Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  ”I am here at your request, Matriarch. Again.”

  ”I do appreciate your patience, Abslim.” The Matriarch extends the scroll in her right hand toward the head of the Exchange. “If you would read this …”

  The tall and dark-haired director of the Exchange takes the scroll and unrolls it, slowly, deliberately, before beginning to study the words. After a time, she looks up. “It appears to be a request to you, asking you as Matriarch to provide for someone to assist and mediate in setting up a government by the freewomen of Elahwa. He calls it a free state, if under his rule. How that might be free … that I would not hazard.”

  ”That was how I read it,” confirms the Matriarch. “Rather remarkable, considering how badly the freewomen were treated by Bertmynn.”

  ”You always have had a gift of understatement, Matriarch.” The dark-haired and younger head of the Exchange once more peruses the scroll. “From Lord Hadrenn of Synek, save that he styles himself Lord High Counselor of Ebra … now. A shade pretentious for one so young, do you not think, Matriarch?”

  ”What do you really think of that title, Abslim?”

  ”Rather pretentious. I did say that, did I not, honored Matriarch?” Abslim offers a slight smile, continuing with a voice that becomes increasingly silky. “The title, we could accept, I would think, given that we have received more from young Hadrenn than ever from the sorceress-Regent.”

  ”Hadrenn has offered that, yet he made no move to deal with Bertmynn until the arrival of the sorceress.” The Matriarch’s voice emphasizes only slightly the last word.

  ”He let her work for him. She has often worked for men. So that is scarcely passing strange.”

  ”Abslim … young Hadrenn has not the wit to offer such. Had you considered that?” The older woman’s voice is low, but scarcely soft.

  ”Then he must have good advisors, and the wit to listen to them. For that, the South Women will be grateful.”

  ”I did not take you for such a fool. When will you see what is, and not what you wish to see?”

  ”Most revered Matriarch, I have asked that question myself, though not of myself.”

  ”I do not engage in wagers and wordplay, Abslim. Will you step down as Exchange ruler, or do I remove you?”

  ”Remove me? I think not.” A long silvery blade appears in Abslim’s hand. “You have frittered away the gifts of the Matriarch and refused to act, even when it was clear to the dullest man in Ranuak that action was needed.”

  A blue-crystal blade appears in the hand of the older woman, though she does not speak to the Exchange ruler. The Matriarch’s deep voice begins a chantlike spell.

  For the good of one and all,

  for the course of large and small …

  The blue crystal chair begins to hum, as if to accompany the Matriarch, and a higher humming issues from the blue blade as well.

  The taller and more slender woman eases forward, her feet balanced, and thrusts the glowing silver blade toward the older woman.

  Though the Matriarch does not move, the blade of blue crystal flickers, and the point and top third of the silver blade fall to the blue-stone floor.

  The Matriarch’s deep song-chant continues.

  … for harmonies of earth and skies,

  for lives less strife and lies …

  Abslim glances at the flickering crystal blade, seemingly longer than moments before, then at two pieces of metal, one on the floor, one in her hand. She backs away, her eyes widening, her mouth opening. She takes no more than three steps before she crumples to the floor, but the older woman’s contralto voice continues to sing the spell, and those words do not soon cease.

  When the Matriarch finishes the last words and notes, the chair’s humming dies away, and there is no indication that another person has ever been with the Matriarch. She takes several slow deep breaths before she sinks onto the blue cushion that covers the seat of the crystal chair, a cushion that is the sole softness within the formal receiving room.

  There is no sign of a blue-crystal blade as the Matriarch holds her head in both hands for a long time, until the sun is nearly overhead, and no sunlight streams into the chamber. Then she rises and walks slowly toward the door Abslim had closed.

  79

  Anna stood in the predawn light outside her tent, feeling almost guilty as she thought about the collapsible canvas cot she had slept on, while her players and lancers had to lay their bedrolls on the ground. Even though tent and cot, as well as other supplies, were carried by a single packhorse, the sorceress sometimes fretted about having those comparative comforts.

