Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Anna lifted the lutar and began to sing.

  Jearle’s heir, lord he’d name,

  with this spell turn to fire and flame,

  Lejun flung up the shield.

  Thunk! The guard staggered back with a heavy short blade embedded in the shield frame.

  The sorceress concentrated on completing the spell.

  … fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust.

  the end of all unworthy of a Regent’s trust.

  A single pillar of fire flared midway down the stairs.

  A woman screamed from the upper landing, and Anna stood in the hall, finding herself shaking … and amazed that she had managed the spell, even if it had left her with a splitting headache.

  Lejun lowered the shield and looked at his shoulder, also astounded that the blade had gone several spans through the shield itself but missed his body.

  Blaz stepped up to take Lejun’s place, blade bared, and Fielmir held a blade to Lady Livya, standing on the foot of the stairs.

  Anna turned and walked forward toward Livya.

  “You have taken everything … you outland … creature …”

  “Your consort gave me few choices,” Anna said. “I could not trust him, nor you, nor your son. He wouldn’t support Defalk in its time of need. Twice, he failed. When I came and lifted the siege, he armed everyone in the keep against me. And you think I should have supported him?”

  “You … don’t … understand … don’t understand … at all … haven’t any children …” Livya kept weeping, not even really looking at Anna.

  Everyone thinks that his or her problems are unique, and so many are all the same.

  Anna looked tiredly at Kinor. “Lord Kinor … you have much to do. With honor comes grief, and the knowledge that every action taken by a ruler or a lord hurts someone. Every action! Never forget that. Never.”

  Kinor swallowed.

  Anna refrained from sighing. She turned to Himar. “We have a keep to clean up, and more plans to make.”

  Himar nodded.

  Anna’s eyes went to the blank face of Falar. Another problem. Falar might have made a good lord, but his history with Anna was short … and the last thing she needed was Falar being the lord. She offered a smile to the red-haired scoundrel. “Falar … I’ll need to talk to you later, if you would.”

  “Oh … Lady Anna, I am at your command.”

  You hope so … and that you can wend your way through more of these intrigues. “I’m not commanding, only requesting from someone who has offered great service.” There … was that laid on heavy enough? She smiled again.

  III

  LETZTLIED

  99

  ENCORA, RANUAK

  The Matriarch studies the formal receiving hall, sniffs the almost-metallic air, and turns to her consort. “Dyleroy will be arriving soon, and we will begin another story in the sagas of the mistresses of the Exchange.”

  “The story of the sorceress is more interesting,” observes Ulgar, fingering the mandolin he appears ready to play. “A most intriguing tale.”

  “None would believe it, above all those who would know all of it,” answers the Matriarch, reaching out just short of the blue-crystal chair. Her fingers seem to shimmer, and the chair hums, but for a moment.

  “Were hers a drama upon the stage in the Hall of Amusement,” said Ulgar quietly, “the tale of the sorceress-Regent would end now.”

  “True, my dear,” answers the tired-eyed, but round-faced Matriarch, who yet wears black. “For has she not vanquished all her enemies beyond Defalk? Ground them into dust? Is that not where the minstrels always end the tales, with the great victories?”

  “Her hardest battles are those ahead,” predicts Ulgar.

  “Not the hardest. Those that will take the most persistence and win her the least renown. Those that will have the lords who will not change carping to their neighbors.”

  “She has an even more terrible battle to confront,” Ulgar insists.

  “Yes,” the Matriarch sighs. “Those who love—”

  At that moment, a bell rings, and the round-faced woman who is the soul of Ranuak turns toward the door of the audience chamber, then seats herself on the blue-crystal throne. “Yes?”

  Ulgar slips out through the door that becomes just one of the wall panels as he closes it behind himself.

  A stocky, but not heavy woman in the sea-blue of the Exchange opens the main door to the chamber and steps inside. Her eyes dart from side to side, and an expression of puzzlement appears as she sees no one but the round-faced woman in the blue-crystal seat. “Dyleroy, at your request, Matriarch.”

