The redhead hesitated, but Anna gestured a second time. She didn’t have to insist a third time, and they both ate. Anna and Kinor had almost finished both bread and cheese, and it hadn’t taken long, when she heard someone nearing.
“Lady Anna?”
She recognized Hanfor’s voice. “Come on in. I’m trying to gulp down some food.”
“Regent.” The weathered warrior stepped into the tent and bowed. “The Mansuurans—all of them—are riding toward us. They will be here in a glass. I have ordered the men onto the road and ridge just to the west of here.
“You could have awakened me earlier,” Anna suggested, after taking another large mouthful of bread and cheese.
“There was no need.” Hanfor bowed, apologetically. “The chief player and I wished you to be as rested as you could be.”
“Thank you.” Do you look that bad? “I’ll be there in just a bit. I’ll warm up here, and then ride over.” Anna paused. “Did you tell Lord Nelmor and Falar?”
“I informed them that the Mansuurans had rejected your terms and were attacking. Both stand ready to hold with us. I thanked them for you.”
Anna sighed. That was something she should have done. “Thank you. I should have done that, but I appreciate it.”
“You needed the rest, and even those two see such.” Hanfor glanced at Kinor, bowed, and slipped out of the tent.
Kinor straightened, brushing crumbs from his face, and looking even more guilty than before. “Best I get the mounts ready.”
Alone in the tent for a few moments, Anna tried a vocalise. “Holly-lolly—” The coughing was especially bad, and she doubled over, struggling to hold her bladder against the violence of the spasms.
“Damned asthma …” Slowly she straightened up and tried to clear her throat without triggering another coughing attack. She glanced around, but the water bottles were all empty. She’d been too tired to do a spell to get herself clean water the night before, and too forgetful.
After another vocalise, she decided she could risk a small spell, the one to clean the water, and picked up the lutar.
Cool clear water in this pail …
She managed to hold off the tickling in her throat and the gunk in her lungs long enough to complete the spell. After more coughing, she drank some of the cool clean water, then refilled all four water bottles. After one more vocalise, she pulled on her battered brown felt hat, swept up the water bottles and the lutar, and stepped into the cool hazy sunlight outside the tent.
“Ah … Lady Anna, I could carry the bottles,” offered Blaz.
“Thank you.”
The walk to the tieline and Farinelli was less than fifty yards. The big gelding whuffed as Anna neared.
“No, you won’t be left alone. And you will get ridden.” She saddled him with a deftness she wouldn’t have believed possible for her two years earlier.
Kinor came running, bringing a bulging food pouch. “Here, Lady Anna.” He tendered it to Anna, then mounted quickly.
Preceded by Rickel and Lejun, and followed by Kinor and Jimbob, and then all the rest of her guards, Anna rode slowly to the slightly higher ground where Liende had already gathered the players.
“We are ready, Regent.”
Anna nodded. “It will have to be the long flame song.” To destroy more innocent armsmen for higher goals …
The chief player, whose red hair had become mostly white in the few years since Anna had come to Defalk, did not quite meet the Regent’s eyes.
“I’ve tried, Liende. But we can’t lose any more armsmen,” Anna said. And any spell that would enchant them would be Darksong and probably kill you and the players with the backlash . She wanted to shake her head—another example of ignorance. If she hadn’t used Darksong so often and so unwittingly when she had first come to Liedwahr, then she might have been able to use it now.
Anna dismounted slowly, then began another vocalise—carefully. “Heeee sees theeee … he sees … thouuu …” She had to cough, but her reaction wasn’t as violent as before. Still, her eyes teared slightly, and she blotted the dampness away, clearing her throat and looking westward. She saw neither horsemen nor dust.
“ … nothing easy in this world … even for sorceresses …”
“ … looks so thin … high wind take her …”
“ … might be … you want to face her?”
Anna pushed away the murmurs, not even sure whether they came from the newer guards or some of the players, so low were the words. She concentrated on the words of the spell she would use—it had to be the flame spell, much as she had come to dislike using it.
