Darksong Rising (69 page)

“Why is everyone calling me ‘Lady’? Is that because…?"

Secca looked almost as if she were going to break down and cry again. “I didn’t want anything

like that to happen. Not even to Kurik”

“I know.” The sorceress nodded somberly. “But you are the Lady of Flossbend.”

“It seems funny. Jeron was going to be lord after Papa. Or Kurik. Even Lysara’s older, and she’s

not a lady.” Secca tilted her head to the side, then straightened. “I’m sorry about Resor and Cens.

I’m sorriest about poor Lysara, though. Tiersen looks awful. I think he loves her, you know.”

“He does,” Anna said.

“Do you think someone will love me like that?”

“Yes. When you’re older.” Anna smiled. How could they not love you, child?

“Will you let me show you something?” Secca stepped sideways and looked down at the floor

stones. “And you won’t get angry? It can’t wait; it really can’t.”

“Secca. . . I won’t get angry. Not at you.”

“I was going to wait, but I heard Kinor say you were leaving tomorrow.” The little redhead eased

a small mandolin from behind her back. “Don’t say anything yet.” Then she took a stick of

pencil wood and walked to the cold hearth, laying the wood in the iron grate. After she drew

herself erect, Secca cleared her throat, almost as if in an unconscious imitation of Anna, and her

fingers gripped what seemed to be a pick, drawing it over the mandolin’s strings, as if to check

the sound. Her voice was clear and on key.

Fire, fire, burn so bright

burn well and warm and light....

A tongue of flame wrapped around the stick of wood, flickered, and died to almost nothing,

before seeming to catch.

Anna swallowed.

“You used a bigger spell, but I couldn’t make my fingers work right for that long, so I used just

part of your spell... it’s shorter.” Secca bit her lip, lowering the mandolin slowly. “And I used a

piece of copper—it was a part of a mirror—to pick at the strings.”

“Secca... you sang that right on key.”

A faint smile crossed the girl’s lips. “It was hard. I had to practice the tones without words, the

way you do, and…it was hard.”

“Singing is always hard, if you do it right.”

“Will you... can you teach me?”

Anna nodded slowly. “If you promise not to try any more spells without showing me the words

first.”

“I haven’t tried any more. I used yours because I saw you do it.”

“You remembered that spell from last winter?”

“It was almost spring,” Secca pointed out.

Anna laughed softly, wonderingly. “You are a special child... a special young woman.”

That brought another smile. “Papa was right to send me here.”

“Yes, he was.” If not for the reasons he thought.

Secca glanced at the still-burning stick of wood. “Will you let me light the fire sometimes when

we play Vorkoffe?"

“Sometimes,” agreed Anna, with a smile. “Who taught you to play the mandolin?”

“I asked Palian. She helped me. I made her promise not to tell anyone. She’s teaching me how to

play the violino, too. When she’s here. I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll tell Liende that Palian is to help you learn to play the violino. It can’t hurt for a lady to know

some sorcery.”

“I don’t want to be a lady. I’d rather be a sorceress like you.”

“I’m both a sorceress and a lady. I don’t see why you can’t be both—if you work hard.” Anna

paused. “It works better that way."

“Will you teach me sorcery?”

“Not at first. First, you have to learn how to control your voice all the time. You shouldn’t do

sorcery—or not much— until you’re as old as... say, Clayre. That’s Lysara’s younger sister. She

may be coming to Falcor.” If Birfels will let her after this mess.

“That long?”

“That long. You have a lot to learn if you want to do sorcery right” Anna nodded slowly. Will

you get to see this redhead grow up? First, Irenia, and then the separation from Elizabetta, and

now Lysara nearly being killed... all redheads. Anna wondered how Elizabetta was doing, in a

world that seemed increasingly distant.

Yet, for all the differences between Earth and Erde, she was seeing more clearly how similar the

two worlds were behind their superficially different facades. Was it that you didn’t want to see—

or didn’t have to?

She pushed the thought away, stepping forward to hug the one little redhead she could... while

she could.

