The Saprano Sorceress

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  "Now… there's holding a blade. How would you hold a blade to strike me?" asked the armsmaster. Anna shifted her grip and raised the knife. "No! A good knife fighter always strikes directly—or underhanded. Look." Albero drew his own dagger, shimmering, wide-bladed. "If I raise the knife… see… my whole chest is open. If you keep the knife low and between you and the other, you can always strike." He laughed. "Besides, a low blade says you know something, and that will make him cautious. And if you use your stick"—he pointed to the short truncheon that hung from Anna's belt— "if you use it on his blade, then he cannot hurt you."

  "Like this?" Anna asked, shifting her grip on the knife. "Put your thumb on the flat side there." Albero demonstrated. "Like this."

  She held in a deep breath. Why was she learning about knives? Because, like everything else in her life, from taking the crummy position at Ames to going deeper and deeper in debt to get Elizabetta and Mario through college, she had no choice if she wanted to survive. With that thought, she emulated Albero's grip.

  "Good. Now… Your feet are important. You have to keep them far enough apart so that you are not unbalanced, but you have to be able to move…" Anna shifted her weight. "Better if one foot be forward of the other…" The singer tried to follow Albero's instructions, on position, on moving, on keeping the blade before her. A faint clang of the bell penetrated the thick stone walls. "That's enough for now, lady. If you just practice those few things—the drawing, the holding the knife, and those one or two moves—leastwise no one will just rush you." Albero grinned. "Best you practice casting spells while you use the knife, too."

  Anna had to return the grin. He was right. She hurried back to the main hall, washed quickly, and scurried down to the salon, where Brill waited.

  "I'm sorry." There, she was sorry again. She was always sorry. Why? "I was learning more about using a knife." She slipped into the chair across the table from the sorcerer.

  "That is wise, as long as you don't spend too much time at it."

  "Albero said the same thing," Anna admitted.

  "Lord Barjim and the last of his forces will arrive here the day after tomorrow." Brill rilled his goblet with the vinegary wine, the amber version, as Serna quietly slipped the serving platters on the table.

  More cheese, hot apples, and bread—Brill had warned her about the lack of variety in fare, and he'd been right.

  Anna waited.

  "That means putting up tenscore armsmen and Lord Barjim and Lady Alasia," the sorcerer continued.

  "Where?" ventured Anna.

  "Oh… the corner rooms opposite yours at the far end— those have been for the Lord of Defalk since my father's time. It's easier that way. As for the armsmen, there's more than enough space in the barracks. When my grandsire built Loiseau, Lord Donjim's grandsire was always guesting—it was a way to extend the treasury of Defalk. Barjim's a fairer man than old Firsah or his uncle, but some of that's because of Alasia. She's Lord Jecks' oldest daughter, and she handles a blade better than most armsmen. She rides with him, and he listens to her." Brill shook his head ruefully. "Good thing, too. Barjim's honest, and fair, but some mules have more between the ears."

  Anna offered the bread to the sorcerer.

  "You might be wise to appear in the green gown," Brill mused. "There's nothing like that here."

  "Alasia is suspicious?" Anna asked, refilling her goblet with water. Lord, she'd drunk a lot of water lately.

  "She has to be. Old Gelen can't or won't ride. He'll stay in Falcor and keep tutoring young Jimbob."

  "Gelen?" About the time she thought she understood something about Defalk, something else popped up.

  "Gelen's been one of Barjim's advisors since he was a boy. Between them, Gelen and Alasia keep him riding the right direction."

  Anna frowned. Women behind the man in power always bothered her. They were often worse than overtly power-hungry bitches.

  "How long will they stay?"

  "Just overnight. Then we'll all ride east to the Sand Pass to smite down the dark ones." Brill refilled his goblet.

  "You still haven't been very forthcoming about what you expect from me," Anna pointed out.

  "I expect nothing," Brill said gently. "I hope you can find some way to use your powers to kill either the dark-singers or their armsmen—or both. If we do not destroy most of them, like dark locusts they will crawl across Defalk, consuming everything in their path." His single swallow from the goblet half drained it.

