The Shadow Sorceress (34 page)

The sun was low in the western sky, hanging just over the trees on the far side of the unseen river on the west side of Elahwa. Secca shifted her weight in the saddle, trying to present an impression of what a sorceress should be. Under the gray sky, a damp and cold breeze blew from the harbor to the south, carrying the faint scent of seaweed and salt air.

Secca and Richina rode down the gray-brick main boulevard of Elahwa, behind Achar and the banner of the Sorceress-Protector. Behind them rode Wilten and Alcaren, followed by Palian and Delvor, the rest of the players, and then the lancers of Loiseau. The SouthWomen brought up the rear. At the head of the column, before the banner, was an honor guard in the scarlet tunics of the Free City.

Elahwa had no walls or gates. Not that the lack of either was surprising in itself, since the actual towns and cities in Defalk had neither walls nor gates. But from what Secca could see, and from what the mirror had shown earlier, Elahwa also had no walled keeps or fortresses.

Most of the buildings were of the same gray brick as paved the boulevard, and the roofs were of dark split slate. Secca took in the weaver's shop, with its bright blue shutters, and a white sign trimmed in the same blue, a sign showing the outline of a foot-treadle loom. Next to the weaver's shop was a cabinetmaker's, and there the shutters were a light brown. The only touches of color were those doors and shutters—bright green, crimson, sky blue. On each house or structure, shutters and doors matched, but the colors varied from one to the next, often dramatically.

A thin scattering of people stood everywhere—on the porch of the weaver's, under the broad eaves of the cooper's across the boulevard, under the leafless trees at the edge of the green that the column approached. Some smiled, but most just watched as the column rode southward. While a handful of men were among the bystanders, most were women, many gray-haired, but many young, and some only girls. Occasionally, there were murmurs.

“Another of the great sorceresses…”

“…looks so small…”

“…with that small a company…has to be powerful…”

“…two of them…though…”

“Better her than the Maitre…”

“…don't tell that to the shadow ladies…”

Secca wanted to shake her head. They talked as though she were the Lord of Defalk or the regent. She was just a sorceress-protector who still was trying to figure out how to do her duty. She couldn't have explained why she was in Elahwa, except that she felt she should be—and there was nowhere else she could take her lancers with the depth of winter yet to come.

On the far side of the green—a parklike expanse of bushes and browned grass surrounded by a stone wall less than a yard high—was the Council building, a structure of a blue-tinged marble. The entire three-level structure was less than forty yards across the front, and perhaps only sixty deep.

As Secca guided the gray mare around the green, she could see that five women waited beneath and before the square stone columns at the top of the stone steps of the Council building. Over tunic and trousers, each wore a long armless scarlet vest that ran from shoulder to knee. A single black braided cord at waist level provided the only cincture.

As requested by the Elahwan captain who now led the honor guard, Secca turned the gray mare when she reached a point in the street opposite the middle of steps to the Council building. Then she rode forward and reined up five yards short of the bottom step.

The woman in the center stepped forward. Secca thought the counselor was the one who had been with Alcaren after the main battle with the Sturinnese north of Elahwa.

“All Elahwa is indebted to you, to you and the great one who came before you.” The counselor bowed her head. “Although you have the right to ask for whatever we can offer, beyond that, you are welcome to stay, sorceress and protector.”

“I appreciate your welcome.” Secca bowed her head in return. “I will ask as little as possible in these troubled times.”

A second counselor eased forward and walked down the steps carrying a basket—one gilded and wrapped partly in crimson ribbons. In it, Secca could see a clear glass bottle, a long loaf of bread, and a small cloth pouch.

“For your efforts, we welcome you. May the bread of Harmony sustain you. May the water you drink always be pure, and may you always be the salt of your people.”

Secca wasn't sure how to respond, but the ceremony called for something. She bowed her head and spoke. “Thank you for your welcome, and for the bread, water, and salt. For your welcome and your ways, may the Harmonies watch over you and keep you.”

Smiles appeared across the faces of the counselors, and murmurs cascaded across the bystanders around the green.

“…only a sorceress dare to call on the Harmonies…”

“…be why she's a sorceress-protector…”

“…still Sea-Priest ships on the Southern Ocean…”

The first counselor raised her voice. “We would like to meet with you in the morning. In the meantime, Overcaptain Alcaren and the honor guard will escort you, your assistant, your players, and your forces to the guest quarters and barracks.” The counselor turned toward Alcaren, who had reined up several yards to Secca's right. “Does that meet your satisfaction, overcaptain?”

“I would be pleased, Counselor Veria.”

The hint of a frown passed over the woman's face, followed by a rueful smile. “The overcaptain remains under your command, Sorceress-Protector, until you discharge him or until his return is requested by the Matriarch of Ranuak.”

Alcaren nodded as if he had expected no less, but Secca had the feeling that Counselor Veria's words were as much a surprise to Alcaren as they had been to Secca, and that they had been
deliberately uttered loudly in a public place to ensure all knew. Secca wanted to think about what those reasons might be.

“Until tomorrow, sorceress,” offered Veria with yet another bow.

