The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (24 page)

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Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.

BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
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“Thank you,” Anna said. “I do appreciate it.”
“You can have the one spare room. Reneil, she had it, but it’s been two years now, and I’d be guessing she’ll not be back. Afore long, it’ll be Ruetha’s, not that it’s large.”
“Are you sure?” asked Anna.
“After saving Daffy’s miserable neck, you deserve that
and more.” The pert brunette gestured. “You be doing what you need, and I be getting back to the cooking.”
Madell followed them out to the shed-stable. “Best four are the stalls in the middle. Good mounts you got there.”
“Lord Brill’s finest,” Daffyd said ironically as he began to unsaddle the mare. “It was …” He broke off. “I’ll tell you all at dinner.”
Anna swallowed. Of course. There were no telephones. No one knew that Daffyd’s and Dalila’s father had died. She went to work on Farinelli, more slowly.
“Fine beast there,” observed Madell from the stall wall.
“He was a raider horse, I was told. He likes women, but not men.”
Farinelli punctuated her words with a whuffling snort.
After she had him settled, she started on the pack mare, thinner and less well fed than the gelding.
“Most people wouldn’t travel just in a pair these days,” said Madell, eyeing her from the back of the mare’s stall.
“We didn’t have much choice or much time to pick up traveling companions with all the Ebran soldiers pouring through the Sand Pass.” She was sweating in the close confines of the stall, and had to wipe the salty dampness out of the corners of her eyes.
Somehow, despite her tiredness, the saddle was easier to handle. Even the heavy saddlebags seemed lighter. Was she getting back into some semblance of shape? When she was finished with the horses, she lifted the saddlebags, putting a pair over each shoulder and struggling along with the last set in her arms, following Daffyd back to the house.
“Strong woman, you are,” said Madell.
“I do what I have to.” Anna liked the man less and less, but, again, she wasn’t exactly in a position to be choosy. She had the feeling that if she went to the local inn, as a single woman alone, things would be even worse. Damn! Why were there so many like Madell?
“Here.” Madell gestured to the door to the small room.
“Thank you.” Anna stepped inside and lowered the saddlebags
to the floor beside the narrow pallet bed. The single window was shuttered.
“I’ll be leaving you to wash up.” The wiry man smiled.
Anna nodded.
As the door closed, she laid the hat on the peg nearest the door and walked to the narrow dresser where the washing bowl and the pitcher stood. On the wall over the dresser was a mirror. Anna wasn’t sure whether she should even look, given the way she still felt, and the way so many of the people in Synope had looked at her.
Finally, she stepped up to the mirror.
A stranger looked back at her—a stranger with blonde hair, not dyed with streaks of white and auburn showing, but silvery blonde all the way to the roots; a stranger with firm cheeks and a chin without any signs of aging; a stranger with no wrinkles, either in the forehead or around her eyes. A stranger with a thinner face than she remembered ever having.
The stranger looked sunburned, exhausted, and filthy, but the stranger was young, probably in her mid-to-late twenties. Anna shook her head, and the stranger shook hers.
“No … no …”
Yes … . You’ve paid for it
… . But had she, really? Really?
She put her head in her hands.
A
nna tried to half lift, half shrug the damp shirt away from her sweaty body without being too obvious, then slipped into the end seat on the bench beside Daffyd. Madell sat at the single chair, at the head of the table and to Anna’s right. Dalila sat across from Anna, with Ruetha by her side and across from Daffyd.
The sorceress smiled at the dark-haired little girl, but
Ruetha leaned over and hid her head behind her mother’s arm.
A tantalizing aroma of spices and hot meat circled up and out from the large earthenware crock in the middle of the trestle table, but everyone sat quietly.
Anna waited. Something was going to happen.
“In the name of harmony, let this food pass our lips.” Madell nodded as he finished, and Dalila offered the basket that held a warm loaf of dark bread to Anna.
“Thank you.” Anna broke off the end chunk and then offered the bread to Daffyd. She still felt hot, even without wearing the overtunic.
Madell frowned ever so slightly, but smiled when Anna turned and presented him with the basket.
“There’s the cider in the pitcher, Lady Anna,” said Madell, a slight emphasis on the word “lady.”
Anna half filled her earthenware mug, then sipped the slightly fizzy amber liquid. It was cider, relatively hard cider. “Good.”
Dalila smiled, then added, “And the stew in the big crock is my special.”
“It is good,” Daffyd added.
Madell ladled out some for Anna, Dalila, and Daffyd. before filling his own crockery platter.
“There was something you were to tell us,” prompted Dalila. “I do not think it was good, but I would hear it.”
“It’s about Da,” Daffyd began slowly. “The gray mare was his, a gift from Lord Brill.”
“He’s dead.” Dalila nodded to herself. “He’s dead.”
