“I only know of my own. Lord Brill would have to tell you about the others.” Anna paused for a sip of the wine, careful to make it small. “As I have told him, our magic is different, and it is created these days through small machines. We have carriages that run without horses, and metal birds called airplanes that carry dozens of people across our globe … .”
Anna talked for a time, trying to word what she said carefully, never to say earth had no magic, but pointing out that some of the magic devices she had brought did not work on Erde.
“That is strange,” mused Alasia. “Magic changes from world to world?”
“It seems to,” said Anna.
“From what you have said,” Alasia continued, “and from what the sorcerer has said, it would seem that you are more powerful here. Is that true?”
“That’s true,” Anna said. The woman was perceptive.
“They say there is a price for power,” continued Alasia. “What might be yours?”
Anna swallowed. “I hadn’t thought of it quite that way because I’ve been trying to learn about Erde—and then I was recovering from the arrow. I don’t know everything, but I can’t see my parents again, or talk to my children.” She swallowed again, trying to maintain her composure.
“You are paying a great price, then. I am truly sorry.”
Anna covered her surge of emotion by lifting the goblet and sipping slowly. The other woman seemed truly sorry for her, and not at all manipulative, the way Brill had hinted, and that sympathy or empathy smashed through all the barriers she had erected.
“ … terrible exile …” came from Sepko, whispered to Dekas.
“ … maybe lucky for us, though …”
Anna held the goblet, trying to keep her hands from trembling. She’d tried to keep from thinking about her parents, or Elizabetta or Mario. She’d tried, and one glass of good wine and a sympathetic question and she was about to come undone.
“How did you manage to ride the palomino?” asked Alasia softly.
Anna swallowed. “I don’t know. I liked him, and, somehow, he liked me. We just fit.”
“She talks to him, and he listens,” offered Brill.
“Of course,” said Barjim. “You talk to your mount. That way he knows he’s special. Treat a horse right, and he’ll carry you through the mistuned drums of the worst storms.”
“How big is he?” asked Sepko quietly.
“Big as Rowin, if I recall,” said Barjim.
“You’re a tall lady, sorceress,” said Dekas, “but that’s a big horse. You are fortunate.”
In some ways, thought Anna, in some ways. She gripped the goblet more tightly and plastered a smile on her face as the small talk continued, as Serna and Florenda removed the melon plates and brought in brown-sauced meat with flaky white rolls, and the hot apples.
Some of the tightness in her stomach eased, and the cheerfulness in her voice was forced to her own ears, but she managed to keep smiling as the dinner went on, to answer appropriately, and even to make a witty comment now and again.
She noted that the sheen on Brill’s forehead continued as well.
29
MENCHA, DEFALK
“Cold in here,” grumbles Barjim, looking toward the closed window hangings and then the bed.”Cold as an untrustworthy sorcerer.”
“You think that of the sorcerer?” Alasia strips off the purple shirt, and then the armless chemise.
“Brill? He’s got a good heart, but he’ll turn under pressure. She will, too, I’d wager.”
“The sorceress, the lady Anna? I do not think so.”
“She seems pleasant, but …” Barjim shrugs and looks pointedly toward the bed.
“Barjim! I know you’ve had too much good wine, but listen.”
“Yes, dear.” He slumps into the chair, bare-chested.
“This woman has been dropped into a strange world. She’s been shot at and wounded. She’s lost everything, except her sorcery, and that’s stronger. Yet, she’s repaying Brill’s hospitality by supporting you. How many lords do you have that have so much a sense of duty?”
“Dissonantly few, frigging dissonantly few.”
“I think we need to let my father know about her … just in case. And it might be wise to offer a few silvers for expenses, just a token.”
“Silvers here, silvers there. Don’t have many left.”
Alasia walks over behind Barjim and begins to massage his shoulders. “I know. I know. I have a few.”
“You like her? You don’t like many women,” says Barjim slowly.
