The Saprano Sorceress

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Before she had taken a step back into her small room, two sets of footsteps raced up the stairs. She opened the door before Birke could lift the knocker.

  "Lady…" panted the redhead, "the counselor said we were to get you ready, that he would send word to the stablemaster—''

  "I know. He just left." Anna glanced at Skent. "Did he tell you that one of you will be accompanying me on my rides?"

  "No, lady."

  "Today, it's Skent's turn. Tomorrow, it will be yours."

  "But… Virkan said we weren't supposed to leave the liedburg,'' said Birke.

  "It won't be for that long. You can tell Virkan that both Menares and I feel one of you should go." Anna smiled. "If Virkan gives you any difficulty, or tries to make your life harder with things like extra duties or less food, let me know. I'll find out anyway, but telling me immediately will stop such nonsense immediately."

  The two pages exchanged glances again.

  She had the feeling Virkan would be a problem from the shiver that went through Skent.

  "Just a moment. Wait right there." Anna went to the dresser and rummaged through her scraps of paper until she found the notes on the "kindness" spell she had used on Madell. The two names even had the same number of syllables.

  Then she uncased the lutar, retuning it quickly, not that it needed much since she'd practiced earlier. Vocalises were just about the only thing she dared sing full volume on Erde.

  Both pages swallowed as she stepped onto the landing outside the door.

  "Let's find Virkan."

  The two exchanged glances.

  "Don!t worry. I won't turn him into ashes. We're just going to put a stop to this nonsense. Let's go."

  Birke led the way, down to the lowest level of the tower, and then through a musty narrow tunnel that ran south,

  Anna thought, under the main section of the hall. Finally, they halted outside a room that looked to be under the foundations for the hall's main grand staircase—or something that required an equally imposing footing.

  "The lady Anna wished to see you, Virkan." Birke's voice trembled.

  "Oh… up to no good again, Birke. Trying to use your exalted position to get out of work. Or is it worse this time?"

  Anna stepped through the doorway, ignoring the sour smell that filled the room. Sitting in an old wooden armchair before a battered table, almost a caricature of the English butler, Virkan looked like Anna had supposed, pudgy, but not fat, with deep-set weasellike eyes that shifted from one side of the small lower room to the other.

  "No. I am taking Skent and Birke with me on my rides— one at a time, of course, so that one will be left in the tower, but I was led to believe that you would be displeased." Anna smiled, lifting the lutar into position.

  "Displeased, my lady? We are only here to serve." Despite the smile, the words were empty sounding, false. Anna could tell that Virkan was the type that would always present a cheerful and pleasant front while abusing people who couldn't resist. And all the men in the liedburg would ignore the problem because they thought anything less than whip-welts was acceptable.

  "So am I," Anna said, letting her fingers caress the chords. "So I thought I'd help the Prophet a little." Then she sang:

  "Virkan wrong, Virkan strong, treat all right from this song. Virkan warm, Virkan cold, gentle be till dead and old."

  The lutar's chords and Anna's voice slammed through the small, stone-walled room, and, halfway through the song, the pagemaster staggered up as if to reach for Anna, then slumped into the chair.

  "You have cursed me…" His voice was instantly hoarse.

  "No more than you deserve," Anna said quietly. She could see the desperation behind his eyes as she watched every scheme, every cruelty being weighed and denied by the spell. "You will be kind to everyone. It's really no different from a command from the Prophet or Lord Barjim, except you can't weasel your way around it." She nodded. "Good day, Virkan." Then she turned. "Skent, you and I will head for the stable. Birke, I forgot the case for the lutar. Would you fetch it, and meet us at the stable?"

  "Yes, Lady Anna." Birke bowed and scurried off.

  Anna followed Skent back up the steps to the main floor.

  "You look discouraged, Skent," Anna offered as the silence persisted.

  "You upset Birke, Lady Anna, maybe as much as Virkan." He paused. "Sorcery is scary."

  "I didn't mean to scare you, but I could tell that Virkan would punish you and that neither one of you would admit it"

  "That frightened me, too."

  "That's not sorcery. I saw that because I have children. My son is twenty-four, and he got that look every so often." Anna laughed, thinking about how transparent Mario had been.