  Anna sipped her water, and then helped herself to the apples. BrUl was drinking more of the wine each day, and withdrawing more and more.

  "I have some spells," she finally admitted. "I can't really test them, though."

  "How true!" Brill's laugh was overloud. "Unlike the dark ones, we must wait till battle to see if what we devise will work."

  Anna wished she could stomach the wine. Instead, she refilled her goblet with water again. "About harmony— vocal harmony… According to your books, two voices with the same words, but—"

  "Harmonies are too dangerous." Brill shook his head. "If we had worked together for years, perhaps, but there is no time to ensure that they would be perfect, and perfect they would have to be."

  "Perfect?"

  "They would have to be perfect" Brill's voice turned flat, stubborn.

  Anna wanted to scream, but she only smiled. "I understand… but would you think about it?"

  "With all else I must consider?" He shook his head.

  Anna decided not to push, since he didn't seem likely to listen. "When you do have more time."

  "If that time comes, Lady Anna, then… perhaps." Was he afraid of losing control, like all men? She managed to keep from shaking her head, just barely.

  27

  Anna looked at the words on the paper, mentally fitting them to the familiar melody she strummed on the mandolin.

  "In the terror of the tempest, death is brought between the hills, with a slashing through the bosom that flattens monks it kills. As we lived to keep men free, let dark ones fall in rills…"

  Anna winced at the word "rills," but she felt the word was Germanic in origin, and should help—she hoped—in a world where song seemed to have its roots in a similar tongue.

  Finally, she set the mandolin on the desk beside the unused key-harp. Absently, she wondered why the sorcerers of Liedwahr never developed something like the autoharp, with chording bars. Then, without a pianolike instrument, the whole idea of chords seemed almost foreign to the mostly polyphonic spell music of Erde.

  She touched her shoulder. Under her shirt and tunic, the healing wound, and scars from the ugly stitches, were covered only by a light layer of cotton. The area around the wound was tender, and much of it remained a faded purple with a yellowish cast—-but she could move her arm without more than discomfort, and she could play the mandolin. The small instrument helped in working things out, far more than the key-harp.

  She wished that Daffyd would complete the lutar, but she had the feeling that it would not be ready by tomorrow, when they would have to leave with Lord Barjim.

  Why had she agreed to go?

  She shrugged, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder. What real choice had she had? She had no funds, no supporters except Brill, and from what she could tell, most of Erde didn't seem terribly fond of sorcerers or sorceresses. She was in a medieval-style culture, and she had no real skill with weapons—or with such crafts as sewing, stitchery, or weaving. With song relegated to sorcery, she couldn't even sing for her supper, so to speak, and she certainly didn't feel like being a harlot.

  As usual, nothing had changed, even though she had changed worlds. Her nonself-destructive choices remained virtually nonexistent, and when she had ideas, like using harmony to amplify magic, the men didn't want to listen, and she was even more isolated from her children.

  Her eyes turned to the window.

  In the late afternoon, to the east and north, along the road toward Ebra, scattered clouds of dust rose, for all that the air
was still.

  "Soldiers… armsmen… whatever they're called," Anna murmured as she lifted the mandolin again. What other spells could she devise?

  28

  Anna glanced out the bedchamber window, but nothing seemed different, except there were several guards stationed on the walls, there to present an appearance of watchfulness to Lord Barjim, no doubt, reflected Anna.

  She walked slowly back to the mirror in the robing room.

  After a quick thrap on the door, which Anna ignored, Florenda opened it slightly. "Lady Anna, Lord Brill says that Lord Barjim is almost to the gates."

  Anna took a last quick look in the mirror. Brill had suggested that she wear the green gown, and she understood that. Just like all men beholden to a higher authority, he wanted to play up his strengths, and Anna was clearly one of his strengths. When would she be able to be one of her own strengths? Ever?

  She shook her head and bent closer to the mirror. Although the gray and natural auburn was showing at the roots of her hair, it wasn't that obvious, not yet, not the way she had arranged her hair, although she wouldn't be able to conceal the graying and darkening that much longer.

