Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Rickel … if you would have someone summon Lord Jimbob for me? I’d like to see him now.”

  Rickel tightened his lips, as if concealing a smile. “My pleasure, Regent.”

  Anna closed the door—except not quite all the way—and listened.

  “Regent … good for that boy. Full of himself until she took hold of him … had that look in her eye … bet she’s going to straighten him up proper again …”

  Not quite in that way. Anna eased the door closed all the way and returned to the latest scroll from Lord Clethner.

  … being that Wendell sits near-astride the border with Nordwei and Lord Genrica’s consort is the cousin of one of the counselors …

  Thrap.

  Anna looked up at the knock. “Yes?”

  “It’s Lord Jimbob, Lady Anna.”

  “Come on in.” Anna set down Clethner’s scroll and stood behind the table, waiting.

  Jimbob stepped inside gingerly.

  Anna motioned for him to close the door. “You see those?” She pointed to the scrolls on the bench.

  “Yes, Lady Anna.”

  She smiled. “You’re going to get a better understanding of something else. Jimbob … I want you to read every one of these. Right now, while I go through some of the others.” She pointed again to the stack of scrolls she had preselected. There were a few, such as those from Tybel, Jecks, and Clethner, that she didn’t want him to see.

  “Me, Lady Anna?”

  “You were the one who told me you learned more by doing. These are what I have to deal with. I want you to think over each, and then write down two or three lines of what you would do if you were in my boots.”

  Jimbob swallowed.

  Anna smiled. “Oh … and you’ll do it here, because those scrolls aren’t leaving me. You can also ask me questions, if you need to.”

  “Ah … yes, Lady Anna.” The redhead pulled a straight-backed chair next to the bench and sat down. Slowly, he picked up a scroll on the side, almost as if the parchment were fire that might burn him.

  Anna searched to find the scroll from Lord Tybel. After she read it, she was seething. She took a deep breath, and a swallow of water, then studied it again.

  … while it is most commendable for a female Regent to attempt to maintain the lineage of the lords of Defalk from father to son … under the ancient and honorable traditions of Defalk, all lands must pass from fathers to sons, or nephews or brothers. Otherwise and one might as well say that Defalk is no more … .

  The sorceress-Regent forced herself to take another slow breath.

  … first you as Regent have let women hold lands for sons, and now you would have women hold lands for daughters … the Thirty-three cannot accept such a perversion of what has always been and what must be for Defalk … I will raise the entire south against the Regency should this continue … .

  She shook her head. Was Tybel an idiot? Hadn’t he heard what had happened to Dannel? Or was he so isolated that he couldn’t believe it? Or did he truly believe in some sort of harmonic divine right of primogeniture? She slowly rolled up the scroll. Somehow, she had the feeling that Tybel wasn’t going to back down, that his beliefs justified the murder of his daughter and her children. So your beliefs justify his death?

  She didn’t have the armsmen to force him to submit, and she couldn’t risk those she had, and she couldn’t risk another attack like the one that Dannel had led. And that doesn’t leave a lot of options.

  She looked helplessly at the wall for a long time before picking up the next scroll.

  After more than a glass, Jimbob set down the last of the scrolls he had been poring over and looked at Anna. “These are not all, are they?”

  Anna set down the goblet of water she had been sipping. “No. You’ll see some of the others as you get more experience. Now … remember, you have to draft a short suggestion on each for me.”

  Jimbob nodded.

  Another knock sounded on the door. “Lady Anna … the saalmeister would like to inform you and Lord Jimbob that dinner will be ready in a quarter glass … unless you would like it later.”

  “No … we’ll be ready.” Anna looked at Jimbob. “You can think about the scrolls tonight and write up your suggestions in the morning. I’ll be writing most of the day, I suspect.” She stood. “We shouldn’t keep the others waiting.” Most of them didn’t get snacks … .

  Jimbob stood. “I am hungry.”

