Darksong Rising

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  "It is good to see you, Abslim. I know it is early, and you must soon be on your way to preside over the opening of the Mercantile Exchange, but I appreciate your taking the time to come and see an old woman." The Matriarch stands, slowly, deliberately.

  A tight smile precedes Abslim's reply. "With such compliments, Matriarch, I fear the words that will follow."

  "Nonsense. The harmonies will protect you. They have pro tected us all." The round-faced Matriarch absently smooths back her gray hair, then straightens her own faded blue tunic before reseating herself at the table and gesturing to the chair across from her.

  "Your wish?" asks Abslim.

  "When I visited the Exchange earlier this year, you expressed a certain concern that Defalk might not make good on the debts of the previous lord of Falcor." The Matriarch pauses, then adds when she perceives that Abslim is not ready to respond. "At least, that was what I perceived."

  "The Exchange was concerned about the unrest in Defalk." Abslim's words are tight.

  "All Defalk now acknowledges the Regent. I would assume that this would greatly reassure the Exchange."

  "There remains the matter of over a thousand golds."

  "And were those golds repaid?"

  Abslim forces a shrug. "That would be up to the traders."

  "I think not." The Matriarch's contralto voice is both rich and commanding. "Once the golds are received, you will ensure that Defalk and its lords and merchants receive the treatment accorded our friends and most valued customers."

  "That will be after harvest, Matriarch. At least six weeks."

  The gray-haired woman laughs. "The sorceress' messenger and guards arrived here last night. With eleven hundred golds. I persuaded them to wait until I spoke to you."

  Abslim remains silent "The traders who support the South-Women will not be pleased."

  "Have I been right in judging the sorceress and Regent of Defalk, Abslim? Or has the Exchange been right?"

  "The Exchange will defer to the Matriarch."

  "No." The word is cold, yet menacingly melodic. "You will grant those terms, of your own accord, with no word about deference to the Matriarch. You will treat Lord Bertmynn as you have treated the sorceress in the past." A gentle, but cold, smile suffuses the round face. "Is that clear, Mistress of the Exchange?"

  "There will be muttering, Matriarch... and unhappiness."

  "You will ensure that there is none." The Matriarch rises.

  Abslim rises as well, her face pale. "As you command. As you command, and may the harmonies protect us all."

  "I trust the harmonies, Abslim, even when they appear in dissonance. Best you do as well."

  The Matriarch remains standing until well after the Mistress of the Exchange has left the small hall.

  21

  The afternoon sun beat down on Anna's back as Farinelli carried her eastward, back toward Falcor. While Anna's floppy hat blocked much of the sun, she could feel the lower part of her neck beginning to burn.

  Beyond the wooden rail fence on the north side of the road, men with scythes were cutting the golden wheat, and behind the reapers, women were bundling the grain and loading it onto flat wagons. Puffs of dust rose from Farinelli's hoofs, but the light road dust settled quickly in the still and warm air. Anna readjusted her hat and glanced over her shoulder, past Lejun and Blaz toward Skent and Liende, riding side by side. Behind them rode the rest of the players, led by Palian and Yuarl. The column of lancers following the players stretched back past the wheat field and past the woodlot that lay farther west along the road. Farther back, dust was rising high enough that the lancers in the rear were breathing and eating dust.

  Anna turned her attention back to the lord riding easily on her right

  "A far better harvest than in many years." Jecks gestured toward the field and the workers.

  "Is that true on your lands?" Anna asked.

  "I would hope so, but I have not seen such, nor heard." Jecks smiled. "Being Lord High Counselor keeps one away from those lands."

  "I'm keeping you from your duties? Is that what you're telling me?" Anna parried lightly.

  "My duties are with my Regent." Jecks' voice took on a deep and ponderous tone.

  "Oh... such devotion to duty..." Anna grinned broadly, but tried to keep from laughing. She failed and laughed gently.

  "I would hear you laugh more," the handsome lord said.

  You wish you could... but why aren't you? It's a beautifid day, and there's nothing else you can do until you return to Falcor-except worry. "I should... sometimes it's hard to put things aside."

