The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (6 page)

She studied the two, catching the hint of a smile in Blaz’s eyes. Well, one out of two wasn’t bad, and maybe the older guard could get it across to Giellum.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, lady,” said Blaz.

“No . . . lady,” added Giellum.

No sooner had her guards left than Resor opened the door again. “There is a player here, Lady Anna. He says his name is Delvor.”

“I’ll see him.” No one else could, and at times like this she missed Daffyd. She really needed another player-master, but where would she find one?

Blaz followed the would-be player into the receiving room and stood just inside the door, hand on his blade.

The young man stepped into the receiving room and looked down at the floor. Lank brown hair—too long—spilled across his forehead. His fingers were white where they clutched his violino case.

“You . . . summoned me, sorceress.” His thin voice trembled out of a thin face.

“I requested players.” Anna waited. Yes, she had requested players, from everywhere and even with the promise of a healthy wage. And this trembling youngster was only the second since harvest—two in half a season, when she needed a good dozen, if not more. The first so-called player had carried a falk horn on which he couldn’t play “Come to Jesus” in whole notes. Anna’s eyes focused on the youngster. “Are you interested in being a player for the Regency?”

“Yes, lady.” He looked down.

“I take it that you are worried about playing for an unknown sorceress, but you need the coin even more than you worry?”

The youngster just shivered.

“What is your name, young player?” Anna hated it when she’d been given a name and didn’t remember it, but she’d never been that good with names.

“Delvor, lady.”

“Delvor, I don’t eat players. I do pay them well, if they can meet my standards. That’s a silver a week.” She paused.

“A silver . . . ?”

“Take out that violino and play something for me.”

Delvor’s fingers still trembled as he fumbled out the old and polished instrument. The trembling lessened as he began to tune the violino.

“Anytime you’re ready.”

Slowly, he raised the instrument and the bow.

After the first unsteady notes, the short melody was clear. Delvor didn’t squeak or shriek, and his fingering looked sure.

From where he stood by the door, Blaz gave the faintest of nods. Anna wasn’t so certain.

“All right.” Anna gestured for the violinist to stop. “How do you learn a new melody? Can you read notation?”

The look at the floor answered that question.

“I take it that you learn by ear?”

“I can play what I’ve heard,” the player answered. He swallowed. “Sometimes, I must hear it more than once.”

More than sometimes
. Anna nodded, then cleared her throat. “I’ll sing a short song—just the notes, not the words. Listen carefully. I’ll want you to play it as well as you can.”

Delvor lowered the violin and bow and nodded.

“La, la, la . . .” Anna sang the water spell melody. That couldn’t cause any trouble, or not much, if it were passed on to others.

Delvor cocked his head, listening.

“Now . . . you try it.”

The player picked up the bow. All in all, Anna had to repeat the song more than three times before Delvor could basically replicate it.

She wanted to shake her head. Still . . . he had been able to pick it up. She supposed he would have a use, if only
as the equivalent of third or fourth chair, not that sorcerers’ players were classified that way.

“Delvor?”

“Yes, lady.” The player hung his head.

“There is a great deal you do not know. If you stay here, you will have a lot to learn.”

Delvor licked his lips.

“You may stay. You will receive a silver a week, and, until the rest of the players arrive, you will also be required to assist in other areas. Nothing heavy, but I may have you learn new skills or serve as a messenger. Do you understand?”

“Where . . .”

“There are players’ quarters in the liedburg. You get quarters and food and the silver. Do you wish to serve the Regency?”

Delvor went to his knees. “Yes, lady.”

Anna lifted the bell, and Cens entered.

“Cens, this is Delvor, and he is one of the new players. He can have one of the small rooms in the players’ quarters by the stables. I’d appreciate it if you’d get him settled. Then tell Dythya about him.”

“Yes, Lady Anna.”

When Cens and the player had left, she looked down at the table. There was another reason why poor Daffyd hadn’t been able to find many players. Most of them didn’t have any spines—except for those who’d already died at the Sand Pass or in the destruction of Vult.

