Darksong Rising (16 page)

now?

Anna laughed softly and blew out the candle on the writing desk, trying not to think too much

about a small redhead in a small tower room. And an older redhead worlds away.

But her eyes still burned.

14

With the midmorning sun on her back and a light breeze in her face, Anna absently patted

Farinelli and glanced along the dusty road that led westward, toward Denguic—and Fussen.

Jecks rode to her right, smiling and cheerful as he had been since dawn.

You would be attracted to one of those morning people....

Immediately behind her rode Skent and Himar. Behind them rode Liende and the players, and

then a solid tenscore lancers, spaced loosely enough that the column stretched back toward

Falcor for close to half a dek.

“The next town is Ciola,” Skent told the overcaptain in a low voice. “That’s where Tirsik used to

get horses for my father. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.”

“What kind of horses did your father prefer?” Himar’s tone was polite.

“He liked steady mounts, ser. He said that too many young lancers were more interested in

proving themselves to the horse than being lancers.”

Himar laughed. Beside Anna, a smile crossed Jecks’ face.

‘The trip will do him good,” Jecks said. “Especially if he doesn’t try to use that blade at his

side."

“How good is he with it?” Anna kept her voice low.

“Better than most his age, and not half so good as he thinks. He’s a shade better than Tiersen,

and much better than Kinor and Jimbob. But Skent has three years on Jimbob, and Kinor, for all

his height and strength, hasn’t handled a blade before.”

“How is Jimbob doing? I haven’t talked to him much lately. Dythya and Menares say that he

does his lessons, but that he’s quiet. That bothers me.”

“He wanted to come. I told him he couldn’t go everywhere, and that there were reasons why it

would be best that he did not accompany us this time.” Jecks shrugged. “He was not pleased. He

worries too much about what the other young people think.”

‘They all do at that age. He’ll get over it.” You hope... it took a long time for Mario, and Avery

never did. “If people think he has anything to do with whatever I decide…” Anna let the words

trail off.

“Then the hard feelings will rest on him. That is one reason why he should not be here. Also, we

would have to worry about him. Feelings will run high in Fussen.”

“Do you know if any lords have declared support for one or the other of Vlassa’s sons?” Anna

half stood in the stirrups, then settled back into the saddle.

“No one has told me.” Jecks offered a crooked smile. “These days they tell me far less than they

once did.”

“Because you’re close to me?” Anna readjusted the floppy brown hat before continuing. “Or

because Jimbob is the heir?”

“Both, I would say.”

“Tell me about Fussen... anything you know.” Anna reached down for her water bottle. Even

without the parching dryness of previous years, she still needed more water than most people to

keep from getting dehydrated.

Jecks cleared his throat before speaking. “Vlassa was a hard man. All said he was fair, but hard.

It was said that he never spoke well or ill of Rylenne. She was his consort, but no one else was

ever allowed a single ill-chosen word about her. He was a man of few words on the handful of

times I saw him.”

“Lady Essan suggested that he was hard to handle as a young lord—at least for Lord Donjim.”

“That may well have been, but I did not know him when he was first lord. Later, under Barjim,

he paid his liedgeld and sent his levies, but always under a captain.” Jecks fingered his chin.

“The same captain. Lorensil, I believe. A firm arms-leader, but he smiled, unlike Vlassa... the

lands around Fussen are hilly, and only the valleys are good for cropping. There’s a sawmill. and

much of the timber for Falcor came from there...”

Anna nodded and listened.

15

MANSUUS, MANSUUR

What reports have we from Elahwa?” Standing behind the empty silver chair, his large hands

resting on its back, Konsstin’s eyes narrow as he studies the raven-haired officer who waits

before him in his private study.

“Your seers believe that Lord Bertmynn’s barges are loaded and ready to depart for Elahwa.

Three Sturinnese ships anchored off the coast close to Dolov—”

“I told you Sturinn would appear again in Liedwahr, just like a clipped copper. Did I not?”

“Yes, sire,” Bassil answers formally.

“What about the dissonant traders of Wei?” The Liedfuhr straightens and steps back, turning

toward the open window. The silver cloak swirls, revealing the close-fitting sky-bluevelvet tunic

and trousers with the silver piping that nearly matches the silver that has begun to dominate his

once-brown hair and beard.

