The Shadow Sorceress (38 page)

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Authors: Jr. L. E. Modesitt

BOOK: The Shadow Sorceress
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Secca straightened, still breathing heavily. “I accept…gratefully…your advice…”

After a moment, she slowly bent to recover the riding jacket, although she was sweating all over, and dared not don it until she cooled off. Then she refastened the sabre and scabbard to her belt.

Alcaren slowly followed her in reclaiming his own jacket. Then he bowed.

Secca bowed in return.

“Like cats…they were…”

“So alike…because…”

Secca couldn't hear the last words, because Wilten moved in front of the South Woman who was talking and stepped toward Secca.

“Lady Secca?”

“Yes, Wilten?” Secca smiled politely.

“It has been some time since I have seen you work with a blade. You use it like the best of lancers now. Even the men saw it.”

“Yes…the overcaptain and I did put on quite an exhibition. I trust our form was good enough to inspire the lancers?”

“It was most inspiring.” Wilten's smile was warm. “It was also most impressive to the SouthWomen and their captains.” The Defalkan overcaptain laughed. “It matters not to them how impressive we men are, but how impressive you are.”

Secca nodded. “I do hope they were impressed.” She paused. “If you will excuse me…?”

Wilten bowed.

The redheaded sorceress turned and walked across the courtyard toward the main guest quarters building, still carrying the rattan exercise weapon. She was going to be sore in more places than she wanted to count, but no one was going to see that, especially not Alcaren.

92

Secca eased into the chair at the conference table that would let her look out the windows to the southwest. She had too many stiff muscles, more than she would have thought after the weeks of riding, but riding and sorcery were not bladework against bigger and stronger men. Her left shoulder hurt especially. At times, she detested being small.

She glanced toward the window, not that there was much to see, since the clear skies of the previous day had been replaced with gray clouds and a drizzling rain.

“I wish I could have seen you sparring with Captain Drysel and Overcaptain Alcaren,” Richina said. “Drysel's whole arm is black, and there's a slash that will take weeks to heal.”

Secca winced. “That was an accident, and bad blade work. I never meant to strike him. He was being kind and refusing to engage anything but my blade. So I was trying to disarm him.”

“He said that.”

“How do you know? You said you weren't watching.”

“I was working with Palian and the players when he came in to have her look at his arm. He was most uneasy. Palian told him not to worry, that you were far better with a blade than most lancers, and that your size meant nothing.”

“It does, though. I have to work harder with a blade, and I
can't do as much sorcery as Anna could before I get tired.” Secca shook her head. “Size has its advantages. If you learn to sing as well as I do, then you will have the strength to do more sorcery. Lady Anna thought she was small, but she was not.” Anna hadn't understood what small was, Secca thought.

“How could she think that?” asked Richina. “Only a handful of women are taller than she was.”

“I asked her that once. She said that in the Mist Worlds, she was a small woman, and that many women were near two yards in height, if not taller.”

“They must be giants there.”

“She was strong…” Secca mused. “Her warhorses…all of them raider beasts. None but her or a few favored ostlers could handle the first.” As she recalled Anna, she could feel again that gaping emptiness, and she swallowed.

“Despite your size, lady, you are strong,” Richina said quietly.

With her sore muscles, Secca felt anything but strong as she gazed out into what seemed endless rain.

Suddenly, there was a dull
clunk
, and the odor of hot metal filled the main chamber.

Secca glanced around. On the working desk, not two yards from the conference table, rested a bronze cylinder that had not been there moments before.

Richina was the one to use her riding gloves to lift the bronze cylinder before it scorched the table desk.

“Careful…” The appearance of the message cylinder had Secca even more worried.

Slowly, Richina extracted the contents of the cylinder—three parchment scrolls. Two were unsealed, the third was beribboned in blue and set inside the second.

Secca began with the first scroll, one from Jolyn, she confirmed by a quick look at the signature at the bottom.