She sighed. Then, what player in his or her right mind would want to serve her when most of those who had were dead? Poor Daffyd—he’d been a good viola player who had helped spell her to Defalk and then served as her chief player, and he was buried under the lava of the volcano she had raised to destroy Vult and the dark Evult who had directed the darksingers of Ebra against Defalk. So were all of the others who had followed her to Vult. She sighed again.
Get back to a problem you can do something about . . . maybe
.

She couldn’t get supplies or move troops if the roads turned to mud every time it rained. She couldn’t use sorcery to repair the roads without players and stones being carted nearby, and she couldn’t have the stones carted except in dry weather. And she couldn’t find enough players.

Anna took a deep breath. She still hadn’t paid that visit to the kitchens and Meryn. She might as well do that, before she forgot. The liedburg ran on meals as well as coins and arms.

The ubiquitous Blaz followed her down the corridor and out to the section of the liedburg that jutted into the rear courtyard, almost standing alone—probably for fire reasons.

Meryn stood at the far end of the huge hearth, with one of the oven doors open, easing a wooden paddle containing the dough that would be bread into the oven. At the table behind her, Jysel was plucking a just-scalded chicken, and other sodden birds lay beside the first.

Anna waited until Meryn closed the oven door.

“Oh . . . Lady Anna.” The head cook’s hands fluttered. Behind her, Jysel’s mouth opened.

“I don’t have any problems,” Anna said. “I’ve enjoyed your cooking, and I really liked the way you spiced the mutton stew the other night. It wasn’t bland, and it didn’t burn my tongue.”

The cook’s hands stopped fluttering. “We do as we can, lady. But with so many mouths . . .”

Anna held in a sigh. Like everything else in Defalk, the liedburg kitchen was probably overworked. “You could use another good cook?” She gave a smile.

“I could use three, lady, not that there be three in Falcor I’d want.” Meryn shook her head.

“If you find one you would like to help you, let me know.” Anna sniffed. “The bread smells good. I don’t know how I’d manage without all the bread you’ve baked for me.”

“That be good.” Meryn smiled. “Unlike some, you
appreciate good food, and the folk who fix it.” She paused. “Molasses for the dark bread, it be getting dear.”

Anna half nodded to herself. Everything was getting dear. “Once, a long way away, I fixed a lot of fancy meals.” The sorceress offered a laugh. “And not with sorcery. But I had things that made it easier. I wouldn’t want to try to cook in that hearth.”

“Takes watching, lady, that it does.”

“I’m sure it does.” She glanced toward Blaz. “I wish I could stay longer, Meryn . . . Jysel . . . but I wanted to tell you again, personally, how much I appreciate all the cooking and the work.”

Both women bowed.

Once back in the receiving room, Anna rang the bell even before seating herself at the worktable.

“Find me Menares.”

While she waited, she began to make a list—yet another of the endless lists that grew faster on the bottom than she could complete on the top. This list held the key roads from Falcor to the borders. Should she add molasses to the supply list?

“Lady Anna?” Menares bowed. His eyes flicked away from her to the floor, then to the empty gilt receiving chair.

“What did Tirsik say?”

“The stablemaster will talk to the messengers, he and Captain Alvar. They should ride on the edges of the roads, and he will tell them where not to ride.”

“Good.”

“He also sent his thanks for the coins for the extra straw.”

Anna nodded. “I need you to find something else. Find me an artist. One who can do good sketches of bridges and roads and forts. There ought to be someone who can draw somewhere near Falcor. I’ll pay him—or her.” With the word “her,” she thought of poor Garreth, who’d drawn her picture, and who had been killed merely on a
whim by Cyndyth while Anna had been saving the Prophet’s armsmen.

“Yes, Lady Anna.” Menares’ voice contained a resigned tone, the one that suggested she was being unreasonable or frivolous.

“I’m not crazy,” she snapped. “We need better—” She groped for a suitably impressive word. “—infrastructure here in Defalk, and that means roads and bridges, and since we don’t have any dissonant builders and no coins, that means sorcery, and I need images for sorcery. Is that clear?”

Menares nodded, backing quickly out of the receiving room.

Once again, she was getting a reputation for being a temperamental bitch. Why couldn’t they see? She wasn’t even a military type, and it was obvious. Defalk was surrounded on all sides by potential enemies.

