The Shadow Sorceress

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Oh?" asked Lythner.

  "There is some young fellow in Neserea, scion of one of the old families. Rumors are that he’s trying to suggest he’s the true heir of the Prophet of Music.”

  “Rabyn didn’t have heirs,” Secca pointed out. “Not that he didn’t try with every woman he could find.” She re­sisted smiling as the server slipped another half fowl onto her platter.

  “This one traces his lineage back to Behlem’s brother or cousin.” Robero broke off another chunk of bread. "Lady Jolyn reported that the Sturinnese have sent another fleet to the Ostisles.”

  “They have held the isles for a generation.” Lythner paused. “You think they may attack somewhere in Lied­wahr?"

  “Anything is possible, but when the Maitre starts amass­ing fleets, one should watch closely.”

  Secca continued to eat, but nodded. Sturinn had been quiet for years, and that had scarcely been the pattern of the Sea-Priests throughout the history of the sea-warriors.

  “We are most fortunate that they cannot land on the coast and harbors we do not have,” Lythner said with a smile.

  “This is a good vintage. I appreciate your sending it to us.” Robero held up his goblet. “How are the vineyards coming?"

  “The root rot is a problem... but we’ve begun to graft the white grapes to wild root stock, and it looks like...”

  Secca continued to eat, to smile, and to ask an occa­sional question, but she had to work even to keep her eyes open.

  “...too much water...as much of a problem as too little... going to try for ice-wine in the higher fields this fall..."

  Secca jerked, realizing she had almost fallen asleep at the table. She could not help but yawn. She managed to stifle the first, but not the second.

  “Am I boring you?" Lythner disarmed the question with his warm smile.

  “No. Quite the contrary. I have been trying not to show how tired I am. I rode here from Issl, where I had used sorcery to repair a water dam. Before that, the players and I were extending the finished sections of the road between the River Chean and Mencha.”

  “Some day, it may even be completed,” suggested Robero.

  “Shortly,” promised Secca, trying to hold back another yawn and keep her eyes open.

  Robero shook his head. “Ever were you among the first to bed and the first to rise.” He stood and glanced at Lyth­ner. "I will see Lady Secca to her chamber, if you do not mind. I appreciate your courtesy, arid trust you will convey my best to your sire.”

  “That I will. That I will.” Lythner stood and bowed, first to Secca, then to Robero, before the two turned and de­parted.

  “He did not see me at my best,” said Secca once they were outside.

  “It was an introduction, not a matchmaking,” Robero said dryly. “He might as well know that you do not chatter into the night. Then—as I learned early—you never did offer idle chatter.”

  “I had thought he was consorted, and even has some children.” Secca raised her eyebrows.

  “He was consorted. His consort died last summer of a consumptive flux, and even Lady Jolyn was unable to save her.” Robero’s voice was even.

  Secca started up the steps to the second level. “So... you thought...”

  “You, Lady Sorceress, would not cross the corridor to meet someone suited to you.” Robero pointed out. “He may be suited to you or the reverse, but it could not hurt to have you meet. I did not intend more than that at this point.” He continued walking along the corridor.

  "I suppose Jolyn recommended him?”

  “Hardly. What recommended him to me was that he was not interested in her.” Robero laughed.

  So did Secca, if more gently. “You still would like to see me consorted”

  Robero shook his head. “Secca. . . we have known each other since we were scarce more than children. I am not the Lord of Defalk you would want, but I do wish you well. I do not think you are so happy as you insist you are.”

  Secca opened her mouth, then shut it. After a moment, she said, “Thank you.”

  “I do admit I thought of Lythner because he already has two sons and a daughter. Were you attracted to him, you would not...“

  Secca nodded. "The choice would truly be mine and free. Thank you for that. After I return to Mencha, I will consider all you have said.”

  ‘That is all I ask” Robero continued walking until they reached the door to the guest chamber, where Achar still stood guard.

  Secca turned. “Thank you.”

  “Good dreams, Secca.”

  Secca offered a tired smile before she slipped into the guest chamber, holding off yawning until she was alone. Lythner had a warm smile... and seemed like a good man—but did she really wish to settle for just a good man?

  Abruptly, she stiffened. Why did she want to settle for any man? Anna certainly had not settled for just any man, and Jecks had had to meet Anna’s terms, not anyone else’s. Why did Robero—or most of the lords and even the ladies of the Thirty-three—think that a woman wasn’t happy without a man?

  She shook her head, suddenly awake again, and won­dering if she would soon sleep.

  7

  Still brushing the dust off her riding jacket Secca hurried accross the paving stones of the north courtyard and up the front steps into the arched front entry hall of Loiseau, cool and dim, and lit but by a single pair of wall lamps. Her boots echoed in the high-ceilinged hall as she made her way toward the second archway and the main staircase beyond. The spaciousness of Loiseau always amazed her when she returned.

  “Lady Secca!”

  At the sound of the voice, Secca stopped and turned.

