Darksong Rising (9 page)

of idiot, or wastrel, or something.”

“Ah... why do you suggest such?” Jecks raised his eyebrows.

“Because, for a younger son to go to such lengths would mean he’s either an idiot or he has a just

claim, If he can raise armsmen, that means people are putting themselves on the line for him,

against tradition. Most folks won’t. That suggests that Ustal has more than a few faults—of some

sort” Anna took a bigger sip of wine than she’d intended before asking, “Can Menares or Dythya

or someone find out what Ustal’s faults are? In the meantime, you send back a scroll to each

saying that I’m returning from Pamr and will look at the claims as soon as I return."

Jecks smiled. “You will gain two weeks by that.”

“If that."

“Oh... and the weapons smith, the one who was a wheel-wright, he was killed in a tavern brawl.”

“And we’re back to having no one in Falcor who can forge weapons?” Anna refilled her goblet,

knowing she shouldn’t be drinking so much so quickly, but she’d taken a little over a week to

repair something that needed to be fixed, and the moment she’d left, things had started to get

worse. She paused. “Was the brawl an accident?”

Jecks shrugged. “I would say so, but one could not rule out foul play.”

“No…not when we need an armorer to hold off enemies on half our borders.” Anna forced

herself to take a small sip of the wine.

“Hanfor has suggested you create the position of Armorer of Defalk and offer a ten-gold bonus

for an experienced smith.”

“Twenty’ said Anna. “Ten to be paid after the first two weeks and ten after the first year. Send

scrolls everywhere.”

“Tomorrow, I will talk to Hanfor.”

“Well... since we’re discussing problems, there’s one more."

Jecks waited.

“There was this youth... at the chandlery..." Anna swallowed. The one in the pools in your

seeking spells, the one who wants your destruction... “Shit!”

Jecks’ mouth dropped open.

“It’s hard to explain. Come with me.” She pushed back her chair and started for the door, and

Jecks rose, following.

Lejun and Kerhor followed them back up the stairs, first to Anna’s chamber, where she grabbed

the lutar, and then to the scrying room, the room that had once been a guest chamber and now

held only a mirror pool and a writing desk—and candles in wall sconces. The two guards

stationed themselves outside the door, while Jecks lit the candles and Anna tuned the lutar.

“You think you will see something now?” Jecks gestured toward the darkness beyond the closed

shutter.

“Enough,” grunted Anna, struggling with the tuning pegs.

A single vocalise was enough to clear her cords, enough for the simple spell she sang, at least.

Of those with power of the song

 
seek those who’d do me wrong

and show them in this silver cast

 
and make that vision well last.

As it had been the last time she had used the spell—there were three images, but one was

different. The blonde seer from Nordwei was in one silvered circle. The second contained a dark-

haired and thin-faced youth in an ornate cream-and-green tunic, lounging at a table beside a less

than fully clothed young woman. His face was familiar, though Anna had never seen it, and so

were the cream and green.

“Neserean colors there…” murmured Jecks.

“That has to be Rabyn,” concluded Anna. “He looks more like his mother.”

“He’s acting like his sire.” Jecks’ voice was dry.

“It’s the other one—the one in brown.” Anna gestured toward the young man at the battered-

looking writing table. “He was watching me in Pamr, and I knew I’d seen him. I just couldn’t

place where I’d seen his face.”

“A chandler’s son?”

“He’s the chandler’s son. He has to be. You remember? The one who tried to kill me with a bow

in Pamr when I was on my way to meet Behlem?”

“That was before you became Regent,” Jecks pointed out.

“He uses Darksong. The whole chandlery felt twisted when I looked at it, but I thought it was

me." Anna sang the release couplet.

Let this scene of scrying, mirror filled with light,

vanish like the darkness when the sun is bright....

Jecks tilted his head sideways. “He uses Darksong, and he’s opposing you, but he’s only a

chandler.”

“Until I became a sorceress, I was only a teacher and a singer,” she replied.

Jecks shook his head. “You were always a sorceress and a Regent.”

