“That’s a curved hard surface that throws the sound farther.”
“It is a pity that you have nothing that will do the same.”
Nothing that will do the same … the words echoed in her mind … nothing that will do the same. Something nagged at her, but she couldn’t pin it down, and the more she tried to concentrate on the idea, the more elusive whatever her thought was. That would have to wait; it would come to her. You hope.
“We need to see one more thing.” Anna sang the release couplet for the second image, and reached for the water bottle that Kinor extended, much as Jecks had usually done. She wondered if the white-haired lord had taken Kinor aside. “Thank you, Kinor.”
“My pleasure, Lady Anna.”
After drinking, Anna glanced around, then repressed a sigh. If she asked anyone to leave, those feelings would be hurt. “It’s going to take a little while for me to get ready for the next spell. If you want to walk around, that’s fine, but anyone who stays near me will have to be quiet while I think”
Kinor nodded at Jimbob, and the two young men stepped into the sunlight and walked toward the nearest tieline, where Farinelli and their mounts were tethered.
Himar nodded. “I will be back, Lady Anna.”
Liende stepped away and into the sun, as if to get warm. Anna half smiled. She’d forgotten how much cooler Earth had been, so much that mildly cool weather was chilly to many Defalkans.
Coming up with the spell she wanted for the drums took even longer, but she wasn’t a composer or a poet.
Once she picked up the lutar again, though, people appeared as if by sorcery, including both Lejun and Rickel, and she waited until her audience had gathered and quieted before beginning the spell.
Show us those singing drums so strong
that raise the Prophet’s coming Darksong …
The mirror obediently displayed three drums, each under an awning of sorts, each bound with copper strips.
At first, Anna could see nothing unusual about the drums, except that each was mounted in a wooden frame that allowed it to swivel. Then she saw the wagon in the background. Each drum had to have taken an entire wagon to transport it. Admittedly, the wagon beds were small—no more than a yard and half wide—but any drum built like that had to have a lot of volume and carrying power—and when set before an angled cliff of hard stone … She nodded. Young as Rabyn was, cruel as the stories reported he was, stupid he was not. He—or someone—had thought out both his abilities and the logistics to support them. And that worried Anna.
“Those are large drums,” Himar announced.
“Very large,” Anna agreed. She sang the release couplet, then blotted her forehead before squatting to replace the lutar in its case. Kinor gently packed the mirror in its case. Anna stood and picked up the lutar.
“Pale … she is,” murmured Bersan to Lejun.
“Sorcery be hard, hard work, friend,” answered the more experienced guard. “Seen enough I have that it’s a guard I’d rather be.”
Bersan’s comment about her paleness prompted Anna to walk toward her tent and the food pouch that was waiting there. Would she spend the rest of her life worrying about her blood sugar and energy levels? Probably, and if you don’t, that life will be a short one.
Kinor followed with the mirror in its leather case.
A golden leaf fluttered down in the cool and light breeze, curling almost into a cone shape before dropping to the dusty ground.
“A megaphone … you idiot! That’s it.” And you could make it out of copper or something that wasn’t living. She shook her head—a megaphone wasn’t it, because she’d end up squeezing her voice, but why couldn’t she build her own shell—something parabolic behind her and the players. She didn’t want to exhaust herself with sorcery to make it, and it had to be light enough to go on the handful of wagons they had. Aluminum? She had the feeling that aluminum took too much energy. Another idea that seemed great at first.
“Ah, Lady?” asked Kinor.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll take the mirror now. Thank you. I was thinking.”
Kinor smiled, then handed her the mirror case before bowing and returning to the others.
Inside the small and increasingly dingy tent, Anna reached for the hard crackers and harder yellow cheese, hoping she could think through things after she ate. Or think through them more clearly.
82
NORTH OF FUSSEN, DEFALK
The alternating blue and cream silk panels of the tent flutter in the afternoon breeze, then subside. From where he sits beside the small table covered with blue linen, Rabyn sips from the silver goblet, then sets it down and delicately lifts a single candied nut to his lips. A second nut follows the first, handled equally delicately.