“Under that fancy gown, she’s like me. Any woman who can ride that palomino and take an arrow—I saw that gash; it’s more than a span wide—she’s no backroom sorceress. She’s more of a man than fussy old Brill is.” Alasia keeps massaging his shoulders. “Brill does what he can. He’s good at heart, as you say, and he’d be better in a peaceful land.”
“Fat chance of that,” mumbles Barjim.
Alasia massages his shoulders more gently. “We need to rest.”
“Know what I need, woman.”
She bends down and kisses his neck, letting her skin touch his. “I know.”
30
Under the floppy-brimmed hat, Anna could feel the sweat collecting, and they hadn’t even reached the main road where the main body of Barjim’s forces had drawn up.
Anna shifted her weight in the saddle, wondering how well she’d last on a long ride. Her fingers slipped over the harness holding the pair of water bottles before the saddle. There was another set behind her, fastened over the bedroll and the saddlebags that contained food, clothing, and the mandolin. She hoped she had enough water, and she wished Daffyd had completed the lutar. He had brought the pieces, or so he had said. That bothered her, but she couldn’t quite say why.
She rode beside Brill, with the eight players on smaller mounts behind them, led by Daffyd and Liende. Gero had remained at the hall, because, according to Brill, he was too young to wield a weapon, and unable to do sorcery.
Anna smiled to herself, thinking about the contradictions that Brill embodied—cruel and kind, devious and honest, and who knew what else?
She glanced down the trail to the cloud of dust ahead. Barjim and Alasia and their host had left the hall less than half a glass earlier.
“See,” observed Brill as the road from Loiseau flattened to join the main highway, if a rutted dirt road less than five yards wide could be called a highway. “They’re less than a dek ahead.”
Anna rubbed her nose, trying to avoid sneezing from all the fine dry dust raised by the horses before them. “I think I would have liked to have left with them. Then we wouldn’t be breathing their dust.”
“I guested them.” Brill answered, as if that explained everything.
“Kkkchewww!” Despite her best efforts, she sneezed, hard enough that her shoulder twinged. Even her hand ached momentarily. “Kkcheww!” Her eyes began to water, and before long, she’d have reddish mud streaking her cheeks and probably her riding clothes.
What on earth—or Erde—was she doing, riding to a battle on a strange planet, while still recovering from being punctured by an arrow? Put that way, it made little sense. Then, nothing for the past several years had made much sense. So why would that change?
She rubbed her nose again as their small group drew abreast of the slower-moving rear guard.
“We’ll be out of the dust before long,” Brill promised, clearing his throat.
“I hope so.” Anna patted Farinelli on the shoulder, and got a low whuffling in return.
“Who’s the woman with the sorcerer?”
“ … say she’s a sorceress …”
“ … tall for a sorceress …”
“ … water-sorceress … look at how much she carries.”
“ … and that’s a beast she rides, big as the lord’s mount.”
“Quiet,” snapped another voice. “She’s ridden with wounds that would leave you stretched on the clay. She’s riding
a raider horse, too. I watched her create a bonfire with about five words. You want to mess with thunderflame, be my guest, fellow armsman.”
Anna turned in the saddle and saw Captain Sepko, already wearing a slight coat of road dust. “Greetings, captain.”
“Greetings, Lady Anna. I hope this ride will not be hard on you.”
“Farinelli will take care of me.” I hope.
“He is an imposing beast.”
“We get along.” She patted Farinelli again, then nodded to Sepko, before easing the gelding more to the shoulder of the road to ride around a wagon filled with barrels—water barrels.
“You seem to have impressed the captains,” Brill whispered, leaning toward her with an ease she envied.
“You took care of that,” she countered, “with all your tales.”
The sorcerer shrugged, pleased with himself, and they continued to ride, somewhat faster than the armsmen, drawing toward the front of the column.
Anna sneezed again, trying not to wince at the jolt it gave her shoulder.
Dekas led the main body, and he nodded to Anna as, using the edge of the road, she and Brill eased forward toward the purple banner that marked the immediate host of the Lord of Defalk, just forward of the main body.
