The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle
Page 1
TOR BOOKS BY L. E. MODESITT, JR.
THE COREAN CHRONICLES
Legacies
Darknesses
Scepters
Alector’s Choice
Cadmian’s Choice
Soarer’s Choice
THE SPELLSONG CYCLE
The Soprano Sorceress
The Shadow Sorceress
The Spellsong War
Darksong Rising
Shadowsinger
THE SAGA OF RECLUCE
The Magic of Recluce
The Order War
The Magic Engineer
Fall of Angels
The Death of Chaos
The White Order
The Chaos Balance
Magi’i of Cyador
Colors of Chaos
Wellspring of Chaos
Scion of Cyador
Ordermaster
The Towers of the Sunset
Natural Ordermage
THE ECOLITAN MATTER
Empire & Ecolitan
(comprising The Ecolitan Operation and The Ecologic Secession)
Ecolitan Prime
(comprising The Ecologic Envoy and The Ecolitan Enigma)
The Forever Hero
(comprising Dawn for a Distant Earth, The Silent Warrior,
and In Endless Twilight)
Timegods’ World
(comprising The Timegoa and Timedive’s Dawn)
THE GHOST BOOKS
Of Tangible Ghosts
The Ghost of the Revelator
Ghost of the White Nights
The Parafaith War
Gravity Dreams
Adiamante
Archform: Beauty
The Octagonal Raven
The Ethos Effect
The Green Progression
Flash
The Hammer of Darkness
The Eternity Artifact
The Elysium Commission*
*forthcoming
“L. E. Modesitt, Jr., works well with his characters and carefully considers the economics of empire. There’s a lot of bridge building, literally, and road building, and [the protagonist] Anna also needs to convince an entire culture that women are not just heir-producers and chattel.”
—San Diego Union-Tribune
“Among the pleasures of the book are Modesitt’s descriptions of the rigors of sorcery, the dilemmas of finding oneself suddenly somewhere else without a wardrobe, and the political ambiguities of her role.”
—San Jose Mercury News
“Volume Two, The Spellsong War, is a worthy successor to the first book, well written and engaging. You will enjoy it.”
—Sasha Miller
THE
SPELLSONG
WAR
BOOK TWO OF THE SPELLSONG CYCLE
L. E. MODESITT, JR.
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.
Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE SPELLSONG WAR
Copyright © 1998 by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Edited by David G. Hartwell
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN-13: 978-0-812-54002-4
ISBN-10: 0-812-54002-6
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 97-29837
First Edition: January 1998
First Mass Market Edition: January 1999
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
To
my one and only soprano sorceress
CHARACTERS
Anna Regent of Defalk and Lady of Loiseau [Mencha]
Jimbob Heir to Defalk [Falcor]
Hanfor Arms Commander of Defalk
Dythya Counselor of Finance
Essan Lady and widow of Lord Donjim
Herene Younger sister of Lady Gatrune [Pamr]
Herstat Saalmeister of Eldheld
Menares Counselor
LORDS OF DEFALK
Jecks Lord of Elheld [Elhi], Advisor to the Regent
Arkad Lord of Synfal [Cheor]
Birfels Lord of Abenfel; consort is Fylena
Clethner Lord of Nordland
Dannel Lord of Mossbach; consort is Resengna
Dencer Lord of Stromwer; consort is Wendella
Fustar Lord of Issl
Gatrune Lady of Pamr
Geansor Lord of Sudwei
Genrica Lord of Wendel
Gylaron Lord of Lerona; consort is Reylan
Hryding Lord of Flossbend [Synope]; consort is Anientta
Jearle Lord of Denguic
Klestayr Lord of Aroch
Mietchel Lord of Morra
Nelmor Lord of Dubaria; eldest son and heir is Tiersen
Sargol Lord of Suhl
Tybel Lord of Arien
Vlassa Lord of Fussen; heirs are twin sons, Ustal and Falar
Vyarl Rider of Heinene
FOSTERLINGS AND PAGES
Alseta Daughter of Chief Player Liende
Barat Page
Birke Heir of Lord Birfels [Abenfel]
Cataryzna Daughter and heir of Lord Geansor [Sudwei]
Cens Page
Hoede Youngest son of Lord Dannel [Mossbach]
Kinor Son of Chief Player Liende
Lysara Daughter of Lord Birfels [Abenfel]
Resor Page
Secca Daughter of Lord Hryding [Flossbend]
Skent Page
Ytrude Daughter of Lord Nelmor [Dubaria]
DEFALKAN ARMSMEN
Alvar Captain
Himar Captain
Jirsit Undercaptain
DEFALKAN PLAYERS
Daffyd Viola; first Chief Player
Liende Woodwind; second Chief Player
Delvor Violino
Duralt Falk horn
Hassett Violino
Kaseth Violino
Pallian Violino
Yuarl Violino
OTHERS OUTSIDE DEFALK
Ashtaar Spymistress of Nordwei
Behlem Prophet of Music, Lord of Neserea; consort is Cyndyth
Bertmynn Lord of Dolov, Ebra
Ehara Lord of Dumar; consort is Siobion
Hadrenn Lord of Synek, Ebra
Konsstin Liedfuhr of Mansuur
Maitre of Sturinn Leader of Sturinn; master of the Sea-Priests
Matriarch Head of State, Ranuak; consort is Ulgar
Nubara Overcaptain of Lancers, Mansuur, stationed in Neserea
Rabyn Heir of
Behlem, Neserea
Tybra Leader, Council of Wei, Nordwei
I
OUVERTURE
1
WEI, NORDWEI
The heavy gong sounds, and the two women in the uniform of the Council turn and open the lacquered double doors, each bearing the ancient symbol of the Council of Wei. Each wears twin black-lacquered scabbards at her hips, and the scabbards contain the infamous short swords of the Nordan Guard.
