Darksong Rising (104 page)

though she could have swept all the way to Esaria. She destroyed Lord Ehara—and the

Sturinnese fleet and all the Maitre’s lancers in Liedwahr. After placing Ehara’s widow on the

throne—with her own arms commander to watch—she went home.

“She has used her sorcery to mine gold and mint coins—and little of that has gone into warfare

or luxuries. She has begun to send couriers with messages to every lord. She has begun to teach

the heirs in Falcor, and she has been replacing those lords who are rebellious or stupid with

others who are intelligent and loyal. She is no softhearted girl who would let the poor or the mob

rule, either. Witness her actions in Pamr.”

Ashtaar pauses, but no others speak.

“How many lords in Defalk will stand against her? Five years ago, every one of the Thirty-three

in Defalk was a man. Nearly a quarter are women today, and she controls more than half the

lords outright. Has Defalk ever been so strong?”

“If she lives..." suggests Tybra.

“Why would any in Defalk wish to kill her? Any of sound mind? She rewards those who rule

both well and fairly—and destroys those who oppose her. Were you a lord in Defalk, would you

oppose her? She uses her sorcery to determine who plots against her. Would you risk such,

Leader Tybra?”

“She will not live forever,” says Virtuul, his deep voice almost lazy.

“If she lives but a handful of years longer, will it matter? Already she molds the heir and all

those around her." Ashtaar laughs. “Besides... what if she teaches what she knows of sorcery to

another?”

“Kill her,” comes the whisper from the shadows.

Ashtaar smiles sadly. “Do you not see? Every ruler south of us has said that—except the

Matriarch. Where are they now? The sorceress will never attack us—unless we attack her. So...

do we accept the changes she will bring... or do we attack her and destroy Wei now?”

“We have those with poison... those with stealth...”

Ashtaar glares at the shadowed figure. “If... if we succeed, then we would turn all of Defalk

except Wei and Ranuak over to Mansuur. Do you wish that, Lady of Shadows? Do you wish

Konsstin on our southern borders?”

“You had said we should build ships, Counselor,” Tybra interjects quickly. “Why would golds

spent on ships help?”

"Liedwahr will never be the same. Sturinn will be. The Liedfuhr has more than enough armsmen

to defeat the Sea-Priests— and Mansuur needs little trade. Ranuak will trade more and more with

the sorceress and her allies. What will we do?”

“You suggest that our fleet must contest the ships of the Sea-Priests, and from where will come

the coins?”

“From trade. Defalk will return to prosperity, and there is much it does not produce. We will

trade more, and gain coins, and those coins will build more ships, stronger ships. We need not

worry about our borders,” Ashtaar points out. “The sorceress makes a good neighbor but a

deadly enemy.”

“One woman and all is changed... changed utterly,” Virtuul says quietly.

“One might even call hers a terrible beauty,” suggests the spymistress.

Neither the Lady of the Shadows nor Tybra speaks, and the Council Chamber falls silent.

113

In the grayness preceding dawn, Anna sat at the writing desk in her chamber, quill in hand. Her

breath steamed faintly in the chill air, as did the vapor drifting through the archway from the tub

in the adjoining chamber. The two candles on the desk cast an uneven light, despite the polished-

brass reflectors behind each.

Although she had arrived in Falcor late the night before, too exhausted from making a day and a

half journey in one to talk to anyone, she had found herself awake and tossing before dawn. A

hot bath had only made her more alert—and restless. Her eyes went to the rectangle etched in

black on the stones of the outside wall. Elizabetta. She could send a scroll to her daughter, and

she would, but what more could she say—or do? Her daughter was growing up a world away.

How do you tell her that you love her without it sounding trite? How can you tell her what

you’re really doing? Can. you say that you’re killing people to create a little more fairness for

women—and generally privileged women at that? Or to keep a land together that might be better

falling apart? Or that you’re tired of fighting the same battles in Liedwahr that you fought on

Earth— except that you can force people to listen now?

Awake as she was, she was too emotionally tired to write and send Elizabetta a message, and her

daughter still wouldn’t get it any sooner.

Finally, Anna looked at the scrolls beside her and the rough paper before her.

Lord Hulber of Silberfels and the gold issue... more grain for the grasslands riders of the north...

and whom to name as the next Lord of Mossbach. Should she seek thoughts from the Thirty-

three as a political move? Or have Jecks feel people out? Or name Falar? But if Falar’s interest

in Herene is real...?

