Darksong Rising (93 page)

Anna nodded. “I would hope so, and I would hope he can win the loyalty of the people. That will

not be easy.”

“It may not be so hard. Already...there are tales, now that the lady Livya and her daughter have

left,"

Were there tales in every hold? Anna took a long slow breath.

Liende bowed, her eyes taking in the table with the scrolls. “You have much to do, and I would

not hold you. I did wish to thank you.”

“Liende..." Anna’s voice was soft. “You have supported me and saved me when you didn’t want

to. I took youth from you, and I probably caused Brill’s death. I didnt mean to, but... I didn’t help

there. I’m grateful to you. I won’t say it often, but I am. I still need you, and your skills. I’m just

glad that it worked out this way.”

“You are honest, and you are beautiful, and you see women as they should be.” The chief player

looked Anna straight in the eyes. “You are a sorceress, and at times, you ask much. At times, you

are cold. You must be, and I know that. But you essay to be fair and to care for those who

support you as much as is possible for any ruler. We—and I—cannot ask more.” She dropped

her eyes. “Perhaps... I am getting old... I say too much.”

“You... you are the honest one,” Anna replied. “I’m glad you are. Thank you.”

“I need be going.” A brief smile crossed the chief player’s face. “Know you when we travel?”

“I’d guess you’ll have another day or two to enjoy Lord Kinor’s hold.” Anna smiled. “Maybe

longer, but I don’t know yet.”

Liende bowed, then departed.

Anna had scarcely looked at the problem list again before there was another interruption.

“Lord Nelmor,” announced Bersan.

The tall blond lord bowed as he entered.

“How is the Lord of the Western Marches today?” asked the sorceress.

Nelmor smiled shyly, almost uneasily. “I must confess, Lady Regent, that when first you told me

of your intent, I had some concerns that you had spoken too hastily.” The tall lord looked down

at the worn carpet for a moment before meeting Anna’s eyes again. “Yet my sister, may the

harmonies keep her, and my daughter, they oft said that a wise man never stood against your

word." He laughed, not quite ruefully.

Anna wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. After a moment, she replied, “I do my best. It doesn’t

always work, but I try." She added quickly, “Is there anything...?"

“You have given much. . . yet I would beg yet one favor...." Again, Nelmor looked down before

continuing. “It is said you can see whether another lives and where..."

“You would like to see Lysara and Tiersen?” Anna hoped that was what the blond lord wished.

“Ah... if that be possible... or Tiersen..."

“We can try.” Anna pulled out a sheet of paper that she’d scratched up on one side in trying to

draft her scroll to Jecks, and stood by the table, drafting, trying to adjust the simple scrying spell.

After a short time, she looked up. “if they are together this will show it. if not, the glass will

show two images, one of each.”

She sang a short vocalise, then lifted the lutar for the scrying spell.

Show us in this glass, even from so far,

Tiersen and Lysara as they are

Show us bright and show us clear....

As the notes died away, the mirror silvered, and the mist swirled. Then another mist filled the

glass. Anna wondered, momentarily, before the south tower of the liedburg at Falcor appeared.

With a heavy fog behind them, Tiersen and Lysara,, her red hair shimmering, stood looking out

at the city. Tiersen’s arm was around Lysara’s shoulder.

Although he said nothing, Nelmor swallowed slightly, his eyes on the pair in the glass.

Anna, not wishing to spend much energy, sang the release couplet, then turned to the lord. “You

see? They’re fine.” She was worried about the fog. Did that mean they’d face more rain in

heading eastward, not that she had any intention of going directly to Falcor, not with her other

problems.

“They appear happy.”

Let them, Anna wanted to say. Let them... they’ll have enough worries before long. "They do.”

A wistful look crossed Nelmor’s face, then vanished, and he bowed. “You have been most kind,

Regent, and most fair, and thank you. We will hold the Marches and serve your bidding." He

bowed again.

‘Thank you, Lord Nelmor.” Anna inclined her head, then waited.

After Nelmor left, the sorceress walked back to the window. She’d have to return to writing

scrolls and calculating, and all the things she hadn’t done while she’d been preoccupied with the

Nesereans and the Mansuuran lancers.