  “You may approach.”

  Dyleroy steps forward across the blue stones that comprise the floor of the chamber. She stops a half dozen steps short of the Matriarch. “You summoned me?”

  “I died.” After a pause, the older woman continues, “Do you understand why your predecessor is no more?”

  “I cannot say that I do, Matriarch.” Dyleroy bows her head. “Would you enlighten me?”

  “The harmonies demand that like be treated as like. Abslim did not wish to understand such.” The Matriarch studies the middle-aged face, one with lines radiating from the eyes, but not across the cheeks. Finally, she speaks again. “The harmonies do not care what we wish, nor what we believe, nor what we would like to occur. Abslim wished the sorceress-Regent of Defalk to act according to Abslim’s own desires and beliefs as to how Abslim herself would have acted had she been Regent of Defalk.” The Matriarch smiles. “There is no harm in wishing. But when Abslim instructed the Exchange to treat Defalk and its traders as though they had violated the harmonies, when they had not and had acted in honor, that was her first step against those harmonies. When she diverted funds from the Exchange to the SouthWomen—yes, I know you are a SouthWoman, and that you urged her to do so—that was her second step. When she defied me and the harmonies, the balance had to be redressed.”

  Dyleroy looks evenly at the Matriarch. “Knowing that, you would accept me as Mistress of the Exchange?”

  “You are said to be intelligent and honest. You are also said to be willing to learn. I can always hope that you learn from your mistakes and those of others.” The Matriarch nods vaguely in the direction of the harbor. “The Free State of Ebra now needs your assistance; it would have needed far less had my daughter Veria and Abslim let the harmonies and the sorceress run their course.”

  Dyleroy looks at the blue-stone tiles of the floor.

  “Both my daughter and Abslim failed to understand that I have no hesitation in acting. They did not understand that the Matriarch only acts when the harmonies require, not when my whims or wants would wish it so.” After a pause, she adds, “Perhaps someday you will understand what wisdom is necessary to determine when to act, and what great will and courage it requires not to act, when all around you are urging such.”

  Dyleroy looks into the Matriarch’s cold eyes. Although the new Mistress of the Exchange continues to meet the gaze of the older woman, Dyleroy shivers, even in the sunlight of the formal receiving hall.

  100

  Anna’s eyes dropped to the flat table and the pile of parchment Kinor had asked his new staff to round up for her. So many messages to write, and she couldn’t really afford to stay in Denguic long—just long enough to give her lancers and players a little rest, to resupply, and to ensure Kinor had a firm enough hold on the keep—and that meant leaving Dutral and the purple company for a time, at least.

  She could have used—again—a secretary, but, besides her fosterlings, whom she already used at times that way, who else was there? Fluency in written language wasn’t exactly common outside the aristocracy, and she’d already coopted most of those flexible enough for such a position.

  She laughed to herself, then wrinkled her nose.

  Despite the sorcery she had used, the large guest chamber of Westfort still smelled faintly of mold, but she’d killed and removed all the vermin in the oversize bed with th
e dark walnut headboard that was carved with yet another hunting scene that she disliked even looking at, with its dying stags and boars.

  She’d already penned a scroll to Jecks, outlining the events of the weeks since she’d left Falcor and asking him for a report from Dythya on the progress of liedgeld payments from various lords. The next step was a missive to Konsstin, the Liedfuhr of Mansuur. She couldn’t imagine the Liedfuhr being pleased, not with the loss of a hundredscore lancers and assorted captains and overcaptains. And he certainly wouldn’t be pleased with the death of his grandson, even if Rabyn had been a perverted little bastard.

  With a deep breath she reseated herself at the table, taking a chunk of bread from the platter on the edge of the wide table, following that with a swallow of water. You’ve got to get your weight back up. Then she sharpened the quill and began the draft of the letter to Konsstin, knowing it would likely take her several attempts and more time than she wanted to spend on it.

