The Shadow Sorceress (39 page)

Secca paused to think. Why had Anna retained and promoted Wilten? Then she smiled. Of course!

“Why do you smile?”

“In her later years, Lady Anna wished to avoid pitched battles. She was able to deal with most matters with subtle sorcery. Would a senior officer who was more aggressive have been suited to such a post?”

Alcaren smiled knowingly. “And the lady died just shortly before you were required to leave on your expedition, and you trusted in her choices.”

“I had not worked that closely…” Secca shook her head. “Before this winter, it was years since any sorceress in Defalk had been in a pitched battle.”

“That is, alas, true of most of us,” Alcaren pointed out. “In that, those of Sturinn have us at a great disadvantage.” He smiled. “You have fought more battles than all those lancers in Encora who did not come to Elahwa.”

“What of the others?” Secca asked.

“The Matriarch sent ten companies in addition to the SouthWomen. Perhaps six companies worth remained when you routed the Sea-Priests. Those who could ride began the long coastal ride back to Encora within days.”

“How many companies could the Matriarch raise?”

“There are twenty. There would be twenty still, but with the strength of sixteen, or perhaps more, if new recruits have been found.”

The two looked at each other, and Secca knew they understood the same truth—not enough lancers existed in all Liedwahr to stop the Sturinnese by force of arms.

Finally, she eased back the chair. “Thank you, overcaptain. I will meet with the counselor in the morning, if she will see me. Then we will know what we may do.” Secca stood, forcing herself to move smoothly, and not to show the stiffness she felt.

Alcaren also rose, speaking as he did. “She will see you. Elahwa will not remain the Free City unless Defalk remains strong and with power in the hands and spells of the sorceresses.”

Power in the hands of the sorceresses? Secca could feel an unseen and cold mantle of…something…dropping onto her shoulders.

Alcaren smiled, half sadly, then bowed, before turning and departing.

Secca watched him go, almost with regret. What else could she have said?

Outside, the heavy rain splatted against the glass of the windowpanes, as the late afternoon darkened into a gloomier dusk.

Secca pulled off the dripping green felt hat after she hurried up the steps and under the outside columns of the Council building. She squeezed the water from the hat, folded it into her belt, smoothed her hair, and then stepped toward the single guard.

“Counselor Veria is expecting you, Lady Sorceress,” the tall woman in the crimson guard's uniform told her.

Again, Secca felt somewhat overguarded as Dymen and Achar followed her inside and down the corridor to the counselor's chamber. Both guards remained outside when Secca entered and closed the door.

The sorceress bowed. Veria did not rise from behind the table-desk, but inclined her head to the chairs. Secca took the chair on the right side.

“You requested this meeting, Lady Sorceress,” Veria said.

“I did. Yesterday afternoon, I received several scrolls from Falcor.” Secca extended the two to the counselor.

“You received scrolls? In this weather?” Veria looked at the two rolled sections of parchment, but did not begin to read them.

“By sorcery,” Secca explained. “Those scrolls were written yesterday. We can send scrolls in a bronze tube. It is exhausting, perhaps the only sorcery a sorceress can do for a day—or longer—and a sorceress can send less than a handful in a year. It is seldom used because there is usually so much of greater import.”

“A scrying glass takes less effort?”

“Much less,” Secca admitted.

“Scrolls sent hundreds of deks in moments.” Veria shook her
head. “I almost understand the wailings of the Ladies of the Shadows.”

Secca offered a polite smile.

After a moment, the counselor began to read the scrolls.

Secca took in the chamber. The outside wall was the same polished blue marble, while the inner walls were the golden oak—but none of the walls bore any decorations, except for the simple baseboards and crown moldings. Even the bronze brackets and wall lamps were simple and smooth metal, and the glass mantels of the lamps curved gently.

Veria set down the scrolls, then belatedly extended them to Secca, who rerolled them and slipped them inside her jacket.

“You wish our assistance in getting to Dumar, I take it?” asked the counselor.

“That might be difficult. You might help us reach Encora, I was led to believe.”

“No doubt by Alcaren?”

“We did discuss it,” Secca admitted.

“The Matriarch would be pleased to see you, for she—as do I—knows that without sorcery, Liedwahr cannot resist the Sturinnese.” Veria paused, and her eyes met Secca's. “Not all in Encora will be pleased to see a sorceress, and even less would they be pleased were they to know the extent of the sorceries you have accomplished. I have seen you raise the wind, and dispel the fog. I have seen you call forth fire and lightning, and direct arrows through sorcery.” The counselor's smile was faint and chill. “I doubt that I have seen near all that you can or may do.”

“I have ideas,” Secca offered, “but whether any will work…that remains to be seen.”

She paused for but a moment. “Is Alcaren right that you might be able to assist us? You had suggested that you might when I met you first.”

