Darksong Rising (91 page)

Blaz and Fielmir yanked Jearle to his feet Bersan held a bright blade at the lord’s throat.

“Do your worst, bitch.”

“I Intend to." Anna lifted the lutar.

Jearle, lord, Jearle, lord the same,

with this spell turn to fire and flame,

fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust.

the end of all unworthy of a Regent’s trust.

With the line of fire searing from above, the guards threw Jearle to the stones.

This time, the brief screams did not even bother Anna. Are you getting that callous... or did you

dislike him that much?

When the entry hall was still once more, deathly still, she turned, holding the lutar. "Kinor...

would you come here?”

Kinor glanced at the gray dust on the stones, then at Anna. “No matter what occurs, will you be

loyal to Defalk, to Lord Jimbob as heir, and to me so long as I am Regent?”

“Lady... I only thought of your safety....”

“That’s loyalty.” Anna paused. “Do you swear loyalty to Defalk, Jimbob, and the Regency?”

“Yes... of course... how could I otherwise…?” The young man was clearly flustered.

“Good.” Anna turned to Himar and Jimbob, then motioned to Liende, standing well back at the

end of the hall.

Liende approached warily, her eyes darting from Anna to her son and back again.

Anna waited until the chief player had neared before continuing. “Westfort needs a strong, and

intelligent, and loyal lord, and one young enough to support the Regency and Lord Jimbob for

many years." She smiled at Liende. “What do you think about Lord Kinor?”

Kinor’s mouth dropped open. Liende appeared poleaxed. Jimbob grinned. Himar nodded slowly.

"Lady... I did not... I never meant,” Kinor stammered, for the first time since Anna had known

him.

Anna shook her head. ‘That’s exactly why you are now Lord of Westfort and Denguic. You will

not be Lord of the Western Marches. At least not for many years. That will remain with Lord

Nelmor so long as he wishes it and can maintain it.” Anna motioned for Nelmor to step forward.

“As you will note, Lord Jearle has no objections, Lord Nelmor. You are the Lord of the Western

Marches."

Nelmor bent his head.

“You have earned that right by honor and by your support of Defalk and the Regency."

Anna raised her voice. “All those in Westfort who don’t wish to serve Lord Kinor will leave, and

they will depart within the week. Lord Jearle’s heirs must leave Westfort today, and Defalk

within the week. Otherwise, their lives will be forfeit.”

“Never!” The broad-shouldered man at the top of the stairs drew a sbort blade, a wide-bladed

dagger, and began to charge down the steps, drawing it back as if to throw it.

Anna lifted the lutar and began to sing.

Jearle’s heir, lord he’d name,

with this spell turn to fire and flame,

Lejun flung up the shield.

Thunk! The guard staggered back with a heavy short blade embedded in the shield frame.

The sorceress concentrated on completing the spell.

...fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust.

the end of all unworthy of a Regent’s trust.

A single pillar of fire flared midway down the stairs.

A woman screamed from the upper landing, and Anna stood in the hall, finding herself shaking...

and amazed that she had managed the spell, even if it had left her with a splitting headache.

Lejun lowered the shield and looked at his shoulder, also astounded that the blade had gone

several spans through the shield itself but missed his body.

Blaz stepped up to take Lejun’s place, blade bared, and Fielmir held a blade to Lady Livya,

standing on the foot of the stairs.

Anna turned and walked forward toward Livya.

“You have taken everything... you outland... creature...”

“Your consort gave me few choices,” Anna said. “I could not trust him, nor you, nor your son.

He wouldn’t support Defalk in its time of need. Twice, he failed. When I came and lifted the

siege, he armed everyone in the keep against me. And you think I should have supported him?”

“You... don’t... understand... don’t understand... at all...

haven’t any children...” Livya kept weeping, not even really looking at Anna.

Everyone thinks that his or her problems are unique, and so many are all the same.

Anna looked tiredly at Kinor. “Lord Kinor... you have much to do. With honor comes grief, and

the knowledge that every action taken by a ruler or a lord hurts someone. Every action! Never

forget that. Never.”

Kinor swallowed.

Anna refrained from sighing. She turned to Himar. “We have a keep to clean up, and more plans

to make.”