  Anna smiled. She hadn’t known many thirteen- or fourteen-year-olds who weren’t hungry. “Let’s go.”

  105

  In the gray that preceded sunrise, Anna looked at the lutar case on the bench at the foot of the high carved bed. One full day in Synfal really hadn’t been enough, although the redheaded young Lord of Synfal who had just stepped into her chamber had probably thought so with all the scrolls Anna had pushed at him.

  She studied Jimbob, but he looked back steadily.

  “I wanted to talk to you again before I left,” Anna said. “Do you understand why I don’t think you ought to be on this journey?”

  Jimbob nodded, and his longish red hair flopped over his ears. “You don’t think I should be involved when you have to decide who inherits lands?”

  “Whoever does what I’m going to do isn’t going to be popular for a while. It’s better that people look forward to your rule than feel that you won’t be any different from me.”

  “Grandsire says you’re the best ruler Defalk has ever had.”

  “I appreciate his words, and his support. But you have to remember that what people feel isn’t necessarily the way it should be. Sometimes, when you do what is right, it’s not very popular, especially with the Thirty-three.” Is that ever the truth. “I think you’d do fine on the trip. You’ve done well so far, but you need more time with Herstat, and more time here to learn about Synfal and so that the people will come to take you as their lord in their hearts as well as their heads.”

  “Their hearts as well as their head …” Jimbob smiled shyly. “Sometimes, your words … they sound … well, I wish I could talk like you do.”

  “You have time to learn. Just listen. Words help, but actions speak as well, sometimes better.” Anna cocked her head. “Any last questions?”

  “I can’t think of any.”

  “I need to saddle Farinelli. You can come with me if you’d like.”

  “I’d like to.” Jimbob picked up the saddlebags and the mirror case. “I can carry these down.”

  “Thank you.” Anna glanced at the saddlebags that held the two sets of riding gear, the single gown, and only the scroll from Jecks. The one from Tybel she had folded into her belt wallet.

  Bersan and Fielmir followed them down to the stable.

  There Bielttro was waiting. “Lady Anna … here are two sacks of grain, and they fasten behind the saddle with these loops. They’re not heavy, and you can feed him one tonight, and one tomorrow night.”

  “In short, you’re telling me that he really ought to stay a few more days under your care and feeding?” Anna grinned.

  Bielttro shifted his weight and looked down at the straw, then at Anna. “Mayhap your care and my feeding, lady?”

  “We’ll try to do better, Bielttro.”

  “You do better than many, Regent … but he is a good mount.”

  Anna accepted the reproach. “I know.”

  Bielttro nodded, then smiled. “Will you be back soon?”

  “I hope so.”

  The ostler glanced toward the courtyard.

  “I understand, Bielttro. You can deal with the other problems.”

  “Thank you, lady.” The young ostler slipped away from the stall.

  “He told you that you should handle your mount better,” Jimbob said.

  “He was right,” Anna pointed out. “And he was tactful about telling me. He is a good head ostler, and he will get better. Treat him with respect, and listen to him, and he’ll save you horses and coins.”

  Jimbob nodded. “Many would
take umbrage.”

  “Just because I’m Regent doesn’t mean I’m always right. People will tell you you’re right because you’re a lord. You have to know which are telling you the truth and which are flattering you.” You’re probably laying it on too thick, but he needs all the reinforcement he can get on that point.

  “Grandsire said that, too. But an ostler never told him—”

  “Your grandsire is far more experienced with horses than I am. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that. I’ve heard Dythya and Herstat correct him on coins and numbers, though.”

  “Oh … I had not thought …”

  You’d better …

  “I need to get moving, Jimbob,” Anna suggested as she finished tightening the girths and adjusting the saddle.

  “I know.” The young lord handed her the saddlebags, the small grain bags, the mirror case and then the lutar. “I’ll watch from the hall door.” He stopped. “You be careful, Lady Anna.”

  “I will.” She watched as the embarrassed young man bowed and darted out of the stall.

