The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (37 page)

Read The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle Online

Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.

BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
12.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Why?”
“That’s a caltrops.”
“What?”
“Foot soldiers use them, scatter them around to stop horse troops.”
Anna swallowed, then moistened her lips. Why would someone try to lame Farinelli? To get at her? Anna shook her head, then began to ease her way around the stall—carefully with the slippery footing underneath.
Surprisingly, to her, Farinelli let her lift each foot. Each appeared uninjured. “His hoofs are fine.”
“Good. None of my people would do that. Not to any animal, and certainly not to one this fine.” Tirsik’s voice was edged. “We’ll check all the stalls.”
Anna began to brush the gelding.
“Looks like some armsmen coming,” commented Tirsik.
“Oh … I’m supposed to have an escort. Menares doesn’t want someone to attack his prize sorceress. I told him a
small
escort.”
“Subofficer walks like he’s got a burr under his saddle.”
“He probably does. Proud warriors don’t like protection details.” Anna snorted, looking for the saddle blanket. She patted Farinelli, hoping he wouldn’t throw off the blanket, and eased out of the stall.
“Subofficer Spirda, Lady Anna.” The words seemed forced out of the stiff young officer’s mouth. His tanned face registered disapproval, even to the blond hair and brush mustache.
“I am pleased to meet you, Spirda.” Anna inclined her head gravely. “I’ll be a few moments, since I’ll need to finish saddling Farinelli.” She could see the thoughts in his mind—
She
names
horses; what am I doing here?
“Naming horses is one of my many peculiarities,” the sorceress added. “Along with carrying my own weight.” She stepped back into the stall, where she slipped the saddle off the rack and onto Farinelli, who whuffled. “Easy … you’ll get some exercise, plenty of exercise before we’re done.”
“That one’s not what she seems, officer,” said Tirsik
wryly. “Not a one of my men that beast will let near.”
“A disguised unicorn? I doubt that,” said Spirda.
“You want the bay mare, boy?” asked Tirsik, looking at Skent who had hurried up.
“If you please, ser.”
“The page is coming?” asked Spirda.
“Yes, ser,” Skent said. “The sorceress said I had to.”
“Sorceress …”
“Ser,” offered Skent politely, “she filled the middle hall with light in instants, and she turned useless cloth into the finest gown, and her room is cooler than the deepest cellars of the hall.”
“You saw all this, boy?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Hmmmm …”
Behind the stall wall, as she tightened the saddle cinches, Anna frowned. Spirda sounded like another man who needed both cultivating and watching.
As she led the big palomino out of the stall, Birke appeared, breathless. “Here’s your case, Lady Anna.”
Tirsik offered, and Anna handed the reins to the stable-master. “Easy, Farinelli.”
The gelding
whuff
ed, but remained planted as Anna quickly retrieved the lutar and put it in the case, then strapped the case to the empty saddlebags. She took the water bottle, and handed it to Birke. “I’m not as organized as I should be. Can you fill this quickly?”
“Yes, lady.” The redhead dashed off.
Anna frowned. Fear from the youth, she didn’t want. She turned to Spirda and smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you, Officer Spirda. I apologize for imposing on your time, and that of your men, but the Prophet’s counselor felt …” She shrugged.
“The instrument? I understood this was to be a ride.”
“It is.” She glanced down to his belt and the rapier he wore. “You are an armsman, and you wear your weapon on your belt. I’m a sorceress. I’d prefer not to use mine.
That is why you are here, and why the lutar is in its case. I will use it if I have to.”
Spirda frowned, and Anna wanted to sigh. Had she gotten the biggest dunce in Behlem’s forces? Probably, and that meant explaining.
“What the sorceress means,” Tirsik interjected with a smile, “is that sorcery’s often not too … particular-like, I’d guess you’d say, officer. I heard that this lady killed at least a couple thousand Ebrans. I don’t suppose that the Prophet would want her having to kill a few thousand folks just to fend off a few brigands.”
Anna could see the light dawning, dimly. “Officer Spirda,” she said gently, “we are just going on a ride. I need the exercise. The Prophet is convinced I need a certain amount of protection. For me to do what I can, I need to see more of Defalk. Right now, that means Falcor.” She smiled again, feeling that she was smiling too often, as she had at Ames, and before, until her face felt like it would fall off. Why couldn’t she just spell out the situation? Because she was dealing with people, and people didn’t like truth. Once she’d thought it was only women—before she met Dieshr—but women were just as bad, and often more vicious.
“All right, lady. We will accompany you. Let us get our mounts.”
You don’t have any choice, but if that’s the way you want to save face, for now,
we’ll leave it like that
, Anna thought, saying, “Thank you. Skent and I will wait for you in the courtyard.”
Tirsik smiled sadly and briefly as the Neserean officer turned and marched off. “Need to get you on that bay quick, Skent.”
“Yes, ser.”
Anna led Farinelli out of the stables and into the stillshadowed corner of the courtyard. Two armsmen working a grindstone in the shade of the wall glanced up, speculatively, then went back to their labors. She tried to look at the inside of the liedburg in a more analytical fashion.
