The Shadow Sorceress

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Aetlen nods. “One way or another... it will solve the problem. Or one of them.”

  The brief light fades from Alya’s face as she looks at Aetlen’s somber countenance. She forces a smile as she turns back to her daughters. ‘We do have a little rice pud­ding.”

  “It’s been sooo... long since we had sweetcakes,” Ver­lya says.

  “That’s because the ships haven’t come with molasses and sugar,” UIya points out. ‘We’re lucky to have rice pudding. Most people don’t have that”

  “I know.” Verlya sighs.

  Aetlen rolls his eyes at the dramatic statement and sigh, but manages to keep a straight face.

  “I could give it to someone else,” Alya suggests. “Please don’t, mother;’ Verlya says quickly. Then she pauses. “Perhaps you should, if it’s someone who doesn’t get any.”

  “You may have some,” Alya says. “I aleady had most of it given to some of the families of the lancers of the third company.”

  “The ones in Elahwa?" asks the older daughter.

  “One of the companies in Elahwa. There was only enough for four families, but they have children your age." Alya stands and slips from the dining chamber.

  “I can eat mine, then.”

  “Yes, you can,” Aetlen says with a smile. “Your portion is small enough that you may enjoy it.”

  The Matriarch returns with two dishes, one for each child, each portion but two small bites. Neither child leaves a grain of the rice or sauce.

  Neither parent smiles.

  51

  In the entry hall of Hadrenn’s shabby palace, Secca ad­justed her leather riding jacket, and then the heavy green felt hat. Lifting her saddlebags again, she prepared to step out into the clear but windy dawn, when there was a cough behind her.

  Secca turned.

  Wearing a green tunic thrown on askew and above pur­pie trousers with dark splotches, Hadrenn stood and looked at the redheaded sorceress. “I wish you well, Lady Secca, in this venture...for the sake of all within Defalk and Ebra. Particularly for Haddev.”

  “Perhaps, when he returns, you should send him to join us,” Secca found herself saying. “He might find the jour­ney to be useful.”

  “Perhaps I should.” Hadrenn cocked his head. ‘Perhaps I will.”

  “I do not know if I will be returning this way,” Seeca said after another period of silence, “but I thank you for your hospitality and support, and especially for the use of Stepan and your lancers.”

  “Your sorcery and that of your predecessor has made possible the restoration and preservation of my pat­rimony. For this, I thank you, and wish you well.”

  "Thank you. Lord Hadrenn.” Secca inclined her head, then straightened with the warmest smile she could muster before turning.

  Mureyn followed her, carrying the portable scrying mir­ror.

  The gray mare was standing by the doors when Seeca stepped into the courtyard, the reins held by a lancer. Ri­china was already mounted, waiting for Secca.

  “Thank you, Duryl,” said Secca to the lancer who ten­dered her the gray’ s reins.

  “My pleasure, lady.”

  Secca fastened her saddlebags in place, then the mirror and lutar, before mounting.

  Once mounted, she eased the mare toward the south side of the courtyard to where she spied Palian.

  The chief player nodded as Secca reined up. “Lady Seeca.”

  “Palian. How fare you and the players?"

  “All are ready. The respite has done them well,” Palian replied.

  “Good.” Secca hoped the respite hadn’t cost them too dearly in dealing with Dolov, but particularly with the Stu­rinnese.

  “Lady Secca,” called Wilten, easing his mount around Delvor, who was adjusting the straps holding his lutar be­hind the saddle of his mount, “the lancers stand ready.”

  Behind Wilten, Stepan merely offered a nod that his men were also ready.

  “Then best we ride,” said Secca.

  Slowly, order emerged from the chaos of milling mounts and players, and Secca rode down the lane toward the main road.

  While the sun of previous days had melted away the thin layer of snow, the cold night had frozen the ground almost as hard as the stone of the highways of Defalk. Every rut in both the lane and the ground beside it was sharp-edged, and often outlined in frosty rime.

  Once beyond the stone gates, the column turned east ward toward the bridge that led to the south side of the River Syne and the main road eastward toward Dolov

  and Elahwa.

  "I was a little nasty,” Secca confessed. “When Lord Had­renn thanked me for ensuring his patrimony and Haddev’s. I suggested that Haddev might be well-advised to join us.”

  Richina grinned. “Do you think he will send Haddev?"

  “I do not know.”

  “He will,” offered Stepan, easing his mount up beside that of Seeca. “The Lady Belvera will protest, for she would protect Haddev from all. But Lord Hadrenn is not unperceptive. Haddev will spend many years dealing with you two, and it would not be wise for him to be perceived as less than brave.” Stepan laughed. “You fight his foes, Lady Sorceress, standing as you do but to the lord’s shoul­der, and with an assistant who is most young, and you ride out to battle, asking naught of him or his heir personally. If neither he nor his heir should take the field..."