Dear Secca—

I have been watching your progress through the glass and relaying what I have seen to Lord Robero. He was pleased with your defeat of the Sturinnese, but
concerned about the retreat of their ships to the south. I was also surprised that he was so pleased about your destruction of the keep at Dolov…

Secca nodded. She could see why Robero would be pleased.

Clayre is having great difficulty with Belmar. The Neserean sorcerer travels quickly, and from place to place. He knows what a glass will show, and what it will not, and often remains separated from his lancers and his players. He has a group of players, and uses four thunder-drums as well. He has taken the keep at Sperea through some kind of treachery, and most recently, just two days past, he destroyed the hold of one Jysmar, near Netzla…Why he did so is unclear, unless Jysmar opposed Belmar's efforts to claim the seat of the Prophet of Music. Lord Svenmar has declared his support for Lord Belmar, as have several other holders in the south of Neserea.

Lady Annayal has refused to consider a consorting until Belmar is removed as a threat, and the Liedfuhr of Mansuur has moved more than fifty companies of lancers to the western border of Neserea. He has sent a scroll, which took more than four weeks to reach Lord Robero, asserting that he had no intention of attempting to conquer Neserea, but that he would not see his sister's daughter lose her birthright for lack of armed support.

Lord Clehar was killed in the early battles in Dumar against the Sturinnese, and his brother Fehern has taken on his title and duties. He did not tell Lord Robero, and I fear that Clehar had died before I had dispatched the last scroll to you through sorcery. I discovered this only within the past week, when Lord Robero received a dispatch from the Council Leader of Wei. Leader Ashtaar wrote that Nordwei has sent all its fleets out of the Northern Ocean for fear that they might be trapped there over the winter.

The roads to Stromwer are blocked with deep and early snow, and there is no way through the Sudbergs or even through southern Neserea and across the lower Mittfels.

Be most careful in whatever you decide.

Secca moistened her lips, then set Jolyn's scroll aside and picked up the second one, the one with the blue seal of Defalk with the scrawled signature of Robero at the bottom. Secca smoothed it out slowly, fearing the worst as she began to read the words set upon the parchment.

Sorceress-Protector of the East,

Know you that the snows have left us prisoned within walls of winter, and there is no manner in which the Assistant Sorceress of Defalk can reach Dumar. Either treachery or the Sea-Priests have killed Lord Clehar. His brother Fehern has taken over his duties, although we have received no word of such, perchance because of the weather, but, given that his death was before the worst of the storms, the failure of the one who now acts as Lord High Counselor of Dumar to inform us is more likely to reflect more than the death in battle of Lord Clehar…

The Sturinnese now hold Narial and Dumaria. The sole major city holding out is Envaryl, and it is unlikely to withstand the Sea-Priests into summer unless Dumar receives aid.

While we have grave concerns about the current Lord High Counselor of Dumar, we have even greater concerns about the growing power of Sturinn in Dumar. For this reason, we would request that you consider most carefully and seriously how you might undertake an effort to assist Dumar. With the rebellion and destruction in Neserea, the Lady Clayre cannot now leave that land. Even if she desired, she would have to gather forces and travel southward for nigh on two weeks or more through the rebellious south of
Neserea and then through the high snows of the southern Mittfels.

We trust in your enterprise and judgment. In the event that you will need such, I have also requested that Lady Jolyn enclose a scroll for the Matriarch of Ranuak. The scroll suggests that all Liedwahr is at risk, and requests her assistance in aiding you as she sees fit. You may use this or not, as you see fit.

Our hopes and best wishes are with you.

Secca shook her head. That Robero would even consider a scroll to the Matriarch was the strongest sign of all that all was less than well and getting worse.

“What is it?” asked Richina.

“Best you read them both. I would rather not repeat their words,” Secca replied. “Don't open the third one. That's from Lord Robero to the Matriarch, should we need such.” She passed the two opened scrolls to the younger sorceress. “I'll need to meet with the overcaptains and chief players, and then with Counselor Veria.”

“Is it bad, that bad?” asked Richina.

“It might be worse.” Secca glanced out into the gray and rainy day, considering how fate and the Harmonies—or Discord—often left one with few choices indeed.

