Darksong Rising (72 page)

than her more customary bright colors.

The Matriarch stands by the clear blue crystal chair of the Matriarchy, upon the low dais, but

makes no move to seat herself. “I did, Abslim. If you would close the door and join me?”

Abslim steps forward, bows once, not quite perfunctorily, and shuts the carved ebony door

without a sound. Against the sea-blue of her tunic, the sheaves comprising the golden pin on her

collar radiate a light more than a mere reflection from the sunlight streaming in through the clear

glass of the closed windows that flank each side of the hall.

“I am here at your request, Matriarch. Again.”

‘I do appreciate your patience, Abslim.” The Matriarch extends the scroll in her right hand

toward the head of the Exchange. “If you would read this.”

The tall and dark-haired director of the Exchange takes the scroll and unrolls it, slowly,

deliberately, before beginning to study the words. After a time, she looks up. “It appears to be a

request to you, asking you as Matriarch to provide for someone to assist and mediate in setting

up a government by the free-women of Elahwa. He calls it a free state, if under his rule. How

that might be free... that I would not hazard."

‘That was how I read it,” confirms the Matriarch. “Rather remarkable, considering how badly the

freewomen were treated by Bertmynn.”

“You always have had a gift of understatement, Matriarch” The dark-haired and younger head of

the Exchange once more peruses the scroll. “From Lord Hadrenn of Synek, save that he styles

himself Lord High Counselor of Ebra... now. A shade pretentious for one so young, do you not

think, Matriarch?”

“What do you really think of that title, Abslim?”

“Rather pretentious. I did say that, did I not, honored Matriarch?” Abslim offers a slight smile,

continuing with a voice that becomes increasingly silky. “The title, we could accept, I would

think, given that we have received more from young Hadrenn than ever from the sorceress-

Regent.”

“Hadrenn has offered that, yet he made no move to deal with Bertmynn until the arrival of the

sorceress.” The Matriarch’s voice emphasizes only slightly the last word.

“He let her work for him. She has often worked for men. So that is scarcely passing strange.”

“Abslim... young Hadreun has not the wit to offer such. Had you considered that?” The older

woman’s voice is low, but scarcely soft.

“Then he must have good advisors, and the wit to listen to them. For that, the SouthWomen will

be grateful.”

“I did not take you for such a fool. When will you see what is, and not what you wish to see?”

“Most revered Matriarch, I have asked that question myself, though not of myself.”

“I do not engage in wagers and wordplay, Abslim. Will you step down as Exchange ruler, or do I

remove you?”

“Remove me? I think not.” A long silvery blade appears in Abslim’s hand. “You have frittered

away the gifts of the Matriarch and refused to act, even when it was clear to the dullest man in

Ranuak that action was needed.”

A blue-crystal blade appears in the hand of the older woman, though she does not speak to the

Exchange ruler. The Matriarch’s deep voice begins a chantlike spell.

For the good of one and all,

for the course of large and small...

The blue crystal chair begins to hum, as if to accompany the Matriarch, and a higher humming

issues from the blue blade as well.

The taller and more slender woman eases forward, her feet balanced, and thrusts the glowing

silver blade toward the older woman.

Though the Matriarch does not move, the blade of blue crystal flickers, and the point and top

third of the silver blade fall to the blue-stone floor.

The Matriarch’s deep song-chant continues.

for harmonies of earth and skies,

for lives less strife and lies...

Abslim glances at the flickering crystal blade, seemingly longer than moments before, then at

two pieces of metal, one on the floor, one in her hand. She backs away, her eyes widening, her

mouth opening. She takes no more than three steps before she crumples to the floor, but the older

woman’s contralto voice continues to sing the spell, and those words do not soon cease.

When the Matriarch finishes the last words and notes, the chair’s humming dies away, and there

is no indication that another person has ever been with the Matriarch. She takes several slow

deep breaths before she sinks onto the blue cushion that covers the seat of the crystal chair, a

cushion that is the sole softness within the formal receiving room.

There is no sign of a blue-crystal blade as the Matriarch holds her head in both hands for a long

time, until the sun is nearly overhead, and no sunlight streams into the chamber. Then she rises

and walks slowly toward the door Abslim had closed.