With Blaz and Giellum following her, she left the receiving room and took the small service hall. Her boots echoed on the stones of the narrow passage. She opened the back door to slip inside the large hall that was being used as the de facto schoolroom for her pages and fosterlings. Trying not to sneeze, she remained behind the long tapestry and listened.

Dythya was speaking.

“Remember . . . the position of the numeral determines the amount of its greatness. In the first position, a six is just a six. In the second position, it is a sixty, or ten times greater. In the third position . . .”

“Numbers different when they are in different places. New symbols! You confuse us. Why do we even have to use new characters for numbers? The old ones were fine,” said Hoede, almost red-faced.

“Once you learn them, using figures is easier,” Dythya said patiently. “It is easier to check accounts, and to keep track of what you have spent.”

“You haven’t told me why we must use different symbols for numbers.”

Anna decided to put an end to the discussion. She stepped out from behind the dusty arras depicting Lord Donjim’s grandsire.

“Lady Anna . . .”

“Sorceress . . .”

“I beg your pardon, Dythya.” Anna nodded to the woman who was the liedstadt accountant, or the closest thing to an accountant.

Dythya merely nodded, a faint smile playing around her lips.

Anna turned to the youngsters seated at the long table, grease markers and rough brown paper before them. Her eyes took in each in turn. Secca, the youngest redhead, glanced up at the sorceress openly. Skent, at the end of the table, did not quite meet her eyes. Nor did Ytrude, the shy and tall blonde. But Anna did get a flashing smile from the redheaded Lysara, the older sister of Birke, who remained with his father at Abenfel. On the other hand, Cataryzna smiled shyly. Cens just looked blank, as did Resor. Hoede swallowed and pursed his lips. Jimbob, at the end of the table, met her eyes for a moment.

“Hoede.” Anna fixed the sandy blond with blue eyes that were as cold as the Falche River beyond the liedburg walls. “If you spent as much time learning your digits and how to use them as you do arguing about it, you’d not only be able to improve your sire’s accounts, you’d have time left over for more pleasant pastimes.”

Hoede’s eyes fell.

“Since you want an answer, I’ll make it simple. Defalk almost perished under the old ways. Nordwei, Ranuak, Neserea, and even Mansuur have adopted more modern ways of doing things. We either adopt even better methods, or we will be forced to submit.”

“But you have sorcery,” murmured a voice.

Anna shook her head. “I managed to hold off the Dark Ones, and bring back the rain. Magic does not work on crops, or on accounts, and a sorceress can only be in one place. I cannot be there to tell every lord and holding how
and when to plant. I will not live long enough to advise your children. If you don’t learn as much as you can, most of you won’t hold what you have.” She smiled. “I know . . . some of you are not the heirs, and that means knowledge is even more important for you, because what you can do is determined even more by what you can learn.” She turned back to Hoede. “You can ask all the questions you want about
why
something works or
how
to calculate or use your knowledge. If you wish to ask questions about the necessity of learning such matters, then come to me. If you persist in wasting the time of those who teach you with such childish inquiries, then I will send you and anyone else home and invite another young person.” She smiled. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lady Anna.” The murmured answer was nearly in unison.

“There’s an even shorter answer, Hoede,” Anna continued. “I saved Defalk when no one else could or would. Since my ways worked, and nothing else did, you’ll learn my ways.” She paused. “I also might point out that the more powerful lords in Defalk have already adopted these numbers and this system. They say it takes less time and works better. Now . . . Hoede, I’ve given you three reasons. Do you need any more?”

Hoede looked down, his face as red as the stripe in his tunic.

“Dythya will examine you on how well you learn the new number system, all of you. I expect you all to do well.” She smiled, then nodded, and left by the front door, where Giellum waited.

She glanced at the young guard. His eyes dropped.

Why did everything she did shock the young? Or some of them? She was supposed to accomplish grand deeds—like figuring out how to keep Defalk from being dismembered by its neighbors when she had next to no armsmen, few coins, and drought-ravaged cropland that would take years to recover even with the return of the rains.