93

Outside, the midafternoon clouds were darkening, as if the misting rain were about to turn into a colder and heavier downpour. Inside the guest quarters at Elahwa, seated at the table with her back to the windows, Secca shifted
her weight in the chair, ignoring the twinge in her left shoulder, and glanced across the faces seated around the conference table—two overcaptains, two chief players, and one sorceress besides herself. The logs set in the hearth previously had died into a wall of red-banked coals that provided a gentle and welcome heat to the room.

“I called you all together because we have just received some scrolls from Defalk. By sorcery.” Secca gestured toward the now-cool and empty message tube in the middle of the conference table.

“From your countenance, Lady Secca,” began Palian, “it would appear that the news is not the most welcome.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I passed the scrolls around, and each of you can read them,” Secca suggested. “When you are done, then we will discuss what we may do.” Secca handed both scrolls to Palian, who sat to Secca's left.

Secca could have read the scrolls aloud, but felt they had more impact if each person read them, and she was fortunate that Anna had insisted all chief players and officers had to be able to read. Also, Secca could watch each person as he or she read the scrolls. Palian nodded slowly several times, then passed the missives to Delvor with a faint smile. Delvor absently brushed back the lock of lank brown hair that had been falling across his forehead for as long as Secca could remember, but his face remained impassive as he in turn passed the scrolls to Wilten.

Wilten glanced to the bottom of each scroll before he began reading, as if to assure himself of who was writing each one. Unlike the two chief players, the Defalkan overcaptain frowned more deeply with each line he perused. As he passed the scrolls to Alcaren, Wilten cleared his throat and, looking at Secca, shook his head.

Secca returned the headshake with a faint smile, and waited for Alcaren to finish reading.

Alcaren read through both scrolls quickly, his eyebrows lifting slightly, then passed them to Richina, seated to Secca's right. Richina looked at both briefly and then returned them to Secca.

Secca took another study of the faces before looking across
the table directly at Wilten. “Overcaptain…you looked concerned. I would be most interested in your thoughts.”

“I am most concerned,” Wilten began, “most concerned.” He gestured toward the grayness beyond the window that he faced. “Snow has made all the mountains impassable. Here the rain has turned the ground into swamps and bogs, and two mighty fleets patrol the southern coast of Liedwahr. We have six companies of lancers, not even a full six companies, yet we are being asked to find our way to Dumar in some fashion, and there take on perchance fifty or more companies of Sturinnese lancers with thunder-drums to back them. For all we know, there may be even more lancers than that.”

“It does appear difficult,” Secca observed. “The glass shows that the Sturinnese have not yet taken Dumar. While they continue to fight and to push back the Dumarans, the Sea-Priests' efforts are costing them lancers. If we wait for the weather to allow us to travel through the mountains to Dumar, they will doubtless have taken all of Dumar, and will have forces and thunder-drums awaiting us.”

“We could have more lancers and more sorceresses, could we not?” asked Wilten.

“Lord Robero can muster at most forty companies of lancers,” Secca pointed out. “And he cannot call up the levies unless Defalk is invaded. He would not hazard all those lancers in Dumar. So we might gain little in additional lancers, but much in greater numbers of enemies were we to wait until late spring or early summer.”

“Any number would be most helpful,” Wilten offered. “Most helpful.”

“That is true, but we cannot count on such.”

“Against the Sturinnese?” The older overcaptain raised his eyebrows.

“Will Lord Robero send lancers southward against the Sturinnese if this Belmar becomes the Prophet of Music in Neserea and if the Liedfuhr sends fifty companies into Neserea?” asked Secca.

Wilten did not answer.

“Will Lord Robero wish to send us another sorceress if such should happen?” Secca pressed.

“These are most perilous times,” murmured Wilten.

“Indeed they are,” Secca agreed, as she turned her gaze on Alcaren. “What do you think, overcaptain?”

