The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (34 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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“This is the lady Anna, the sorceress the Prophet summoned. She has ridden for the past week to answer his summons.” Menares waited.
“As you wish, counselor.” The sentry turned and opened the right-hand paneled door.
Menares gestured, and Anna entered, hoping it was not an elaborate trap, mentally readying the burning spell, hoping it would not be needed.
The room was long and not much more than five yards wide, with high shelves on both sides, and a single, manhigh window at the far end.
“What do you want, Menares?” The voice came from the end of the long battered table, where maps were strewn almost haphazardly. A pitcher and a single goblet stood in the midst of the various sheets of parchment and paper. In person, Behlem looked even less impressive. Hardly into his late twenties, the light beard concealed a weak chin and highlighted shifting watery eyes.
“This is the lady Anna,” Menares said, stepping forward into the space at the foot of the table. “She just arrived with an escort from Lord Hryding. He’s the lord in Synope.”
Behlem looked toward Anna, and the watery eyes focused.
Anna could feel her skin crawl, but she smiled. “Greetings, Lord Behlem. I am here because of your proclamation.”
“You are … younger than the waters showed.”
“I am who I am,” she responded.
“Will you help us against the dark ones?” The Prophet’s words were blunt, almost harsh.
“Yes,” Anna answered, equally bluntly. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Behlem blinked. Then he nodded, and said more matter-of-factly, “We are crowded here, Lady Anna, but I believe there will be room for you in the north tower with some of the other distinguished ladies and envoys.”
“And my player?” Anna asked.
“That is easier. There are smaller rooms with my players. All players seem to enjoy each other’s company. Unlike armsmen and counselors.” The Prophet smiled. “Menares
will ensure you are both comfortable.” He glanced at Menares. “She had an entourage?”
“Some armsmen from the south. I had thought to feed and quarter them for a day or two and then allow them to return to their lord with words from you.”
Behlem’s hand wandered to his beard again, even as his eyes strayed across Anna. Then he straightened in the chair. “I am sorry if I appear preoccupied.” He offered a broad smile. “If you would ensure that the lady’s needs are all completely satisfied, Menares, I would be most grateful.” Behlem turned back to Anna. “Have you supped yet?”
“No. We came to the … liedburg … as soon as we reached Falcor.” Anna’s head ached, and her legs still threatened to cramp.
“Then perhaps you could use the small hall to feed them before seeing to their quarters and needs?” Behlem smiled at the older man.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at dinner, Lady Anna. Surprise us.”
Anna suppressed the swallow and returned a smile. “I will try to, Lord Behlem.”
A faint frown crossed Behlem’s face and vanished. “Do so. I will see you after you have settled Lady Anna and her party, Menares.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The Prophet looked back at his maps, and Anna followed Menares from the dim study.
As they walked down the stone steps, Menares asked, “What are your impressions of the Prophet, lady sorceress?”
“He is preoccupied … perhaps worried about having the resources to do what he must.” That was certainly safe enough.
“What else?”
“He’s younger than I had thought.”
“So are you. And more beautiful. Perhaps too much so,” the counselor added dryly.
“I am not so young as I might appear, counselor, but I am here to do what I can to stop the dark ones.”
“Why? You come from afar.”
“Someone must,” Anna said. “And without making this land safe, how can I ensure my own safety?” She hoped that also struck the right chord, true as it was. No one was going to feel happy with a sorceress they didn’t feel grateful to—or something like that.
“You see to the heart of matters.”
Anna wanted to shake her head, but she followed the counselor back toward the courtyard.
I
n the courtyard below, another set of messengers had arrived, their horses’ hoofs clacking on the ancient stones. The unwavering sun cast the shadows of the walls across most of the eastern side of the courtyard.
Anna wiped her forehead and turned from the narrow window back into the hot confines of the modest tower room. Falcor was more humid than Synope or Mencha—not so bad as Ames in the summer, but hot and damp enough to make her uncomfortable. Could she come up with some spell to cool the place?
Less than four yards square, the stone walls contained a bed somewhere in width between a double and a twin, perhaps a three-quarter bed like the one in her grandparents’ guest room on the Cumberland holler farm. Every bed in Defalk seemed to be a different size, but she supposed each was built individually for the room it was to occupy.
She had a flat dressing table with a mirror that distorted her image slightly, a stool, a straight-backed armless chair, a large chest, a washtable, and the ubiquitous chamberpot. There was also a jakes on the level below her, but the smell
outside it was overpowering. A single braided purple-andbeige rug lay on the floor, its braid frayed and close to unraveling. The purple coverlet on the bed was also frayed and worn with remnants of stains that no washing could remove.