Because there is but a single chair, Nubara stands on carpet that serves as the floor, his eyes looking at the interlocking design of blue and cream triangles.
“The accursed sorceress knows where we are, yet she has not moved since the night before last.” Rabyn’s lips move into an expression not quite a pout. “She has a scrying mirror. She uses it, but she will not move.”
“She is gathering her forces—those of her arms commander and the handfuls of armsmen offered by those few lords loyal to her.” Nubara swallows, then continues. “Overcaptain Relour inquired about the screams last night. He suggested … ah … temperance.”
“I was temperate, Nubara. I let the girl go. I would have whipped her, were we still in Esaria or most places in Neserea. Here … I but slapped her and gave her a gold. That stopped her wailing quickly enough.” Rabyn sneers. “Golds always quell the objections of the peasants, even the pretty ones.”
“That was most … appropriate.” Nubara nods. “Had you whipped her or slain her, honored Prophet, the lancers and armsmen would have been angered, for they would have seen that as a waste.”
“There are always more peasants.” Rabyn’s voice is matter-of-fact.
Nubara opens his mouth, then closes it.
“They talk about their women, but they care far more for their animals and golds. Or even their ale, poor as it is. Why should I care when they do not?” Rabyn’s laugh carries a shrill overtone.
“Peasants expect more from their leaders than from other peasants.” The lancer officer barely finishes the sentence before he is racked by coughing that continues for some time.
Rabyn ignores Nubara’s discomfort, finally speaking once the Mansuuran officer has straightened up. “The sorceress is east of us, on the high road. Will she move closer? What if she does not?”
“She will.” Nubara coughs, then shudders. “You can afford to wait. She cannot, not when every week brings yet another lord who would rebel against her.” He readjusts the heavy wool cloak, his eyes darting toward the open door panel of the tent. “More of her armsmen have died at the hands of her own lords than by the arms of her enemies.”
“I would not put up with such.”
“By all accounts, she has not. That is why so many of her lords dislike her. And why she cannot wait. Overcaptain Relour has suggested she will attack within days.” Nubara manages to control the trembling that afflicts him and nods. “The heights and the way you employed sorcery to send the sound farther east gives your drums greater range. You cannot use the drums while they are being carted elsewhere. Moving would not improve your position, and the sorceress could catch us less prepared.”
“Sometimes, one must wait,” concedes the dark-haired prophet.
“This is one of those times, honored Prophet.”
“We shall see.”
83
The afternoon was chill, damp, and the gray clouds moving in from the north suggested a cold rain was likely.
Anna glanced from where she sat on the cot just inside her tent, puzzling through the latest scrolls and messages sent by Jecks, out across the campsite. Hanfor’s messenger had said that the arms commander would arrive by midday, but it was already approaching early afternoon, and Hanfor had yet to app
ear. Anna’s eyes dropped to the scroll before her—the second one from Lord Hulber of Silberfels.
… trust you will give the matter of recompense your earliest consideration once you conclude your expeditions and return to Falcor to deal with the more urgent matters of governance …
In short, get back to Falcor and give me a share of the gold you mined through sorcery because the lands once belonged to my grandfather. Anna set Hulber’s scroll in the pile to her left and picked up the next one. It was from Beltyr—even worse.
… continue to administer the lands of Synope … waiting for your instructions and confirmation of succession … .
That got a snort before she set it aside for the next one. She couldn’t do anything until she dealt—hopefully—with Rabyn. The next scroll was from Lord Ebraak of Nordfels. Anna frowned. In over a year, she had heard nothing from Ebraak. The lord had paid his liedgeld, through messengers, without requests. She unrolled the scroll, gingerly, and began to read, skipping through the flowery salutation and opening sentences.