  Skent swallowed as he held the outside door to the courtyard. "Is that true? Really true? You look as young as Lady Cataryzna."

  "I take it you like her?"

  "She's beautiful. Not as beautiful as you," Skent added.

  "I'm sure she is beautiful, and you don't have to worry about flattering my ego, young man." She almost winced as she stepped into the heat of the courtyard. Why was Birke so upset? Should she ask, or just listen over the next few days? She decided on listening.

  The stables were within the southwest corner of the outer walls, and Anna could smell straw, horses, and manure, although the odors were mild, and the packed-clay floors swept clean.

  The page led her to a small room just inside the doors, where he held the door and bowed. "Tirsik, this is the Lady Anna."

  The stablemaster was probably younger than Anna, but looked older, with short graying hair above a wrinkled forehead. The blue eyes twinkled, and his right arm was shorter than the left and seemed permanently crooked. He bowed as Anna stepped inside, still carrying the lutar. "Lady Anna."

  "Stablemaster," Anna returned.

  "Of sorts." He grinned. "You're the one riding the beast."

  "Farinelli? The big palomino?"

  "The beast," Tirsik affirmed. "We feed him and water him, but the stall's a mess. Won't let no one in. Hisse got slammed leading him in and unsaddling him, had to scramble up the wall."

  "I'm sorry. I'm taking him out today, and from now on, I'll make sure I'm here to groom him and ride him every day. It's taken a little time to work things out. I'm new to Falcor."

  "You from Neserea?"

  "No. I'm from a distant place, but most recently I've been living in Mencha and Synope."

  "She's the sorceress," Skent volunteered.

  "Oh… my pardon, lady." Tirsik bowed again. "I did not know. You are the one from the mist worlds?"

  "Yes. But I'm still a real person." She forced a laugh. "And I need help, just like everyone else who rides a horse."

  "If you ride the beast," Tirsik returned with his own laugh, "I don't know what help I can give."

  "You feed and water him." She inclined her head to Skent. "Skent here, and on alternate days, Birke, will be riding with me. They'll need mounts, if that's possible."

  "We can do that." The words were slow, not quite questioning.

  "I've already met with Virkan and Menares."

  "She has," Skent confirmed.

  "You have great powers of persuasion, then."

  "I appealed to their better nature."

  Tirsik raised his eyebrows.

  "Virkan, I am confident, will have a much better nature from now on." Of course, he'll hate me to the end of his days, but if the spell holds, he won't be able to do much, and who knows, he might actually find being kind works.

  "If that be so, lady, many will be grateful." Tirsik looked at Skent. "Get your boots, imp."

  "Yes, Tirsik." Skent*grinned and was gone.

  "Happiest I've seen him in weeks." Tirsik stepped toward the door. "Let's see to your beast."

  Even before Anna reached the stall, Farinelli started snorting and whufflirig. She set the lutar carefully on a bale of hay. "Yes, I'm coming," Anna told the gelding as she opened the stall door.

  "You must have rid
den a lot," Tirsik said, staying outside.

  "Not for years until recently. We just get along." She patted the gelding's flank and scratched his forehead as Farinelli turned to her. The gelding whuffed violently and edged her toward the stall wall. Her boot hit something sharp, sharp enough that she could feel it through the heavy leather.

  After bending down, she extracted what looked to be a four-pointed metal star, bigger than her fist, with cruelly sharp points. Anna glanced at Farinelli, then called, "Tirsik."

  "Yes, lady?"

  "Why is this in Farinelli's stall?" She gingerly handed the object to the stablemaster.

  "Dissonant bastards," muttered the stablemaster. "Can you check his hoofs?"

  "Why?"

  "That's a caltrops."

  "What?"

  "Foot soldiers use them, scatter them around to stop horse troops."

  Anna swallowed, then moistened her lips. Why would someone try to lame Farinelli? To get at her? Anna shook her head, then began to ease her way around the stall— carefully with the slippery footing underneath.

  Surprisingly, to her, Farinelli let her lift each foot. Each appeared uninjured. "His hoofs are fine."