Anna frowned. Does that mean what you think it does?

“He is only a chandler who would be a darksinger.”

“We—I—still have to do something about him.”

“You can’t do anything about it tonight," Jecks pointed out reasonably. “Tomorrow, you can

send a messenger to Lady Gatrune and have her people find out the man’s name and what they

know about him.”

That made sense, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Once again, it was looking like what she

could do wouldn’t solve the problem. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “And I’ll have to look for

Bertmynn and see what he’s doing... and those Mansuuran lancers…”

Tomorrow... will every tomorrow always be filled with more tasks than you started yesterday

with?

8

As the sunlight poured through the liedburg window, Anna struggled up into a sitting position in

the bed. Her eyes were gummy, and her head ached. Too much not very good wine last night. Not

a good idea, either, with more problems today.

As she took a slow deep breath and swung her feet to the side of the bed, the black-etched

rectangle on the wall—the visual representation of the last time she’d been able to see her daugh-

ter through her sorcery—strobed at her. She closed her eyes again and just sat on the edge of the

bed. You can kill, and create great bridges, and rule a country, but you can’t use sorcery to see

your daughter.

After a moment, she found herself correcting that thought You weren’t able to see her for a

while, but it’s been more than a season since you tried. Brill said it could be done across the gap

between the mist worlds and Erde infrequently—not never.

She padded to the bathchamber, where she washed up and then dressed in her remaining clean

green working trousers and shirt. After pulling on the brown-leather boots, she trudged to the

door and opened it. Blaz and Rickel were the guards.

“If you would... please... have someone bring me some breakfast.”

“Yes, Lady Anna,” Rickel answered.

‘Thank you.” She closed the door and went to the writing desk, rummaging around until she

found a sheet of parchment.

What do you say to a daughter a world away, a daughter growing up without you…She dipped

the quill carefully, and began to write.

“No…that’s not…" She scratched through the words, knowing she couldn’t afford to crumple

the parchment. She’d just have to use one sheet for drafting, and then recopy.

A second beginning wasn’t any better. Nor was a third, and she set the parchment aside at the

knock on the door.

“Dalila, Lady Anna, with your breakfast.”

“Come on in.” Anna stood as the brunette brought in the tray—on which were piled a wedge of

yellow cheese and fresh bread, a lopsided peach, and a large pitcher of water.

“We didn’t cook anything, lady. If you want more..." Dalila waited.

“This is fine.” Anna smiled. “How are the children?”

“Ruetha is doing well. I am letting her learn letters with the older bairns. I hope you do not

mind....”

“That’s fine. When she’s older, she can learn numbers from Dythya as well.”

“You would let her...?"

“Of course.” Anna wanted to frown. “Dythya doesn’t come from lordly blood. She got where she

is because she’s able. I want the same to be true for Ruetha and Anadra and all the young girls in

the liedburg.” And throughout Defalk—as much as possible.

“I would want that. Yet..." Dalila left the question unvoiced. “How long will that be possible?”

asked Anna. “So long as I’m Regent, and if I’m a good one, a long time after that.”

“You will be Regent for many years.”

“We’ll have to see.” Right now, it doesn’t look all that promising.

“You will.” Dalila bowed, turned, and slipped out the door.

Before eating, Anna did take the precaution of taking out the lutar and orderspelling the water.

She found she finished everything, even gnawing the peach down to the pit. As she sipped

another goblet of water, the headache faded, then vanished. Dehydration or low blood sugar or

both.

After setting aside the tray, Anna wrote out the letter to Elizabetta, slowly, carefully, then

wrapped the four golds she took from her wallet in old parchment and placed them in the crude

envelope.

With a deep breath she stood. Carrying the lutar and envelope, she walked to the door, opened it,

and stepped out. “I’ll be working across the hall.”

“Yes, Lady Anna.” Rickel nodded, and he and Blaz followed her, resuming a guard position

around the scrying room’s door.

Anna closed the door, stepped forward, and glanced at the silvered waters of the pool. She set the