… we of Nordfels were pleased to learn that the Corian lineage would be restored and maintained by the Regency … yet we have not heard of any plans for the installation of the lord Jimbob. We would like to suggest that the most proper course for the Regency would be such an installation, with, of course, the young lord being advised by a council of lords headed by one such as his grandsire, Lord Jecks of Elheld … in this manner, Lord Jimbob would come to know and understand the contributions and needs of each lord … .
Anna set Ebraak’s scroll aside and rubbed her forehead. You haven’t been a good little girl. You didn’t do things the right way. It was nice of you to save our precious heritage, but please be so kind as to restore the mess that got us in trouble. She took a deep breath and reached for the water bottle on the ground by the corner of her cot.
At the sound of horses, Anna looked up and out through the open door panel of her tent. She smiled, broadly, as she saw Hanfor at the head of the column of lancers. She took another swallow from the water bottle, then stood and slipped out of the tent and through the misty afternoon. Blaz and Fielmir followed her.
As if he had been looking for his Regent, the grizzled veteran turned in the saddle and raised his left hand in greeting and in salute. “Lady Anna.”
“Hanfor—I’m glad to see you.”
“Lady Anna … I received your messenger and one from the noble Falar as well.” The veteran’s weathered and gray-bearded face displayed a lopsided smile. “They agreed, and I am here.”
“We’re all glad that you are.” She half turned and gestured toward her tent. “We need to meet—once you have your men settled. Himar is with me; Lord Jecks remains in Falcor to hold the liedburg.”
Hanfor’s smile vanished. “I can tell there is much we have to talk over. I will be quick.”
Anna nodded. “If you would bring Himar?”
“We will be there.”
The Regent turned to walk back toward the players. She needed to find Liende. The meeting in her tent would be small—just the four. There were some things she didn’t want discussed everywhere, not immediately, although nothing could be kept secret for long in Defalk.
The players were practicing before a blackberry thicket that blocked the breeze from the north. Anna listened to the long flame song, nodding as the ensemble finished.
“Liende?” Anna asked. “Would you join me?”
“Yes, Regent.” The chief player nodded to Anna, then addressed the players, although her words seemed to go directly to Palian. “While I am gone, you will practice the short flame song and the arrow spell. Then the building spell.”
Palian inclined her head in acknowledgment.
Jimbob and Kinor angled toward Liende and Anna as the two women neared Anna’s tent. Farther behind them was Falar. Anna stopped and turned. “Jimbob … Kinor … I have a favor to ask. While I’m meeting with Hanfor, would you two tell Falar everything that happened from the time we left Loiseau—everything in Ebra and on our trip back to Falcor, and then until he joined us.” She smiled as warmly as she could.
“Ah … Lady Anna,” began Jimbob, “we have—”
“Of course, Lady Anna,” Kinor said smoothly, but strongly, his deeper voice riding over that of the heir’s. “We will make sure that he knows all that happened.” Kinor stepped back and half turned to face both the Regent and Falar. “Perhaps we should retire somewhere less … obvious.” An apologetic but winning smile appeared on Kinor’s face, one somehow reminiscent of someone, but of whom Anna couldn’t have said at that moment. A quizzical look flitted across Jimbob’s face, but vanished almost immediately as he and Falar followed the taller Kinor away from Anna’s tent.
“Your son is quick,” Anna murmured to the chief player. “I wish there were more like him.”
“You are kind,” Liende replied.
“No … he’s a young man you should be proud of.” Even though Kinor was not at all like Anna’s own son Mario in appearance, both were sensitive to nuances and situations. She couldn’t help wondering how Mario was doing in Houston. If he were in trouble, Elizabetta would have said something. Wouldn’t she? Anna held in a sigh as she stopped before her tent.
“I am proud of him … but I worry that he will attempt too much too early in his life.”
“We’ll try to keep him from being a hero.” Anna winced inside as she said the words. Once she had promised to keep Liende from battles.
“At times, my lady, our choices are few,” Liende reminded Anna gently.
