The Shadow Sorceress (2 page)

In the midmorning light of early fall, before harvest, a half-score of players stood on the low rise to the west of the dusty road. The majority held violinos or violas, but there were also two woodwinds and a falk-horn in the group. Another half-score of players bearing lutars of various sizes stood behind the first group.

Secca, wearing a pale blue tunic, walked toward Palian, the gray-haired and gray-eyed woman who held a violino, and who stood before the first group of players. “Chief player?”

“Yes, Lady Secca,” replied Palian. “We have almost finished tuning.”

“Good.” Secca nodded, accepting as always the necessary formality of Palian's address. “We will be using the second building spell.” That too was a formality, since Secca and Lady Anna had always used the second building spell for road-building, although it had been years since Anna had done heavy building sorcery.

Secca glanced out at the dusty road that stretched northward toward the River Chean from Mencha. Behind her, nearly thirty deks of sorcery-laid stone paving extended back to Mencha. The gap between where she stood and the paved section stretching south from the river bridge was less than ten deks, and she hoped that she would be able to complete that section within the next
few years, but that depended on what other tasks Lady Anna and Lord Robero laid upon her. She looked toward the lank-haired Delvor, catching his eye.

“Second players are ready, lady.”

Secca studied the image on the portable easel, an image with which she was all too familiar, and began to bring up both the image of the road, and the spellsong itself, into her mind. “The second building spell, chief player.”

“The second building spell, on my mark,” declared Palian. “Mark!”

As the notes from the players and their instruments rose into the morning, the first two bars merely to stabilize the players, Secca waited, and then began the spell proper with the first note of the third measure.

Even before the notes of the players and Secca's voice died away, an intense bluish glow settled over the dusty track, initially so bright that neither Secca nor the players could have looked at it, had they wanted to, but all had seen the brightness over the years with each new section of road built.

Secca held herself erect against the faint dizziness that always came with heavy sorcery such as road-building, then walked to her mount, a gray mare, and took out her water bottle for a long swallow, before eating several biscuits from her provisions bag. After eating, she turned and looked at the newly created section of paved road.

Like the sections created before over the years, the roadway itself was exactly eight yards across, and raised almost a third of a yard above the surrounding ground. On each side was a stone rain gutter, and every hundred yards, there was a side drain. The stone roadbed had a slight crown, enough that the infrequent rains of eastern Defalk would run off into the lower rain gutters. Beneath were layers of stone and gravel going almost a yard deep.

“How do you feel, sorceress?” asked Palian.

“Fine.” Secca smiled. “How are the players?”

“We can do another spell, perhaps two.”

“We'll move up to the end of what we've finished here and do another section,” Secca said. “Then we'll ride north and see how we feel when we reach where the paved section coming from the north begins. I'd like to finish this road before…” She shrugged, not certain what comparison might even be useful. “I'd like to see it finished.”

“We can add another dek or so on our return from Issl and Elheld, can we not?” asked Palian.

“I would think so,” Secca replied. “I'd like to be able to tell Lady Anna that we can have the entire road paved within a few more years.” Generally, a road spell was good for about five hundred yards—half a dek.

“You will.” Palian smiled.

“I hope so.” Secca nodded.

“Players, prepare to mount and ride!” ordered the chief player.

Secca folded the small easel, and turned back toward her own mount.

The harvest-time sun was hot and beat down upon the two riders, and upon the column of players and lancers in the green of Loiseau who followed them along the dusty lane that led between two hills, hills covered with hardwoods whose leaves had begun to turn yellow, gold, and deep red. Beside Secca rode Kylar, the stocky and blond heir of Lord Fustar. Kylar, a
good ten years older than Secca, wore a nondescript tan tunic and an indifferent smile.

“Why do you remain an assistant to Lady Anna?” His tone was casual.

“I do owe her my life, and my lands.” Secca did not look at Kylar but at the narrow and winding road that paralleled the ancient wooden aqueduct leading farther back into the low hills.

“Your lands?”

Secca smiled, although she felt more like drawing her sabre and spitting the condescending heir to Issl. “I am already Lady of Flossbend.”