79

Anna stood in the predawn light outside her tent, feeling almost guilty as she thought about the

collapsible canvas cot she had slept on, while her players and lancers had to lay their bedrolls on

the ground. Even though tent and cot, as well as other supplies, were carried by a single

packhorse, the sorceress sometimes fretted about having those comparative comforts.

She took a last bite of the bread baked the evening before, then a mouthful of the white cheese

that was growing ever stronger, before washing it down with water from one of the bottles she

kept filled with orderspelled water.

“Lady Anna?” asked Kinor, as he and Jimbob approached.

“Yes?”

“Will we be heading south today?” asked Kinor.

“If we want to join with Hanfor’s forces, we will.” She frowned. “Himar and I don’t want to

travel too far, because that would let Rabyn’s lancers use the road to get behind us.” She turned

as one of Himar’s scouts rode toward where the cook-fires had already been banked, since all the

baking had been done in coals and embers the night before. Himar walked toward the mounted

scout, who leaned forward in his saddle toward the overcaptain.

“The scouts were out early,” Jimbob noted. “I could hear one leaving when it was still dark.”

So... Himar is more worried about leaving the main road than he’s letting on. “Thank you,”

Anna told the shorter redhead. “That’s good to know.”

A puzzled look crossed Jimbob’s face. Kinor merely nodded. All three watched as the scout

turned and galloped out of the campsite and then off down the road to the west. Within moments

a company of lancers mounted hurriedly and followed, but Himar strode across the campsite

toward them with long steps.

“You look like you have good news,” suggested Anna. “We could use some.”

“Lady Anna... there are twoscore armsmen who would join you.” A smile crinkled Himar’s lips

above his beard. “They were less than two deks to the west and will be here shortly.”

“Who are they?”

“The scout said that they are being led by a redheaded young man named Falar.”

“More redheads?” Anna grinned at the two before her as she spoke. “I’m already surrounded.”

“Falar?” questioned Kinor quietly.

“He’s the younger son of Lord Vlassa, is he not?” asked Jim-bob. “You saw him on your last

journey to Fussen, Grandsire said.”

“That’s right,” confirmed Anna.

“Grandsire didn’t say much, but I thought he cared more for the younger son than Lord Ustal.”

Anna decided not to comment on that directly. “We met with both of Lord Vlassa’s sons. Ustal is

but a few moments the elder. He is supposedly quite accomplished with a blade.”

“It takes more than a blade and a strong arm to be a lord.” Himar gestured in the direction of the

road. “Here they come.”

Ranked by Bersan, Fielmir, Blaz, and Rickel, Anna and Himar waited as the riders, escorted by

the purple company, rode toward her tent.

“More than a score, maybe almost two, Lady Anna,” offered Kinor from the right of her guards.

At the head of the line of armsmen in leathers of mixed—or motley—colors was a slender figure

in blue. Immediately upon reining up, Falar bowed in the saddle, almost bending as low as the

base of his saddle—or so it seemed. “Regent and sorceress.” His eyes twinkled as he

straightened, and the hint of an amused smile played around the corners of his mouth.

“Falar..." Anna wasn’t quite sure what to say to the younger brother of Lord Ustal. “I was

surprised to hear that you were on your way.” That’s safe enough.

“I am not a lord, Lady Anna,” said Falar, “but our land is in danger, and my older brother has not

seen fit to bring his arms-men against that enemy. I have too few to engage the Nesereans by

myself. So I have brought my few armsmen to offer what assistance I can to you.” His arm swept

toward the armsmen mounted behind him. “Ruffians, all of us, but loyal ruffians.”

Despite the charmingly calculated appeal of the would-be lord’s offer, Anna remained touched.

“I appreciate your offer, Falar, and I will accept it.” She smiled, and added, “In the spirit in

which you have made it.”

Falar grinned back, then said, “I also have sent a messenger to Arms Commander Hanfor, letting

him know where you are. I trust you will not find aught in that amiss.”

“Not at all. Although we know where he is, it might be better if we waited for him. I can use my

mirror to see if he follows the directions of your messenger.”

Standing beside Anna, Himar nodded. "That will rest the mounts and the players—and you, Lady

Anna.”

“And give me more time to scry exactly what the Nesereans plan,” she added, looking back at