Darksong Rising (3 page)

Rickel handed her the water bottle and a hard biscuit.

Anna took both, murmuring, “Thank you.” Will you ever do a songspell without feeling drained?

Her eyes blurred, and she grasped at the saddle to steady herself, holding on until the dizziness

subsided.

The near-dozen players stood drained, their shoulders drooping, as they also sought water and

biscuits.

Anna stepped toward them. “Thank you all.” She had to make an extra effort to ensure her voice

carried, that it was steady. She nodded to Liende, and offered a smile. “Everyone was together.”

“We have been practicing.” Liende acknowledged, her eyes dark with fatigue.

“I can tell. Thank you?”

Liende bowed slightly, and Anna took another swallow from her water bottle.

Even after drinking and eating several biscuits, she remained light-beaded, and might until the

next day. But she remounted Farinelli, offering a smile to Himar “Shall we try the ford?”

“As you wish, Regent,” responded the overcaptain gravely. “As you wish.”

Once the column was remounted, Anna urged Farinelli toward the stone causeway that sloped

down to the Chean River, toward the ford only she thought was necessary. Was it really for

faster travel to Mencha—and Ebra? Or because you destroyed the old ford? To redress the

wrongs your sorcery has created?

Her gut feeling remained that she had done the right thing; but the uncertainty as to why

remained, long after the column had passed through Sorprat and the Chean River sheeted near

silently over the newly wrought stones of the ford.

2

WEI, NORDWEI

With the knock on the door, Ashtaar sets aside the polished
 
black agate oval and straightens

herself behind the wide table of a Counselor of Wei.

“Enter.”

Gretslen bows as she enters, and again as she approaches the table where the dark-haired

spymistress waits.

Ashtaar nods toward the chair but remains silent behind the table as the younger woman seats

herself.

After a moment of silence, Gretslen begins to speak. “As you requested, your mightiness, we

have scried the waters of harmony and dissonance. Both the Sturinnese and the Liedfuhr are

assisting Bertmynn’s efforts to conquer the freewomen of Elahwa. He is gathering barges at the

river quays on the south side of Dolov. Three Sturinnese ships are skirting the Shoals of Discord

now. Earlier, they anchored off the northern coast”

“Has the Liedfuhr sent any assistance in recent weeks?”

“The seers have found none.”

“What of the sorceress?”

“The sorceress has sent some golds to Hadrenn, but neither armsmen nor arms. Hadrenn has

sworn fealty to Defalk and the Regency. The sorceress did use Clearsong to repair the ford on the

Chean where she massacred the Ebrans. That will reduce the time of travel to the east of Defalk

and to Ebra. She is returning to Falcor, but she has done nothing about the dark-singer in Pamr. It

is possible she does not know of his efforts, local as they are!”

“And the Maitre of Sturinn?”

“The high forests of the Ostisles are being cut to build more ships to replace those lost in

Dumar," replies the blonde seer. “Near-on half a score already rise from the ways at Yular and

almost as many at Puertoclaro.”

“Has the situation changed in Neserea?”

“The fiftyscore Mansuuran lancers remain in Esaria, but our sources indicate that they will soon

be posted to Elioch. Even so, it is unlikely they will ride near the West Pass. No Neserean

lancers or armsmen will accompany them!”

Ashtaar nods—once. “Watch Esaria and Elahwa most closely.”

“Not the sorceress?”

“She has never moved without provocation, and you have told me how strained your seers are.

Once there is provocation... then, it will be time to watch her more closely.”

Before Ashtaar speaks again, Gretslen asks, her voice deferential, “Will the Council do anything

to assist the freewomen?"

“Earlier the Council sent food and tools to help rebuild Elahwa from the floods loosed by the

sorceress when she destroyed the Evult. There may have been some weapons and golds in those

ships, and it is possible that there could be additional assistance to the people of Elahwa.”

Ashtaar’s voice is level.

“It is possible,” Gretslen repeats, her voice equally level.

“Do not press, Gretslen!’ Ashtaar stands. “You may go!”

3

The white and scattered puffy clouds of morning had thickened and darkened throughout the

early afternoon until a nearly unbroken stretch of gray filled the sky. A cool breeze blew out of

the northeast and across eastern Defalk, fueled by the chill of the distant icy peaks of the Ostfels.