Ashtaar moistens her lips and steps through the doors, then down the black carpet toward the dais.
The black-lacquered Council table is also ancient, and behind it sit seven figures. The woman in the center wears a silver-and-black seal on a heavy silver chain. Her dark eyes hold Ashtaar as the spymistress walks down the dark green carpet toward the space below the dais holding the table.
“The mist-world sorceress now holds Defalk. The Council has read your report, and would like to inquire further.”
“Yes, Ancient One.” Ashtaar bows.
“Please summarize the major events that led to the current state of affairs. Briefly.”
“A travel sorceress and a player summoned the lady Anna from the mist worlds. Both are dead now. The sorcerer Brill spirited her away and tutored her in the ways of both Darksong and Clearsong. The Dark Ones tried to kill her and failed. She supported Lord Barjim against the Ebrans at the Sand Pass. Barjim and Brill were killed, and she collapsed, but not before she destroyed two-thirds of the invaders. She somehow found her way south and recovered in Synope, in the lands of Lord Hryding. Lord Behlem of Neserea then marched into Defalk and took Falcor, but not before Lord Jecks rescued the heir, his grandson Lord Jimbob. Lord Behlem offered his support to the sorceress, and she accepted it and went to Falcor. The Dark Ones gathered another army and marched toward Falcor. The sorceress used water magic and song to destroy the entire Ebran army and all the darksingers in Defalk. The Evult responded by flooding the Fal and destroying half of Falcor. Lord Behlem attempted to remove the lady Anna, and she used her sorcery to kill him and his consort and enlist the support of many of the Neserean troops in Falcor. Then she proclaimed a regency for young Jimbob. Shortly, almost at the dawn of winter, she marched a small force through the Ostfels and used her sorcery to destroy the Evult, the city of Vult, and most of Synek. She almost died, but the lords of Defalk, especially Lord Jecks, rallied behind her. So did the people. She has a reputation for being good and fair, and vindictively just.” Ashtaar bows once more.
“The rains now fall on Defalk, do they not?” asks the red-haired woman to the left of the Council leader.
“Yes. The sorceress removed the chains on the clouds when she destroyed the Evult.”
“Will the sorceress attempt to rule directly and put young Jimbob out of the way?” asks the dark-haired Council leader.
“That does not appear likely. She can have no children and has, in effect, adopted the boy.”
“And Lord Jecks has not objected?”
“He publicly supports the sorceress. As do the lords Birfels, Nelmor, Hryding, Geansor, Clethner, and the lady Gatrune, and the Rider of Heinene. There are doubtless others, and none of the thirty-three have raised voice or hand against her.”
“With her powers, I doubt any of sound mind would do so,” suggests the Council leader. “Are there any whispers of discontent?”
“Almost none that we have been able to track. She holds but one hostage, and that is Wendella, the consort of Lord Dencer of Stromwer. Dencer is rumored to be less than happy.”
“No others?”
“None that we know or can scry.”
“What of Ebra?”
“The land has been flattened, mostly by the floods she unleashed down the river Elha, and Vult lies buried under the fire peak the Ebrans are calling Zauberinfeuer. Hadrenn has claimed the ruins of Synek. He is the one of the sons of an ancient lord, and several pretenders are struggling over Elawha. A lord named Bertmynn is raising armsmen in Dolov. He wishes to be lord of all Ebra.” Ashtaar waits.
“We have received a scroll from the Liedfuhr. He protests our interference in Defalk. He also informs us that young Rabyn is the Lord of Neserea and under his protection and regency. What beyond that do you know?” The dark-haired Council leader smiles faintly.
“He has dispatched fiftyscore lancers to Neserea. They were delayed by the snows in the Mittpass, but travel the south road through the Great Western Forest.”