73

WEI, NORDWEI

Only a fraction of the bright afternoon sunlight penetrates the nearly closed heavy green

draperies that frame the second-story window of Ashtaar’s Council office. The counselor looks

at the polished black agate spheroid on the shimmering surface of her table-desk. She does not

reach out to touch it, but forces her eyes to the blonde seer sitting in the straight-backed chair

across from her. “You were saying. Gretslen?”

Gretslen leans forward. “The Sorceress of Defalk has overreached herself. The harmonies could

only have fated it to occur.”

The dark-haired Ashtaar continues to look at the head seer. “How has she overreached herself? If

you would explain...?”

“When she left Defalk to meddle in Ebra once more, the peasants in Pamr revolted. She put

down the revolt, but it cost her two parts in ten of her lancers, and another score to remain and

guard the hold. The lord of the north also rebelled, and his efforts took another threescore of the

sorceress’ lancers. Rabyn and the Mansuurans now hold much of the Western Marches of

Defalk, and the Regent has but half the lancers and armsmen she possessed but a season ago,

while young Rabyn has begun to use the drums of Darksong.”

“That may be," points out Ashtaar, “but you have told me that Hadrenn has sworn allegiance to

Defalk, and that the sorceress-Regent extracted some condition from him regarding Elahwa, for

his armsmen have gone to Dolov, but not to the port city. That would seem to ensure that she

faces trouble with neither Ebra nor Ranuak.”

“She paid a high price for such peace,” counters the seer. “More and more of the lords of Defalk

have come to despise the sorceress. Lord Jearle has not so much as sent a single armsman against

the Neserean invaders. Nor has Lord Ustal. Only Lord Nelmor, and he has been most careful but

to harry them, and seems not minded to blunt their advance”

“From this you would conclude what?” asks the spymistress. “The sorceress is greatly weakened,

and she will fail.” A slow smile creeps across the seer’s face.

Ashtaar frowns, and she finally picks up the agate oval, letting its coolness suffuse her without

speaking.

“You have doubts?” questions Gretslen.

“She has gambled, but she is not that weakened yet. We shall see,” says Ashtaar politely. “Please

keep observing Rabyn and his drums.”

“You have doubts... when her land is in revolt and her Western Marches have fallen? She is

powerful, but this is the first time she has faced all that a ruler of Defalk must face. No one can

rule Defalk. No one ever has.”

“You are correct in your second statement. We wili see about the truth of the first.” Ashtaar sets

aside the black agate. “Be certain that you and your seers scry all that there is to see and not just

those events which would support your wishes.”

“Yes, Counselor Ashtaar.” Gretslen bows her head, as if to conceal a smile. “We shall follow

your orders.”

“You may go.” Ashtaar waits until the door shuts before she sighs.

74

 
The paving stones of the liedburg courtyard—wet from the predawn rain—glistened even in the

shadows cast by the early-morning sun. Anna strapped the lutar behind the saddle, then patted

Farinelli on the neck before mounting. “Easy, fellow. We’ve got a long way to ride.”

“You have the shield enchanted.”
 
asked Jecks.

Anna leaned forward in the saddle and touched the open-topped leather carrier that held the

small round shield—without straps. The metal rim tingled her fingers. She looked down at Jecks,

standing by the stable door. “It’s ready." Not that it’s been that much use so far. You‘ve faced

about everything BUT enchanted weapons.

“You will scry often for that whelp Rabyn?”

“I will.”

“And you will use strong sorcery from the first?”

Anna nodded. She and Jecks had already been through the points he raised, but she knew he was

worried. “I can’t afford not to."

“So long as you recall that...” Jecks shook his head with an expression that wasn’t quite a rueful

laugh. “still... much as I must hold here.. would that I could accompany you.”

“I know... but you can’t. Someone has to hold Falcor.”

"That... that I must accept. I like it not." Jecks forced a smile. “I will be most happy when you

return.” He paused. “And take care to eat and drink often."

“I will.” Her fingers touched the small food pouch that was on the other side of the saddle from

the shield case. She smiled. “I need to check with Liende.” With a last smile and a nod at the

handsome lord, she eased Farinelli around Rickel and his mount to where the chief player stood

beside her mare.

Liende looked up, then gestured to the players, each waiting beside a mount. “We are ready,