Anna peered eastward, squinting into the low morning sun, and barely making out another group of horsemen more than a dek ahead on the flat and dusty road.
“Scouts?”
“That’s the vanguard. The scouts are another two deks ahead. They are most times,” said Brill.
Anna reined Farinelli in slightly, to let Brill lead the way toward Barjim.
“Let the sorcerers through!” called the Lord of Defalk, and the guards swung their mounts aside slightly.
Anna edged Farinelli up beside Brill’s mare, and followed the sorcerer.
“You look rather … different today,” observed Barjim, his eyes falling on Anna. “More … more …”
“More commonplace?” asked Anna wryly.
The Lord of Defalk flushed enough that his color change was visible despite the bright morning light and the dust that powdered his face.
“Good for you, lady,” said Alasia warmly. “You see, my lord, she is a real person and not just a pretty image.”
“You wear a hat, but it is not warm yet,” said Barjim.
“It’s warm already, compared to my world.” Anna blotted her forehead, just under the brim of the hat. The dry heat evaporated her sweat elsewhere.
“She comes from a mist world,” added Alasia.
“It will be much hotter before the day is done,” Barjim announced.
Anna was afraid of that.
“I see you carry a number of water bottles.” Alasia pointed with her left hand.
“Not all water, I’d wager,” said Barjim.
“You do, and you’ll lose, my lord,” said Brill.
“I lose every time I speak,” answered Barjim with a deep laugh.
Anna could sense why Brill liked Barjim. The man was genuine, and didn’t take himself that seriously.
“You’re with friends,” Alasia said.
“Best I enjoy it. That will not last.” The Lord of Defalk frowned. “Do you think we will see your sire by the day after tomorrow?”
“I would guess so, my lord, but you know what I do.”
Anna looked at the road ahead, again, stretching to the low line of brown hills in the distance, a road that seemed endless already.
After another sneeze, she opened the first water bottle and eased it to her lips, taking a deep swallow. Then she glanced back, back toward Loiseau, but the hall was only a smudge on a low hill.
31
With a groan Anna rolled onto her side. Her whole body ached. The thin bedroll hadn’t even softened the ground. Her eyes were gummy, and her head pounded. Her shoulder didn’t seem to ache as much, but that might have been because everything else ached more.
After prying open one eye, seemingly glued shut with gunk and dust, she tried the other. In the grayness before dawn, most of the camp still slept, except for the guards. On the bedroll beside her, Liende snored softly. Beyond, Brill and Daffyd slumbered. Anna shook her head. How could anyone sleep? How had she slept at all?
She looked at the saddlebags beside her, and the water bottles. She’d refilled them the night before, carefully orderspelling the water, since she didn’t trust the look of the barrels. Her mouth was dry, almost cracked, and she half lurched, half crawled into a sitting position, then reached for the nearest water bottle.
She sipped slowly. Even more slowly, the throbbing in her head eased. Defalk was so dry she got dehydrated sleeping, and that was saying something.
As she shifted the thin blanket that she didn’t need, fine reddish dust rose, and her nose twitched. By gently squeezing it, she managed to keep from sneezing.
Here and there, across the camp, figures were rising, and Anna thought she saw movement inside the thin silken tent that housed Barjim and Alasia. Anna could have cared less about the tent, but she did envy the two for the cots that went with the tent. Bedrolls and hard ground just didn’t cut it.
“Good morning,” offered Liende, her voice low as she sat up.
“It is morning,” Anna agreed. She missed coffee, especially on mornings like this where everything ached, and her stomach turned.
“Do all sorcerers and sorceresses dislike mornings?” asked the red-haired woman.
“Yes,” grumbled Brill without even lifting his head. “They also hate travel.”
Anna looked at the boots. After days of wearing them, they seemed to fit better, especially around the calves, which didn’t bind anymore. She seemed to be losing weight still, that or her trousers were stretching, and she couldn’t imagine plain cotton stretching.