“You are that Lady Secca?” He frowned as if he had not made the connection.

“I am that Lady Secca. I have been for many years. Since I was nine.”

“And yet you serve…?”

“I'm also sorceress heir to Loiseau.”

“Oh…you are an ambitious woman.”

“No. I'm still learning,” Secca pointed out. She saw no need to say that she was ambitious, at least in the sense that she wished to rule her own lands rather than surrender them to a consort, and that she had no intention of becoming a brood mare for some brainless lord.

“You are well past the age—”

“When most women have long since consorted and produced heirs?” interrupted Secca gently. “That is true. Some women see that as their calling. Others see arms, or sorcery.”

“Arms? There are few indeed in Defalk.”

“But not in Elahwa or in Ranuak or in Nordwei,” Secca replied. “And there are some lords now in Defalk who have women as armsmen.”

“Because they cannot find men who will serve them, no doubt,” rejoined Kylar. “We have no such difficulties here.”

“I am most certain you do not.” Secca gestured at the low line of earth and rock visible through the passlike opening between two low hills. “Is that the dam your sire mentioned?”

“It is.”

Secca rode along the narrow lane, so close to the maples and oaks that she could almost reach out and touch them, before the lane turned uphill to the east and narrowed even more. Secca found herself riding single file, with Kylar behind her. As she neared the hilltop, she could see an expanse that had once been cleared, but now held low bushes, including blackberries that had long since been picked.

Guiding the mare around the browning and thorny berry bushes, Secca made her way to an area that had been grazed relatively clear, just above a dried mud flat. She reined up and studied the earth-and-rock dam, noting the streaks of dampness on both rock and earth. Then her eyes went to the wooden planks that comprised the beginning of the crude aqueduct.

“My sire would have you repair the dam and the aqueduct to the keep,” said Kylar, reining up beside her.

“I would have to be here longer than I can be for such,” Secca replied politely. “The dam appears to be failing. That I can replace, and perhaps the bridgework to the beginning of the aqueduct.”

“I had understood that you were among the more powerful of sorceresses…” Another shade of condescension crept into Kylar's voice.

Secca looked evenly at the far taller man. “It would take scores of men more than a season to rip down and replace that dam. I will do so in less than a glass. I cannot do more, for I must leave within a few days, at the command of Lord Robero, and I must arrive at Elheld able to do whatever sorcery he may require.”

Kylar looked from the failing dam to Secca and then back to the packed rock and earth. “I suppose any small aid you could provide would be helpful.”

“I will certainly endeavor to be helpful.” Secca dismounted and handed the gray's reins to Kylar. “If you would.”

Kylar took the reins with another condescending smile.

Secca turned and walked downhill to where the players had begun to form up on the slope to the east of the ancient structure, above the blue waters held in place by the dam. The sound of
tuning began to issue from the strings, the falk-horn, and the woodwinds, and the lutars of the second players.

Palian turned toward Secca. “Lady Secca.”

“I've made some word changes to the second building spell, but the melody will be the same,” Secca told the chief player. “This will take as much as a long section of road. It could take more.”

“We will be ready shortly.” Palian smiled.

“Thank you.” Secca stood beside the chief player and waited, not wanting to go back anywhere near Kylar for the moment.

Shortly, the sounds of tuning faded, and Palian turned to Secca. “We stand ready.”

“At your mark, then,” Secca said.

“The second building spell, at my mark,” Palian said, her voice firm. “Mark!”

Secca waited for the opening bars, then launched into the spellsong itself.

Even before the spell was complete, gouts of steam flared upward, white against the blue-green of the clear sky. Rowal and several other players stutter-stepped backward, while the far older Delvor and Palian merely exchanged knowing glances.

As her last notes faded into the afternoon, a wave of faintness and dizziness swept over Secca, and she knew she had pushed harder than she should have. For several moments, she stood facing the narrow gorge, watching as the clean lines of sorcery-dressed and -formed stone replaced the irregular rock and earthen berm that had been the older dam. A graceful arched chute now carried water—water that steamed as it streamed
down the hot stone and flowed into the old wooden aqueduct. She also observed that the water level had dropped several feet—doubtless as a result of the stone taken from beneath the reservoir by the spellsong.