  Once she had led Farinelli out of the stable, Anna mounted and surveyed the courtyard, her breath steaming in the cold morning air. Himar was already mounted, and lining up the lancer companies. Falar, with his men along the east wall, flashed a roguish smile, one that Anna returned with a nod.

  “Lady Anna, the players are ready,” offered Liende.

  Anna turned in the saddle. The chief player and the other players were mounted, and waiting, behind her guards. “Thank you.”

  “As are your guards,” added Rickel from behind her right shoulder.

  Anna turned and offered another acknowledgment. She’d wished that they’d been able to leave the day before, but just going through everything that Jecks had sent had taken two full days. Then, three nights with solid food and dry beds and stalls had probably been worth it to all the lancers and their mounts. You feel better, too. And … she’d had time to adapt the spells she’d need at Arien and Flossbend.

  Jimbob had crossed the courtyard and stood on the mounting block by the carriage entrance to the hall, looking toward Anna. Herstat waited on the steps several yards behind the young lord.

  Himar rode toward her. “All is ready. The gold company will stay here today, if you approve, and then leave for Falcor in the morning.”

  “Playing it safe, I see,” Anna said. At the puzzled expression that crossed the arms commander’s face, she added, “You want to make sure nothing happens on our way out of Synfal and through Cheor.”

  “Yes, Regent. And I know Finsul will ride hard to Falcor, no matter what order I leave with him.” A crooked smile crossed Himar’s lips.

  Anna returned the smile. “That’s fine. Let’s go.”

  “Van forward!” Himar slid his mount around beside Anna.

  The sorceress had the feeling that Jimbob watched until she was well out of the gate, but she didn’t look back.

  106

  As she tried not to bounce in the saddle, Anna unfastened her jacket to avoid sweating under a clear sky and a midday sun that was almost summerlike. She reached for a water bottle and drank deeply. After replacing it, she stripped off the jacket, glad of the slight coolness remaining in the late morning.

  “The mist worlds must be chill indeed,” said Falar, riding to her right, still wearing his heavy leather jacket.

  “Compared to Liedwahr, they are … or mine was.” Anna peered eastward, but the road looked the same, winding around rises too low to be proper hills.

  The Synor River Road had gotten more rutted and less traveled after they had passed the south road to Suhl, but when they had turned south on the trade road that led past Arien to Sudwei, the way had smoothed out again. But another day later, when they had turned eastward toward Arien, the road had quickly degenerated into a hole-filled and rutted country lane. Anna had checked the mirror twice to make sure they were headed to Arien, but the aerial view in the glass had confirmed it.

  So she swayed in the saddle, with their progress slower than she would have hoped.

  “Even my brother keeps better roads than these,” offered Falar, “and I thought his efforts poor indeed.”

  “Fussen’s roads are much better.” Anna grinned. “I’m not so sure about its bridges, though.”

  “My sire always said that bridges should be strong enough for wagons and weak enough to be removed in case you wanted to deny an enemy a crossing.”

  “That didn’t stop the Prophet,” the sorceress pointed out.

  “He didn’t think about sorcery. There haven’t been many sorcerers or sorceresses in the west since the lady Peuletar, and that was many, many years ago.” Falar added, almost conversationally, “They say that she was beautiful, too.”

  “You’re very gallant,” Anna replied, half-pleased at the indirect compliment, but wanting that to go nowhere. “But you’re my son’s age, Falar.”

  “My eyes do not see that, lady.”

  “I said you were gallant, you rascal.” Anna watched as one of the scouts rode down from the long hill that they approached, then stopped to talk to Himar, who had ridden ahead of the main column with several lancers, if behind the vanguard. “The scouts have seen something.”

  “Let us hope we are nearing our destination.”

  Anna wasn’t certain about that.

  Himar rode back from the head of the column, where he had been talking to one of the scouts. “Lady … once we reach the hills ahead, Arien lies in the valley beyond. How would you wish to proceed?”

