy, fellow. We’ve got a long way to ride.”
“You have the shield enchanted?” asked Jecks.
Anna leaned forward in the saddle and touched the open-topped leather carrier that held the small round shield—without straps. The metal rim tingled her fingers. She looked down at Jecks, standing by the stable door. “It’s ready.” Not that it’s been that much use so far. You’ve faced about everything BUT enchanted weapons.
“You will scry often for that whelp Rabyn?”
“I will.”
&n
bsp; “And you will use strong sorcery from the first?”
Anna nodded. She and Jecks had already been through the points he raised, but she knew he was worried. “I can’t afford not to.”
“So long as you recall that …” Jecks shook his head with an expression that wasn’t quite a rueful laugh. “Still … much as I must hold here … would that I could accompany you.”
“I know … but you can’t. Someone has to hold Falcor.”
“That … that I must accept. I like it not.” Jecks forced a smile. “I will be most happy when you return.” He paused. “And take care to eat and drink often.”
“I will.” Her fingers touched the small food pouch that was on the other side of the saddle from the shield case. She smiled. “I need to check with Liende.” With a last smile and a nod at the handsome lord, she eased Farinelli around Rickel and his mount to where the chief player stood beside her mare.
Liende looked up, then gestured to the players, each waiting beside a mount. “We are ready, Regent.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“Players, mount up,” Liende called.
“Himar.” Anna pitched her voice to carry across the low hubbub in the courtyard.
“Mount up!” ordered the overcaptain.
“ … mount up!”
“ … up!”
The chain of orders repeated and echoed away from the overcaptain like ripples in a pond. Before long, the column began to move from the rear courtyard past the stables and toward the north gates of the liedburg.
Anna looked northward as she rode out through the gates, taking in the city. Mist rose from Falcor as the sun struck the dark roofs. To the west, the sky was clear, except for a line of white clouds just above the horizon.
“How far will we get today?” Kinor turned in the saddle and asked Liende.
“It took us almost four days last time, but Lady Anna will ride harder, I think,” replied the chief player.
“She rides hard all the time,” added Jimbob.
“Even the lancers say she rides like a war leader,” Kinor said.
Other voices rose over those of the young men.
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 36