Kinor walked toward her, extending one of her water bottles.
“Thank you.” Anna took several swallows. She glanced westward where a scout in purple rode toward the center of the Defalkan lines of lancers, toward Hanfor. Behind the rider in the distance appeared a smudge of something—dust. She nodded. The Mansuurans were coming, but they were two hills away.
Because she wasn’t as clear as she’d have liked, she tried another vocalise. “He … sees … theee …” She nodded—a little better.
Hanfor rode toward her, reining up. “They will be here in less than a quarter of a glass. What do you need?”
Anna offered a crooked smile. “Just keep them off me until we can finish the spells. That’s all.”
Hanfor nodded. “I wish this were otherwise, Regent.”
“You and me both.”
Rickel and Lejun stepped forward—on foot—bearing the oversize shields. Each stationed himself on one side of Anna, slightly forward of her. They let the shields rest on the dusty ground, but their eyes remained on the dust cloud rising behind the crest of the nearer hill, less than a dek away.
“Have them finish tuning!” Anna called to Liende.
“Stand ready to play!” ordered the chief player.
Anna swallowed, trying to keep her body and cords relaxed as the Mansuuran forces poured over the hilltop, along the road, and hundreds of yards north and south of the road proper—their speed increasing from a quick trot to almost a gallop, looking like a wave of maroon surging toward the thin Defalkan line that held a slightly higher crest on the road.
“Liende! Have them start—the long flame song!”
“The flame song,” Liende ordered, loudly, but with a quaver in her voice.
Anna pushed back the doubts. With more than two thousand lancers charging her force of perhaps three hundred, she had no choice but to use a spell that left no survivors.
Turn to fire, turn to flame
all those who do oppose Defalk’s claim,
turn to ashes, turn to dust …
Even before the music died away, the ground rumbled and shivered, and three forked spears of lightning flashed from the clear sky. A pillar of flame flared momentarily on the adjacent hilltop, and the sky began to darken, clouds forming from somewhere near instantly.
The sun dimmed.
Tears poured from Anna’s eyes, and she bent forward, hanging on to Farinelli and practically hugging the gelding, trying not to let the massive sobs shake her.
Why … why? Was Liedwahr so alien? So alien that an overcaptain of lancers who weren’t even from Neserea felt he had to sacrifice everything because he refused to admit … what? That a sorceress had as much right to declare terms as a liedfuhr? That the lives of his armsmen were worth more than his honor? Careful there … you’re saying that your terms are worth more than their lives … .
Thunder—the natural kind—rolled across the sky, then echoed back under clouds that had become almost black.
Anna shook her head. There was honor, and there was honor, but she’d never see that there was much honor in insisting that you had the right to subject another country to a set of rules that it didn’t want. Except that’s exactly what you’re doing in Defalk.
But it wasn’t. You’re upsetting the ideas of those who rule, not those who live there. Those who live there don’t want their daughters to have to submi
t to any noble who wishes it. They don’t want taxes and tariffs levied willy-nilly. They don’t want to have to scrape and bow because they’ll get killed if they don’t … .
It’s still a fine line … and you know it.
But the sobs still came.
And so did the odor of death and fire, and charred brush and bodies.
Then came the wind—cold and empty, metallic, bearing the memory of another kind of death—moaning across the road and the hills.
With the wind came the rain, rain that was more like liquid ice, colder than anything Anna had felt in Liedwahr, hard drops to pelt both body and soul, cold as a damned soul in Dante’s inferno’s lowest level.
Slowly, the Regent-sorceress walked toward Farinelli, sensing, rather than really seeing the gelding, feeling that through the cool downpour, Kinor and Jimbob, and all her players and lancers watched … and waited … waited for the sorceress of destruction to leave the field.
Even tall Nelmor sat motionless on his mount. Appalled … no doubt.