  "The careworn Regent.. ." Jecks chuckled. "She should care for herself, as well as her subjects."

  "Look!" Anna pointed to the hawk that was diving into the corner of the field.

  "The reapers have disturbed a rodent."

  "They're awesome. Hawks."

  Jecks nodded. "I prefer the black falcons of the north, the wild ones."

  "I'll bet they're spectacular."

  'They can stun a coney with their dive."

  Anna paused, recalling the time she'd seen a falconer with an eagle. Where had that been? At that Shakespeare Festival in southern Utah? "Do you have many eagles here?"

  "Only in the Ostfels. They say there are fish eagles on the cliffs of Nordwei, but I have never been there."

  "I never saw any eagles the one time I was in the Ostfels." Then, you were worried about the road and the Evult.

  "Watch ahead," Jecks cautioned, pointing to a wagon coming westward along the road.

  The driver pulled on the reins until he had slowed the two-horse team and halted the empty wagon on the north side of the road. Himar gestured for the lancers in the vanguard to ride the road's south shoulder. The wagoner, a middle-aged man with a brown beard, watched impassively as the first of the lancers rode past.

  Rickel eased his mount up to flank Anna on her left as she eased Farinelli onto the south shoulder of the road to pass the wagon and the pair of chestnut horses in the traces. The driver bowed his head as Rickel, Anna, and Jecks passed. "Best to you, Lady Regent."

  "And to you," Anna called back as she guided Farinelli back onto the road.

  Rickel dropped back slightly with a nod to the Regent.

  "Thank you," she said.

  The head guard nodded in return.

  For some reason, the wagon reminded Anna of a Wells Fargo wagon, though there was not the slightest resemblance. "We do have to do something about a postal service-the couriers to lords, I mean." Anna reflected. "People don't know enough about what's going on, and that makes it hard for them to understand."

  "That blade bears two sharp edges," Jecks said. "Do you want all the Thirty-three to know that you share some sympathies with the Matriarch?"

  "They'll find out sooner or later..."

  "Best later, when you are in a stronger seat."

  "Maybe." Anna cleared her throat, thinldng. After a moment, she asked, "What should I do about Ustal? Send a scroll declaring that he is the Lord of Fussen? Then wait until his lands rise in revolt?"

  "If he tariffs his crafters as he is, within two years he will not have the coins to pay his liedgeld." Jecks smiled sadly. "And for that, you can remove a lord."

  "Won't some of the lords of the Thirty-three be upset about my removing a lord merely for golds? Especially if I remove the lordly and noble-looking Ustal, who treats horses and falcons well?"

  "You do not like Ustal? I would scarce have guessed."

  "Let's hope it was not too obvious to him. He treats his falcons and mounts better than his consort. She shrinks away from him, even in public."

  "The older lords might say that was a sign of respect." Jecks' laugh was ironic. "They will have to change."

  "Are you saying that to placate me?" Anna arched her eyebrows.

  "No. I am saying such because it is true. They will change, or they will not long last under the Regency." Jecks shook his head. "Had Barjim lived, Alasia would have changed that. Even under
Lord Behlem some would have changed. The times change, but men change more slowly." He shrugged and offered a broad and warm smile. "Some of us essay such change before it is demanded."

  "You're doing quite nicely, thank you, Lord High Counselor. I am most appreciative-and thankful." You're mare than thankful. Why can't you say so? Why do you keep backing away? Because you don't want to lose your independence after working so long to get it? Because every man has tried to tie you down?

  Jecks inclined his head. "For that, I am grateful."

  Anna smiled warmly, hoping he would understand, hoping she could work out her own tangled emotions.

  22

  Anna stepped out of her chamber, hurrying, and feeling as though she were already behind, even though she'd arrived in Falcor but the night before. She made it to the corner that led to the stairs when she stopped abruptly at the sound of voices- loud voices. The sorceress froze just before the corner of the corridor and held out her hand to halt the guards who followed her from her scrying room down to the receiving room where she was to meet with Jecks, and then Dythya and Menares.