Himar nodded.

Anna's eyes went to the blank face of Falar. Another problem. Falar might have made a good

lord, but his history with Anna was short... and the last thing she needed was Falar being the

lord. She offered a smile to the red-haired scoundrel. “Falar... I’ll need to talk to you later, if you

would."

“Oh... Lady Anna, I am at your command.”

You hope so... and that you can wend your way through more of these intrigues. “I’m not

commanding, only requesting from someone who has offered great service.” there... was that

laid on heavy enough? She smiled again.

III

LETZTLIED

99

ENCORA, RANUAK

‘The Matriarch studies the formal receiving hall, sniffs the
 
almost-metallic air, and turns to her

consort “Dyleroy will be arriving soon, and we will begin another story in the sagas of the

mistresses of the Exchange.”

“The story of the sorceress is more interesting,” observes Ulgar, fingering the mandolin he

appears ready to play. “A most intriguing tale."

“None would believe it, above all those who would know all of it,” answers the Matriarch,

reaching out just short of the blue-crystal chair. Her fingers seem to shimmer, and the chair

hums, but for a moment.

“Were hers a drama upon the stage in the Hall of Amusement,” said Ulgar quietly, “the tale of

the sorceress-Regent would end now.”

“True, my dear,” answers the tired-eyed, but round-faced Matriarch, who yet wears black. “For

has she not vanquished all her enemies beyond Defalk? Ground them into dust? Is that not where

the minstrels always end the tales, with the great victories?”

‘Her hardest battles are those ahead,” predicts Ulgar.

“Not the hardest. Those that will take the most persistence and win her the least renown. Those

that will have the lords who will not change carping to their neighbors.”

“She has an even more terrible battle to confront,” Ulgar insists.

“Yes,” the Matriarch sighs. “Those who love—” At that moment, a bell rings, and the round-

faced woman who is the soul of Ranuak turns toward the door of the audience chamber, then

seats herself on the blue-crystal throne. “Yes?"

Ulgar slips out through the door that becomes just one of the wall panels as he closes it behind

himself.

A stocky, but not heavy woman in the sea-blue of the Exchange opens the main door to the

chamber and steps inside. Her eyes dart from side to side, and an expression of puzzlement

appears as she sees no one but the round-faced woman in the blue-crystal seat. “Dyleroy, at your

request, Mairiarch."

“You may approach."

Dyleroy steps forward across the blue stones that comprise the floor of the chamber. She stops a

half dozen steps short of the Matriarch. “You summoned me?”

“I did.” After a pause, the older woman continues, “Do you understand why your predecessor is

no more?”

“I cannot say that I do, Matriarch.” Dyleroy bows her head. “Would you enlighten me?”

“The harmonies demand that like be treated as like. Abslim did not wish to understand such.”

The Matriarch studies the middle-aged face, one with lines radiating from the eyes, but not

across the cheeks. Finally, she speaks again. “The harmonies do not care what we wish nor what

we believe nor what we would like to occur. Abslim wished the sorceress-Regent of Defalk to

act according to Abslim’s own desires and beliefs as to how Abslim herself would have acted

had she been Regent of Defalk.” The Matriarch smiles. “There is no harm in wishing. But when

Abslim instructed the Exchange to treat Defalk and its traders as though they had violated the

harmonies, when they had not and had acted in honor, that was her first step against those

harmonies. When she diverted funds from the Exchange to the SouthWomen—yes, I know you

are a SouthWoman, and that you urged her to do so—that was her second step. When she defied

me and the harmonies, the balance had to be redressed."

Dyleroy looks evenly at the Matriarch. “Knowing that, you would accept me as Mistress of the

Exchange?”

“You are said to be intelligent and honest You are also said to be willing to learn. I can always

hope that you learn from your mistakes and those of others." The Matriarch nods vaguely in the

direction of the harbor. “The Free State of Ebra now needs your assistance; it would have needed

far less had my daughter Veria and Abslim let the harmonies and the sorceress run their course.”

Dyleroy looks at the blue-stone tiles of the floor.

“Both my daughter and Abslim failed to understand that I have no hesitation in acting. They did