From what she could tell, the general plan was simple—the hall sat in the middle of the walls, with towers attached to each corner of the four walls. The working aspects of the castle, such as the stables, were built inward from the outer walls, and the irregular space between the hall and the expanded walls formed the de facto courtyard. Guards walked the upper section of the outer walls, but without much conviction.
Anna, again, got the impression that Falcor, and Defalk, were just too tired from drought, whatever, to put up much resistance. Behlem had apparently just marched in and taken over.
Skent arrived first, leading out the bay mare. “Tirsik let me take the bay. Birke says she’s steady. I didn’t get to ride much this last year, not like he did.”
“Why was that?”
“He’s the son of a lord. They get to ride more often.”
There was more, but Anna didn’t press, especially as Birke hurried back with the water bottle. “Thank you, Birke. I appreciate it.” She took the bottle and slipped it into the leather holder hanging from the front of the saddle.
Birke nodded.
Spirda and two armsmen rode up almost immediately. So Anna climbed into the saddle with a grace she wouldn’t have believed weeks earlier, and eased Farinelli alongside Spirda’s chestnut.
“Whenever you’re ready, Officer Spirda.”
Spirda nodded stiffly and eased the chestnut into the sun and toward the portcullis gate.
“Spirda, Prophet’s Guard, escorting sorceress, the lady Anna.”
The portcullis lifted, and Anna nodded to the gate officer. “Thank you.”
The officer did not smile, just studied her. Anna stared back until his eyes fell.
Another set of guards were drawn up outside the portcullis, but only one or two even looked up as the six rode
out. Was that because no one was interested in anyone free enough to ride
out
?
As Farinelli’s hoofs clicked on the stone—and the gelding almost pranced—Skent rode on her immediate left, and Spirda on her right. The other two armsmen, bored looks on their faces, rode behind.
She turned to Skent. “If we go south, where will the road take us?”
“Through the merchants’ quarter, Lady Anna, and then back to the fork in the highways. One crosses the south bridge and goes on to Sudwei, the right fork follows the river to Cheor, and then down to Abenfel. I haven’t gone that far, but that’s what Birke says, and he’s from Abenfel.”
Anna turned Farinelli left at the end of the causeway, with the castle to her left and a row of structures to the right. Her eyes focused on the shops across from the liedburg, a strange mixture—a perfumery beside a tailor, and then a cooper, and a bootmaker, and then the inevitable chandlery.
“Officer Spirda, where are you from?”
“Zeltos.”
“Where is Zeltos? You have to remember that I’m new to Liedwahr.”
“It’s a trading town south of Itzel.”
Anna waited.
“Itzel is where the Essis and the Saria Rivers join. Once it was the capital of Neserea.” Spirda closed his mouth.
“First woman I’ve seen riding out of there,” came a comment from under a purple awning at the right edge of the street.
“Got a page, too.”
“Discord! The whitecoats might actually be human.”
“Pretty woman, though.”
“Do you come from a military family?—I mean a family where use of arms is the practice?” Anna eased Farinelli around a pushcart bearing baskets.
“All Neserean men are skilled in arms,” Spirda said
stiffly, his mount following Anna’s. Skent went around the other side of the cart.
“I’m sure. That wasn’t quite what I meant. You’re a leader, and often families have a tradition of producing arms leaders.” Anna patted Farinelli because she could sense he was getting edgy with the combined street traffic of pedestrians and carts.
“Oh …” Spirda paused, and Anna could almost feel a thawing at the recognition/compliment. “No. My uncle was a subofficer with the old prophet, but my sire is a merchant. I was never meant to peddle carpets. So I joined the Guard.”
“I got the impression the other night that the Guard is special, but no one said much. Probably they thought I knew.”
“The Prophet’s Guard is the oldest company-at-arms in Neserea, and it takes much skill to be accepted.”
“I’m complimented that the counselor felt I needed such talented escorts. I didn’t know.” Anna tried not to retch, but subtlety clearly wasn’t within Spirda’s reach.
“The Guard gets the special assignments.”
“Do you guard the Prophet in battle?”
“Not all of us, but some Guards are always around him, except when he does sorcery.”
Sorcery? Behlem did sorcery? He didn’t feel like he did sorcery, but Daffyd had indicated that anyone could do a few spells, if they practiced, and were ready to take the risks.
At the end of the liedburg grounds to the left, they continued down the street, with structures now on both sides, with a higher noise level.
“ … best spices in Falcor …”
“Fresh fowl! Get your fresh fowl …”
“ …
told
Alastor that flour would go to five silvers! Think he’d …”
Anna wanted to put her hands to her ears as they eased down the street.
Despite the noise, when she saw the cloth merchant, and
the deep green velvets, she wanted to stop, but decided that the Erdean equivalent of shopping wasn’t a good idea—not on the first ride with the stiff-necked Spirda.
“It’s better a block down,” Skent said loudly. “In three, the way’s clear to the bridge and square.”
Anna hoped so, and offered another smile to Spirda. More politics! Would she ever be free of politics? It didn’t seem to matter where she was; the need for politics continued!
“ … the gown stayed pure and bright!”
A