  She took a last bite of the bread baked the evening before, then a mouthful of the white cheese that was growing ever stronger, before washing it down with water from one of the bottles she kept filled with orderspelled water.

  ”Lady Anna?” asked Kinor, as he and Jimbob approached.

  ”Yes?”

  ”Will we be heading south today?” asked Kinor.

  ”If we want to join with Hanfor’s forces, we will.” She frowned. “Himar and I don’t want to travel too far, because that would let Rabyn’s lancers use the road to get behind us.” She turned as one of Himar’s scouts rode toward where the cookfires had already been banked, since all the baking had been done in coals and embers the night before. Himar walked toward the mounted scout, who leaned forward in his saddle toward the overcaptain.

  “The scouts were out early,” Jimbob noted. “I could hear one leaving when it was still dark.”

  So … Himar is more worried about leaving the main road than he’s letting on. “Thank you,” Anna told the shorter redhead.”That’s good to know.”

  A puzzled look crossed Jimbob’s face. Kinor merely nodded.

  All three watched as the scout turned and galloped out of the campsite and then off down the road to the west. Within moments a company of lancers mounted hurriedly and followed, but Himar strode across the campsite toward them with long steps.

  “You look like you have good news,” suggested Anna. “We could use some.”

  ”Lady Anna … there are twoscore armsmen who would join you.” A smile crinkled Himar’s lips above his beard.”They were less than two deks to the west and will be here shortly.”

  ”Who are they?”

  ”The scout said that they are being led by a redheaded young man named Falar.”

  ”More redheads?” Anna grinned at the two before her as she spoke. “I’ m already surrounded.”

  ”Falar?” questioned Kinor quietly.

  ”He’s the younger son of Lord Vlassa, is he not?” asked Jimbob.”You saw him on your last journey to Fussen, Grandsire said.”

  ”That’s right,” confirmed Anna.

  ”Grandsire didn’t say much, but I thought he cared more for the younger son than Lord Ustal.”

  Anna decided not to comment on that directly. “We met with both of Lord Vlassa’s sons. Ustal is but a few moments the elder. He is supposedly quite accomplished with a blade.”

  “It takes more than a blade and a strong arm to be a lord.” Himar gestured in the direction of the road. “Here they come.”

  Flanked by Bersan, Fielmir, Blaz, and Rickel, Anna and Himar waited as the riders, escorted by the purple company, rode toward her tent.

  “More than a score, maybe almost two, Lady Anna,” offered Kinor from the right of her guards.

  At the head of the line of armsmen in leathers of mixed—or motley—colors was a slender figure in blue. Immediately upon reining up, Falar bowed in the saddle, almost bending as low as the base of his saddle—or so it seemed. “Regent and sorceress.” His eyes twinkled as he straightened, and the hint of an amused smile played around the corners of his mouth.

  “Falar …” Anna wasn’t quite sure what to say to the younger brother of Lord Ustal. “I was surprised to hear that you were on your way.” That’s safe enough.

  “I am not a lord, Lady Anna,” said Falar, “but our land is in danger, and my older brother has not seen fit to
bring his armsmen against that enemy. I have too few to engage the Nesereans by myself. So I have brought my few armsmen to offer what assistance I can to you.” His arm swept toward the armsmen mounted behind him. “Ruffians, all of us, but loyal ruffians.”

  Despite the charmingly calculated appeal of the would-be lord’s offer, Anna remained touched. “I appreciate your offer, Falar, and I will accept it.” She smiled, and added, “In the spirit in which you have made it.”

  Falar grinned back, then said, “I also have sent a messenger to Arms Commander Hanfor, letting him know where you are. I trust you will not find aught in that amiss?”

  “Not at all. Although we know where he is, it might be better if we waited for him. I can use my mirror to see if he follows the directions of your messenger.”

  Standing beside Anna, Himar nodded. “That will rest the mounts and the players—and you, Lady Anna.”