After a time, she sharpened the quill and dipped it into the ink, slowly writing out the list... name

after name... Arkad, Sargol, Dencer, Hryding and Anientta, Gatrune, Dannel, Ustal, Jearle,

Tybel, Beltyr... and Brill. Don’t forget Brill. Almost a third of the Thirty-three——dead in the

two years since she’d come to Defalk.

Lord... even the Reign of Terror wasn’t that sweeping, was it?

Thrap! She jumped at the single sharp knock on her chamber door.

“Lord Jecks... if you will see him.”

‘I’ll be happy to see him.” She watched the door open.

“Lady Anna.” Jecks bowed. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the sorceress. “I was not sure you

would be up this early after so long a ride, but Lejun said you had been moving around for some

glasses. “I took the liberty..." He gestured to the serving girl bearing a large tray filled with two

small loaves of steaming bread, eggs scrambled with cheese, white cheese wedges, and a large

red apple. Jecks carried a pitcher. “This is hot cider.”

“Thank you.” Anna didn’t have to force the smile as she cleared a space and moved some of the

scrolls to the bench-chest at the foot of the bed. The girl set the tray on the table-desk and bowed.

Anna directed a second “Thank you” to the server as the girl left.

After filling Anna’s goblet with the hot cider, Jecks pulled up the straight-backed chair and sat

across from the sorceress as she broke off a chunk of bread.

Anna stopped eating after bolting two bites of bread. “Aren’t you going to eat anything? There’s

plenty here.”

“I had one of the loaves out of the oven,” Jecks admitted. "I was up early, and Dalila was

baking.”

Dalila—onother indirect casualty of your sorcery. “If you’re still hungry, please have some.”

She smiled. “Please.”

Jecks smiled, the smile she enjoyed so much. After a moment, he took his belt knife and sliced

off a small section of the hard white cheese. “Perhaps a little cheese.” Then he sliced several

more sections. “And for you."

“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t want to talk last night,” Anna apologized. “I was exhausted.”

“You rode two days in one.”

“A day and a half, I think, but it felt longer.” She took a sip of the cider—better than water, but

what she wouldn’t have given for coffee. “I couldn’t even think by the time I unsaddled and

groomed Farinelli.”

“You looked tired—and worried.”

“I’ll always be worried.” She forced a laugh. “That seems to go with being Regent.” After a

pause, Anna asked, “You got the scrolls from Synfal?” She took another mouthful of cheese and

bread.

“There were two.”

“I sent just two before we left for Arien.” She swallowed more of the bread, then took another

sip of cider, conscious— very conscious—of Jecks’ eyes resting upon her. “So much happened.”

Jecks waited—with far more patience than she would have shown—for her to tell him what had

happened.

“Lord Tybel. . . somehow he’d raised nearly thirtyscore armsmen. He staged a phony parley and

was going to attack..." In between bites, Anna began to fill Jecks in on the details of her efforts

since leaving Falcor, first what had happened at Arien and then at Flossbend and Pamr, and

finally the bits that hadn’t been in her scroll from Synfal.

“So. . . young Zybar is now Lord of Arien, and your little Secca is truly the Lady of Flossbend?"

Anna nodded. “I left Lejun and half a score armsmen with one of Himar’s older captains there. It

was the best I could do. And Herene seems to be rebuilding both her hold and the town. Falar

begged my leave to stay there for a time. I told her she was free to accept him as a consort, and

equally free to reject him.” She laughed. “He can be very charming, but she’s stubborn.”

“Some men are charming.” Jecks nodded. “Others are not.”

Anna sensed the meaning behind the words, and could feel the closest thing she would ever hear

to a plea from the white-haired lord. Lord.. . I’m not ready for this. “What do you think about

Kinor as Lord of Denguic?” Anna glanced up after swallowing another mouthful of bread and

cheese, not quite looking at her lord high counselor. “He has a lot to learn, and we’ll have to

keep a rein on him... but I wanted someone .young, and someone who would stand up to

Jimbob.”

“He will do both. I like Lord Kinor.” Jecks laughed. “So long as he is not made Lord of the

Western Marches, or not for many, many years.”

“No. Lord Nelmor has earned that. He fought when no other lord did, and because he thought it

necessary.” Anna grinned. “He did fight most cautiously, but I didn’t mention that. Anyway, we

need cautious fighters."