A large pitcher of water with a single goblet stood on the chest. She’d definitely orderspelled the water, especially after the ride through Falcor. She’d cobbled together yet another spell to rid the room of vermin the night before, and the immediate headache she’d received had convinced her that there had been vermin, and that she would be better using the mandolin or lutar whenever she could.
Still, she had slept better than since she had left Brill’s hall, despite some nightmares where faceless figures in dark robes had chased her through the night. Were the dark ones still looking for her?
Anna snorted to herself. Had they stopped seeking her?
Breakfast had arrived on a tray, as had a midday lunch, and she had enjoyed both the attention and the time to relax and practice the chords on the lutar, far trickier than she had imagined. But she didn’t doubt she was a prisoner of sorts—although the only bolt on the door was on the inside.
That didn’t matter for the moment. What was important was getting ready for the dinner reception, just like for a performance, and that’s what it would be.
Thunnnnkk!
The heavy knocker on the tower door clunked.
“Lady Anna …”
The two pages who had apparently been assigned to her, as some sort of disciplinary duty, she suspected, stood there. Their arms were filled with ill-assorted fabric, with shades ranging from mottled brown to mottled green.
“Just bring me some cloth, linen and cotton,” Anna had said. “Any kind.” Well … they had brought all kinds.
“Put it on the bed.”
“Would you like anything else, lady?” asked the thin redhead.
Anna ignored the slight overemphasis on “lady,” and
answered. “Is there a bathing room in the tower?”
“Ah … no, Lady Anna.”
“Then bring me two large basins of clean water. And some good soap.”
Both pairs of shoulders slumped.
“I know. It’s a long walk.” She smiled. “But I would appreciate it, since I must appear in court tonight.”
“Court?”
“Before the Prophet,” the sorceress explained. Every so often she used some common phrase, and everyone looked blank. It was so like the year she had studied in London.
The two exchanged glances.
“We could bring a big bucket for your basin,” said the redhead.
“If you could get one more basin with the bucket …”
“We’ll try, lady,” promised the more voluble redhead.
After they left, Anna sorted through the dozen yards or so of assorted fabric. Some appeared to be cotton, and a small swatch of blue was something like velvet. All was poor quality.
After picking up the lutar again, she had to spend more time tuning it, and she probably would every time until the strings finally broke. Three spells later, two goblets of water, and more retunings than that, she had a passably decent recital—or court—gown, a dressing robe, and a nightgown. And still several yards of cloth left.
She’d have to think about what else she needed. In the interim, she folded the spare fabric and tucked it under the bed.
Shoes? What could she do about shoes? She snorted.
Green suede shoes, instead of blue? Why not?
That worked easily, even if she never had seen green suede heels. The spell, or her visualization, had even matched the suede with the green of the gown. She tried not to worry about the source of the leather. At least her boots remained intact.
Then, reminded of the heat by the sweat on her forehead, and the need for another goblet of water, she tried a cooling
spell, using an offshoot of the basic water melody.
Mist rolled off the walls, and a hammer slammed through her skull. She slumped into the chair and massaged her forehead. Maybe enduring the heat was easier.
She just sat for a time, until another thunk on the door announced the return of the two youths with the water.
After standing and setting the lutar in the corner by the window, Anna opened the door.
The redhead gaped at the bed, where the green gown lay, with the shoes beneath. “Where … lady? Did you bring a seamstress?”
“Sorceresses make their own gowns, didn’t you know?”
“It’s cool in here.” The dark-haired page set the heavy bucket on the floor. “Cooler than down in the water room.” His arms trembled.
“Don’t spill the water, lad,” Anna cautioned. She paused. “I can’t keep calling you two ‘lad’ or what have you. What are your names?”
Both swallowed.
“Uhhh …”
Anna shook her head. “Names mean nothing. If I wanted to, I could cast a spell on you without your names.”
“But …”
Anna waited.
“I’m Birke,” said the redhead. “My father is Lord of Abenfel.”
“Skent. My father was guard-captain of the liedburg.” The brightness of Skent’s eyes warned Anna.
“Bear with me,” she said. “I have much to learn. I am a stranger here.”
“Is it true you’re from the mist worlds?” asked Birke. “That’s what the armsmen who brought you said.”
“Yes.”
“What are the mist worlds like?” Birke persisted.
“I only know my own world. Where I live is cooler than here, especially in the winter … .” Anna paused and looked at Skent, who was holding himself still and trying to keep his lip stiff.
She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t touch me.” His words were cold and trembling.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to upset you, but I can tell it hurts.”
“How would you know?” burst forth from the dark-haired boy.
“My children are in my world,” Anna said. “My oldest daughter died not very long ago, and it still hurts.”
Birke stiffened, but Skent continued to tremble.
