Darksong Rising (102 page)

Abruptly, the barred doors on the lower level were flung open, and an armsman in a pale green

surcoat stepped out, car-rying an irregular square of white cloth tied to a pole. He glanced from

side to side, his head darting in one direction, then another, as he waved the makeshift white flag.

Anna turned, remaining behind the shields. “Arms Commander. . . if you would send a company

to see if those who remain will accept the true heir to Flossbend?”

“Green company, forward!” ordered Himar.

“Have them ready with the short flame song—just in case,” the sorceress told Liende.

“Stand ready for the short flame song!” ordered the chief player.

Anna and Liende watched as the green company lancers rode up the lane, past the small guest

stable, until they reached the armsman with the banner. After a moment, a single rider in purple

turned his mount and rode down the lane, finally reining up before Anna and the still-mounted

Himar.

“The hold surrenders, but begs mercy,” announced the lancer. “We will secure it, Regent,”

Himar promised. “I would that you remain here until we have done so. Captain Falar and his

men can guard you.”

Falar’s face was blank for a moment, before he nodded.

“If there’s anything strange, bring all the lancers back, and I’ll use more sorcery,” Anna said.

‘That I will, Regent” Himar barked a short and humorless laugh. ‘That I will.” He guided his

mount around Anna’s guards and uphill, another company of lancers behind him.

“You value your armsmen highly,” Falar observed.

“Good armsmen are hard to find and train, she replied. “It took over a year to build up a force of

twentyscore, and I’ve lost half of them in a season.”

“You destroyed a hundredfold of what you lost, mayhap more,” the redhead countered.

‘That still leaves only a few more than tenscore. Not very much for a ruler or a regent. Lord

Jimbob will need ten or twenty times that.”

“Because he will not be able to rely on sorcery?”

Anna nodded.

“Players... you may rest, but stand ready to play,” Liende ordered.

She and Anna—and Falar—watched as the two companies of lancers opened the lower doors,

and then the double doors to the inner courtyard.

‘They did not fight,” Falar said.

“How could they?” asked Liende. “The sorceress would have slain them all.”

Anna did not comment.

When Himar emerged from Flossbend and remounted, Anna climbed back into Farinelli’s

saddle, but waited for the arms commander to ride to her.

Himar’s face was grave as he reined in his mount, short of Anna. “We hold the keep. Beltyr had

but threescore armsmen. More than half died under your flames. Beltyr himself is dead, as is his

consort. . . their children live.”

“His consort?” Another scheming woman?

“Ah... yes, Lady Anna.”

So much... again. . . for so-called innocent consorts... and more children, another focal point for

future dissension.
 
“The children will be fostered in Dumar. Lady Siobion, I’m certain, will aid in

that. So will Alvar.” Should she have spoken so quickly, so openly?

“Dumar?” blurted Falar.

“We’ll talk about the details later,” Anna temporized. “And we will sleep in Flossbend tonight.

The men and their mounts deserve some rest before we head back to Falcor.”

“They will appreciate that.”

“They are not to molest any of the women. This is Secca’s hold, and she doesn’t need that kind

of trouble.” Anna’s eyes were hard as she glanced from Falar to Himar.

“I will let all the men know what you have said, lady,” Himar said mildly. “There will be no

trouble."

“Nor from mine,” added Falar.

“Good.” Anna flicked the reins, and Farinelli started up the lane. Rickel and Lejun flanked her,

shields still at the ready. The sorceress-Regent reined up outside the door she had last entered

more than a year before. What a difference a year makes... Her thoughts were cribbing from

somewhere, but she couldn’t recall from where. Abruptly, she turned.

"Falar...?" Anna looked at the redhead. “Would you see if you could find the saalmeister. Or

whatever assistant is left?”

Falar bowed suavely. “I will see who I can find.”

“I’ll be up on the top level.”

Rickel and Lejun led the way, and Blaz, Bersan, and Fielmir followed.

As she passed the first landing, Anna could hear whispers.

“... that’s her...”

"...said she’d be back...can’t keep secrets from that one..”

"... Lady Anientta... scared of her...”

“Fat lord Beltyr should have been...”