nna set down the lutar and looked at the deep-blue gown on the bed—neck cut low enough to sing, high enough to get the message across that she wasn’t looking for anyone, with quarter-length sleeves loose enough to let her move, yet like nothing she’d seen on Erde.
In some ways, she hated creating gowns … but it was like performing for the University president—sorceress or singer, she had to keep up appearances.
She glanced in the mirror, struck by the contrast between her riding clothes and the gown—and by the thinness of her face. She felt like she were stuffing herself, making sure she ate seconds, and everything on the trays the pages brought. But her clothes were looser. In the beginning, the idea of youth and eating anything hadn’t seemed so bad … but now, it was almost as though she couldn’t eat enough. She was more muscular, but she still looked too thin, bordering on anorexic. Could she order extra food?
Nothing she did seemed to be enough. She took a deep breath.
Still, she’d been riding for the past three days, and even
Spirda had become almost friendly. The two pages seemed to enjoy it, and she had a better idea of what Falcor was like—and what it had once been.
Although it was hard to tell, she sensed that perhaps a quarter of the structures in the small city were empty, and that some had been vacant for what seemed years.
She shook her head.
The knocker thunked.
“Yes?”
Not recognizing the voice, Anna opened the door.
Menares stood there. “Might I have a word with you, Lady Anna?”
“Of course. Please come in.”
As Anna closed the door, the heavy, white-haired counselor took one of the wooden chairs, sat, and wiped his forehead. “Your rooms are cool.”
“One of the benefits of sorcery. I can cool a small room; I’m not sure about a larger one. Would you like some water? It’s cold and pure.”
“Another benefit of sorcery?”
“A necessary one. Defalk is dry, and I need to drink a lot of water.” She filled the spare goblet for Menares, and refilled her own before sitting down across from him.
“You are attending the dinner this evening?”
Anna’s eyes flicked to the gown.
“I see you are. More sorcery?”
“Of course. I don’t sew that well.”
“You should be aware that the last of the Ebran reinforcements have started out from Synek.” Menares took a sip of the water, then a long swallow. “I never thought water would taste so good.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “How long before they reach Mencha?”
“About two weeks.” The counselor paused. “There are nearly ten thousand in the last contingent.”
“We’re outnumbered?”
“Greatly. I was wondering just how effective your sorcery is.”
“It’s not
that
effective.” Anna tightened her lips. “Do you have any maps of the land between Mencha and Falcor?”
“A number,” admitted the counselor. “But you are not a field commander.”
Anna shook her head. “That is not why I need them. I have some ideas of how I might apply magic in some areas.”
Actually, I have no ideas at all, just feelings, but I’ll have to trust them.
She paused. “That might mean fighting somewhere of our choice, though.”
“After what the mirrors showed in the Sand Pass, Lady Anna, most commanders would listen if you could assure them that fighting on this or that hilltop would grant them a victory they could not otherwise assure.”
“I may have to ride out to Zechis or Pamr,” Anna cautioned.
“You will have to take a larger escort,” countered Menares.
“For something like that, I’d need one,” Anna admitted. She stood and refilled his goblet.
“Were I younger …” the counselor began.
“Remember, counselor,” she cautioned, “I’m not that much younger than you are. I was just a beneficiary of a sorcerous accident.”
“Would that such an accident befell me.”
Anna frowned. “Would you really want to be young in a place where you could never see family, friends, or do what you loved fully and freely?”
The white-haired man tugged at the uppermost of his double chins. “Hmmmm … that is a point.” He sipped more of the water. “Yet … it is almost a pleasure just to be here. Cool … with a beautiful woman.”
Anna laughed, softly. “What else do you want, you devious schemer?”
“Me? The truthful counselor of the Prophet? Devious?”
“You.” The sorceress sipped her own water and waited.
“You see … I worry about the Prophet. Everyone around him has only seen how easily Defalk fell …”
“Without Lord Barjim and his consort, I suspect, Defalk was already defeated, or at least Falcor was.”
Menares’s eyes widened. “How …”
“You can feel a lot when you walk or ride through a city.” Anna looked toward the window, and the afternoon shadows on the walls. “Falcor is dying, or something.” She looked back to the white-haired man. “You were saying?”
“Be careful, Lady Anna. The Prophet needs you. I know he needs you, but few others understand that need.” Menares eased his bulk out of the chair. “Alas, I must go.” He bowed. “Might I visit again?”
“Of course.” Anna inclined her head. “Of course.”
“Until dinner.” Anna waited until he was down the stairs before summoning Skent to get some water so she could wash up. She missed having a tub—even a real shower would be heaven—but neither was going to happen soon.
She also hoped the dinner would not be long, that she would not be the subject of more sexual speculation, and that she would not have to demonstrate sorcery. She also feared all three would come to pass.

Other books

Against All Things Ending by Stephen R. Donaldson
Every Bitch Has A Secret by ASHLEY SHAVONNE
Touch the Wind by Janet Dailey
The Mark on the Door by Franklin W. Dixon
A Man to Die for by Eileen Dreyer
12 Hours In Paradise by Kathryn Berla
FLASHBACK by Gary Braver
The White Raven by Robert Low