Anna enjoyed the break from what had seemed a steamy and unending ride back from Sorprat

toward Pamr. She’d been happy to pull off the floppy brown hat and let the light breeze blow

through her neck-length hair, scarcely longer than that of some of the arms-men. Hair any, longer

than that was hardly suited to riding, or washing in a half-medieval culture, and she had far more

to worry about than her hair. Like how to build an effective national army so that you don’t have

to resolve eveiy border problem with song-sorcery or the threat of it.

The road through the green fields and the river valley were both flat—flatter even than Iowa—

and the air was humid, despite the breeze. Even the road dust was heavier, coating only a span or

two of the horses’ legs.

Thrummmm.... The muted and distant thunder rolled out of the northeast.

“We’ll see rain before we reach Pamr.” Himar glanced to Lejun, the guard to his right, as if for

confirmation.

Anna studied the clouds for a moment, shifting in the saddle, and absently patting Farinelli on

the neck. “A light rain. Maybe not that much.”
 
She looked at Rickel, riding to her left. “You’re

from around here, aren’t you? What do you think?”

The broad-shouldered Rickel cocked his head, but his eyes continued to survey both the road and

the waist-high bean plants that flanked the road behind the irrigation ditch filled with muddy

water. “I’m from Heinene, but I’d agree with you, Lady Anna. The clouds aren’t dark enough.

Not by half?”

Heinene? He does look like one of the grassland riders…

At the sound of a muted hail, all four looked westward along the dusty road.

“That would be the messenger.” Himar pointed toward the rider who neared after passing the

scouts riding nearly a dek ahead of the main column. ‘There’s another rider with him, in blue

livery.”

“I hope that Lady Gatrune is at home;’ Anna said.

“You would be welcome even if she is not,” pointed out the overcaptain.

“That might be, but it would be less awkward if she is?”
 
And it would be seen as less of an

imposition by the more hostile lords of the Thirty-three.

The young-faced messenger reined up short of Anna and Himar, as did the second rider The

grizzle-bearded older man wore the Prussian blue livery Anna recalled from when she had first

met Lord Kysar before the old lord had died at the battle of the Sand Pass, before his consort

Gatrune had taken over running his lands for their son and heir, before Anna had ever even

thought about becoming a regent.

“Regent…Overcaptain,” offered the older armsman, “the lady Gatrune expects you and bids you

welcome.”

Anna concealed a frown. The armsman looked familiar. She repressed a sigh. The name

wouldn’t come. Finally, she offered a smile. “I should know you, armsman, but I’m tired, and

your name escapes me.”

“Meris . . . I asked to come, Regent.”

Meris? Anna could feel the broader smile with her recognidon of the man. “You were the one

who made it easy for me to see Lady Gatrune after the Sand Pass battle—on my way to Falcor.

It’s good to see you.”

Meris beamed. “Thank you, Regent. Like I told Heyless when you came to Pamr. . . I owe you

my life for that.”

Anna fumbled with the wallet at her belt, then extended a gold. “Meris... I promised you once I

wouldn’t forget you. I couldn’t recall your name, and you did a service that I couldn’t repay you

for then. Wait are fine, but golds help with getting on with life.”

Meris took the gold slowly. “Wouldn’t as I came for that…”

“I know that, but when a regent promises…” Anna offered another smile.

“Thank you, lady. Thank you, and Eniabel will thank you, too.” He bobbed his head. “Like as

she will, seeing as she’s said words like that often enough.” Meris offered a grin.

Anna nodded at Meris, then Himar. “We’d better keep riding, or we will get caught in the rain.

And so will the armsmen.”

Meris guided his mount into the column somewhere behind Anna and beside the messenger as

the force resumed the ride toward Pamr. Shoulder-high maize paced the fields ahead, still green

in the late summer. Anna glanced at a hut, smoke circling from its chimney, recalling when most

of the small dwellings between Mencha and Pamr had been abandoned because of the drought

caused by the Evult’s spells. Then she turned her attention to the problem Jecks had set her

before she had left Falcor. What should she do about Neserea? Could she do anything about the

Liedfuhr’s buildup of armsmen and lancers in his grandson’s realm? Or did she need to wait until

Konsstin acted?

Probably... or the lords of the Thirty-three will get even more upset…