“Until tomorrow, and our thanks for your hospitality after a long journey.” Secca inclined her head in return, then eased the gray mare around to follow the honor guard as Alcaren urged his mount up beside Secca's.

“We will turn right at the end of the next block,” Alcaren said from behind Secca.

“Thank you.” After a pause, Secca leaned back toward the Ranuan and murmured, “You didn't expect that, did you?”

“I was surprised, but I cannot say it was totally unexpected.”

“Because it keeps you under the command of a woman?” Secca's tone was light.

“That…and…” Alcaren shrugged. “Both the Matriarch and her sister are not entirely without humor and wit.” His voice expressed a wry humor of its own.

“That's the Veria you mentioned before?”

“The very same.” Alcaren gestured. “We turn here.”

Once the column had turned right at the corner that held a squarish building without a sign of any sort, Secca and the others rode southward once more. While there were still bystanders who watched them, those grew less and less with each yard that passed.

“Why didn't the older one return to Encora to become Matriarch?” Secca finally asked.

“Veria disobeyed her mother when she came to Elahwa to fight with the FreeWomen. She almost died, and certainly would have been killed had the great sorceress not defeated Bertmynn.”

Secca still felt a jarring note when she heard Anna being referred to as the Great Sorceress, even though she knew it to be factually true. With the jarring came the cold emptiness of knowing she would never see, never hear Anna again. Her eyes burned.

“Veria felt her place was here, and soon became a counselor.” Alcaren cleared his throat before adding, “That is all that I know. No one speaks of the details. At least, they did not when I was around.”

Secca swallowed her grief and asked, “So the two sisters control the adjoining lands?”

“They do not think alike. While they respect each other, they have most different views.”

“How are they different?”

“From what I have seen, Veria would use any tool to keep Sturinn at bay. The Matriarch would not.”

“She would let the Sturinnese take over Liedwahr?” Secca found her voice rising slightly.

“She might well die attempting to stop them…” Alcaren stopped, as if unsure as to whether he could say more…or what.

“You know more than that.” Secca could see Richina listening intently, and trying to give the impression of paying no attention at all.

“I do not
know
,” replied the overcaptain.

“What do you feel, then?”

“All the Matriarchs have done little more with sorcery than scry what happens elsewhere in the world. I have never seen one perform the kind of sorcery that you do. Yet they know all that comprises sorcery, and they understand the Harmonies.”

“You seem to be saying that either they do sorcery in secret or that there is some reason that they do not do much sorcery.”

“In a land like Ranuak, little can be kept secret for long if it has results.” Alcaren's voice again contained that dry humorous tone.

“I see.” Secca nodded. Alcaren was definitely telling her something, and she didn't like what she heard because, if he were right, Secca, Richina, Clayre, and Jolyn were all that stood before Sturinn's conquest of Liedwahr.

“So…” Alcaren drew out the word, but as an ending, and not an invitation to more questions. Then he gestured ahead and to the left.

There, almost a dek south from the Council building, the honor guard turned to pass though a pair of gate posts set on the left side of the road. A narrow paved lane led to a two-story dwelling that might well have passed for a mansion, with its wide-glassed windows, cream shutters, and double front doors
under a covered archway with stone mounting blocks for carriages.

To each side and behind the dwelling were gray brick buildings that stretched back seemingly almost half a dek in a squared-off horseshoe shape. The sides had the frequent doors and windows of a barracks, while the back side of the horseshoe had several wide doors, indicating stables and other working spaces.

“The front building is the guest quarters,” Alcaren said. “You will have the master suite on the second floor, with an adjoining smaller suite for Lady Richina.”

“What about you?” asked Secca.

“I have a small set of rooms on the lower level. They didn't know where else to put me.” Alcaren grinned, and his gray-blue eyes twinkled for a moment. “I was the only man who was an overcaptain in Elahwa.” He looked at Wilten. “I expect you will have the suite across from me. The barracks in back will hold ten companies and their officers. The players should get the first set of company quarters, and there are enough rooms in the guest house for your chief players.”

“Your lancers worked this out before we came?” asked Secca.

“I suggested it in my scroll. The honor guard confirmed it.”

“The lancers and players will appreciate the quarters greatly.”

While Secca dismounted and unsaddled her own mount, she did not leave the courtyard until she was certain that all the lancers and players were indeed quartered. Her legs ached by the time she and Richina followed Alcaren through the rear entry to the guest mansion and up the wide staircase. Dyvan and Rukor trailed the three.

“This suite is yours, Lady Richina.” Alcaren opened the door and motioned for Richina to enter.

Secca did not enter, just held the lutar, waiting. She could see that the suite was about the size of Richina's rooms at Loiseau, if slightly more starkly appointed.

“I will let you know about the meal shortly,” offered the Ranuan as he closed the door. He turned and walked along the corridor, a good three yards wide, toward a set of double doors at the end.

After Alcaren opened the right-hand door, Secca stepped through the shimmering polished oak door frame. Despite the grayness of the day, the large chamber was flooded with light from the wide windows. A working desk faced away from the leftmost of the three windows, so that light would fall over the shoulders of whoever used it. A circular golden oak conference table was set before the right window, with five chairs spaced around it. On the left wall was a tiled hearth with logs already set on a pair of heavy iron andirons. An open door on the right wall revealed a bedchamber, with a bathing chamber beyond that.