  "Good. None of my people would do that. Not to any animal, and certainly not to one this fine." Tirsik's voice was edged. "We'll check all the stalls."

  Anna began to brush the gelding.

  "Looks like some armsmen coming," commented Tirsik.

  "Oh… I'm supposed to have an escort. Menares doesn't want someone to attack his prize sorceress. I told him a small escort."

  "Subofficer walks like he's got a burr under his saddle."

  "He probably does. Proud warriors don't like protection details." Anna snorted, looking for the saddle blanket. She patted Farinelli, hoping he wouldn't throw off the blanket, and eased out of the stall.

  "Subofficer Spirda, Lady Anna." The words seemed forced out of the stiff young officer's mouth. His tanned face registered disapproval, even to the blond hair and brush mustache.

  "I am pleased to meet you, Spirda." Anna inclined her head gravely. "I'll be a few moments, since I'll need to finish saddling Farinelli." She could see the thoughts in his mind—She names horses; what am I doing here?

  "Naming horses is one of my many peculiarities," the sorceress added. "Along with carrying my own weight." She stepped back into the stall, where she slipped the saddle off the rack and onto Farinelli, who whuffled. "Easy… you'll get some exercise, plenty of exercise before we're done."

  "That one's not what she seems, officer," said Tirsik wryly. "Not a one of my men that beast will let near."

  "A disguised unicorn? I doubt that," said Spirda.

  "You want the bay mare, boy?" asked Tirsik, looking at Skent who had hurried up.

  "If you please, ser."

  "The page is coming?" asked Spirda.

  "Yes, ser," Skent said. "The sorceress said. I had to."

  "Sorceress…"

  "Ser," offered Skent politely, "she filled the middle hall with light in instants, and she turned useless cloth into the finest gown, and her room is cooler than the deepest cellars of the hall."

  "You saw all this, boy?"

  "Yes, ser."

  "Hmmmm…"

  Behind the stall wall, as she tightened the saddle cinches, Anna frowned. Spirda sounded like another man who needed both cultivating and watching.

  As she led the big palomino out of the stall, Birke appeared, breathless. "Here's your case, Lady Anna."

  Tirsik offered, and Anna handed the reins to the stable-master. "Easy, Farinelli."

  The gelding whuffed, but remained planted as Anna quickly retrieved the lutar and put it in the case, then strapped the case to the empty saddlebags. .She took the water bottle, and handed it to Birke. "I'm not as organized as I should be. Can you fill this quickly?"

  "Yes, lady." The redhead dashed off.

  Anna frowned. Fear from the youth, she didn't want. She turned to Spirda and smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Officer Spirda. I apologize for imposing on your time, and that of your men, but the Prophet's counselor felt…" She shrugged.

  "The instrument? I understood this was to be a ride."

  "It is." She glanced down to his belt and the rapier he wore. "You are an armsman, and you wear your weapon on your belt. I'm a sorceress. I'd prefer not to use mine.

  That is why you are here, and why the lutar is in its case. I will use it if I have to."

  Spirda frowned, and Anna wanted to sigh. Had she gotten the biggest dunce in Behlem's forces? Probably, and that meant explaining.

  "What the sorceress means," Tirsik interjected with a smile, "is that sorcery's often not too… particular-like, I'd guess you'd say, officer. I heard that this lady killed at least a couple thousand Ebrans. I don't suppose that the Prophet would want her having to kill a few thousand folks just to fend off a few brigands."

  Anna could see the light dawning, dimly. "Officer Spirda," she said gently, "we are just going on a ride. I need the exercise. The Prophet is convinced I need a certain amount of protection. For me to do what I can, I need to see more of Defalk. Right now, that means Falcor." She smiled again, feeling that she was smiling too often, as she had at Ames, and before, until her face felt like it would fall off. Why couldn't she just spell out the situation? Because she was dealing with people, and people didn't like truth. Once she'd thought it was only women—before she met Dieshr—but women were just as bad, and often more vicious.

  "All right, lady. We will accompany you. Let us get our mounts."

  You don't have any choice, but if that's the way you want to save face, for now, we'll leave it like that, Anna thought, saying, "Thank you. Skent and I will wait for you in the courtyard."

