The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (52 page)

The silk overhead fluttered ever so slightly, and Anna opened her eyes, then closed them. Outside, leather creaked as one of her guards shifted his position.

Her arm still twinged at times, the one that had taken the crossbow bolt first, and it twinged now. She turned onto her side, carefully, so that she didn’t tip the lightweight cot.

The silk of the tent sidewall fluttered.

She couldn’t attack Dumar. Yet Dumar would attack Defalk. Or the Sea-Priests would. Or Bertmynn would use the aid of Sturinn to defeat Hadrenn, and then she’d face the Sea-Priests and their allies on two fronts, with the Liedfuhr on a third.

But she hadn’t the resources for an attack, even with sorcery. How could she convince Ehara to throw out the Sea-Priests? What kind of show of force would it take?

You . . . thinking like a hawk . . . or a warmonger . . .

Finally, she sat up and pulled on her boots before she stepped out into the darkness.

“Lady?” whispered the guard, Kerhor, from his voice.

“I just needed some air, Kerhor.”

“Yes, lady.” Kerhor straightened and followed her the dozen steps she took to a low rise.

On the eastern horizon was the tiny red disc that was Darksong, while high over ahead was the bright white disc of Clearsong. Two moons, music magic . . . sometimes she felt it had to be a dream—until she got shot by an arrow or floored by the backlash of her own magic.

Anna missed the big bright moon of earth. She missed a lot, still. Elizabetta, not that much older than Birke, her little redhead who wasn’t little, but all too far away, beyond even the scope of Anna’s glasses and reflecting pools.

Was her daughter in love under a bright moon? How long would she really miss Anna? Did Anna want her to grieve too long? Would she even grieve, knowing Anna was alive, somewhere? Should she?

The sorceress and regent shook her head slowly, taking a last look at the red moon on the horizon, then the white disc near its zenith, before slipping back into her tent, hoping she could sleep. Praying that she could.

T
here it is,” announced Birke, gesturing ahead as the van rode to the crest of the low hill.

Anna half stood in the stirrups to get a better view of Birke’s home. Like Synfal and Stromwer, Abenfel clearly dated from a more warlike period. The tall gray walls were without embrasures, and the gate towers were twice the size of those at Falcor. Despite the height of the walls, they seemed almost squat from their thickness, and each of the four walls stretched nearly a dek.

“It be a big place,” murmured Rickel to Lejun—the two guards riding immediately behind Anna and Jecks.

“More than half the rooms are empty. They have been for years, I guess,” Birke said. “We always had great fun at steal-away-and-find. I once found a funny set of drums, all attached in a frame, and all different sizes.”

“What happened to them?”

“My sire burned them.” Birke shrugged. “He said they were ancient magic that no decent folk should use I think there was a ballroom once on the third level. I saw it in the old drawings, but that was a long time ago, and now that space is where the library is.”

Jecks nodded at that.

Anna managed not to frown. Brill hadn’t been happy when she’d mentioned the use of multiple drums, but he’d never really explained, despite all her questions. And then he’d died before Anna could follow up. Jecks had clearly been unhappy with the ballroom at Synfal and had already told Herstat to do something about it—without telling Anna. Herstat had asked Anna—quietly. Anna had told him to go ahead. If it upset Jecks that much, it would
certainly have upset others. What she still didn’t understand was why they all went crazy about dancing. As if it were so immoral. Anna sighed quietly. She wouldn’t change that. And drums? What kind of sorcery went with drums? The books she’d gotten from Brill had alluded to their use, but she’d never had the time to pore through them all, not with the struggle of reading a language that was a cross between Old English and German.

As Farinelli carried her steadily along the dusty gray clay road, she studied the approach to the keep instead. Abenfel stood on a low hill, the gates to the north. Directly to the east and the south were higher grassy hills. To the west, the ground sloped gently for more than a dek to a line of trees, which marked, from what Anna could see, a bluff, possibly overlooking the Falche. Because of the haze, she could not make out the far side of the river, but she gained the impression that even the upper part of the Great Chasm was considerable. Was it like the Grand Canyon, or narrower and deeper like the Black Canyon of the Gunnison?

Her eyes went back to Abenfel.