“I wanted to hold her …” Anna swallowed, then said quietly, “I never can.” She pulled back into herself. “I’m sorry, Skent. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“That’s … all right. You are a lady.”
“Can we do anything else?” Birke asked quickly.
“No.” Anna glanced to the window. “How long before dinner?”
“They eat when the sun sets,” Skent said coldly, the chill radiating from his words.
“Thank you.” She paused. “I need to wash up and get ready, then.”
The two slipped out, and Anna did not close the door all the way, listening to whispers over the steps that slapped down the stone stairs.
“Maybe she is a sorceress … .”
“ … better act like she is, Skent … she’s something, and I wouldn’t want to get in her way … .”
“She seems nice … a lot nicer than the others, anyway … .”
Anna hoped the story would get around. She needed all the help she could get, and that might not be enough. Her eyes flicked to the lutar and then to the heavy bucket of water. She had a lot to do.
Even washing up wasn’t that simple. She had to use another spell to clean the water again in order to wash her hair, but she wasn’t going to her first dinner with the Prophet of Music without looking her best.
The bell in the liedburg differed from that used by Brill, but Anna was ready, looking out the window toward the
sun that touched the tops of the houses on the west side of Falcor.
Thuuunk.
“Dinner will be served, lady,” called Birke, his high voice carrying through the heavy wood.
“I’ll be right there.” Anna glanced at the mirror and patted her head a last time, trying to nudge the blonde strands into a better semblance of order.
Birke gulped audibly as the sorceress stepped into the narrow hallway. She smothered the smile, knowing that she was treading a fine line, but the gown was conservative, with slightly puffed short sleeves and a square-cut neck that did not show any cleavage, even if the cut of the fabric hinted not quite blatantly that she was feminine.
Skent smiled shyly.
“Are you feeling a little better?” she asked.
“A little, lady.”
“Can you two tell me who will be at this dinner?”
Both shook their heads.
“They don’t tell us. We have to stay in the tower during the day, except when we fetch things,” Birke explained. “That’s why we don’t mind going for water or cloth or things. Not too much, anyway.”
“Where is this dinner?” Anna asked, putting out a hand to the rough stone wall. The last thing she needed was to tumble down the narrow stone steps.
“In the middle hall,” said Birke.
“No one uses the great hall,” Skent added.
Anna wanted to sneeze as each step seemed to raise more dust. Her eyes were watering by the time they left the tower and walked along a paneled side hall—windowless, with only intermittent lamps. After less than twenty yards, Birke turned left into a larger corridor, where the sconces contained larger brass lamps. The lamps on the left side had been lit, and a page with a striker stood on a stool at the far sconce on the right side. Anna’s heels clicked on the tile floors that had been recently swept.
Halfway down the corridor, an older page or a young
armsman stood before the pair of guards outside a set of arched double doors.
“That be the middle hall,” whispered Skent.
Anna stopped. Now what?
“Giellum, this is the lady Anna. She’s the sorceress from the mist world,” explained Birke.
“Lady Anna.” Giellum bowed, and turned toward the doors. The guards opened the doors, and he stepped through. “The lady Anna!”
Anna smiled at Birke and Skent, then straightened and walked into the formal dining hall. The room was dim, with only three triple candelabra upon the table lit, a table under the pair of unlit chandeliers that contained close to twenty men—not a single woman. Within herself, Anna stiffened, but she kept the smile in place.
“How do you know she’s a sorceress?” The single remark from somewhere near the head of the table hung in the sudden silence.
Before anyone else could speak, Anna sang the candle spell almost loud enough to shiver the crystal chandeliers—and the room flooded with light. A quick look up told her that her spell had burned down the top third of every candle.
About half the jaws around the long table hung down.
“For the moment, will that do?” Anna asked, inclining her head slightly to the sandy-haired Lord of Neserea.
“Yes. That will do, Lady Anna.” Behlem smiled broadly. “Does anyone else wish to question the lady’s capabilities?”
The silence answered the question.
The Prophet gestured to the empty place at his right.
As Anna passed up the table toward the head, she caught a few whispers.
“ … Prophet has the luck of the dissonant …”
“ … take luck over skill any day …“
“ … never seen a sorceress that lovely …”
She kept the professional smile all the way up the table, where at another nod from Lord Behlem, she took the empty seat to his right, noting that not one of the men
around the table even made a gesture toward her chair.
“Lady Anna, you have met Menares,” the Prophet said after she sat.
Anna nodded across the table to the white-haired counselor, who returned the nod and gave a half smile.
“This is Hanfor, overcaptain of the Prophet’s Lancers.” Behlem inclined his head toward a square-faced officer in the cream and blue that marked the Nesereans. Hanfor was seated to the right of Menares.

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