  Tirsik smiled sadly and briefly as the Neserean officer turned and marched off. "Need to get you on that bay quick, Skent."

  "Yes, ser."

  Anna led Farinelli out of the stables and into the still-shadowed corner of the courtyard. Two armsmen working a grindstone in the shade of the wall glanced up, specula-tively, then went back to their labors. She tried to look at the inside of the liedburg in a more analytical fashion.

  From what she could tell, the general plan was simple— the hall sat in the middle of the walls, with towers attached to each comer of the four walls. The working aspects of the castle, such as the stables, were built inward from the outer walls, and the irregular space between the hall and the expanded walls formed the de facto courtyard. Guards walked the upper section of the outer walls, but without much conviction.

  Anna, again, got the impression that Falcor, and Defalk, were just too tired from drought, whatever, to put up much resistance. Behlem had apparently just marched in and taken over.

  Skent arrived first, leading out the bay mare. "Tirsik let me take the bay. Birke says she's steady. I didn't get to ride much this last year, not like he did."

  "Why was that?"

  "He's the son of a lord. They get to ride more often."

  There was more, but Anna didn't press, especially as Birke hurried back with the water bottle. "Thank you, Birke. I appreciate it." She took the bottle and slipped it into the leather holder hanging from the front of the saddle.

  Birke nodded.

  Spirda and two armsmen rode up almost immediately. So Anna climbed into the saddle with a grace she wouldn't have believed weeks earlier, and eased Farinelli alongside Spirda's chestnut.

  "Whenever you're ready, Officer Spirda."

  Spirda nodded stiffly and eased the chestnut into the sun and toward the portcullis gate.

  "Spirda, Prophet's Guard, escorting sorceress, the lady Anna."

  The portcullis lifted, and Anna nodded to the gate officer. "Thank you." the officer did not smile, just studied her. Anna stared back until his eyes fell.

  Another set of guards were drawn up outside the portcullis, but only one or two even looked up as the six rode out. Was that because no one was interested in anyone free enough to ride out!

  As Far
inelli's hoofs clicked on the stone—and the gelding almost pranced—Skent rode on her immediate left, and Spirda on her right. The other two armsmen, bored looks on their faces, rode behind.

  She turned to Skent. "If we go south, where will the road take us?"

  "Through the merchants' quarter, Lady Anna, and then back to the fork in the highways. One crosses the south bridge and goes on to Sudwei, the right fork follows the river to Cheor, and then down to Abenfel. I haven't gone that far, but that's what Birke says, and he's from Abenfel."

  Anna turned Farinelli left at the end of the causeway, with the castle to her left and a row of structures to the right. Her eyes focused on the shops across from the lied-burg, a strange mixture—a perfumery beside a tailor, and then a cooper, and a bootmaker, and then the inevitable chandlery.

  "Officer Spirda, where are you from?"

  "Zeltos."

  "Where is Zeltos? You have to remember that I'm new to Liedwahr."

  "It's a trading town south of Itzel."

  Anna waited.

  "Itzel is where the Essis and the Saria Rivers join. Once it was the capital of Neserea." Spirda closed his mouth.

  "First woman I've seen riding out of there," came a comment from under a purple awning at the right edge of the street.

  "Got a page, too."

  "Discord! The whitecoats might actually be human."

  "Pretty woman, though."

  "Do you come from a military family?—I mean a family where use of arms is the practice?" Anna eased Farinelli around a pushcart bearing baskets.

  "All Neserean men are skilled in arms," Spirda said stiffly, his mount following Anna's. Skent went around the other side of the cart.

  "I'm sure. That wasn't quite what I meant. You're a leader, and often families have a tradition of producing arms leaders." Anna patted Farinelli because she could sense he was getting edgy with the combined's'treet traffic of pedestrians and carts.

  "Oh…" Spirda paused, and Anna could almost feel a thawing at the recognition/compliment. "No. My uncle was a subofficer with the old prophet, but my sire is a merchant. I was never meant to peddle carpets. So I joined the Guard."

  "I got the impression the other night that the Guard is special, but no one said much. Probably they thought I knew."