Darksong Rising (10 page)

envelope on the worktable. After retuning the lutar, and running through two vocalises, she lifted

the lutar, and began to sing.

Bertmynn, Bertmynn, Lord I’d see,

show his forces now to me....

The image in the silvered waters of the pool was that of a quay, where several barges were tied,

and where men in brown carried barrels toward the barge in the foreground. At the side were

several armsmen, almost lounging. The fact that there were buildings and greenery in the

distance beyond the gray of the water confirmed to Anna what Jecks had said about Bertmynn

loading on the River Dol.

After a time, she lifted the lutar again.

Rabyn, Rabyn, Lord who’d be,

show his grandsire’s lancers now to me....

The second image was less useful than the first, showing a column of lancers garbed in maroon

and riding along a dusty road. Still, the length of the column indicated the lancers were on the

move, possibly toward Elioch, and probably confirming the information that Jecks and Menares

had gathered.

Now what? Anna released the second image and took a deep breath. First, you do something for

you. After a moment, she lifted the lutar a third time.

Silver pool, silver pool, it’s scrying time for my child

 
silver pool, silver pool...

Even before she strummed the last chord, the silvered waters wavered into an image—her red-

haired Elizabetta driving in a green car Anna didn’t recognize, a faint smile on her face. Anna

smiled in return. She’s all right.

Then the water of the pool began to boil, and gouts of steam burst upward.

Anna jumped back, forcing the release couplet. Even after the image faded, the pool continued to

boil and bubble,the roiling subsiding slowly.

Elizabetta is all right, though... that’s what’s important. But the tears that rolled down Anna’s

cheeks contradicted her words as she slumped against the heavy oak door, sobbing silently.

Why... why? Why can’t you even get a look at your daughter for more than an instant without the

whole universe striking back at you…why?

She picked up the envelope with the unsent letter and stepped out of the heat and humidity of the

scrying room into the hallway, half carrying, half dragging the lutar with her. The eyes of both

Rickel and Blaz widened as the steam and water vapor swirled out behind her.

“Lady... Regent?” stammered Blaz.

“I’ll... be... all right." She walked across the hall and slipped quickly into her own chamber,

sliding the bolt behind her, then dropping the unused envelope on the writing desk.

In the bathchamber, she looked into the mirror. Red face— blotchy as if burned—probably from

the steam, wet cheeks... “You look like shit…” Then…you feel like shit, too. You couldn’t even

send the letter…not even one small letter.

She looked back into the mirror, into the too-thin face, at the golden silver-blonde hair that

belonged to a teenager and framed blue eyes that had seen too much. She blotted her face with

cool water, and kept blotting. There were times when having makeup would have still been a

help, youth spell or not.

Finally, she returned to the writing desk and tucked the envelope into the drawer. Just try to send

it... with another note... maybe you can tell her to write something and that you’ll try to recover it

with sorcery in a few weeks... would that work? Who knew what would work? Even all of Brill’s

books offered little and rather incomplete guidance.

She gathered herself together, then stepped back into the corridor and headed down to the

receiving room, and the business of the day. Based on what Jecks had already offered the night

before, a long week awaited her. Another long year... more likely. She reclaimed the lutar case

and carried the cased instrument down the stairs.

Once in the receiving room, already warm, with its single high window, Anna looked at the

pitcher of murky water. After a sigh, she took out the lutar and orderspelled the water. Without

water—clean water—she wouldn’t get through the day. Then, she poured a goblet, and took a

swallow, before settling into the chair behind the table. She lifted the bell and rang it.

A dark-haired page—Skent—peered in. “Yes, Lady Anna?”

“Skent... it’s good to see you. Ah... will you see if Counselor Dythya is free to meet with me?”

“Yes, lady." The door closed.

Anna picked up the first scroll in the pile. It was from Lord Birfels of Abenfel. She began to

read.

... You may recall when you were in Abenfel, Lady and Regent. that we had discussed the

possible consorting of Lysara with Hoede, the son of Lord Dannel of Mossbach...