Anna took another long slow swallow from the water bottle. She felt sweaty and dirty all over, and they had another long day on the road, according to both Brill and Barjim. Already, she missed the luxury of the tub and hot water at Loiseau, and this adventure had barely started.
Given how she felt, she didn’t even want to think about how she looked.
32
Anna shifted her weight in the saddle again, trying to relieve the soreness that ran from her knees through her lower back. Although the sun had just set, the air remained still, hot—and dusty.
The ride from Mencha had given Anna a new appreciation of the term “eat dust.” Even near the head of the column the dust was everywhere. She felt like she had been eating, breathing, and even drinking dust.
“The fort isn’t that far.” Brill’s voice was uneven and raspy.
“How far?” Anna hoped she didn’t have to sing or cast spells. The way her own voice sounded, who knew what the results might be, not that she had that many spells to cast.
“Another five deks, less than a league. It’s right at the base of the hills that guard the access to the pass. You can see the low spot up ahead there.”
Anna nodded, looking to the gentle rolling plains to the north of the road, half covered with browned grass, a few tumbleweeds, and sharp-leaved clumpy plants that reminded her of cactus. There was no sagebrush, although the scene could have come from western Kansas, if not for the mountains ahead.
“No … we’re not in Kansas, Toto,” she murmured to herself. Not even in western Iowa—or anywhere close.
“Lady Anna?”
Anna turned and guided Farinelli back toward Alasia. “Yes?”
“How is your shoulder?”
“It’s feeling better than my legs right now,” Anna admitted.
“My legs get sore still, after all these years of ridmg,” said the brown-haired woman.
“Don’t let her deceive you, lady,” grumbled Barjim. “She was born on a horse. She’ll ride us all into the ground.”
“My legs still hurt,” said Alasia. “Yours do, too. You won’t admit it.”
Anna reached for her water bottle again, drinking the last from the one fastened in front of the sad
dle, but carefully recorking and replacing it.
For a time, in the reddish purple of twilight, the mountains seemed no closer, and they were mountains, Anna realized, mountains as high as, and drier than, the Rocky Mountains, mountains of hard red rock and gray cliffs.
As the twilight deepened, and the column came to a hill crest that dropped gently away, suddenly, a red-brick structure loomed ahead, filling the entire expanse between the two hills that seemed to merge on each side of the fort with the ridges that guarded the approach to the higher mountains. Watchfires lit the regularly spaced towers.
“The Sand Pass fort,” Brill said.
“You built it?”
“He built it,” confirmed Alasia her mount to the right of Farinelli. “In times other than these, it would be more than enough.”
As they rode closer, Anna studied the walls, as precise as those of Loiseau, if of brick rather than stone, and rising perhaps fifty feet above the base of the valley.
Cannon? She realized she had never seen any kind of firearms—yet the precision with which Brill formed things with magic, and the crafting of blades and other items would argue that they could be made—or was there something about gunpowder that didn’t work?
Erde was like that. She was so preoccupied trying to understand the place and to figure out what she could do with her talents that things she didn’t happen to be familiar with slipped by. Except they didn’t stay slipped.
She realized that her head was beginning to ache again, and she reached for the water bottle.
The pale purple banners bearing the crossed spears of Defalk hung limply in the growing gloom, lit intermittently by the watchfires. The road arrowed straight toward the middle of the wall. In the gloomy heat of twilight, Anna could barely tell where the red brick of the ramparts separated from the sunbaked dirt and the hard and dusty road.
Despite the broad-brimmed hat, her face was red and nearly raw. Defalk was no place for a fair-skinned singer.
A trumpet sounded, seemingly right behind Anna, and she twitched in surprise. Farinelli whuffled, and Anna patted his neck automatically, moistening her lips.
By the time the column reached the walls, the gates were swung open, and two squads of mounted troops, one on each side of the road, had formed up. The high brick walls loomed reddish purple in the last glimmers of twilight.
The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 16