A permanent bridge, of later construction from the darker stone, spanned a dry moat almost a hundred yards wide and ten deep and led to the open gates, roughly three yards high, and bound with dark iron.

One of the riders with Birke unfurled a green-and-gray pennant.

Hanfor nodded and murmured something to one of the scouts, who unfurled the Regency banner. Without speaking, both standard bearers rode to the front of the column.

High thin clouds were turning orange and pink as the sun dropped behind the lower peaks to the west, leaving only the tips of the higher mountains to the south in light, and but briefly.

No one spoke as the column rode across the bridge and causeway.

Anna had barely reined up in the courtyard of Abenfel before Lord Birfels crossed the worn but still well-set gray
paving stones. Birfels’ red hair was more than half white, and his ruddy complexion was blotched from too many years in the sun. “Regent Anna.”

“Lord Birfels.” Anna swung out of the saddle.

“You dress and ride like a lancer, as slim as many, if more deadly.” The faded brown eyes held a hint of a smile, and Anna could see the similarity between Birfels and his offspring—both Birke and his older sister Lysara, who had replaced Birke as a fosterling at Falcor.

Anna shrugged. “I’ve had to learn to ride, but a blade is beyond my skill.”

“Not a dagger, I understand.”

Anna tried not to flush. She’d never live down the time she’d gutted a Neserean lancer who’d tried to ambush her in Falcor’s stable. “I was fortunate.”

Birfels waited as a slender and white-haired woman neared. Despite the silvery-white hair, her face and figure conveyed that she was a good decade younger than the lord.

“Lady Anna, this is Fylena, my consort.”

“Lady Anna,” Fylena smiled warmly. “Birke has told us so much about you.”

“I am pleased to be here, Lady Fylena. I do hope Birke hasn’t revealed too many of my weaknesses.”

“From his tales, we were not aware that you had any.” Birfels offered another hearty laugh.

The southern lord was certainly more voluble than he had been in the past, and Anna had to wonder why. She patted Farinelli absently. The gelding
whuffed
. “I have more than my share. I try not to reveal them too blatantly.”

“You have been most successful,” said Fylena gently.

“I would be honored to place all of Abenfel at your disposal,” offered Birfels. “I have even repaired and filled the reflecting pool once used by the lady Peuletar.”

“Your hospitality is most generous,” Anna responded.

“And most self-serving,” added Birfels, self-deprecatingly. “You are the first ruler of Defalk in
generations
to put down the Suhlmorran lords, something long overdue.”

“You must excuse my ignorance,” Anna said. “As you know, I have had to learn the history of Defalk. I presume you do not come from that line.”

“Hardly. That we can discuss at supper.” Birfels turned to Jecks, who had dismounted with so little fuss that Anna had almost forgotten he was there. “Jecks, you are always welcome.”

“You would be welcome at Elheld, Birfels, if your bones could stand the chill.”

From behind and to the side of Fylena, Birke grinned.

“It is chill enough here for me, come winter and the snows. The cold I would not mind, only that wind out of the north, and you may keep it there.”

“Lord Birfels, I must confess I am relatively
new
to this business.” Anna gestured to Hanfor, who had remained mounted. “This is the Regency’s arms commander, Hanfor. We have somewhere over twelvescore lancers and others with us.”

“Arms Commander, you are most welcome. Syliern will be here momentarily, and he can offer you a choice of quarters for all your men.” Birfels offered an ironic grin. “Abenfel was once the southern keep of Defalk during the insurgencies. We have some considerable space.”

“And for our mounts?”

“There are close to five hundred stalls in the rear stable. I believe we might have a hundred mounts.”

Hanfor bowed his head slightly. “We will take care, then.”

“Knowing this lady,” Birfels said with a nod toward Anna, “I would wager that you would scarce do aught other.”

Jecks grinned briefly. “Your fame is spreading, Regent Anna.”

Anna replied with a smile, feeling that any verbal answer would come out wrong, tired as she was. Then, she wanted to shake her ahead. She’d almost forgotten the
players again. She made another gesture, this one to beckon Liende forward. “Lord Birfels, Liende, my chief of players.”

“I see we share some of the same heritage, chief player,” bantered the lord, touching his grayed red hair. “Are you from the south?”

“Only from Arien, lord,” answered Liende.

“South enough for me. Be welcome. We have quarters for players, too. And replacement strings, as I recall.”