  The white-haired but energetic and round-faced Flo­renda hastened through the side archway from the formal dining hall to join the sorceress at the base of the staircase. "I thought that had to be you, riding in so late,” puffed the household head as she stopped and bowed.

  “Is everything all right? How is Lady Anna?"

  “She be fine, lady. She ate well, down in the salon with Richina and young Kerisel and Jeagyn. She, Lady Anna, was... she was telling Lizyrel that she’d better be careful with that young fellow of hers, because he took after his father.”

  “That sounds like her.” Secca took a slow breath, relax­ing slightly. She’d felt tense for the entire day’s ride, and she’d been worrying the whole time about the extra day she’d taken on the journey back to add another dek and a half to the road from Mencha to the Chean. Yet, if she didn’t squeeze it in, she’d never finish it, because it wasn’t something that she wanted to ride two days in order to put in a day’s work and then ride two back. Nor did Secca wish to spend a week or so camping on the road to finish it, especially when neither Anna nor Robero liked the idea of the players being out of touch that long for roadwork, even though Robero also complained about the length of time it had taken to build the road system.

  “She was fussing about something, but didn’t say what. She’s been doing that for years, and she will be after I’m long gone. You know the way she does.”

  Secca did. "I’ll go on up and see how she is. Is every­thing else all right?”

  "Nothing that Halde‘n me couldn’t handle."

  The sorceress smiled. There was very little the two couldn’t handle between them. Still, she hurried up the wide stone stairs to the second level, her boots echoing on the stone steps and the stone floor of the upper corridor leading back to the main suite that was Anna’s.

  After a hurried knock, Secca bowed as she entered Anna’s quarters. “Lady...“

  Anna sat behind the small desk in the alcove in her quarters, appearing, as always, young and beautiful, blonde hair in perfect position, blue eyes firm and focused, and wearing her trademark green vest over a white silk tunic ­shirt. “You seem to be no worse for the wear, or from the ride, Secca.” Anna smiled good-humoredly.

  ‘1 did take an extra day on the way back to add to the road."

  “You shouldn’t have much left before it’s
done.”

  “Six deks or so, I would judge.” Secca perched on the chest at the foot of the bed.

  “Robero sent me a message.” Anna’s smile turned sar­donic. “About the unfortunate illness afflicting Kylar."

  “He did not become ill until I was gone several days from Issl. Robero informed me when I reached Elheld,”

  “Heavens.. . I’m not unhappy with you, Secca.” Anna shook her head. “Robero still doesn’t have a grain of sense in that balding skull. Anyone could have read that scroll and figured out what he meant. What good would writing something like that do? Alyssa’s not around for a week, and he’s already in trouble. Robero has known for years, as well as we have, that Issl would have been a mess, worse than the revolt in Pamr, within seasons if Kylar had inherited the holding. But Robero still had to warn me, as if he didn’t need the protection we provide.” The Sorceress-Protector snorted.

  “You used the pool to find that out?”

  “A little scrying won’t hurt me. I’m not trying to see Elizabetta” The touch of a frown remained on the unlined forehead as she continued, “I'd like you to try to call up her image tomorrow. . .when you’re rested.”

  “I can do that.” Secca managed to keep her voice level. Anna had never asked Secca to use the glass to bring up an image of the older sorceress’s daughter. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s always telling me to be careful.” Anna paused, if but briefly, before asking, “How is our Lord of Defalk?" Her tone verged on the sarcastic, as it often did when she mentioned Robero.

  “He was most cheerful. He set up a dinner for just three of us—me, him, and Lythner. Lythner’s—”

  “Lord Clethner’s eldest. I know. Robero wrote about that, too. The smartest thing Clethner ever did was to con­sort Nerylt with Chelshay. Robero’s trying to do the same for Lythner.”

  ‘Lythner seems quite nice.”

  Anna laughed. “I’ve always hated that word. Nice. It’s like cute. Baby ducks are cute. Simpering idiots are nice.”

  Secca couldn’t help but laugh at Anna’s phrases.

  “Robero was sort of cute as a boy.” Anna went on. “He never grew out of it, not all the way.” mused Anna. “You’re going to have to watch out for him.”

  “Me? You’ll be around—”

  “For a few years, I hope, but not forever. Clayre’s a good woman, but she’s an old-style sorceress, and Jo­lyn. . .“ Anna shrugged. “We know about her.”

  “What are you worried about?” Secca shifted her weight on the foot chest. She was sore from all the riding.

  "I didn’t sleep that well last night. I had this dream that the Harmonies were shifting. They weren’t the Harmonies, exactly, either. I’m not sure it was a dream.” The ageless blue eyes focused on Secca. “You have to learn to trust how you feel.”

  “I know. You’ve told me that…”

  “Something’s going to happen, and you’ll be the one who’ll have to deal with it. I can give you advice.”