  There was something about Erde, though. There had to be. She'd had to cinch the longline bra into the next-to-tightest hooks, and she didn't even feel constrained, and she'd been eating heartily enough, more than heartily enough.

  Only the slightest edge of the cotton covering the scab and scar showed. Thank goodness the green gown wasn't that low-necked.

  "My lady!" Florenda called.

  "I'm coming." After a last glance in the mirror, Anna turned, left the chamber, and followed Florenda down the stone stairs, holding the balustrade loosely because of the high heels. Gero and Brill stood in the entry hall, waiting.

  Brill bowed. "You look both lovely and formidable, Lady Anna."

  "Thank you…1 think."

  A smile creased Brill's face, one that vanished with the sound of the bellchime. He nodded to Gero, and the youth darted to the doorway.

  "Welcome to Loiseau, Lord Barjim, Lady Alasia," piped the sorcerer's assistant, as he held the door wide for the pair to enter.

  "My lord," Brill offered a bow to the big dark-haired man in a purple shirt. "Lady Alasia." Beside the broad-faced bulky man stood a broad-shouldered woman with short, gray-streaked hair, also in purple and bearing a short black sabre, as well as a belt dagger.

  "Lord Brill. I see you are as prepared for war as a sorcerer is." Barjim's eyes flicked to Anna, his eyes taking in the green gown.

  She met the sleepy-looking hooded eyes, angry at the insinuation, and glad that the heels and her own height, and the shortness of people in Erde, allowed her to look the Lord of Defalk straight in the eye. After the briefest of moments, Barjim returned his scrutiny to Brill.

  "This is the Lady Anna," Brill explained. "She is a sorceress from the mist worlds."

  Both Barjim and Alasia looked at Anna.

  "I am pleased and honored to meet you both," Anna said evenly. "I hope to be of some help."

  "She already has been," Brill said. "The dark ones sent three spellcasters after her, and they are dead." He paused. "We can discuss this as we eat. Would you like to refresh yourselves?"

  "That would be most kind," said Alasia before Barjim could speak.

  "Then, might I escort you to your quarters?" Brill bowed and gestured toward the staircase. "Lady Anna, would you be so kind as to inform Serna that it will be a slight while?"

  "Not that long," said Barjim. "Eating's a lot better than washing."

  "Captain Dekas and Captain Sepko will be joining us, also," said Alasia.

  "I had expected them." Brill smiled at Anna and added in a lower voice, if one loud enough for the others to hear. "And would you take care of the candles? It would take Serna forever with the lighter, and I did not get to spell them."

  "My pleasure." Anna inclined her head, both to Brill and to Barjim and Alasia. Alasia returned the nod and smiled faintly. Despite Brill's description of Alasia as a power behind the throne, Anna found herself wondering. Alasia seemed almost too plain, common-sensical.

  As the three ascended the stone steps, Anna turned and walked slowly to the grand dining room, where she noted that the table was set for six, with actual silver cutlery, and bleached cloth napkins set in carved rings. The goblets were the same crystal, but looked more formal in the grand dining room than in the salon.

  Anna glanced up at the massive crystal chandelier, on which there were at least three dozen gleaming white candles. For a moment, she studied the chandelier, trying to form the mental image of all the candles blazing, before she hummed, trying to get the pitch right, and wishing she'd brought a pitch pipe. Then, she sang the spell.

  "… flame clear in my sight!"

  Light gushed through the once dim room.

  "Oh… oh....oh…"

  Anna turned. Florenda looked whiter than the candles in the chandelier.

  "Are you all right, Florenda?"

  "Oh, lady… I did not realize…" Florenda turned toward the door to the kitchen area, where Serna appeared.

  "Lord Barjim and Lady Alasia are refreshing themselves," Anna said. "Oh…" The eight wall sconces remained unlit. "Do those get lit also?" she asked the white-haired server.

  "Usually, Lady Anna." Serna paused.

  "Thank you. I'll do them in a moment. I don't think the delay for dinner will be great. Lord Barjim seemed rather more eager to eat than to wash up."

  "Aye… that's always the case," affirmed Serna, glancing down at Florenda, who slipped over beside the older woman. In turn, Florenda looked toward Anna, then dropped her eyes.