  Most Puissant Ruler of all Liedwahr, Liedfuhr of Mansuur …

  Anna wondered what other flowery titles she could attach to the scroll, then added, “Ruler of the West.” She left a blank area and began on the body of the missive.

  … you had stated in your last message that your lancers were not meant to invade Defalk. Unhappily, they were persuaded to do so, either by their commander or by the former Prophet. I initially spared these lancers out of consideration for you and for the people of Mansuur … and in response to your earlier communications and gestures …

  Anna swallowed hard. At least she didn’t have to say the words. Writing them was bad enough.

  … but their commander insisted on being less than reasonable. Overcaptain Relour not only refused to recognize the Prophet’s successor, but also refused to return to Mansuur. Again, I tried to spare your forces, and called down sorcery just upon Overcaptain Relour. His successors immediately attacked my forces—in my land …

  Anna underlined the words with two bold lines.

  … and left me no alternatives but to destroy them and their lancers. I wish it had not been so, but Defalk is not rich in skilled lancers and armsmen, and I could not afford to be generous with a commander who had not listened to reason or to the orders of his own Liedfuhr …

  The sorceress paused. Now what?

  Because the Prophet Rabyn left no heirs, I have taken the liberty of suggesting that the ruler of Neserea be the most senior officer left to that poor land—one Overcaptain Hanfor. I also suggested that he adopt the title of Lord High Counselor, since the title of Prophet of Music would not be appropriate under the current conditions … .

  I believe Neserea should continue to be ruled by Nesereans, and I have offered my support to Lord High Counselor Hanfor in the most unlikely event that he should face an invader. I would hope that you would see fit to also extend an equally generous offer to Lord High Counselor Hanfor, so that he and his people will understand that both Defalk and Mansuur are friends and trusted neighbors.

  Anna smiled, and then began to think of what sorts of flowery conclusions she might be able to pen, not that they would soften the impact all that much, but what else could she do? Konsstin had to understand that she wasn’t about to allow Mansuuran lancers to run loose east of the Westfels.

  She finally scrawled out a florid conclusion, wincing as she did.

  She replaced the quill in the holder, then stood and walked to the narrow window, framed by old and dark gray stone blocks, roughly dressed. She looked out into the cool but sunny midmorning. After too brief a glance, she returned to the table, and the endless pile of scrolls.

  She had finished nearly a dozen and thought it was close to midday when there was a knock on the chamber door.

  “Arms Commander Himar,” announced Bersan.

  “Have him come in.” Anna stood and glanced across the piles of scrolls set on the table that had belonged to the late Lord Jearle, then at Himar.

  Himar bowed, and his eyes went to the scrolls. “You have been busy, Regent.”

  “There was a lot I set aside to take care of Rabyn.” She shook her head. “It didn’t go away. I need these sent.”

  “As you wish.” Himar nodded and took out his ubiquitous grease marker and a folded oblong of the crude brown paper.

  Is that the standard issue Defalkan officer’s writing tool? “This pile goes to Lord Jecks in Falcor.”

  Himar scribbled out something.

  “This goes to Lady Herene in Pamr, and this to Ytrude in Suhl.” Anna paused. “This is the one that we have to get to the Liedfuhr. What would be the quickest way?”

  “With Hanfor, I would guess, Regent, and then by ship from Esaria.”

  “We’ll send a messenger to catch up with him.”

  “We can do that.” Himar offered another nod.

  “Oh … and this one goes to Lord Ustal.” She paused once more. “Could you let Falar know that I’ll need to talk to him tomorrow. He hasn’t left yet, has he?”

  “No, Regent.” Himar smiled. “He had hoped you would see him.”

  “He’s a scoundrel, but trustworthy as scoundrels go.”

  “I know him little, except by watching, but I would say his word is good.”

