The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (45 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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“No.”
“And you let him live?” asked the Prophet silkily. “You let him offer such insolence and live?”
“Whether to kill him or not isn’t my decision, Lord Behlem. I didn’t see much point in trying to kill someone who is a potential ally against the Ebrans.”
“You forget yourself, Lady Anna,” snapped Behlem.
Menares put a hand on the Prophet’s sleeve, but Behlem shook it off. “I am the Prophet. You are a stranger. You know nothing of Defalk or Liedwahr. How can you tell me what is wise?”
“I have seen the dark ones,” Anna said, forcing herself to remain calm, even though Behlem reminded her of all too many arrogant graduate students. “I have fought them. You have not.”
“You did not defeat them.”
Anna remained silent, seething.
“No …” added Menares slowly. “Yet she destroyed more darksingers than anyone ever has, as you yourself have said, my lord. And she killed several thousand Ebran armsmen—more than our armies have.”
Behlem twisted toward the older man, then smoothed his face. “And?” he asked Anna. “Why did you let him live?”
The sorceress couldn’t quite believe that the Prophet had heard nothing of what she had said—tike so many junior DMAs who thought their doctorates counted for more than a lifetime of experience. She rephrased her answer. “Lord Jecks has agreed not to fight you, and he has agreed to fight them. You lose nothing.”
Behlem fingered his beard. Finally, he looked directly at her. “Have you told
anyone
?”
“No. The message was for you. All I told Spirda was that you had requested Lord Jecks’ alliance and that I was asked to deliver his reply.”
“Are you sure of that, Lady Anna.”
“I’m sure,” Anna said coldly, “and when I say something is true, it’s true.”
Behlem’s eyes smoldered, but his fingers brushed the beard again.
Menares swallowed, easing back from the Prophet.
Abruptly, Behlem laughed. “So! Well, nothing’s changed. He isn’t a friend, and he isn’t an enemy, and he won’t attack, and you told Spirda the decisions were mine. There are worse things.”
Anna waited.
After a moment, Behlem nodded. “You may go. We will discuss your idea.” His eyes went to Menares.
The sorceress got the message and bowed. “By your leave.” Then she turned and left, opening the door for herself on the way out, barely managing not to slam it.
In his childish way, Behlem was dangerous, paranoid. He’d baited her just to see if he could find a reason to distrust her, and then he’d almost tossed her out.
He’d learn. Anna knew what battles to fight, and when, and Behlem’s turn would come.
In the meantime, she wanted Garreth to start drawing. With the way Avery was behaving and the agony on Elizabetta’s face, Anna had to do something—or try. Her instincts—Brill’s cautions—told her that her communications with earth were likely to be very limited.
MENCHA, DEFALK
T
he songmaster rises from the table in the salon as the lancer officer enters through the unused main dining area. The officer glances around and shakes his head.
“Opulent for a mere wizard,” notes Eladdrin. His eyes focus on the spare figure, in the dusty gray black uniform. “What did you find, Ghurey?”
“Begging your pardon, Songmaster …”
“You found nothing?”
“We found traces of horses. We got the tale from the local farmers, but …” The dark lancer with the line of blacker braid across his shoulder shrugs. “The blonde bitch rode out to Sorprat and crossed the ford. She rode up to the top of the bluffs, and she stayed there for maybe a glass. Then she rode back.” Ghurey smiles. “We did find out something else interesting, though.”
“Oh?”
“She met with a local lord—Jecks—outside of Pamr. They met in a meadow, just the two of them. Then she rode back to Falcor.”
Eladdrin rubs his temples, then shakes his head.
“You think, ser, she was expecting to meet him at Sorprat? He’s from Elhi, and Sorprat’s two days’ ride closer than Pamr.”
“It’s hard to believe she rode four days for a short meeting in a meadow.” Eladdrin drawls out the words. “You are certain there was no sorcery at the ford?”
“None so as I could detect. The highway was sound, and the stones of the ford were firm. We tested’em with spells and iron rods. Not that I liked to running forces along any road with a sorcerer or sorceress around.” Ghurey shifts his weight from one dusty boot to the other.
Eladdrin nods. “What about the river?”
“How could you tell? It’s running water. Your darksingers didn’t feel a thing.” Ghurey pauses, then asks, “Can you say when we be heading out?”
“Not long. Not long.” The Songmaster smiles, briefly. “Thank you.”
“Sorry we found nothing.”
“You did what you could.”
“Thank you, ser.” The lancer bows, turns, and makes his way through the dim structure toward the heat beyond.