“Alcaren is correct, and I did suggest such. We have no means that would aid you in reaching Dumar, but it is possible that we could find enough coastal vessels to land you along the southern side of the Sand Hills or perhaps farther south. It might be dangerous. The Sturinnese do have shallow draft patrol schooners, but they have but few, for they are ill-suited to deep ocean cross
ings. We have not seen any in a season or more. The larger war vessels dare not venture into the shallows.”

“How long?” asked Secca warily.

“A week to make ready, two or three days for the crossing. You would still face a hard ride of three or four days.”

“If it can be done…we would be most grateful,” Secca replied.

“It will not be without cost.” Veria held up a hand. “Traders, even those of Elahwa, do nothing without recompense, but the Council will provide such.”

“You expect something in return?”

Veria laughed mirthlessly. “We will obtain much in return. Either you will defeat the Sea-Pigs, or you will occupy them for another few seasons or years. If you defeat the Sturinnese, we obtain freedom from their domination for many years. If you occupy them, while that occurs, we can recover our strength.”

“I would hope we would do more than occupy them for a time.” Secca did not voice the thought that all that depended upon their reaching Encora at the very least.

“So do I, but I must be prepared to justify the golds even under the worst of happenings.”

Secca nodded, even as she wondered about a system where a leader had to justify every action in terms of its costs. Could one really put a price in golds on women not wearing chains? Or being able to reject an ill-chosen consort?

“When will we know what is possible, and the timing?” asked the sorceress.

“Late tomorrow, or early the day after. As soon as I know, so will you—or almost, although we have no magical ways to send scrolls.” Veria smiled and stood. “If we are to have you on your way soon, I must be finding those who can make this happen.”

Secca stood and bowed. “We thank you.”

“Thank me best by surviving and defeating the Sea-Pigs.”

Behind the cool words, Secca sensed an old and cold anger. She recalled what Alcaren had told her. Had the counselor been tortured? Secca was not about to ask. “We will do our best.”

“I am certain you will, and for that, I am most grateful.”
Veria offered a last smile before Secca turned and slipped back out the door.

With each echoing click of her boots on the polished blue marble floor as she walked back toward the front entrance, Secca felt more alone—even with two guards following her.

From the window of the guest chamber, Secca looked out into the midday drizzle. Her left shoulder still twinged, and she hadn't even realized that she had pulled the muscles there when she had been sparring with Alcaren, not until a day later. The wet weather did little to help the soreness that had come from that sparring.

It had been almost two days, and she had heard nothing from Veria. The rain of the previous days had stopped, but the clouds remained—featureless, dull gray. She shook her head. She missed the bright and clear skies of Loiseau. Finally, she turned and looked down at the table-desk, her eyes taking in the spells she had scrawled on brown paper.

She stepped back and uncased the lutar, then tuned it. As she stood over the desk, looking down at the modified flame spell, she strummed the lutar and mentally tried to match the note values against the words on the page. After running through the spell melody twice, she set the lutar aside. The last line still bothered her.

Before she could sit down with the paper and grease pencil, there was a
thrap
on the door. “Yes?”

“A messenger for you, lady,” called Easlon from beyond the door. “From Counselor Veria.”

“Have…them come in.” Secca wasn't sure whether the
messenger would be man or woman, not in Elahwa. She turned and waited.

The young woman who stepped through the door was a taller and more slender version of the counselor, with short-cut dark hair, wearing the crimson tunic of a lancer of Elahwa. She bowed. “Lady Sorceress.”

“Welcome.” Secca smiled. “Are you…related to Counselor Veria?”

“Her daughter.” The lancer smiled. “I'm Averra.”

“I'm sorry. You must be asked that often.”

“Not so much any longer. She says that's because her hair is so gray.” The lancer's smile was warm and open, and Secca wondered if Veria had once smiled so.

“I am sorry,” Secca apologized again. “You bring a message…perhaps about our travel?”

“Yes, lady. She sent me to tell you that the Council has managed to arrange for enough vessels for four companies. We can attempt two trips, or we can send you and three of your companies and one of the SouthWomen…and then we would be pleased to escort the other two companies along the longer coastal route.”

“Only four companies?” Secca frowned.

“It is not the lancers, lady,” Averra said. “It is the mounts. For such a short trip we could take twice the number of lancers, but mounts are heavy and take more space. Also, we needed vessels with a crane and hoist.”

Secca nodded. She just hadn't thought about the size and weight of mounts. “Do you know why three of my companies?”

“The counselor said that you would like most of your forces with you, but, should you leave Ranuak quickly, the Matriarch will need all the forces that can be mustered.”

Secca's lips quirked. She doubted that was the only reason. “When will the ships be ready?”

“You will need to start loading no later than midmorning the day after tomorrow.” Averra bowed. “What shall I tell the counselor?”

“We need the ships, but I need to talk to my overcaptains and players before I can say which arrangement we prefer.”

“She thought you might.”

“I can send a messenger later this afternoon,” Secca said. “To the Council building?”

“She will await word, lady.” Averra bowed.