“I know.” Lord, do you know.
The two stood silently for a moment. Lejun and Rickel silently replaced Blaz and Fielmir. Then Himar and Hanfor approached from the south side of the camp.
Once the two officers had joined Anna and Liende, the four entered the tent. With only one stool, Anna remained standing and gestured to Himar. “Why don’t you tell Hanfor what we’ve found out?”
Himar nodded almost stiffly to the arms commander. “Ser … Rabyn has consolidated his forces, except for those around Westfort. We think the lancers there are all from Neserea. There are twentyscore or so at Westfort. The young Prophet holds the hills on both sides of the main road fifteen deks to the west. The south road to Fussen is five deks to our west.”
“We took that road. Following young Falar, no doubt,” replied Hanfor with a laugh. “Our scouts saw no Mansuurans and no Nesereans. For weeks their scouts have followed us.” A second laugh followed. “We have tried to make sure they saw us.” His face sobered. “Lord Ustal did not attempt to join forces with us or leave his hold. The Mansuurans left him alone.”
“I wonder why,” mused the sorceress. “They left lancers at Westfort.”
“Those were the Prophet’s Guard. You may recall that you did use spells on some Nesereans.”
“You think that all the armsmen at Westfort … ?”
“The spell was to fear and respect you, not all Defalkans,” Hanfor said.
And it was Darksong, though you didn’t know it at the time. “The good news is that we have to deal with twentyscore fewer. The bad news is that we still have to deal with close to a hundred and fifty—score lancers, and another hundredscore in other armsmen.”
The other three nodded soberly, and Anna realized that the good news/bad news humor didn’t cross cultural boundaries, not so far as Liedwahr anyway. “You did not travel with many lancers, lady,” Hanfor ventured.
“We did not have that many to bring.” Anna’s mouth quirked. “A lot’s happened since you left Falcor.”
“I presume that all went well in Ebra, else you would not be here.”
“That went fairly well … .” Anna went on to describe the ride to Ebra, the battle against Bertmynn, the terms with Hadrenn, and then the return, with all the associated problems and disasters. “Oh … and I did repair the ford at Sorprat. But … you already know that.”
“It is sad, but to do what you have done and to have lost less than tenscore la
ncers … most rulers would be hailed as workers of miracles.” Hanfor fingered his beard. “Still, we must defeat this Rabyn quickly. We have heard the mighty drums. How will he use them in battle?”
“He’s waiting for us to come to him,” Anna explained. “He’s set them up just below the hilltops in a way that the hard face of the cliff will amplify the sound … .” At the blank expressions surrounding her, she paused. “Hard and smooth surfaces reflect sound better—like an echo in a large building. Rabyn has used his sorcery to smooth the cliff face, and the drums are set up below them. That will strengthen the sound and send it against anyone approaching his camp from the east. There’s a marsh or a swamp to the south, and with the hills set the way they are, the road is the only way to get there, with lancers and horses, anyway.” She shrugged. “If we wait, or try to wait him out, then every lord in Defalk will be at each other’s throat, or mine, and everything will fall apart.” Or is that what you want to think? Would waiting really hurt that much? Or do you just want to deal with Rabyn quickly?
“Must you attack him so?” asked Hanfor.
Liende and Himar exchanged glances. Himar raised his bushy eyebrows. Neither spoke.
“We can’t circle around and attack from behind. The way that he’s sliced up the hills won’t let us. If we try to reach them from behind, we can’t get down. If there’s any wind, then the players’ instruments and my voice will get blown away.” Anna paused. “What would you suggest?”
“Can you play in the darkness, chief player?” asked Hanfor.
“Yes, if need be,” Liende replied cautiously.
“Lancers and armsmen only need protect you and the players, Lady Anna. What if you wrought your sorcery well before dawn?”
“I could do that.” Except you’re still not a morning person.
“Can you afford to allow the young Prophet to use his Darksong sorcery?”
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 39