Chill, ice—and guilt—poured over her.
95
The mixture of ice and cold rain rattled and pattered against the tent. Anna sat on the stool, slowly sipping water and chewing on cold bread and colder cheese. Her head still throbbed. Her eyes were blotchy, and her voice was shot.
Liende stood just inside the tent, looking at the bedraggled Regent.
Idiots! They invade another country, and then they think that they’ve been insulted after their allies have been destroyed when they’re asked to do something reasonable—like let somebody with experience who’s a Neserean run the place. Was she being unreasonable? Anna shook her head. Was it just because you’re a woman who had the temerity to suggest something different? All those men killed … every time you try to avoid killing, somehow you end up having to kill more people. Is any form of compromise or common sense considered weakness unless you scorch the earth first?
Another line crept into her thoughts: “unlettered lads as mad as the mist and snow.” But the lords and officers of Liedwahr weren’t lads, even though they behaved like spoiled brats. Then, maybe there was more of an Irish heritage in Liedwahr than she knew. Or had the Celts stayed Germanic in Liedwahr?
And how soon before some of them understood what her sorcery could do? She shook her head. People don’t like to believe what they haven’t seen or felt, and you haven’t left a lot of survivors … and communications here aren’t the most rapid or reliable.
“Chief Player? Regent?” Hanfor peered into the tent, water oozing down his face and into his beard.
“Come in, Hanfor. You can take a moment and get dry.”
The arms commander stepped out of the rain and shook himself slightly, then wiped the water off his forehead to keep it out of his eyes.
“We need to send a messenger to the Neserean forces at Denguic,” Anna said. “Or get there quickly.”
Hanfor raised his eyebrows.
“There’s a good chance those lancers and armsmen are the ones I spelled, and that means they have to listen to me. But I don’t want to chase them all the way across Neserea.”
Liende and Hanfor looked at Anna.
“You are but skin and bones, Lady Anna,” Liende finally said. “Better you eat and rest, and ride more slowly.”
“If we can ride at all tomorrow,” said Hanfor.
“We can leave now. This rain isn’t good for the lancers. I’ve got a tent. They don’t,” Anna pointed out. “Besides, if we wait … the roads will just get worse.”
Liende walked to the mirror case on the camp table and eased out the scrying glass. She walked back to Anna and held up the mirror. “If you would but look … ?”
Anna looked. She tried not to wince. Her face was drawn, with her cheeks almost sunken below the cheekbones. Deep black circles ran under both eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot. Even the slightly bubbled silver behind the glass could not disguise the combined pallor and flush that suffused her face. Her collarbones even jutted out under the shirt and vest. How had she gotten so thin? Was she that obsessive? Yes …
Liende lowered the glass.
“I’ll eat more. Now,” Anna added. “And we’ll ride slowly.” She looked at Hanfor. “I can’t let them freeze. Not Nelmor’s or Falar’s men, either.”
Liende and Hanfor looked at each other.
“Nor the players,” Anna insisted.
“That might be best for them,” Hanfor agreed. “It is not good for you.”
“We can always stop if I fall apart.” But I won’t. “And I’ll eat more.” You have to … .
96
Shifting her weight—and her soaked trousers—in the saddle, Anna looked through the cold mist that had replaced the icy rain. In addition to being tired and underweight, she was going to have legs and a rear that were going to be badly chafed. The once-muddy road had turned back into damp clay—slightly slippery, but not a sloppy mess. The rain had turned first to drizzle, and then to mist, as the Defalkan force had struggled westward. Now the mist had gotten finer, but the process had occurred slowly over almost ten deks of muddy and slippery roads.
The lower legs of the mounts were mud-splattered as well, and Anna knew that grooming Farinelli would be a long chore. The sorceress peered more intently at the indistinct light that had to be the sun trying to break through the clouds. Then she smiled. “See … there’s a rainbow! We’re almost out of it.”
Riding to her right, Kinor laughed.