  “We’ll try the mirror again, once we get to the hilltop and can check what it shows us against what we can see and the maps.” She paused. “They didn’t see any armsmen, did they?”

  “No, Regent.”

  “Good.”

  Once they had reached the hillcrest, Himar led the column about a third of the way down the steeper hillside before he brought them to a halt by a browning meadow, where a small stream crossed the road at an angle, leaving a muddy ford of sorts.

  “They can water their mounts while you scry, if you would not mind.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Followed by Falar, Liende, and Himar—and Rickel and Blaz—Anna took the glass to the top side of the sloping meadow, setting it on a rock that was halfway flat. Then she lifted the lutar and began the scrying spell.

  Show us now and show us clear,

  how the ways to Arien do appear … .

  Anna studied the mirror, then out eastward, and then back to the mirror. Just as Dvoyal, who had approximated a brother-in-law to Gatrune, Anna thought, had told her, Arien indeed lay in a valley, but unlike Stromwer there was no real barrier to approaching the keep, which lay just east of the small town. Rolling hills surrounded the gentle valley on all sides, hills partly forested and partly in brown-grassed meadows. There were few fields showing cultivation, and far larger grassy areas with dark shapes that appeared to be cows. A dairying region? Cheeses? Cheese kept, unlike milk, at least if you had cool cellars.

  “Is Arien known for its cheeses?” she asked Falar, standing behind Himar.

  “I could not say.” The redhead shrugged, apologetically.

  “The best hard white cheeses come from Arien,” Liende finally said. “Some prefer the light yellow. Lord Brill bought the white.”

  Anna forced her thoughts back to the most unpleasant prospects of the action soon to be required of her and concentrated on the mirrorlike map. There was a knoll to the south of the keep—or a rise. Anna pointed, as Himar sketched, and asked, “Could we hold that hilltop for a little while if Lord Tybel sent lancers after us?”

  “With your arrow spells … and if he has fewer than tenscore armsmen.”

  “What if we circle to the south from here?”

  “Word will reach him,” Himar observed. “There is little real cover.”

  “He’s not expecting us.”

  “And that will alarm him greatly.” Himar paused. “He may know already. The scouts saw riders hastening t
oward the keep.”

  Anna suspected her arms commander was totally right about that.

  When she finally released the spell, she took a deep breath, then picked up the lutar again.

  Show us now and show us clear

  Where Lord Tybel does appear … .

  The mirror obligingly displayed a keep’s courtyard where armsmen and lancers in armor and with shields milled into a rough formation. In the center of the armsmen was a squarebearded and broad-shouldered man wearing what Anna would have called glittering half armor.

  “This one will not wait behind walls,” Falar said. “Would that his brains equaled his courage.”

  Anna wasn’t sure she agreed with that wish, either. She sang the release couplet and looked at Himar. “We’ll have a glass or so before he arrives?”

  “Almost two.”

  Neither doubted Tybel’s destination.

  “Where would be the best place to spellcast on him?”

  “The ridge ahead, just above the bottom of the hill,” Himar said flatly.

  Anna turned. “Chief Player, I’ll need the long flame spell and then, if necessary, the arrow spell.”

  Liende looked at Anna. “As the Regent commands.”

  Anna glanced at Falar, then Himar. “I need to talk to the chief player.”

  Both men stepped back.

  “I will stand ready,” Himar said with a bow.

  “I also.” Falar bowed.

  Anna reached into her wallet and extracted the folded scroll from Tybel. She extended it to Liende. “If you would read this, Liende. Then I’d like to hear what you think.”

  The chief player’s face looked like it had been chiseled from stone when she handed the scroll back.

  “Now …” Anna said softly, “do you see why I don’t have any choice? If I let Tybel dictate how Defalk is run … nothing will change.”

  Liende shook her head. “You would have taken nothing from him. He has sons. Even his grandsons would have held Flossbend …is that not so?”