“Spymistress of Nordwei . . . is it fair to say that a year ago we faced possible threats from the Prophet of Music and the Dark Ones, and both have been destroyed?”
“Yes, Leader Tybra.”
“Is it also fair to say that you chose not to remove the soprano sorceress?” asks Tybra.
“I waited to see whether the Dark Ones and the Prophet were successful in their attempts. The Dark Ones failed in four attempts. The Prophet and his consort failed as well. We have been able to trace at least two attempts by Neserea.” Ashtaar inclines her head. “I thought it best not to turn the sorceress’s wrath against Nordwei.”
“So . . . now we have a strong and united Defalk on our southern borders, and this is your doing?”
“We have a united Defalk, ruled by a woman for the first time in recorded history, and a Defalk that will take a decade or longer to recover from the drought and depredations of the Dark Ones and the Nesereans.”
“That is what you say. For now . . . for now, we shall see. You may go, but do not hesitate to inform the Council should this sorceress take any action that could possibly affect Nordwei.”
“Yes, leader Tybra.” Ashtaar bows a last time, then turns. She does not wipe the dampness from her forehead.
2
Through the scarcely cracked high window behind her, Anna could hear the half-frozen rain clattering on the stones of the liedburg. The entire keep felt damp, and even the small fire in her receiving room and de facto office wasn’t enough to remove the dampness. She needed the slight draft from the window to keep from being suffocated from the fireplace, which drew poorly with small fires.
Sorceress, Regent of Defalk, Protector of the Heir, not to mention being Lady of Loiseau, and she had to worry about firewood. She hadn’t thought about firewood being a problem—but nearly a decade of drought had wrought enormous damage on the once-wide forests of Defalk.
Then, there was so much that she’d never thought she’d have to consider. She’d been trained to be a professional opera singer, and fallen back on university teaching with the demands of Avery’s career. Later when he’d left her and the children for his slim blonde young thing, the teaching, and several additional part-time jobs, had become necessities. Anna laughed softly to herself. She was slimmer and younger looking than Paulina now, and A very—the self-styled Antonio, king of the comprimarios—would never know. Neither would Mario and Elizabetta. Irenia . . . Anna’s eyes misted. Her oldest daughter’s death had been the catalyst that had left Anna open to poor Jenny’s and Daffyd’s spellsong—that had brought her Liedwahr—and all the rest had followed, like dominoes falling, until she had become regent of a ravaged land. And she’d done little enough, with the press of the Regency, with the lands bestowed on her—Loiseau—because Brill had left no heirs. She’d granted the present tenants the right to remain, but she needed to do something about a more permanent arrangement. That meant traveling to Mencha, and she didn’t have ten days to spare, not counting the time she’d need at Loiseau.
Anna sighed. She stood, pushed back the chair from the worktable, and moved toward the center of the room, her eyes shifting toward the high-backed gilt chair on the dais, the chair she avoided using whenever possible. After a moment she turned, stepped away from the side of the dais, and walked to the single window at the back of the receiving room, where the base of the sill was nearly chest-high. Once again, the dimness reminded her that she’d planned to rearrange the liedburg, perhaps put the receiving/conference area somewhere with more ventilation and light.
She sighe
d—another item low on her long, long list. Before long, she would need to use some of that sorcery to replace the bridge over the Falche, one of the casualties of the war with Ebra when the late Evult had melted all the snow off the northern Ostfels and sent a flood careening down the Fal River and into the Falche with enough force to rip out all the bridges and denude the banks for two hundred and fifty deks. Roughly, a hundred and fifty earth miles, she translated mentally, rubbing her forehead. She still had trouble thinking in rods, furls, deks, and leagues. There weren’t any feet, and yards were still basically yards, and the units above were decimal-based, but she’d never been that good in mental arithmetic.
“Lady Anna?” Giellum knocked on the heavy door even as he peered inside. “Counselor Menares to see you. And your midafternoon repast.” The young guard set the platter on the only open space on the table before straightening.
“Send him in.” She headed from the window back to the worktable.
The heavyset and gray Menares stopped short of Anna and the table, and bowed, extending the scroll. “This arrived by messenger, Lady Anna.”
“From whom?”
“Lord Arkad of Cheor, I believe.”
Anna looked at the plate heaped with bread and cheese before her on the round oak table that served as work-time eating place, desk, and conference table, then at the sealed scroll.
She didn’t want to eat any more, and she certainly didn’t want to read the latest scroll from Lord Arkad—or his scribe. But she had to eat, because of the energy demands of sorcery, or she’d literally wither away into anorexia or the local equivalent. She also had to read the scroll because Arkad was one of the thirty-three lords of Defalk. From what she recalled, he was also one of the handful who still hadn’t paid his liedgeld to the Regency, nearly a season past the end of harvest when it was due.