  "Easy, daughter, powerful sorceress or not, I'd venture she's the same woman she's always been." Serna patted Florenda's shoulder.

  "Your daughter? I didn't know."

  "No reason you should, lady."

  "She's a good young woman."

  "She's that, too, for all that I'm her mother." Serna paused at the sound of a chime. "Best you light the sconces, Lady Anna. The captains have arrived. Florenda, you get the big flagons of the good wine. The good wine. Go, girl!"

  As Florenda scuttled off, Serna nodded toward her daughter's departing figure. "I saw you spell the candles before. She hadn't. Young ones don't believe their parents, for all the years we have."

  Anna laughed. "I know. I have children, too. They're grown."

  "You don't look more than a girl, lady."

  "The gray's there, if you look closely," Anna said ruefully.

  "Let Lord Barjim find that out for himself." At the sound of voices in the entry hall, Serna raised a hand. "Best I'm back to readying dinner."

  As the server vanished, Anna took in the wall sconces, did her best to visualize them, and repeated the spell.

  "Donnermusik…" muttered a voice from the arched entry to the dining hall.

  Anna turned and beheld Gero with two men who looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. She stepped forward. "I'm Lady Anna." She hated titling herself, but that was the way this opera played, fantasy soap opera or not.

  "She is a sorceress," Gero announced. "From the mist worlds." As the youth stepped back, he winked at Anna, who kept her lips tight for a moment to avoid an amused smile.

  "Dekas, captain for Lord Barjim." The black-haired man in the tan shirt and purple vest bowed.

  "Sepko." The blond bowed quickly. He wore a cream-colored shirt with his vest.

  While Dekas was nearly six feet tall, Anna judged, she was taller than the squat and muscular Sepko.

  For a moment, there was silence. Then Anna decided to seize the opportunity. "Everyone talks in general terms. Can you describe the dark ones, the Dark Monks?"

  Dekas cleared his throat. "Why, Lady Anna?"

  "It would help my spellcasting if I knew more." It would help a lot of things if I knew more, she thought to herself. "How are they likely to attack?"

  "Well…" began the tall captain. "They all wear brown, brown so dark i
t is almost black." He shook his head. "How they manage in the sun, I don't know. First, their singers bring in clouds and a storm, and they try to lash you with lightning. Then they bring up crossbows while you're still watching for lightning. After that… well, it could be horse or pikes—it depends on the lay of the land. That Eladdrin, he's said to be a good commander, for all that he's a spellmaster, too."

  "Sometimes, it gets so dark, you think the sun would set," added Sepko.

  Both men turned at the sound of voices and boots echoing off the stone steps.

  "I believe your lord and lady and Lord Brill are arriving," Anna said easily.

  From the shadows of the doorway, Gero offered another wink, and eased farther from sight.

  Anna inclined her head slightly as the three passed under the archway and into the room. Brill's eyes took in the still-blazing candles, and he nodded ever so slightly before gesturing to the end of the table closest to the salon. "My lord."

  Barjim waited until Alasia stood by the chair to his left. Following Brill's faint nod and her feelings, Anna took the chair to the right. Brill sat beside Alasia, while both captains seated themselves below Anna.

  She noted that only Brill offered anyone a chair, and that to Barjim's consort. Somehow, that didn't exactly surprise her.

  The small party took less than a third of the table, and Anna wondered how often the entire white stone table was ever used.

  Almost before the chairs were pulled into place, Florenda set three flagons on the table—one between the captains, one by Barjim, and one by Brill.

  "Is this the good stuff, Brill?" asked Barjim. "Not that vinegar you usually drink?"

  "This is the good wine," the sorcerer affirmed.

  The Lord of Defalk filled his consort's goblet first, then his own. Brill filled his goblet, and Anna found hers being filled by Dekas.

  "Thank you," she murmured.

  The tall captain nodded.

  Barjim raised his goblet. "For your hospitality, and a good refuge from a dissonant dusty road."

  "Here…" murmured Alasia.

  To Anna's surprise, the red wine was actually drinkable.