Once she reached the top of the stairs, Anna walked slowly across the tiled roof pavilion where

she had once played Vorkoffe with Secca. A long charcoaled form lay sprawled by the wall,

surrounded by several smaller forms. Beside the tall blackened corpse was a hand-and-a-half

blade, as if it had been drawn and dropped.

The sorceress tried not to breathe deeply. She turned to Rickel. “Ah... could you have someone...

from the hold staff remove those?”

Rickel gestured to Blaz, who headed down the steps.

Anna stepped toward the eastern wall, the one overlooking the entry and facing toward Synope.

Does it end like this everywhere? She shook her head. It hadn’t ended in death in a lot of holds—

not in Dubaria, or even Fussen, nor Abenfel, or Lerona, nor Sudwei... But at times it feels like it

has. In the near-twilight sun, the lands to the east of the hold were bathed in a rose glow. Anna

just looked. Looked until she heard boots approaching and turned to see Falar nearing, escorting

a thin-faced man with graying hair.

Rickel and Fielmir stepped forward to block the two from moving any closer to Anna than about

three yards.

Falar smiled and tapped the man on the shoulder. “This man says he was saalmeister. The other

saalmeister died under the fire arrows,” said the red-haired de facto captain.

The older man bowed into a near grovel on the tiles of the floor. “She is the sorceress! The same

one that promised to keep young Secca, sorceress... be merciful. This was against my will. I

could do nothing.”

“Secca is safe,” Anna said. “She is well and safe in Falcor. Who are you?”

“I am Gylun, Regent-sorceress. . . I was saalmeister... before... Lord Beltyr came.” Gylun

remained on his knees, but looked up at Anna.

“Why did you let him poison Anientta?” Anna asked bluntly.

“Lord Beltyr... he sent me to the fields... me..."

“For now... Gylun...your job is to work—if you would not mind,” Anna asked the redhead, “to

put Flossbend back in order, back in a state appropriate for the lady Secca.
 
Falar will get you

started."

“I would like to be of service to Lady Secca,” answered Falar with his roguish smile. “And I will

do my best.”

“She’s too young for you,” Anna said with a laugh, “you smiling devil. You can start things, but

I’d like you to come with me. But don’t worry. I always reward loyalty and skill.” Who else can

you leave? You’ll have to talk to Himar about that, You still need Falar under your thumb. What

about Lejun and one of the captains?

“That she does,” murmured Liende, standing at the top of the stairs.

Falar bowed.

“Have you got the players settled?” the sorceress asked the chief player.

“We are settled. Will you need more playing?”

“Not that I know.” Anna paused. “Thank you. I know it’s been hard on you. . . and on them.”

“They will all remember these days, lady and Regent, and few players can say such. Few

indeed.”

Few indeed... but how will they remember them? Anna smiled sadly in yet another twilight She

walked slowly along the wall, looking down as her boots kicked a Vorkoffe stone that skittered

along the floor tiles. A tile Secca might have used on a day past, a more innocent time. Had those

times been better? Or merely more cruelly innocent?

The sorceress turned and looked westward. Another sunset... the clouds almost bloodred. Her

lips curled into an ironic smile as she watched the red sky fade.

110

MANSUUS, MANSUUR

"Sire...sire…" Bassil stands barely a yard inside the carved door to the Liedfuhr’s private study.

Outside the windows, rain patters against the shutters, and a cool dampness seeps into the room.

“What? Bassil...." There is a long pause. “Don’t tell me. You have even worse news from Esaria

or Defalk?” Konsstin stands up from behind the desk.

“Worse?
 
I…. ah. . . perhaps you should read it. . . I mean, them, yourself sire.” Bassil extends a

scroll, still sealed in wax and bound in purple ribbon. A second follows, sealed with severe blue

wax and wrapped with a strip of dark blue felt.

“You have not opened them?”

“They were addressed to you, and brought by the same courier from Neserea. There are two

scrolls. One from the sorceress-Regent and one from one Hanfor, Lord High Counselor of

Neserea.”

“Two scrolls... both filled with trouble.” Konsstin snorts. “As if I had no other difficulties.” His