“I cannot speak fairly of what is best for Defalk. I will not try.” Alcaren shrugged. “I can only say that, from what history shows, waiting has benefited none in opposing Sturinn. Your great sorceress is the sole leader in Liedwahr who did not wait to face the Sea-Priests. In fact, she is the only one in the world who did not wait, and she is the sole leader to have bested them.”

Palian nodded, and Secca turned to the chief player.

“What the overcaptain says is so,” began Palian. “I was there. Some told her to wait, and she did, but only briefly, until she knew what spells she would perform and how she would use them and where. She attacked the Sturinnese in the rain and storms when others would have waited, and she prevailed.”

Delvor offered a brief smile.

“Chief Player Delvor?” asked Secca.

“I can add little, except that I would rather see battles waged with sorcery fought in lands other than mine.”

Alcaren nodded to that comment.

Secca glanced around the table once more. “Lord Robero would wish we find a way to Dumar, and soon. While Overcaptain Wilten is most correct in noting that having more lancers is better than having less, there is no certainty that we will have more if we wait, and great certainty that we will face more enemies. The problem is not one of will, but of manner. We need a way to travel to Dumar that will not exhaust our lancers and players and that will not take forever.”

Alcaren cleared his throat.

Secca gestured for him to speak.

“We traveled here partly by riding, but part of the way on fast coastal schooners of shallow draft. It may be that the counselors know of some such. While those vessels will not suffice for travel to Dumar, they might aid in reaching Encora. They could carry us to the south of the Sand Hills. From there the riding to Encora is swift and mostly upon dry roads.”

“That would not get us to Dumar,” Wilten pointed out.

“No,” Secca admitted, “but it would get us closer, and
should the Sturinnese vessels move, or should we find a sorcerous way to remove them, we could travel swiftly. Even if we could not, we could travel across Ranuak well before spring and take the passes through Stromwer. At the very least, we would be in better position to strike earlier, even were we required to wait for spring.”

“That is true.” Wilten's words were heavy, almost as if grudged.

“I will see if I can meet with Counselor Veria tomorrow. Perhaps there is some way we can get to Encora.” As she stood, Secca did not mention that she had already requested a meeting with the counselor. “I would like a few moments with the chief players next…and you, Richina, after you take a message. We must discuss spellsongs.”

As Wilten and Alcaren rose, Secca beckoned to Richina. Bending forward, she said in a low voice, “Would you ask Overcaptain Alcaren, most discreetly, if he would meet with me after the players depart?” She added quickly. “I want his opinions without Wilten around, and I don't want to announce that.”

Richina smiled. “Yes, lady.” She turned and followed the overcaptains out into the corridor.

Secca waited until the door closed before reseating herself. She looked at Palian. “Is there any other choice?”

“None that I can discern, lady. The Sturinnese have planned this for many years, perhaps waiting until Lady Anna passed, and they will pour more and more lancers into Dumar if once they hold the land.”

Secca inclined her head to Delvor.

The brown-haired man smiled. “I am not a sorcerer, nor a lancer, but those who wait give more venues to their attackers.”

All three looked up as Richina slipped back into the chamber. The younger sorceress nodded to Secca, then seated herself.

“Could all your players perform upon a vessel?” Secca looked once more to Palian.

“If it did not pitch too wildly, I would guess, lady,” offered Palian. “That is but a guess, for none of us have attempted such.”

“I would say it would be easier for the second players,” sug
gested Delvor. “Strumming and fingering the strings is easier than bowing under difficult conditions.”

“The falk-horn and woodwinds would not be so affected either,” mused Palian. “You ask because we may need to defend ourselves at sea?”

“That is possible,” replied Secca. “I did not wish to request vessels unless we have a sorcerous defense.”

“We would need to play where there is no water or spray,” Palian said.

“And high enough on the vessel that our tones—and yours—would carry,” added Delvor.

“We would also need a vessel with enough space for all to play,” Secca continued.

There was silence around the table. The red-haired sorceress looked to Richina. “Do you have any thoughts on this?”