After the other leaves, Eladdrin turns to the small mirror. basin he has set up in the corner, and after doing the necessary, studies the image in the waters again, but the shimmering waters only show the road up from the ford at Sorprat and the river bluffs that have not changed in years, only brown grasses and empty spaces to the east, only a farming valley to the west.
The Songmaster shakes his head again.
A
nna shifted on the stool as Garreth worked on the sketch.
“Most sorcerers or sorceresses would not wish their likeness to be taken,” said the young woman, pausing to study Anna intently before dipping the fine-pointed stylus in the ink again.
“I can see why.”
“It’s so pleasant here,” Garreth said, glancing from Anna to the paper before her again.
Anna nodded.
“Virkan is even nice now.” Garreth paused. “Birke says that you bespelled him. Is that true?”
“I put a spell on him that told him to be kind to people.”
“It be unfortunate you could not do that to more souls.”
“That would not be a good idea. I only did it because Virkan was hurting people. Doing it still bothers me. I don’t like meddling with people.”
Garreth shook her head minutely, but dipped the stylus again.
Anna wondered if the young woman disapproved of Anna’s qualms or Virkan. The sorceress suspected that Garreth would like more than a few people bespelled, as if that kind of sorcery would solve anything. It was only another kind of force, and force always led to force.
“How soon can you be finished?” Anna asked after a time.
“It is almost done—a poor likeness, but you had stressed speed, lady.”
Anna walked over and looked down at the board. She couldn’t help smiling as she saw the face Garreth had drawn—almost a young face, yet one with character, with features carrying the refined sharpness of experience, the character that never showed in the faces of those truly young—but a face that was too thin.
She shook her head ruefully.
“You do not like it? I should have taken—”
“No. You did a good job. Especially for just two sessions. You can take more time on another one, but I need this one sooner rather than perfect.”
“‘Sooner rather than perfect’?” Garreth laughed. “When you speak suchly, it is easy to tell that you are a stranger.”
Thunk.
With the rap on the door, Anna crossed the room and opened it.
Cens stood outside. He bowed. “Lady Anna, the Prophet has requested your presence at a more formal dinner honoring Lord Dencer this evening. He has requested that you attire yourself appropriately.” As the page finished repeating the words, his face reddened.
“Thank you, Cens. The words aren’t yours, and I know
that. You may tell the Prophet or Menares that I will be there.” Anna smiled.
Cens looked at the stones of the landing, then looked up. “Thank you, Lady Anna.”
She waited until he had turned and started down before closing the heavy door. She felt like slamming the iron bolt closed or screaming. Instead, she walked to the window and looked out at the heat of midday. Beyond the walls of the liedburg, Falcor looked dusty, even more deserted. A pair of crows flapped across the sun-bleached sky away from the river.
Dress appropriately indeed! That was nothing more than a request that she look more feminine, and a not-so-subtle power play.
“You look displeased,” offered Garreth.
“I’m not exactly overjoyed to be ordered into what I wear,” Anna said wryly as she turned.
Garreth’s face went blank.
“I know, Garreth. It seems small enough to you, when you worry about being cast aside, or worse. But it’s not as small as it seems. What would you feel if the lady Essan told you she did not like what you wore?”
“Oh …”
“Lord Behlem likes to control all those around him. That can’t be a secret, can it?” Anna forced a grin.
Garreth gave a quick smile, then dipped the stylus in the ink again as Anna sat back on the stool.
In time, the young artist set aside the stylus and corked her ink bottle. “That be what I can do this way.”
Anna uncramped herself from her perch on the stool and stood, stretching. “Thank you.”
Garreth eased the small drawing off her board and laid it gently on one of the few clear spaces on the bed. “This should dry for a time.”
Anna studied the images again, amazed at how closely the woman resembled her, and yet how different the sorceress was from the singer she had been. Then she turned and fumbled in the belt wallet until she came up with a pair
of silvers that she pressed into Garreth’s hand. “These aren’t enough, but I hope they help.”
“Lady … I could not.”
“Garreth, your work is worth that. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Save the silvers until you need them. I hope you don’t, but I doubt that either Lady Essan or I stand highly in the Prophet’s liking.”
“He respects you, lady. All know that,” protested the artist.
“Respect and liking are not the same.” Anna’s eyes flicked to the picture. “I like it.”
“I be glad.”
“Me, too. Now, I have to worry about appropriate attire.”
“You could use a maid, lady.”
“I probably could,” Anna answered, ignoring the implication, “but that’s something that will have to wait.”
Garreth bowed.