  "You... and the Regent, you let that... commoner...go to Fussen, and I'm the heir." Jimbob's voice carried. "You've dishonored me. My own grandsire, and you let her dishonor me by letting a mere stable boy go to Fussen while I was kept in Falcor... like an infant."

  And you're behaving Like one! Anna shook her head, but gestured at Rickel and Giellum for silence.

  "That... commoner, as you would call him, works hard. He Is worth two of you at the moment." Jecks' voice carried an amount of contempt and scorn Anna had never heard. "You are fortunate even to be alive. A woman who has no reason to care for you has had the honor to put her life in danger time after time to preserve your patrimony. That is honor, Lord Jimbob. She has saved your honor and your face. She has added to your lands and patrimony so that you will not face the problems your sire did. Talk not to me of honor."

  "You love her. That's all it is."

  "You are so blind, grandson, that you cannot see what is honorable. Not for all that it is laid before you with trumpets and harmony."

  "You love her, and you don't understand honor anymore. You've been turned to a weak old man because you love her."

  "You're not worthy to be in the same liedburg as she is." Jecks' voice turned tight.

  "Oh, spare me your talk of honor, grandsire. Spare me when you're rutting like an old goat..."

  Crack!

  There was a dull thud.

  "You hit me...."

  Anna glanced sideways. Rickel nodded approvingly, then turned his face blank as he realized Anna was watching him.

  "I am the Lord of Defalk and you hit me... spit on you..."

  Crack!

  "The first one was for ignorance. The second is for insolence. You will go on the punishment detail for all the lancers this afternoon, and you will work and be whipped as necessary. You have allowed your pride to blind you to your duties. You are a self-centered brat, and you will learn some respect."

  "You can't do this... I'm the heir. I'll go to the Lady Anna... she won't let you hurt me."

  Anna stepped around the corner.

  Jimbob stood with his back against the wall, pinned there by Jecks' large hand around his neck. The heir's face was flushed.

  "You don't have to go to the Lady Anna, Jimbob. I'm right here. What did you want to say?"

  "You see what he's doing to me..."

  "I think it's long overdue," Anna said quietly. "Your grandfather and I have tried to show you how to be a good ruler, and what you have to learn. All you seem to care about is what others think and how you look."

  "But... I'm the heir...."

  "You are the heir. But you're not acting like one. You're acting like a spoiled brat. I'd hoped you'd have more sense."

  Jecks released his grasp on Jimbob. Jimbob lurched forward. The imprint of the older lord's hand was outlined in red on the youth's cheek.

  "I'll tell the Thirty three... you'll see!" gasped Jimbob.

  Anna shook her head slowly. "That would be stupid. You'd put yourself in their hands? You'd go whining to them? What would they do? You don't seem to understand. The perceptions your lords have of you matters. This will have the armsmen and lords saying you're spoiled and willful, and lords wouldn't follow a spoiled and willful leader, especially a young one." They won't even follow a good leader unless coerced....

  "Lord Jimbob..." Jecks drawled out the word 'lord" sardonically, "You might recall that more than half the lords of Defalk are beholden to the Regent. You might also recall that she is a sorceress and that she has the only professional armsmen in Defalk-except for those who serve me and Lady Gatrune."

  "You're all against me..."

  "Jimbob," Anna said coldly, "if we were against you, you'd already be dead."

  Jimbob's eyes traveled from Anna, then to Jecks, and then across the faces of the two guards. His shoulders slumped.

  "You are my grandson, but if you are not worthy to become Lord of Defalk, I will work with the Regent and the Thirtythree to find another who is. After this, it will take a great deal of proving for us to find you worthy of more than mucking out stable stalls." Jecks lifted the boy by one arm. "Stand up. You're going to take your punishment like a man."

  "There is one other matter, Lord Jimbob," Anna said. "Defalk is more important than your vanity, and both your grandsire and I have worked to preserve this land. When you try to play us against each other, you're showing contempt for what we have worked for, and you're also showing how unsuited you are. Do you honestly think we don't talk to each other about you and your skills and abilities?" Anna could feel the withering scorn in her voice that infused her last sentence.