For a time, she stood and looked out the narrow window into a day warmer than the one before,

recalling other warm days, days with tender graces that were dead to her and would never come

back.

101

MANSUUS, MANSUUR

A low fire burns in the central hearth, and the windows are tightly closed against the northwest

wind that whistles around the palace of the Liedfubr, bringing the chill polar air from distant

Defuhr Bay and beyond.

“Sire..." Bassil bows low before the polished table-desk, behind which sits Konsstin, fingering

his brown-and-silver beard as he studies a scroll before him.

The Liedfuhr looks up abruptly. “That extreme deference means all is not well, Bassil. What

calamity has occurred?”

“Sire... I would not say it was a calamity.”

“I would. When you bow and scrape so..." Konsstin purses his lips. “Will you tell me, or must I

drag it from you, with each word making me less patient?”

‘The sorceress... she has destroyed your grandson and all his forces. As if they were less than

ants.”

“We had discussed this." Konsstin frowns. “That is not necessarily irredeemable.”

“So it seemed. The seers watched the battle, and Rabyn used the triple drums and threw

Darksong at her. He was strong. Strong enough to cast a shield over much of his camp, despite

the fires falling from the heavens. In the end, though, she broke his shields and prevailed, and

destroyed utterly all the Neserean armsmen with him."

“That surely is not the problem.”

“She spared your lancers.”

“The more fool she.”

“She asked for some terms from Relour. He refused. She destroyed him in the night with

lightning. The captain next in command—I think that would have been Donbrin—he attacked

nearly at dawn. She was waiting, and turned them all into ash."

“All hundredscore?”

“Yes, sire.”

“That is war. I will not have it.”

“Sire... there is more."

“More? How can there be more?” Konsstin stands, towering over the desk. He glares at the

black-haired lancer officer. “More, you say?”

“She spared one force of Nesereans, those besieging Denguic.”

“She spared them, and not my lancers, when I had sent her golds in good graces?”

“Her own arms commander rides with the Nesereans, with but a small company of Defalkan

lancers, and all are returning to Esaria, or so it would seem.”

“They turned and left, when she had but a handful of armsmen?”

“Would you not were you in their boots?” asks the lancer officer. “She has destroyed whole

holdings’ worth of lands in both Dumar and Ebra. She has brought the fires of heaven against

every force sent to bring her to bay. She has destroyed two Prophets, and two lords of Ebra, and

the Lord of Dumar. Would you not retreat, given the chance?”

“So... Bassil.. . she has flouted my power, vanquished my grandson, defeated and destroyed my

lancers, and rules another land, this time over my daughter’s and grandson’s land.” The

Liedfuhr’s hazel eyes flash like lightning, turning black momentarily. “And now her arms

commander rides in triumph to Esaria?”

“No, sire. Less than a single company rides with the sorceress’ own arms commander, and the

remainder of the Prophet’s Guard. The sorceress remains in Defalk.”

“How might that be?” Konsstin’s voice turns lazy, not quite indolent.

Bassil swallows before he speaks. “It may be that he is the new Lord High Counselor of Neserea,

as Hadrenn is of Ebra,” Bassil suggests, finally blotting the sweat from his forehead.

“Worse and worse... you said this could not happen. A puppet ruler over the lands of my

daughter and grandson?”

‘This ruler is no puppet, your seers say.”

“Oh... some young lord of Defalk, no doubt.”

“No, sire. An older officer, her own arms commander, one of those from Lord Behlem’s forces.

He is from Nesalia, they think.”

“And how would they know such?”

Bassil shrugs. ‘There are messengers coming to you, also, sire. From the sorceress."

“Summon the overcaptains, all of them. We must prepare our forces for the march to Esaria.”

“Do not destroy yourself, sire. Do not destroy Liedwahr.”

“You presume! This witch has but a handful of lancers left, and no armsmen. I will not be

swayed by words. She cannot work spells without lancers to protect her.”

“Yes, sire. I presume. If you wage a mighty battle against the sorceress, she will defeat you. She

will destroy your forces as she has destroyed all the others. And who will rule Mansuur, then?

She cannot. No one could have stopped her from ruling Dumar. Or Ebra. Yet she has let the