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Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.

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BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
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“Information for information.” Brill nodded. “I will tell you a bit, and then we will dine, and we will talk.” He cleared his throat. “Where should I begin?”
“Explain about Erde. Daffyd mentioned something about dark ones and great dangers, but that was about all.” Anna smiled brightly. She felt as though she were pasting the smile in place.
“Erde … . Erde is the world. She is governed by the laws of music, and by the influence of the moons—Darksong and Clearsong. She is also governed by iron, cold iron. That seems to be true to a degree in all worlds,” Brill added sardonically. “The Dark Monks are a new force in the world, new in the sense that their brotherhood dates back only a few decades, but already they have taken over Ebra and threaten both Defalk and Ranuak, although the Matriarch of the Ranuans insists that the dark ones are no danger.”
“Why are they dangerous?” Anna asked.
“Because they use massed voices to create darksong. They can sometimes change the weather, and there are those that claim the hot and dry years that have recently plagued Defalk are their doing.”
“You’re one of those who believes this,” Anna said flatly.
Brill shrugged and offered the quick, warm smile. “I cannot prove that, but, yes, I do believe that they have meddled with the weather.” The smile vanished. “They will do worse in the seasons ahead.”
“I’m not clear on the difference between darksong and
clearsong … .” Anna didn’t even know what they were, except that they had something to do with the way sorcery was practiced on Erde, but there was no reason to confess to total ignorance.
A ghost of a frown flitted across the sorcerer’s face before he spoke. “You have seen that the world can be recorded to some degree by manipulating the music that binds its components together. The stronger the aspects of the spell, the more effective it is.”
Anna nodded. That made a strange sort of sense.
“But there are two sets of bindings on Erde—those that bind the living, or once living, and those that bind the nonliving. It is dangerous to attempt to manipulate the living—and difficult.”
“But those who do are the darksingers?” she asked.
“Ah … yes …” Brill looked vaguely disconcerted.
“Are the dark ones—”
“They use some clearsong, too, in dealing with the weather. That’s because a single voice doesn’t have enough power, even with a large number of supporting players.” The sorcerer paused, then added, “Your gown would indicate that you are, in fact, one of the great … ones.”
Anna wondered at the pause, as though Brill were having trouble finding the appropriate word. “I’m considered to have a moderately strong voice. In my world, it’s hard to make it, especially if you have children.”
“You’re a sorceress, and you have children?” Brill’s voice was not quite unbelieving.
“Three.” Anna swallowed. “They’re grown.” They certainly were by the standards of this world, and she didn’t want to try to explain. “One was killed in a car accident—a magic-carriage accident,” she added.
“How old are they?” Brill asked, clearly confused.
“Twenty-four and eighteen. The oldest was twenty-eight.” Anna enjoyed the look of total confusion on the sorcerer’s face.
“Years? Or seasons? Do they grow up more quickly?”
“Years. Probably we grow up more slowly, from what I’ve seen so far,” Anna said.
Brill sat down slowly in his padded chair. “Daffyd … . I wouldn’t have …” The warm smile returned. “You do indeed present a welcome surprise, perhaps a greater surprise than many would expect.” He stood and gestured toward the table, extending a hand to Anna. “Let us dine.”
She took his hand, a normal, warm male hand, and rose. She could smell the faint odor of sweaty male—deodorants didn’t go with magic, she gathered.
Brill dropped her hand, without squeezing, and gestured toward the place on the right. The place setting included a folded, faded blue linen napkin, a blue china plate with the
B
, fired in place in the center, edged in a gold trim, a silver spoon more like a soup spoon, and a small sharp knife. There was no fork.
The two chairs at the table were both finished in metallic blue lacquer with blue cushions. Brill pulled out her chair with both hands, and Anna almost nodded to herself. The chair was heavy.
The outer walls of the keep or hall shaded the blue-tinted windows from the glare of the sun, low in the sky, Anna suspected, from the angle and depth of the shadows in the courtyard. The area she could see from the window was empty—no retainers, no guards. She looked back to the sorcerer.
“I must apologize in advance, lady. Our fare here is limited.” The sorcerer lifted a crystal bell and rang it before seating himself.
As the tones echoed through the salon, a white-haired woman in the faded blue that all Brill’s servitors and employees, if that was what they were, wore appeared with a small tray.
Silently, the server placed a half melon in front of each of them. The melon had a bright orange interior and a yellow-green rind, like a cousin of a cantaloupe.
“The melons are probably the best part of the meal,”
Brill noted, reaching for a crystal carafe containing the same amber vinegar wine.
“No, thank you,” Anna said quickly.
“You do not like the wine?”
Anna scarcely would have called it wine.
“I’d prefer clean, cold water, if you don’t mind.”
“Some sorcerers do, I’ve discovered. The blue pitcher has water in it.” He filled his own goblet with the amber wine.
“Do you have to spell all the water here?” Anna asked, pouring the water into the empty goblet.
“I do. All the water used in the hall is clean, even the bathing water.”
“I see why people call your hall a place of wonders.” Anna wasn’t so sure she was happy about a world where it was considered excessively cautious to purify the bathing water.
“Jenny said that? Generous of her. It couldn’t have been Daffyd. He wouldn’t offer me a kind word.”
“You don’t seem bothered by his dislike of you.” Anna used the small sharp knife to cut away a bite-sized slice of the melon, slipping it into her mouth. It was warmer than she liked melon, half honeydew, half cantaloupe, but sweet and refreshing. She cut another slice.
“I’d dislike me were I in his boots.” Brill took a sip of the wine. “Not too bad.”
“Why would you dislike yourself if you were Daffyd?”