Beside him, Jimbob murmured, “I’m ready for the rain to end. I was ready for it deks back.”
“We might get somewhere dry before it gets dark.” Anna remembered to take another swallow of water, and more of the cheese from the food pouch. She had to keep eating, because there was still far too much left undone, and it would remain undone unless she did it. That was becoming all too clear. She managed to push down another mouthful of cheese, swallowing with difficulty, despite her memory of the mirror image Liende had shown her.
Shortly, another scout trotted through the mist from the west to report to Hanfor. Even from ten yards away, Anna could see the arms commander’s smile.
“Hanfor looks pleased,” observed Kinor.
Anna nodded, waiting as the arms commander turned his mount and eased his way toward the sorceress, and Kinor and Jimbob.
“The scouts say that the Nesereans remain encamped where they have been. The ground is dry another two deks ahead. Denguic is almost ten deks beyond where we would stop. Everyone is tired—you most of all. To go on would risk danger to all.” Hanfor’s eyes were intent on the sorceress as he spoke.
Anna surrendered. “As long as it’s dry—that’s fine. We can manage another two deks.” She had to admit that even her cot sounded wonderful, and she wasn’t sure she’d felt that tired in a long time. “And as long as it will be all right for the lancers.”
“Everyone will be better just ahead than back in the rain,” Hanfor said. “But we all need rest.”
That Anna definitely knew. She nodded soberly.
97
Anna woke bolt upright at dawn, at the first hint of grayness coloring the dingy silk of her tent, mumbling to herself. “Have to get to those lancers … have to …”
She found herself shivering—and that hadn’t happened very often in Defalk. Her breath steamed in the tent, and she shuddered from under her blanket into her clothes and her jacket. Then came the boots, but donning them took longer because her fingers were cold, and the leather felt stiff.
When she did stand up, her shoulders and neck were sore. After stepping over to the camp table, she slid out the traveling mirror and looked down into it. Her face was still pale, but without the sickly flush of the previous day. And the circles under her eyes weren’t quite so pronounced, but her cheeks were still hollow. “You need to eat more.”
Eating more was always a problem, first, because Avery had always been on her about her weight, and, now, because field rations were always short, she always feel guilty a
bout stuffing herself. Putting off the eating question, she slipped toward the entry panel to the tent to reclaim the bucket of water. Outside, in the predawn grayness, a thin rime of frost covered everything, but there wasn’t a film of ice on the water, anyway.
Bersan and Lejun were the duty guards. “Regent.”
“Good morning,” she said as she reclaimed the bucket.
“Good morning, Lady Regent. Commander Hanfor, he didn’t expect you’d be up so early,” Lejun said.
“I’d like to see him and the chief player in a bit, if you’d get word to them,” Anna said.
Someone else had been watching her tent. Kinor came charging with a basket, the same one he’d been bringing every morning, except this one was clearly overstuffed. “Mm—the chief player said you needed to eat as much of this as you could.”
“I’ll try, Kinor.” Anna managed to keep from smiling at the young man’s almost inadvertent mention of the chief player as his mother. The sorceress slipped the bucket inside the tent, then took the basket, noting that besides two loaves of bread, there were several apples, two wedges of cheese, and two hard-looking biscuits.
She began with a chunk of bread and some cheese, and a bite of the firmer apple. Then she washed her face, wincing at the chill of the water, but deciding against any sorcery that wasn’t absolutely necessary. The recollection of the hollowness of her cheeks strengthened that resolve. Alternating food and her minimal field toiletries, she found she had finished a loaf and a half of bread, both cheese wedges, and an apple by the time she was halfway presentable.
She had no more pulled back the tent flap to signify that she was ready to see people when Hanfor appeared, followed closely by Liende.
“How are the lancers?” Anna asked Hanfor, gesturing for both to enter, before inclining her head to Liende, “And the players?”
Hanfor stood by the camp table and waited for the chief player to speak.
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 45