“What about the wind? If it were behind us…”

“Then it would carry the spells further.” Secca's lips curled as she wondered how many more things they did not know. “Is there anything else?”

Palian shook her head.

“No, lady,” murmured Delvor, as did, a moment later, Richina.

“You may go, but if you do think of other considerations,” Secca said, rising, “I would hear them.”

Once the three had left, Secca walked to the window, where she stared into the gray and the rain that now fell in heavy leaden drops that occasionally
splatted
against the glass. The gray and the rain and the gloom weighed on her, and she realized that she missed the sunlight, the light, and the grace of Loiseau. Would she ever even see her hold again? At times, she had to wonder.

At the
thrap
on the door, she turned. “Yes?”

“Overcaptain Alcaren,” announced one of the guards, Easlon, Secca thought, from his voice.

“If you would have him enter.” Secca stepped toward the table and waited.

Alcaren stepped inside and bowed. “You requested my presence, lady?”

“I did. You are very perceptive, and most gallant, overcaptain,” Secca said.

For the first time since she had met the Ranuan, Alcaren looked almost puzzled, as if pondering how to respond. After a moment, he offered the boyish, embarrassed grin. “I fear you have me at a loss, Lady Secca.”

Secca thought for a moment, but could see no answer that would not lead to greater difficulty and misunderstanding—no answer except the truth, much as it grated on her to have to speak it. “Our blade
skills
are close, although you are somewhat better. You are far stronger than I, and larger. You allowed me to retain more respect than I deserved. I appreciate it.”

Alcaren bowed again. “I learn much of you as time passes, lady, and it is a pleasure. Would that all ladies of power had your determination and grace.”

Secca could hear that the words were more than formality, and carried a touch of warmth unusual for the always polite and discreet overcaptain.

“For your grace…and kindness, I thank you.” Her words sounded too formal, but anything less formal might have been misunderstood. So she added quickly, “That was not all I had in mind, but I did want you to know that.” Why she did, Secca wasn't totally sure, except that Alcaren's grace had made her feel small in spirit, and she hated feeling petty—even if she had been. “Would you sit down?”

Alcaren took the same chair he had used earlier.

Secca seated herself as he did, then spoke. “I wanted your thoughts on other matters. We have discussed storm spells, overcaptain. You have been a trader. Are there any types of storms that are more deadly to a vessel than others, or any more deadly to a warship?”

“All storms can damage a ship, but few are strong enough to sink a good vessel outright.”

“A strong thunderstorm?”

“Such might rip away sails if the master were caught unaware, and break a mast, perchance, but the ship would remain sound.”

“What of typhoons?”

“A strong typhoon can drive a ship upon the coast or rocks or shoals.” Alcaren frowned. “A good master can keep a good ship far enough at sea to avoid such—unless the storm is most sudden and far larger than likely to be created by sorcery.”

“Sometimes, in the spring, there are whirlwinds—they can tear apart a cot,” Secca offered.

“Waterspouts can do such to a ship as well.” Alcaren smiled. “But they are infrequent and most capricious, and they seldom last long.”

“I wonder if we could create such,” mused the sorceress.

“If you could, and
if
you could direct such, you might destroy many ships.”

“We will have to think.” Secca nodded. “For we cannot be sure to reach Dumar before late spring, except by ship.”

“Spring—that will be too late.”

“Not for Wilten,” said Secca with a laugh.

“I do not understand why you have as overcaptain such a soul as Wilten,” Alcaren said slowly. “At a time when you must act, or risk losing all, he sees not that.”

“That is true,” Secca replied. “And that I brought him, that also is my failing. He is the most experienced of my officers. Before you joined us, I relied more heavily on Stepan. He was the arms commander for Lord Hadrenn.”

“The one whose body you sent home with an honor guard?”

“He gave good advice, and understood much. He held off the last attack of the Sturinnese before they broke, and saved the victory.”

“Ah…that explains much.” Alcaren nodded. “Still…you inherited Wilten as your most senior officer from the great sorceress, and she was no stranger to battle…” The Ranuan fingered his chin.

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