“I killed his father. It was necessary, because Culain’s humming was getting worse, and he wouldn’t listen.” Brill set down the fluted goblet. “Lady Anna … using spellsong is always dangerous. You said your daughter died in a magic-carriage accident. It is much the same way here on Erde. My father tried to use spellsong too long. There was less of him left than of Culain.” Brill laughed, a sound with bitter overtones. “Of course, it didn’t help that he tried to turn a thunderstorm on Lord Barjim’s grandfather.”
Anna shook her head. “Your father was—”
“Politics. They’re always complicated. Barjim was raised
by his uncle. Donjim was the older son, but none of his children lived. Barjim and I don’t care much for each other personally, but he needs a sorcerer, and I, obviously, need silver.”
“Just as you need Daffyd?” Anna guessed.
“Precisely. I thought you might understand. Daffyd is a good player, and I would certainly not take askance if you remained friendly with him. Do keep in mind that, like all players, he has a tendency to … react … rather than consider the effects of his efforts.”
Anna cut another slice of melon and chewed slowly, trying to gather her thoughts together.
Brill cut himself a wedge of melon larger than Anna’s and popped it into his mouth with relish.
“It’s often hard to consider the future when you are struggling with the present,” Anna temporized.
“If you don’t, you often have no future.”
“If you don’t eat today,” countered Anna, “you may not live long enough to worry about a future.” Even on Erde, it appeared, there were the elitists who preached about preparing for tomorrow while conveniently forgetting that too many people had trouble getting through today. Elitists like Avery, who used his money on vacation homes while insisting that she share in the children’s college tuition costs, while preaching that she hadn’t saved enough after she’d followed him everywhere and given up her chances at tenure to try to let him have his big chance.
“If I were to allow people to use seed grain for flour, we’d all have starved,” Brill said coolly.
Anna swallowed her retort, realizing that she couldn’t afford to make the sorcerer angry, just like she couldn’t afford to make her department chair angry, her thesis advisor angry, Avery angry … . Instead, she took a last slice of melon and chewed it slowly, looking out the window into the still-empty courtyard.
“It can be a hard choice,” she finally said.
“Hard indeed, and I am often called cruel for it.” Brill
refilled his goblet with the amber wine. “All prudent lords are in this time of trouble.”
The white-haired server removed the melons, leaving the plates, then used a crude spatula to lever a brown-covered slab of meat onto Anna’s plate. Next came a whitish green heap of something. Finally, she set a steaming loaf of the brown bread in the center of the table.
Brill nodded at the server, who departed as silently as she had slipped into the salon.
Anna looked at the brown sauce that covered the hefty slice of meat. The sauce reminded her of all the mystery meats she hadn’t eaten when she’d been studying in England. She tried to sniff the meat without being too obvious.
“It’s not the best beef,” the sorcerer admitted, “but the sauce is good. Only the tougher animals have been able to weather the drought.”
“How long has the drought continued?” asked Anna, using the knife to slice a sliver of beef.
“This is the fourth year.” Brill cut a large chunk of meat and eased the entire portion into his mouth.
Anna repressed a shudder, although she’d seen Mario do the same thing all too often. She chewed her small slice—tough despite a marinated sauce that was sweet and acidic simultaneously. If what the sorcerer was putting in front of her happened to be good food, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what the common folk ate.
“Because of the dark ones?”
“It appears that way. Ebra is getting good rains, and the Ebrans are selling melons and grains to the Ranuans and the Norweians. Before they took over, the weather was spotty there.” The sorcerer cut another slice off his slab of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, wiping his fingers on the necessarily large napkin, then breaking off a chunk of bread. After that he took and ate another enormous chunk of meat.
“Why are they doing it?” asked Anna, not quite sure what she was asking. “What do you think?” She followed Brill’s example and took a corner of the bread. A mouthful
convinced her that it was far better than the meat.
“Does what I think matter? I wish I knew. Oh, I can summon images that show what they do, and that’s clear enough. They spell-move the Whispering Sands south and west, uncovering once fertile ground, and covering the groves and grasslands of Ranuak.” Brill sipped from the goblet. “The Ranuans insist that the sands move naturally, but they must know better. The sand-moving gives better crops to the Ebrans, who thank the dark ones, and weakens the Ranuans. Beyond that, I can see that this prosperity allows them to equip and feed better and more troops. I can only guess at the planned use of those troops. The water mirrors do not read intent, as you know.”
“And you guess what?” Anna took a sip of water and another mouthful of bread.
“They will invade Defalk, sooner or later—before harvest this year, or no later than next.” He shrugged. “That is but a guess.”
Anna lifted the deep spoon and tried the whitish green mess—which turned out to be something like tart and unsweetened fried apples. She had another bite.
“After seeing how you preferred water, I thought you might like the sour apples.”
“They are good,” Anna said, “but I can’t live on fruit alone. The dark bread is quite good, too.” She followed her second spoonful of apples with another thin slice of the tough beef. The brown sauce helped, but the apples and the bread helped more.
“What will you do to stop them—the dark ones?” Anna asked after several bites.
The sorcerer finished yet another large mouthful of beef before he spoke. “I have helped Lord Barjim build walls on Defalk’s side of the Sand Pass, but they will only slow the armies of the dark ones.” He frowned. “I had not meant to speak of it, but I had wondered whether you might have some special magic, such as the mighty weapons of your world.”
Anna thought. She didn’t want to admit she was essentially
clueless, but how could she answer him? Finally, she spoke. “Our world is different, and the way our technology works requires many technicians. Each adds something. I am only one person.”
“What is a ‘technician’?”
BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
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