Secca gave a small smile of success before turning and walking back toward the gray mare, where she lifted the water bottle from its saddle holder and took a long swallow. Then she reached for the provisions bag and extracted a biscuit.

“Doesn't seem all that hard,” offered Kylar from where he had remained mounted, watching the entire spellsong.

“It's not,” Secca said politely. “Not after a score of years of training and practice. Just like blade handling doesn't look very hard when the person using it is an expert.”

“You just sang.”

Secca took another swallow of water, debating whether to answer. Finally, she looked up again at the stocky blond heir. “Each one of those stones in that dam weighs between five and ten stone. It takes work to move them, even with sorcery. The players might be able to do that twice today. They wouldn't be able to play another spell for several days.”

“What about you?” A glint glittered in Kylar's bloodshot eyes.

“I've trained longer. I could sing several more spells, even without the players.” Secca smiled politely. “Enough to kill a few armsmen, but not enough to destroy a large force.”

She turned and walked back down to where the players were casing their instruments.

“Will that be all, Lady Secca?” asked Palian.

“It's more than either Lord Fustar or his heir deserve, but manners require the effort.”

A faint smile crossed Palian's lips. “It was always that way, even from the beginning, when Lady Anna first came to Liedwahr.”

“I recall, young as I was.” Secca could remember most of those days, and she had no desire to relive them—not at all. “I suppose we should have everyone mount up. We'll need to ride back to the keep.”

The chief player nodded, then turned. “Prepare to mount.”

Secca walked back to the gray, taking the reins from Kylar. “Thank you.” She offered a pleasant smile, then mounted.

Once the players appeared ready, Palian lifted a hand.

Secca turned her mount. “If you would not mind, Kylar, we can return to the keep.” She let the stocky man lead the way down the narrow trail, then forced herself to draw abreast of his mount as they passed through the gap in the hills.

“You have many hardwoods here.” Secca gestured toward the red-leafed maples. “Do you have crafters for the wood?”

“No.” Kylar shook his head. “My sire allows the master-crafters from Falcor to cut a wagonload of the oldest timber every few years.”

“For golds, I imagine.”

“Why else?” The stocky heir laughed.

“What do your tenants grow?”

“Corn, mostly. We have a mill, and there is no other for deks.”

“So you collect more golds from that?”

“Not so many as we might, for my sire lets the tenants keep a fourth part for themselves. He is far too generous, and they know it not.” Kylar frowned as his eyes strayed to the south, beyond the ancient brownish walls of Issl, still more than a dek away.

“What else feeds your prosperity?”

“Our wool. Few have flocks and fleeces of such quality as do we…”

Secca nodded, listening as Kylar waxed on.

Before long, the road had widened and neared the beginning of the causeway leading to the gates of the keep. Kylar reined up, and Secca followed his example, as did the players and the company of lancers from Loiseau that followed the column.

“Sorceress, if you will pardon me…” Kylar offered a diffident half-bow from the saddle. “I needs must attend to another matter before the evening meal.”

“I look forward to seeing you then,” lied Secca with a smile. “I know you will deal with what must be dealt with great skill.”

“One would hope so.” With a broad smile, Kylar turned his
mount and began to ride westward toward the hamlet that held the cots of many of Fustar's tenants.

Secca continued riding toward the causeway.

Palian edged her mount up beside Secca's mare. “You do not care for him.”

“Is it obvious to all?”

Palian laughed. “No. I have known you from the time when you would turn red at trying to utter a falsehood. Few others would see the signs, I would wager.”

“What do you think of the honorable Kylar?”

“Less, if possible, than do you,” replied Palian dryly. “He reminds me too much of lords like Dannel and your uncle.”

Secca nodded. Both had tried to have her killed as a child. “We need to prepare for dinner. You and Delvor will be above the salt at table.”

“I hope the food is good,” Palian said.

“It will be better than travel fare, and more honest than the conversation that accompanies it,” Secca replied.

Both women smiled as they neared the open gates of Issl.