“Thank you, and give her our thanks for all her efforts.”

“That I will, lady.”

Once Averra had left, Secca sent Dymen to collect the overcaptains, the chief players, and Richina. Then she took out the scrying mirror and set it in the middle of the conference table. She glanced out the window, but nothing had changed. The sky was still gray, but no rain fell.

Secca picked up the spell she had been working on and studied the last line, but still had no better words when Palian—the first to arrive—stepped inside the chamber.

“Delvor will be here shortly. He was repairing a lutar, and was setting the joins.” The gray-haired player smiled, then asked, “Have we word on ships?”

“We do, and that is what we need to talk about.”

The door opened, and Wilten, Alcaren, and Richina entered. Secca gestured to the table. “Please be seated. Our other chief player may be a few moments longer.” She took the chair with its back to the window. With the seemingly constant grayness of Elahwa, she didn't mind not looking out.

“How is Captain Drysel?” Secca asked Wilten.

“Much bruised, lady, but recovering. He appreciated your note.”

“I was sorry. It was an accident, but I'm sure it was painful.”

“It cannot hurt him to learn that size is far from everything.” Wilten's voice held a dry humor that Secca had not heard before.

Alcaren kept his mouth from smiling, but not his blue-gray eyes.

The door opened a last time, and Delvor slipped in.

“I am most sorry, lady…”

“Palian told me,” Secca said. “I would not have you hasten a repair to a lutar. We will need every lutar in the weeks and seasons ahead.” She waited for him to take a seat before she continued.

“I have talked to Counselor Veria, as you know, and they
have gathered enough ships to take us to a point on the south side of the Sand Hills. We can ride from there to Encora in several days. There is one problem.” Secca paused. “There are not enough vessels to carry all of us and our mounts at the same time. The most they can take is the players and perhaps four companies.” She paused. “The counselor also made it clear that they would prefer that one of the four companies be one of those commanded by Overcaptain Alcaren.”

“Lady Secca…” Alcaren said, “that was not my doing.”

“I was led to believe that the Matriarch wants at least one, if not both, of the companies of SouthWomen back in Ranuak to be ready in case the Sturinnese attack there.”

“And we are considering going there?” asked Wilten.

“Does it matter?” riposted Secca gently. “We will have to fight them in one place or another. If we go to Ranuak, and the Sturinnese attack, we do not fight alone, and then, at the very least, that may slow the conquest of Dumar. Here, we do not even pose a threat to the Sea-Priests.”

Palian nodded slowly.

Delvor brushed back a lock of his lank hair.

Alcaren shifted his weight in his chair, but did not speak.

“What if we take the three companies and one of the Southwomen first,” asked Richina, “and then wait to determine if the ships can make a second trip? We can use the glass to see. If they can, we wait. If not, we start for Encora and wait there.”

Secca looked at Wilten. “What do you think?”

Wilten shook his head. “Against the Sea-Priests, four companies or six…it makes little difference. If your sorcery does not hold, then two companies will not change matters. I would favor Lady Richina's suggestion, though, for if the ships can travel the inner gulf again, it will be far easier on the riders and mounts.”

Secca hoped so, but sea travel was out of her experience.

“Do you know where the Sturinnese ships are?” asked Alcaren.

“I thought I would try to call their images in the glass, so all could see.” Secca eased from her chair and reclaimed the lutar, checking the tuning before beginning the scrying spellsong.

Even after the end of the spellsong, the mirror remained blank. Was that because the spell was faulty, or because there were no ships on the inner gulf between Elahwa and the southern end of the Sand Hills? Secca didn't know. She tried a second version.

This time the mirror split into more than a dozen fragmentary images, each fragment showing a different ship, and all but two were white-hulled. Even before the others could really look at the images, Secca sang the release couplet.

“What—” began Alcaren.

“It showed every ship that could sail to the inner gulf,” Secca said. “The spell wasn't right.” She lifted the lutar and tried a variation on the spell.

Again the mirror came up blank.

The fourth spell—the one that asked for vessels south of the inner gulf, showed five large Sturinnese warships and three smaller vessels, rigged as schooners.

After letting everyone see the images, Secca sang the release couplet.

“There are no Sturinnese ships in the inner gulf now…is that what the glass shows, lady?” asked Wilten.

“It is.”

Wilten turned to Alcaren. “How long will it take them to sail northward?”

“Into the inner gulf? Several days.” The Ranuan paused momentarily before adding, “But the last part of the voyage will take us out of the shallows of the inner gulf.”

“I would say that we take as many as we can on the first voyage, lady,” Wilten suggested. “Even have they scrying glasses, they will have to see us depart in such and then find us.”

There were nods around the table.

Secca was forced to agree that his suggestion made the most sense—and it agreed with the suggestion of Counselor Veria. “Then, that is what we will tell the counselor.”

She still wondered about the SouthWomen—they seemed better disciplined than most lancers, and supposedly they fought well, but no one seemed to want them around, and that bothered her.