  Jimbob paled. Then he actually bowed his head, but he did not speak.

  Anna had the feeling the youth was so angry and yet so humiliated that he was unable to find words. "I tried to be gentle with you so you wouldn't be humiliated when I went to Elheld and you questioned me. I guess that was a mistake. I guess you'll have to learn everything the hard way." She looked at Jecks. "I'd suggest that you have Arms Commander Hanfor work out his punishment. But make sure Hanfor knows that we're both serious, if Hanfor has any questions, he can come to me." Anna paused. "Once you have that taken care of, I'd like to see you and then the counselors in the receiving room."

  "Yes, Regent." Jecks' voice was formal.

  Knowing the pain of a child's ingratitude, Anna wanted to reach out and hug Jecks, but she merely nodded. What if this doesn't work? What if Jimbob's so spoiled that he won't see? What can you do... who else is there? Anna waited until Jecks and Jimbob started down the wide stone steps before she began to walk in the same direction. She did not look at either guard who followed her, her mind on Elizabetta, almost always grateful, and on Jecks, saddled with an ungrateful grandson.

  Outside the receiving room, Resor was the page waiting. "Good morning, Lady Anna."

  "Good morning, Resor." Anna smiled, briefly, at the cheerful greeting, before slipping into the receiving room.

  There, waiting for Jecks, she took the top scroll from the pile, one she hadn't seen, a scroll bound with intertwined crimson and blue ribbons. From Dumar? She broke the seal and began to read, still standing behind her working table.

  My Lady and Regent,

  I said I would write. I am poor at words, but I will report on what I know. We had some trouble at first with the City Patrol in Dumaria. Now, matters are fine, and I have heard some say that the city is safer than ever.

  We have reclaimed the golds from the ruins of Envaryl. Some were stolen before we found them. We erected the small memorial to Lord Ehara, as you instructed. I have sent five thousand golds under guard, and they will follow this scroll. Lady Siobion has said that for your mercy you deserve the extra thousand for your own use. I leave that to you. She said that few conquerors would have destroyed but one city after all the insults offered by Lord Ehara....

  After noting Alvar's signature,
Anna set down the scroll. Destroying Envaryl when Ehara had refused to face her-that had bothered her at the time, and it still did. Hanfor had said that such destruction had been necessary. Necessary to leave the mark of Anna's power, necessary to ensure that all Dumar respected the sorceress and Regent of Defalk.

  But you still deliberately killed innocents.... She frowned. All the other times, either she had killed armsmen or rebels, but she had not directed her sorcery at innocents and armsmen alike. Even the disaster created when her damming of Falche had failed had not been directed at innocents. Does that make a difference? Did you accept Hanfor's advice because it was easier? Because you were tired and angry? Or because power corrupts, even when you try not to be corrupted? Or because no one respects anyone without power? But needing that respect... isn't that a form of corruption? Except, that without respect, as you've learned, even greater use of force is required. As with Jimbob?

  She took a deep breath.

  "Lord Jecks," Giellum announced.

  Anna turned toward the door, waiting until it shut behind the haggard-looking Lord of Elheld. "My lord Jecks..." she said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to walk in, but I didn't want him to put us against each other." She reached out and touched his arm, then squeezed his hand.

  "For your words... there... my lady, I am most grateful. I do admit." A wintry smile appeared.

  "You were right that he shouldn't have gone to Fussen," Anna said quietly.

  "I did not mean for this..." Jecks looked down, not meeting her eyes. "I have not taken enough time with him."

  'The fosterlings play up to him too much, I think," mused Anna, "especially Hoede, I'd bet. The sooner we send Hoede home to daddy, the better."

  "Lord Dannel will not be pleased."

  "I'm sure he won't, but I need Lord Nelmor more than Dannel, especially with that weasel Jearle still trying to suggest, politely, that he get back his title as Lord of the Western Marches. Geographically, it should be Ustal, Jearle, or Nelmor. Who would you have?"