  Again, Secca wanted to frown. Anna had never talked that way about Secca being the one to deal with problems, especially major ones. That had been true even when Anna had sent Secca out to sing shadow sorcery or do the mining spells to get the iron and gold that sustained Loiseau. Anna had just told Secca what to do, as if each occasion had been an exception or a learning experience.

  “Do you know what it is?” asked Secca.

  The older sorceress shook her head. ‘With the Harmo­nies, you don’t.”

  "Robero?"

  “No. It could be the Maitre of Sturinn. Jolyn sent a message about his sending more fleets to the Ostisles. Or it could be something in Ebra. Hadrenn’s always been a weak reed. Or Dumar. Dumar’s always bothered me, ever since Alvar died anyway.”

  “Have you beard from Hanfor recently?"

  "His younger daughter’s happy with young Eryhal, but he still doesn’t have a consort for Annayal, and she’s the heir. He should have consorted Annayal to Eryhal, not Aerfor.” Anna paused, adding soberly, “It’s hard to find a good match, If Robero’s boy Robal were even five years older... but he’s not. Maybe Verad, that younger son of Hadrenn."

  Secca waited, then asked, “Is there anything you need from me tonight?”

  Anna smiled, warmly. “Not a thing. I’m glad you’re back safely. I do still worry, even at your age.”

  “At more than a score and a half?"

  “You never get over it, Secca.” Anna rose and stepped from behind the desk. “Go on. You’re tired. I can see it in your eyes. They’re almost pink. I won’t be up that much longer myself.”

  Secca eased herself up from the chest then stepped for­ward and hugged Anna. Then, with a smile, Secca turned and slipped from the room, somehow both relieved to see Anna in such good spirits, and slightly troubled by what the older sorceress had said.

  Trouble with the Harmonies?

  8

  Secca reined up the chestnut outside the domed sorcery building to the south of the main keep of Loiseau. Vy­ren—the head ostler—had insisted Secca take the chestnut and give the gray mare she preferred a rest, even if the ride down to the outbuilding was little more than half a dek. As she dismounted, Secca glanced at the saddled raider mount tied outside the domed sorcery building, then at the pair of guards who had straightened at her arrival.

  “Lady Anna must have been up early,” she said. Usually Anna was anything but someone who rose early.

  “She said she couldn't sleep, Lady Secca, and might as well do something useful," said Mureyn, the older of the two guards in the green of Loiseau.

  That did sound just like Anna, reflected Secca with a brief smile, “Richina should be here shortly, and the players later.”

  “Yes, lady.”

  Secca slipped into the building, closing the door behind her and walking down the corridor toward the room that held the scrying pool—and the area where she and Anna usually worked. The building was silent except for the muted echo of Secca's boots. Secca paused. Never had it been so still, or so is seemed.

  She opened the door to the scrying room, and the pool.

  “Anna!”

  The blonde and slender form of the older sorceress lay slumped accross the working desk. A quill lay on the stone floor beside the desk. Secca ran the few steps to the desk and bent, touching Anna’s forehead—still warm. Anna was breathing, but so lightly that Secca had trouble dis­cerning that.

  She eased Anna out of the chair and laid her gently on her back on the floor.

  Anna’s eyes opened. “No...Darksong...once... enough.” Then her eyes flicked shut.

  Secca knelt and listened, but Anna continued to breathe lightly. The younger sorceress straightened and ran back to the door, and then along the corridor and out to the front of the building, bursting out into the early morning light of the fall day.

  “Get the carriage!” Secca snapped. “Lady Anna is most ill! Get Richina to help me!”

  “Yes, lady!” Mureyn untied his mount and swung up into the saddle, urging the bay gelding back toward the keep.

  Secca turned to the other guard—the young-faced one. Albar, she thought. “Let me know when the carriage comes. I’ll be with her by the scrying pond. Send Richina to me as soon as she gets here.”

  Even before Albar could respond, Secca had turned and rushed back to be with Anna.

  The Sorceress-Protector was yet breathing when Secca returned, perhaps more strongly. As Secca bent over Anna again, she listened to her mentor’s heartbeat, but could hear nothing irregular, although the beating seemed faint. Nor could she find any sign of any wound, or bruise, or any injury.

  “Lady Secca?” Albar stood in the door. “The carriage is here, and I can see Richina riding down from the keep.”

  Without even a thought, Secca bent and lifted Anna into her arms—the older sorceress’s form was so light—and carried her down the corridor.

  Mureyn stepped forward as she neared the outer door and helped Secca thr
ough the door, and then to ease Anna into the waiting carriage--the blue-lacquered carriage cre­ated more than a generation earlier by Lord Brill, seldom used, and still in close-to-pristine condition.

  “We didn’t know, lady... we didn’t know.” Mureyn’s eyes were bright.

  “You couldn’t have known.” Secca managed to choke out the words.

  Richina reined up beside the carriage. The apprentice’s sandy-blonde hair was disheveled, her eyes wide. “Lady Secca!”

  “She’s most ill. Ride back to the house. Have her bed ready. We’ll need some help getting her up there.”