  “And give me more time to scry exactly what the Nesereans plan,” she added, looking back at the deliberately guileless-appearing Falar. “How long did it take you from Sudborte?”

  “We left two glasses before dawn.” Falar yawned, if almost dramatically. “We also could enjoy a brief rest.”

  Himar nodded. “Let us get your men settled.”

  “Regent.” Falar bowed once more, with yet another roguish smile, then turned his mount to follow Himar.

  Anna stepped back.

  Besides scrying, what else could she do? For one thing, you can make sure you’ve got bread and hard crackers handy in your pouch … and that you eat it before any battle so that your blood sugar doesn’t totally crash … and remember to drink lots of water before you do sorcery … and keep checking the spelled shield.

  She also needed to see if she could determine exactly how the young Prophet was creating his Darksong—and see if she could find or compose a counterspell of some sort.

  80

  MANSUUS, MANSUUR

  Konsstin listens quietly, from behind the desk in his private study, as Bassil finishes his report.

  “ … and the seers have found that he has set up an encampment well within Defalk, on the main road to Falcor. The sorceress has but a fraction of the armsmen as Rabyn does, and no lancers to compare to those you have furnished. Other small groups may join hers, but even should they do so, she will still have fewer than fifteenscore lancers.” “So … my grandson the viper has slithered into Defalk. And Nubara has allowed this? I had hoped better of him.” The Liedfuhr leans forward, his eyes fixing more intently upon the black-haired Mansuuran officer.

  “Nubara looks most unwell, sire,” offers Bassil. “He has a heavy winter cloak wrapped around him while the others wear but tunics. He stays close by the young Prophet, but yet remains the one to offer orders to the armsmen.”

  “Poison—alamarite. One cannot taste it.” Konsstin shakes is head. “That was one of Cyndyth’s favorites. The lizard is being destroyed by the viper, and a half-grown viper at that. He will not reach full growth, that one.”

  “Then you can make Neserea part of Mansuur.”

  Konsstin raises his bushy eyebrows. “You assume much, Bassil. What if the sorceress should defeat him?”

  “She has won every battle she has undertaken, but yet she has fewer lancers and armsmen than she did a year ago. Even with the small numbers of lancers required to protect her while she performs her sorcery, she cannot take a land as vast as Neserea. If she does, she will not hold Defalk. Four lords have revolted in the last year. Those we know about. There may have been others.” Bassil clears his throat, then continues. “If Lord Rabyn defeats the sorceress, you can wait.”

  “That much is true.” Konsstin fingers his beard. “But if she defeats my grandson the snake … ?”

  “Then you propose a partition of Neserea, so that order may be maintained.”

  Konsstin stands. “We will not dwell on what might be. I cannot send more armsmen and lancers in time to change what will be. So we wait.”

  Bassil nods.

  “You may go, Bassil.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  After the door of the private study closes, the Liedfuhr of Mansuur turns and walks to the wide window behind the table-desk and looks into the distance where the mighty Toksul River flows eastward from Mansuus. “An Empire of Music, but who would have thought it might be wrought by a sorceress? By a woman older than you who looks young enough to entice your grandson?”

  There is a knock on the door, and he turns, letting the official smile return to his visage before he acknowledges the summons that will be to the afternoon audiences.

  81

  In the sunlight of an early afternoon warmer than that of the past few days, Anna, Liende, Jimbob, and Kinor stood under the yellowing leaves of a tree that Anna didn’t recognize, waiting for Himar to join them. Anna’s tent was another ten yards westward, guarded by Fielmir, while Blaz and Bersan stood directly behind the Regent.

  Perhaps thirty yards south, Himar, with his sketch board in hand, was sitting on a fallen log, sketching and listening to a scout who had just returned to the encampment. The redheaded Falar stood at his elbow.

  “If you had more sorcerers or sorceresses, you wouldn’t need scouts, would you?” asked Jimbob.

  “You’d still need scouts,” offered Liende. “Sorcery … you need names, that sort of thing.”