“Nothing has changed. Their seers watch the sorceress, the freewomen, the Ebrans—”

“—and us! Do not forget that they study us as well. They watch all of Liedwahr.” Konsstin turns

back toward Bassil.

“Yes, sire.” The lancer officer bows again.

“And do not be so deeply and insolently respectful, Bassil. We have talked about this before, you

and I.”

Bassil straightens and continues. "The SouthWomen sent that one cargo of blades and arms to

Elahwa, but no ships or armsmen or armswomen followed. The Matriarch has yet to issue any

proclamations or take any action."

“She never does, yet matters change all the same from her interest." Konsstin clears his throat.

“Has Bertmynn requested more assistance?”

“No, sire."

“We have supplied him near-on five hundred golds and ten-score well-forged blades, and little

have we received but polite scrolls of thanks.” Konsstin snorts. “I scarce expected more, yet

when the other lordlet pledged fealty to Defalk. . ." The Liedfuhr paces toward the wide windows

to his right. “This wouldn’t have happened, Bassil, not if we had a true Empire of Harmony. And

what have we?" His lips purse for a moment. “You have heard me talk of this before. So have

many. Most think I spout nonsense about an Empire of Music. I am not stupid. I see what lies

behind the polite eyes of those who watch. The sorceress destroyed twoscore ships of Sturinn.

Twoscore, and yet more ships and gold find their way past the Shoals of Discord to Ebra, as if

the Maitre had lost nothing. My grandson builds his lancers for a vain attack on the sorceress.

Nubara believes he can control Rabyn, as his sire believed he could control my daughter.”

Konsstin’s laugh is half-ironic, half-rueful.

“You think Nubara will fail to rein in the young Prophet?"

“I know he will fail. We can but hope that he will not fail too soon. Nor fail too completely.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider... and send another fiftyscore lancers to support Nubara.” Bassil

moistens his lips.

“Sooner or later, Rabyn would only use them against the sorceress, or Nubara would use them to

defend himself against Rabyn. The lancers would be lost... wasted, as would the coins to pay

them and feed them.” Konsstin turns, flings open the windowed door, and steps out onto the

sunlit balcony, where he looks out at where the rivers join, the silver cloak hanging limply from

his broad shoulders.

Bassil follows. When Konsstin does not speak, the lancer officer finally asks, “Would they be

wasted if the sorceress were elsewhere—say in Ebra?"

“You think she would go to Ebra to support Hadrenn?" From the balcony of the bluff-top palace,

the Liedfuhr looks westward, beyond the ancient walls of the fort below to where the Ansul and

the Latok Rivers merge. “She has made no move, even with the freewomen in danger.”

“Sire? Does she even know about the freewomen? Remember, while her leanings would support

them... who would have told her of them and their cause?"

“She could scry what is happening.”

“If she knew for what she looked,” Bassil points out.

“Hnimmm... she is still new to Liedwahr."

“Exactly. Perhaps you should so inform her. That would give her two reasons to be in Ebra."

"That assumes you are correct, Bassil.” Konsstin turns on one boot heel and studies the lancer

officer. “Even given her inclinations, why would she do that? Defalk still must contend with

Nordwei to the north and Neserea and my grandson to the west. She must placate or control

thirty-three stiff-necked and feuding lords. Her strength is sorcery, and she has no standing army.

Not one to call such. She can only be in one place at a time. Oh... and of her thirty-three lords,

perhaps two-thirds doubt her powers, for they have not met her, nor have they seers to follow

her." Konsstin clasps his hands, then unclasps them and stretches. “With such constraints, why

would she risk herself in Ebra?”

“What if you sent her a message, supported with golds?”

“You suggest treachery? That I tell her I have no designs on Defalk?” Konsstin shakes his head.

“Even I would not stoop so low as that, Bassil. Not even for an Empire of Music.”

“Do you have designs on Defalk, sire? Now?”

“Not realistic designs.”

“Then you have no designs. It is not treachery to state the truth.” Bassil swallows, waiting.

“You are suggesting that I encourage the sorceress to support Hadrenn in Ebra, after all the golds

we have sent to Bertmynn?”

“You yourself said last year, sire, that you did not want Sturinn in Liedwahr. You also said that