Anna glanced from Dalila to Daffyd. They might have been talking about two different men, from their reactions.
“Yes, he’s dead,” choked the young player. “Is that all ye have to say? He’s dead. Is that all?”
“Daffyd … I know you loved Da …” Dalila spread her hands, then put her arm around her daughter. “Be gentle. Ruetha would not understand.”
Daffyd shook his head. “I thought you would be sad.”
Dalila handed a small piece of bread to Ruetha, who began to eat.
Madell wore a cynical smile, and helped himself to another chunk of bread, then some of the stew.
Anna took a small mouthful of the steaming stew, using the carved wooden spoon by her plate. The stew was more peppery than she would have liked, and there was a trace, but only a trace, of something like cilantro, not enough to spoil it for her. She took another mouthful, then stopped.
“I am sad. I am sad for you, Daffyd. Da was good to you.” Dalila took a swallow of cider.
“I never understood,” Daffyd said. “You said it was better when Mother … and you left as soon as you could … but … you never said.”
“No. Mother asked me not to before she … left.”
“Some family stories are best left untold, are they not, lady?” said Madell in a quiet voice, leaning his sandy haired head toward Anna.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” Anna edged ever so slightly along the bench toward Daffyd.
“Da was good to me,” Daffyd said.
“He was, and it’s best left that way. None of us be changing the past, now,” Dalila said firmly. Then she offered a soft smile and, with her free hand, reached across the table and touched Daffyd’s wrist. “You be remembering him as he was to you. No one can take that.”
The emotional undercurrents tugged at Anna, and she finally looked back at Ruetha. This time, the girl didn’t hide, but looked solemnly back at the sorceress.
“Ah … you were saying about the Prophet,” Madell finally interjected into the silence.
“Sasia said that his armsmen had reached Falcor, and that he was claiming Defalk in order to stop the dark ones.”
“What about young Jimbob? He didn’t die in the battle,” pointed out Madell. “He’s the heir.”
“Sasia was sayin’ that the young lord was too untried to rule, and besides, his grandsire made off with him, and that meant the lords had abandoned the liedstadt.”
Madell snorted and took a gulp of cider, large enough that Anna winced, then swallowed and turned to her. “Did you see how Lord Barjim died?”
“The dark ones destroyed a tower around him with their thunderbolts,” replied Daffyd. “They sent thousands of armsmen, and archers—”
“Could we be talking of something more pleasant, for now?” asked Dalila, pointedly glancing down at the wide-eyed Ruetha. “How do you find Defalk, Lady Anna?”
“Those people I have met—not the dark ones—have been nice. It is hot,” Anna offered, “much, much hotter than where I’m from. And the air is much drier.”
“It has been hot for the past years, because of the black ones. They’ve stolen our rain, and the winter snows, and every year the grain harvests have been less, the kernels smaller,” added Madell.
“And Lord Brill? How was he? He is said to be a great sorcerer. Daffyd has said much, but I would know what you thought,” asked Dalila.
“Yes, what did you think?” asked Madell, with a smile not quite a smirk.
“Lord Brill was most hospitable to a stranger, and very helpful, to the end. He was a learned man, and I don’t think he was ever comfortable in using his sorcery for warfare. In his own way, he seemed honorable about most things, but I couldn’t say for sure, because I didn’t know him that well or for very long.”
“I daresay you knew him better than most,” offered Madell. “Being as you’re a sorceress,” he added quickly.
“I don’t know,” Anna said, stifling a yawn. She was tired, but still hungry, and she took another mouthful of stew, followed with more bread. The bread was good, though not so good as Serna’s, but the stew was far better than any meat dishes she had had at Brill’s hall. And she was hungry all the time, anymore.
“He was a good sorcerer,” Daffyd said. “But … he didn’t …” The player shook his head.
“You’re tired, Daffyd,” suggested Dalila. “How long a ride was it?”
“Almost four days,” answered the young man. “We had to take the old road because the Ebran armsmen were marching on Mencha.”
“A long four days,” added Anna, mechanically taking another bite. Her head ached slightly, still, and her muscles all were tight. She yawned, covering her mouth.
“Tired you are, lady?” asked Dalila as she rocked Ruetha in her arms. Her daughter’s eyes were closed, and a faint smile crossed the child’s lips.
Anna nodded. How long had it been since she had held hers like that? How long since Elizabetta … ? She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking very well.”
“Have you had enough to eat?” asked Daffyd’s sister.
“Yes. It was good.”
“Then shoo … . You need some rest. Four days in the saddle.’Course you’d be tired.” With her free left hand, Dalila gestured toward the guest room. “You just climb into that bed and sleep till you wake. We’ll leave bread and cheese for you. So don’t worry. Get some rest.”
“Thank you. I will.” Anna eased out from the bench, almost stumbling because her feet felt so heavy, vaguely amused at the pert and motherly tone from the young woman.