  After Anna had bundled Himar off with the piles of scrolls, she stopped to munch on bread, actual dark bread. Where did Jearle get molasses if he was under siege for almost a season? She frowned, then cut another wedge of cheese from the platter on the side of the wide table, following that with water from the bottle beside it.

  As she ate, Anna looked at her “problem” list:

  Flossbend(Beltyr)

  Arien(Tybel)

  Silberfels(Hulber)

  Fussen(Ustal)

  Wendell(Genrica)

  Issl(Fustar)

  Mossbach(???)

  She was forgetting someone. Klestayr—the lord of Aroch. But she didn’t know what he was plotting, only that he was.

  Eight holds, out of Thirty-three. Some were problems she didn’t have to address immediately, like Ustal and Hulber. Some she couldn’t until she knew more, like Klestayr. And the possible power grab by Fustar probably wouldn’t happen until Genrica died, which might be a while. So that left deciding what to do about the succession in Mossbach, and righting the problems in Flossbend and Arien.

  “Arien and Flossbend, first …” she murmured.

  There was another knock on the door. Anna turned over the sheet with her list. “Yes?”

  “The chief player.”

  “I’ll see her.” Anna rose and waited.

  Liende stepped into the guest chamber and bowed, deeply. “Lady Regent.”

  Not knowing exactly what to say, Anna smiled.

  Liende looked at Anna, then down, then back at the regent. “I cannot thank you … not enough.”

  “What? For giving your son more headaches than he’ll ever be able to get rid of? For ensuring that I have a loyal lord on the border so that I don’t have to worry every time I leave Falcor? For putting him so far away that you’ll seldom see him?”

  Liende laughed, softly. “All those would happen were he lord or blade or player. Did you know … once I had hoped he might receive some small plot or a cot from Lord Brill. But it would have been a gift. My gift. This …” Liende gestured around her. “This he has earned and will earn with every day he lives, and that I could never have provided.”

  “But you did,” Anna pointed out. “You raised him well and taught him. What you helped him become is why he is Lord of Denguic.”

  Liende smiled and shook her head. “He was not certain when he came to Falcor. He watched you.” The smile turned sad. “At first, he saw a beautiful girl, and I think wanted you for little less than your form, and did not understand. Alseta—she saw you from the first, and she was not kind to him. But Kinor is not without wit, and he watched and learned. And you were kind to let him accompany you.” The chief player shrugged. “He will do aught that is necessary to keep this hold and your faith.”

  An
na nodded. “I would hope so, and I would hope he can win the loyalty of the people. That will not be easy.”

  “It may not be so hard. Already … there are tales, now that the lady Livya and her daughter have left.”

  Were there tales in every hold? Anna took a long slow breath.

  Liende bowed, her eyes taking in the table with the scrolls. “You have much to do, and I would not hold you. I did wish to thank you.”

  “Liende …” Anna’s voice was soft. “You have supported me and saved me when you didn’t want to. I took youth from you, and I probably caused Brill’s death. I didn’t mean to, but … I didn’t help there. I’m grateful to you. I won’t say it often, but I am. I still need you, and your skills. I’m just glad that it worked out this way.”

  “You are honest, and you are beautiful, and you see women as they should be.” The chief player looked Anna straight in the eyes. “You are a sorceress, and at times, you ask much. At times, you are cold. You must be, and I know that. But you essay to be fair and to care for those who support you as much as is possible for any ruler. We—and I—cannot ask more.” She dropped her eyes. “Perhaps … I am getting old … I say too much.”

  “You … you are the honest one,” Anna replied. “I’m glad you are. Thank you.”

  “I need be going.” A brief smile crossed the chief player’s face. “Know you when we travel?”

  “I’d guess you’ll have another day or two to enjoy Lord Kinor’s hold.” Anna smiled. “Maybe longer, but I don’t know yet.”

  Liende bowed, then departed.

  Anna had scarcely looked at the problem list again before there was another interruption.

  “Lord Nelmor,” announced Bersan.

  The tall blond lord bowed as he entered.