The petite sorceress shook her head. Somehow, despite all the words from the counselors, the guest quarters and barracks were more than Secca had expected.

“They owe you and your predecessor greatly,” Alcaren said. “They would like to feel that they could repay some of that debt.”

Secca wished more rulers felt that way, instead of acting like Bertmynn and his greedy son Mynntar.

“You need but use the bellpull to summon a servant. If you do not mind, I will arrange for the evening meal for those in this building in about a glass.”

“And the players and lancers?”

“There is a larger kitchen in the barracks,” Alcaren said with a smile. “They will not suffer.”

Secca laughed.

Alcaren bowed. “Until later, lady.” With his smile still in place, he turned and departed, closing the outer door with an audible
click
.

Secca was still smiling as she walked toward the bath chamber, where two kettles of steaming water stood on the table beside a tub filled with warm water.

A distant roaring and groaning filled the dark room, followed by a low grumbling rumble, and then by the sound of metal being wrenched.

Secca bolted upright in the oversized bed in the guest quarters. Ignoring the gumminess in her eyes, she turned her head from one side to the other, trying to determine if the sound had come from the quarters or from somewhere in Elahwa, but all she could hear was…nothing. Nothing except her own breathing.

Had she heard metal being bent and wrenched? Or had she dreamed that she had heard it? Or had it been another distant and massive song-spell? The sound had been so much like the sound of tortured Harmonies that had followed the fall of the keep at Dolov. Had it been a dream because she felt she had acted wrongly? Or had it been actual sorcery penetrating her sleep? More Sturinnese thunder-drum sorcery?

She started to lie back, but she could feel her heart pounding. So she swung her bare legs over the side of the bed and sat there for several moments in the darkness, taking deep breaths and trying to relax. After a time, she stood, wincing momentarily as her bare feet touched the polished gray stone tiles of the floor. She eased out of the small bedchamber and into the larger main chamber of the guest suite, listening with each step. The main chamber was dark and silent.

Certain that her chambers were empty of all but her, Secca used a striker to light the candle on the small desk in the main chamber, then eased the travel scrying mirror from its leather case and set it in the small pool of light cast by the candle. Next
came the lutar. Her fingers were stiff as she began to tune the instrument, but before long she held the lutar and stood before both candle and glass. What did she need to know?

Finally, she began the spell.

The glass silvered, and then presented an image mostly of grays. With the darkness in the room and the darkness of the scene displayed, Secca found making out details was difficult. As she peered at the glass, she began to recognize a scene showing only shattered rock, much as Dolov had looked, except Dolov was on a bluff overlooking a river, and the structure Secca beheld seemed to be on a low rise of some sort.

She swallowed.

A keep somewhere had been destroyed by sorcery, but where she had no idea. Dumar? Ebra? Ranuak?

With a sigh, Secca lifted the lutar and sang the words to release the first image. Then she tried a variation on the spell.

The mirror remained unchanged, reflecting only the candle above it, and hazy shadows, one of which was Secca's.

Secca thought for a moment, then tried a third spell.

The scene was nearly identical to the first, and rather than struggle with keeping the image in the glass, Secca immediately sang the release couplet.

“Belmar?” she murmured.

The fourth spell was an attempt to see if it had indeed been the Neserean sorcerer and plotter.

The third image was near-identical to the first two, and Secca released it quickly.

She swallowed and began the fourth spellsong.

The glass showed the dark-haired sorceress, hair disheveled, pacing beside a table holding a scrying glass.

Secca nodded and released the spell. Clayre was safe, but as disturbed as Secca. The red-haired sorceress looked down at her own blank glass and shivered once, then set the lutar on the side of the desk, before turning and walking to the center window, conscious of the chill welling away from the panes, even through the closed shutters. No sounds came from the city beyond the glass.

After a moment, the sorceress unfastened the brass catch, folded back the right shutter, and gazed out on the gray-paved lane, darker and grayer in the night, that led out to the main boulevard.

Belmar? She had felt that it couldn't have been Clayre, not the way that the Harmonies had protested, and the mirror had confirmed that.

And why at night? Not that she had not done spells at night or in the darkness.

Secca leaned forward until her nose almost touched the cold glass, glancing upward…Darksong was indeed in the sky, but past its zenith, but Neserea was to the west, where the white moon was higher in the heavens.

So the spell had been sung when Darksong had been high in the night sky in Neserea.

Did that mean that a Clearsong spell for building a bridge would be more effective when the white moon was at its zenith during the day?

She frowned. While there were some mentions of moon positions in the older books, they all referred to Darksong. Yet it followed that they should affect spells under either moon.

Slowly and carefully, she closed the shutter and relatched it. Then she crossed to the desk, where she recased the lutar, but left the mirror on the desk. After another moment, she blew out the candle and made her way back to the bed, where she eased her way back under the comforter.

She took a deep and slow breath, trying to relax, at least enough to get back to sleep.

Belmar? Neserea?

She turned over…once, and then again.