“Thank you.” Liende bowed her head.

Birfels turned to the regent. “Could I show you your quarters, Lady Anna?”

“In a moment, if you would, Lord Birfels. I will need to groom and settle Farinelli, and it might be best to get that done.”

A frown crossed Birfels’ face.

“My sire,” interjected Birke quickly. “You might recall this is the raider beast that only the lady can curry. He maimed one groom at Falcor.”

“Ah . . . I had forgotten. There are so many tales about you, lady.” Birfels shook his head.

“It could wait,” Anna said. “But I’ll have to groom him sometime.”

“Best now, and all will be settled. We will be here when you finish.”

After ensuring Farinelli was brushed and fed, and watered, Anna, carrying only her lutar, with Jecks beside her, followed Birfels across the wide courtyard toward the center building of the keep—almost one hundred yards, she figured, by the time they entered the arching front entryway.

The entry foyer was nearly three stories high, with twin quarter-circular marble staircases, rising over an arch that fronted a long corridor.

“That leads to the dining halls and the library,” Birfels explained as he pointed to the arch. “The guest chambers are up on the second level.”

“It’s very impressive,” Anna said.

“One of my ancestors had hoped to be Lord of Defalk. The Suhlmorrans ensured otherwise.” Birfels gave a crooked grin.

“I’d wager all this stone is chill in the winter,” added Jecks.

“Not so cold as one might think.”

As she followed Birfels up the polished marble steps, old enough that the centers of the stone risers were slightly hollowed, Anna wondered how many other lords of Defalk had similar thwarted ambitions in their background.

The second-level corridor was equally opulent, with pale green marble floor tiles cut in diamond shapes, and matching green marble sheets set as wainscoting. Fhurgen’s and Lejun’s boots echoed on the stone as the guards followed with Anna’s saddlebags and traveling mirror.

Above the marble wainscoting, the walls were painted pale green, and hung intermittently with life-sized portraits—all men, Anna noted. “Your ancestors?”

“The lords of Abenfel.” Birfels smiled briefly. “One presumes so, but life is never so certain as we believe. Neither are bloodlines, for all the fighting over such.”

“Nothing’s as sure as we’d like,” Anna agreed.

Jecks merely nodded.

Beside each portrait were sconces with polished mantels and green candles. None were yet lit, although the fading twilight left the hall dim and gloomy.

Birfels stopped and threw open the carved double doors. “These are the sorceress’s guest chambers. We haven’t had a sorceress stay in them since my father was a lad.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe.”

Anna stepped inside. On the polished redstone floor was a deep green braided rug. Apparently, braided rugs were the thing in southern Defalk. The guest chambers were truly a suite, with a bedchamber, a second chamber on one side that contained the reflecting pool and a table with chairs, and a bathchamber on the other side of the bedchamber.

Fhurgen and Lejun set Anna’s bags on the low chest at the foot of the high bed with the carved headboard that depicted a woman in a flowing gown and an arm raised to a star over a garden of some sort. Anna set the lutar beside her bags.

“The headboard—that’s a depiction of the first Lady Peuletar. There were several, all cousins, descendants of sisters, of course.”

“Of course,” Anna agreed, knowing that by custom and perhaps by Erde itself, sorceresses had no offspring.

Birfels picked up a striker and lit the candle on the small writing table. “Lady Anna, Fylena and I took the liberty of having warm water placed in the bath. Supper will be in a glass, if that would be satisfactory. . . .”

“That would be fine,” Anna said. “Thank you for everything.”

“It is more than our pleasure.” Birfels bowed and turned to the white-haired lord. “Your chamber is on the other side, Lord Jecks.”

“I can stand this sort of place,” Anna said to herself after the door closed and she was alone.

The writing desk even had a stack of paper and a recently filled inkwell. Anna shook her head, wondering exactly what Birfels wanted—or was it merely to offer amends now that it had become obvious that she was indeed a powerful sorceress. She fingered the golden-green brocade coverlet on the high bed—fine needlework, but somewhat frayed around the edges.

Anna walked back to the sorceress’s room, clearly a working arrangement with a polished, if old, conference table on one side and the reflecting pool almost against the inner wall. A heavy black drape was drawn back from the narrow window.