“In short.” Anna murmured to herself, “we intend to marry off Lysara to Hoede immediately

unless you come up with a better match. And better means someone with more lands and golds,

not brains." She wondered if Dannel was as thickheaded as his youngest son. The problem was

simple enough, but simple didn’t mean solvable. Anna had started a school for fosterlings in the

liedburg, which functioned as a combination capital and administrative center. Many of the lords

of the Thirty-three regarded the fostering school as more of a matchmaking opportunity. Lysara

was beautiful and bright, and would be totally miserable consorted to the stubborn, arrogant, and

thickheaded Hoede. Unfortunately, Anna didn’t have the faintest idea of who might be a better

match. You mean you haven’t had time to think about it.

What could she say? She set aside Birfels’ scroll and picked up the next one—from Vyarl, the

Lord and Rider of Heinene. She read quickly, but the scroll said little more than what Jecks had

told her the night before about the grasslands and the fires.

The next scroll was from Hadrenn, the self-styled Lord of Synek. whom she’d made one of the

Thirty-three earlier in the year, effectively expanding Defalk’s borders a good hundred and fifty

deks eastward and probably increasing the territory under the Regency by close to twenty

percent. If he and you can hold it against Bertmynn.

Hadrenn’s words were to the point.

... the golds you have sent have allowed me to increase my armsmen by tenscore, but the usurper

Bertmynn receives many more golds from both the Maitre of Sturinn and the Liedfuhr of

Mansuur.... Already, Bertmynn’s forces move south to take Elahwa from the Council of the

Freewomen....

That meant that Ebra was split into three factions—the free-women apparently held the port city

of Elahwa and at least some of the surrounding area; Bertmynn held the northeastern third; and

Hadrenn the western third. Who or what the free-women were was another question to which she

needed an answer. Anna nodded and set the scroll in the pile that required her to do something...

when she could figure out what.

The next scroll was from Ustal, the elder son of the late Lord Vlassa of Fussen. Anna began to

read, then winced, and forced herself to continue.

The Regent in Falcor,

Greetings from Ustal, the son and sole heir of Lord Vlassa of Fussen. For many years, Fussen

has paid liedgeld it could sore afford, and received nothing in return, save drought, disruption,

and the loss of levies at the Sand Pass. Thus, as heir to Lord Vlassa, I must insist that the

Regency use all its powers to ensure the rightful and traditional succession in Fussen.

If the Regency feels it cannot adjudicate and enforce the rightful succession, then I further must

insist that Fussen be allowed to determine its own affairs…

Anna shook her head as she finished the scroll. After Ustal’s scroll, Jecks or Dythya had set the

one from Falar, the younger son of the late Lord Vlassa of Fussen. Anna began to read it,

gingerly.

To the Regent of Defalk, Sorceress of the Land, and Lady of Mencha,

Your graciousness, with heavy heart and burdened conscience I send this missive. Because you

have sacrificed much for Defalk, and will doubtless sacrifice more in the years to come, your

heart may also be heavy with the news of dissension about the succession in Fussen. Unlike

others, I have been reluctant to address you, yet address you I must, not for my sake, but for the

sake of the people of Fussen....

Anna smiled. Young Falar or his advisors were far from stupid.

... my elder brother has abused the trust of the people and squandered the substance of Fussen,

so much so that the merchants and freeholders have requested that I seek the succession and

pledged their lives and coins to that end....

Anna’s lips tightened. If... if what the scroll said was indeed true, matters were a mess in Fussen.

Behind Falar’s scroll were Jecks’ responses—identical to each brother—stating that the Regent

was returning from repairing the ford at Sorprat and would be addressing the concerns of the

succession upon her return. Anna nodded. She never had to tell Jecks anything twice. He’s told

you things twice... that he shouldn’t have had to. Anna winced at the thought.

“Counselor Dythya,” announced another page—Resor.

“Have her come in.” Anna set down the scrolls, for the moment.

“Lady Anna.” The gray-haired and stocky Dythya bowed as she entered the receiving room.

Anna nodded to the seat across the small conference/worktable from her. “Where do we stand with our

golds?”

“I thought you might wish to know.” Dythya smiled and extended a single sheet of parchment. “Those

show what the liedstadt has received, and what remains in the treasury.”

Anna looked at the precise black script numbers: six thousand golds from Cheor, three thousand from

Suhl, two thousand from Stromwer, and two thousand from Dumar....

“Dumar owes another four thousand golds,” Dythya pointed out.

“And we owe the Ranuan Exchange a thousand.”