“Now … you be sleeping well, lady,” Madell said heartily as he stepped closer to her, almost grinning.
“I’m very much looking forward to getting a good night’s
sleep
,” Anna said. She turned away from Madell and looked at Dalila. “Thank you again for dinner. It was the best food I’ve had in a long time.”
Dalila flushed. “You’d just be saying that, Lady Anna.”
“I meant it. Thank you.” She turned to Daffyd. “Good night, Daffyd.” And then to Madell. “Good night.”
She stopped in the doorway of the guest room, but someone—Madell, she guessed—had lit the single candle on the dresser. So she stepped into the room and closed the door, letting the latch click.
Anna hadn’t liked the looks from Madell, or the tone of his words, and she stopped and checked the door. There was only a simple catch, not a bolt, nor a lock. She grinned as she saw the simple chamberpot behind the door, but the smile faded.
What if Madell came after her? Would he, in the same house as his wife or consort or whatever the term was? Anna snorted. Madell’s type well might. Were men the same everywhere? She shook her head. Brill had been a gentleman; he’d even tried to give youth to Liende with his death. Anna’s eyes burned for a moment. Nothing ever turned out the way anyone planned.
Her eyes drifted back to the door. She yawned, not wanting to deal with Madell. But she didn’t want to deal with a surprise visitor in the middle of the night, either.
Her fingers strayed to the truncheon and the knife at her belt, then she shook her head. Unless she wanted to hurt or kill the man, they wouldn’t do much good, and he was probably physically stronger than she was.
Sorcery? Her lips tightened. Same problem. Assuming she could sing, she could kill him … but that wouldn’t make things any better, especially for Daffyd’s sister. She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. Why did things keep getting more complicated? Why?
The room was close, still hot, although some air circulated through the louvers of the shutters. The single candle fluttered on the narrow dresser.
All she wanted was to be left alone, to get some rest, but she had a gut feeling that it wouldn’t work out that way.
First, she stacked the saddlebags with the tools in them against the back of the door. Then, with one eye on the door, she rummaged through the other set of saddlebags. She had the one gown, not in the best of shape, that Palian had—bless her heart—stuffed into the saddlebags. But she couldn’t keep sleeping in her clothes. Finally, still watching the door, she slipped out of the filthy riding clothes and into the somewhat cleaner gown.
She still didn’t have an answer.
All she wanted was for him to leave her alone. Just—go away. Then, she smiled, and began to call up the words. They were appropriate, and she didn’t even have to change them. She spoke them all the way through twice, then hummed the melody.
After turning back the covers, she slipped the truncheon and knife under the corner of the thin pillow, then blew out the candle and stretched out on the pallet—lumpy like every mattress or bed she’d found in Erde. But it didn’t matter. Her eyes closed almost immediately.
Sccccttcchhh …
Anna woke to the scratchy sliding sound of the door being opened and pushing the saddlebags. She sat up and pulled the knife from the sheath, her sleepy hands fumbling as she did. Grasping the truncheon was easier. She slid to the end of the bed, trying to get her eyes to focus, and to clear her head.
She was so groggy—and tired. The words? The song? Something about going away? Why? Why?
Sccctttcchhhh
… Now the door was being closed.
She could make out the vague outline of a figure padding toward the bed.
“Oh … you’re awake and waiting, lass … .” Madell’s soft words oozed toward her.
Her head ached, and she kept trying to remember what she was going to sing. Why did it take her so long to think when she woke? She wanted to cry in frustration, even as she edged away from Madell.
“Now … with your fine protector gone, who will look after you, lass?” Madell whispered, his hands grasping her wrist. “You’re no sorceress, just a pretty trollop pretending to be one. You need a real man …”
Anna tried to think. What were the damned words? Damn! What were they? Why couldn’t she think? Because she was so damned tired?
“The door?” she asked.
His hand relaxed slightly as his head turned toward the
door. Anna jerked away from him, standing and holding the knife low as Albero had taught her.
“Go away …” she murmured to herself. Finally! She had them.
In the gloom, Madell looked at the shimmering blade, and at the way she held the knife, and paused.
Anna began to sing as she stood there, trying to keep her weight balanced, hoping the words would be enough, mentally insisting that they suffice.
“Go away from my window,
go away from my door.
Oh, please go away from this heart of mine,
and trouble me no more.”
Madell stopped short of her, as if he had run into an invisible wall. He reached toward her a second time, then recoiled.
Anna slashed with the knife, drawing a bloody line across his wrist, but Madell’s lunge stopped short of her again.
“What ha’ ye done to me?”
“Not nearly so much as I will,” snapped Anna, “if you don’t get out of here and leave me alone.”
Slowly, Madell backed toward the door as Anna advanced, still keeping the knife low. She wanted to kill the bastard.

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