“I’ll put you first, if you still want it, when the time comes,” Anna added as the younger woman’s hand touched the door. “I’m not making too many long-range plans at the moment.”
“Thank you, Lady Anna.” Garreth’s voice was warmer.
After the girl left, Anna went back to the bed and studied the picture. The ink needed to dry a bit, but it would do. As she had requested, Garreth had drawn her sitting on a stone bench on the tower roof, with a sketchy view of Falcor behind. Now … if Anna’s planned sorcery worked …
She glanced to the door, then to the two gowns hanging from the pegs in the corner. “Attire yourself appropriately!” Chauvinist pig!
After a deep breath, she slipped out into the heat of the landing, and began to climb the stairs. When she reached the upper level, Anna knocked on the door. Synondra opened it fractionally, started to speak, then stopped as she recognized Anna. “She … was resting, Lady Anna, but I will see if she will take company.” The door shut, then reopened immediately.
“Anna … come in, if you don’t mind a rumpled old lady. Synondra, go play for a bit.”
Synondra looked at Anna and mouthed, “Not too long.”
“I saw that, Synondra. I won’t keep Anna that long, but she be a stranger here. She will listen because I have not yet bored her to death.” Essan waved toward the door again.
Synondra bowed. “I will be back before long, ladies.”
“A stubborn woman she be,” groused Essan. “Stubborn.”
Anna smiled. To deal with Lady Essan required stubbornness and then some, she suspected.
As the door closed, the older woman looked at Anna. “What need ye?”
“I’ve been summoned to a more formal dinner as sorceress and who knows what else because a Lord Dencer is here.”
“Behlem cannot awe him with his own power.” Essan nodded. “Dencer lords Stromwer, and those are the southernmost holdings in Defalk. If need be, he could pledge to Ranuak, and that would give the Ranuans a foothold west of the Ostfels.”
“I have been requested to attire myself appropriately.” Anna slipped into the unoccupied chair.
“What did you do to Behlem?” asked the older woman. “Pretty as you are, he only has you in his company when your power is vital, and Behlem has bedded every pretty skirt in the hall.”
“He could not bed me,” said Anna ruefully, “except by great force.”
And maybe not even then, I hope.
“So … he does place his power above his bed,” cackled Essan. “At least, sometimes. He should listen to his counselor more often.” She shrugged. “If he did, he would be stronger still.”
Anna wondered. Menares was playing a deeper game, but for whom she did not know, not yet. “I wore trousers to his last dinner.”
“Ha! Sorceress girl … I would wager that he did not
like. Like as to telling him you were equal to any man. No, he would not be pleased.” Essan laughed again. “Anna, I like you. A woman such as you could rule Defalk, and far better than those dunces, save perhaps Jecks, and he is wise enough to know he cannot hold Defalk by mere skill at arms.”
Anna just looked at the wrinkled countenance.
“Some device you might need, but,” Essan shrugged, “you could do it. And if ever you have the chance, woman, you take it, or the harmonies and I will haunt you eternally.”
“I doubt I’ll ever have a chance like that.”
“You being here says the times are changing and the tunes are new.” Essan refilled her goblet with the strongsmelling brandy. “You use your skills to see your children?”
“It was hard. I may not be able to do it many times.” Anna nodded. “Yet … I worry.”
“A mother you be not, if there is no worry. They will endure, though, without you, and if they could not, you could not save them, like as we would that it were other.”
Anna still worried.
“An’ ye still worry. That be always the lot of us who bear. Not that worry helps.” Essan took a deep swallow from the goblet. “Not that it helps, sorceress woman, not that I need tell you.”
The sorceress agreed there.
“Ye be here now, and here be where ye must stand. Poor Barjim. Always was he wishing it were otherwise. Otherwise it is never, and we must live the melody played. Even you, sorceress. Even you.” Essan fell silent.
“The melody played …” mused Anna, in the silence that followed.
The door creaked, and Synondra peered in. “Lady Essan … you needs must rest.”
“Rest? Rest be all I have left.” She winked at the sorceress, then added. “Visit an old woman again.”
“I will,” Anna promised as she stood. “I will.”
As the sorceress walked back down to her own room, she felt the tower shudder, as if the ground beneath were a string vibrating in sympathy with a massive chord plucked from the depths of Erde. Sweat beaded instantly on her forehead, and her hand went out to the stones of the wall. The wall was warm and firm.
She paused on the stone steps for a moment, but all was hot and still, without a trace of motion. Had she imagined the tremor?
She shook her head. She had felt
something,
even if she couldn’t identify it.

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