  Jimbob looked at the Regent.

  “Liende’s right,” Anna said. “Sorcery will let you display a map of something—if you know who or what you’re looking for. The more you know before you start, the less sorcery it takes. I knew that there was a darksinger somewhere in Defalk, but all the trouble we had was because we didn’t know enough soon enough … .” She let the words die away as she saw Himar walking past the cookfires toward them, trailed by Falar. Their dusty riding boots swirled the few handfuls of leaves that had already fallen from the trees on the gentle downslope to the west of the campsite.

  “What have your scouts discovered?” Anna asked the overcaptain.

  “The Nesereans have begun to build defenses. They have set a firm perimeter line,” Himar said. “There are even small trenchworks for sentries.”

  Standing at Himar’s shoulder, Falar nodded in affirmation.

  “In the middle of nowhere?” If Rabyn—or Nubara—had decided not to move his forces, but was apparently waiting for Anna to come to him, Anna wanted to know why.

  “It would appear so,” responded Himar cautiously.

  “We’d better try the mirror.” Anna ignored the nudge that Jimbob gave Kinor as she stood and returned to her tent to retrieve the lutar and the traveling mirror. Once inside, she paused, then ran through a set of vocalises. Sometimes—most times—they were easier without other people standing by and listening.

  Then, she reflected, she’d gone from a singer struggling to get an audience on Earth to a sorceress and Regent everybody watched, seemingly all the time. She wondered how many watched to see if she would fail.

  Anna brought the lutar and mirror out from the tent and set the mirror in a shaded spot not quite under the tree. Then, the sorceress began the spell, trying to ignore the all-too-many people watching the mirror. Among them was Falar, who stood almost behind the taller Kinor, as if the would-be lord were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

  Mirror, mirror on the ground,

  show the earthworks scouts have found

  those of Rabyn and his men … .

  While the mirror displayed eight different small images, of sentry posts with piles of dirt and deadfall logs, all those images did was confirm what Himar’s scouts had already reported.

  “You see?” Himar nodded sagely.

  “I see.” Anna let him nod, releasing the image almost immediately while she considered how to reword the spell to get a better view of the Neserean camp as a whole. “They’re definitely dug in and waiting.”

  “What if we do not come to him?” asked Falar.

  “Then we wait, and Defalk falls apart. He knows tha
t,” Anna responded. In fact, Rabyn seemed to know far too much.

  “Defalk is strong,” protested Jimbob.

  “Not strong enough to allow two hundred—score armsmen to fortify a camp in its Western Marches,” Anna answered, her tone of voice dry.

  “And how long will those in Dumar and Ebra heed her if she allows such to remain?” asked Liende.

  Kinor nodded, barely, at his mother’s observation.

  “Let’s see if we can get a better view.” Anna thought for a time, a time long enough that those around her were shifting their weight from foot to foot and clearing their throats before she lifted the lutar once more.

  Mirror, mirror on the ground …

  A second image filled the oblong of the mirror’s surface, this one a half-aerial view of an encampment set to the east of a hill that commanded the main road.

  “You see?” Himar pointed. “These are the highest hills for deks along the road.” He frowned. “But I would not have set my men with their back to that bluff there.”

  Anna followed his finger, trying to see what he was pointing out while concentrating on maintaining the image in the mirror. A large tent with a peaked roof and alternating blue and cream panels stood before a rust-colored cliff or bluff. Anna studied the area. The tent seemed to be on the easternmost edge of a broad shelf of grassy land, almost stagelike, below the cliff, which curved slightly so that the top projected more than the base.

  Raw boulders sat near the base of the bluff. Anna squinted. The first fifty yards from the base of the cliff was smooth and bare rock. Then within a yard of the clear rock, nearly immediately, the grass began.

  “Darksong.” She nodded. “It’s like a shell there.” That barely grown boy did that? He had to have shaved away the hillside.

  Himar’s eyebrows lifted in puzzlement.