  “Haddev will have trouble in later years?’ asked Secca. “Also… few battles are safer than those with a sorcer­ess on one’s side,” Stepan pointed out.

  Secca doubted that.

  “And he could well use the understanding and the ex­perience,” Stepan continued, adding dryly. “Young Had­dev will gain much renown by fighting for his land."

  “What is he like?’ asked Secca.

  “He is much like I imagine Lord Robero was at his age, though I but saw your lord when he was somewhat younger.” Stepan smiled blandly.

  Secca managed not to wince, and offered a smile as innocuous as that of the arms commander. "Then we will but follow the example set by Lady Anna.”

  “I thought as much, and so would Lord Hadrenn, within his heart.”

  Both Stepan and Secca smiled and nodded, near-simultaneously. To the side, Richina suppressed a frown.

  52

  Encora, Ranuak

  In the formal receiving room, the Matriarch sits upon the clear blue crystal chair of the Matriarchy. The room is empty, save for her and Alcaren, who stands just before the dais. Gray light seeps through the long windows.

  “You have often wished to use your blade as well as your sorcery,” the Matriarch says deliberately. “Do you still desire such?”

  “Only if it serves a good cause, Matriarch,” replies the young chief of guards.

  “Would you be willing to be overcaptain of two com­panies dispatched to Elahwa to help the city against the Sturinnese?”

  “I might be.” Alcaren studies the Matriarch. “Even if the Sturinnese threaten to overwhelm such an effort from its inception with their dissonance and thunder-drums.”

  “You had asked,” Alya points out.

  Alcaren laughs, if softly. “Now you would trap me by my own words.”

  “I would not trap you.” The Matriarch smiles, if faintly. “You wish what in return?”

  “If we are successful in breaking the Sturinnese, by whatever means, I would wish to remain an overcaptain in a useful position.” He squares his shoulders, as if expecting a denial.

  “I can only offer a useful position of stature.” Alya pauses. “The companies are those raised and trained by the SouthWomen.”

  “You cannot send them under their own captains?”

  “Under their own captains, yes, but not without an Over-captain known to be loyal to the Matriarch.”

  “And one whom the men of the Free City would ac­cept?" asks Alcaren.

  “Ranuak cannot afford to have it said that it would use any stratagem to strengthen ties between the Free City and the SouthWomen. A man as overcaptain, and
one known to my sister as a possible sorcerer, would certainly dispel that notion.”

  “Especially one known to have strong views?"

  “That will not hurt.”

  “And you will be sending me away from the Ladies of the Shadows.”

  Alya raises her eyebrows. “But out of my control, and that will trouble them.”

  “What about the Sorceress-Protector of the East?” Al­caren inquires. “She may pursue those Sturinnese lancers in Ebra into the lands of the Free City.”

  “I would not oppose her doing so. She is the child in soul of the great sorceress, who forced Hadrenn to accept the Free City. The younger sorceress may not choose to help Elahwa, but she will not harm it. not unless it has already fallen to the Sturinnese.”

  “Do you think she will come to the aid of Elahwa?"

  Another faint smile plays across the face of the Matri­arch. For a time, she does not speak “My mother always said to trust in the Harmonies... but not without working to create one’s own harmony. So long as the young Sorceress-Protector follows the Harmonies, who knows what may happen?"

  "You think she might?"

  “I do not know. Whatever happens, Elahwa will need all the aid we can send. Even the young Sorceress-Protector may need aid, for sorcery can exhaust the strong­est. That is why you carry the brew packets. Should you chance to fight with her forces, you may offer aid such as the brew packets.” Alya nods at Alcaren. “But you are not to attempt any battle sorcery, or any sorcery at all where it can be seen. You are not to tell anyone about your abil­ities. While many in Encora know of them, few elsewhere do. It should remain that way.” Her eyes chill as she be­holds him. “Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Alcaren bows.

  "I am most certain you do.”

  He bows again before speaking. “These two companies are all you can afford to send, because of the Sturinnese fleets?’

  Alya nods again... once.

  “I will go. Matriarch, trusting in both you and the Har­monies.” Alcaren inclines his head.

  “You leave in the morning. We have two fast coastal schooners of shallow draft; and the winds are out of the southwest. They can take you and some mounts to the north end of the Sand Hills. There, other mounts will be waiting. When you leave here, you will go to meet with Arms Commander Wyendra. She will provide all you need.”

  Alcaren raises his eyebrows.

  The Matriarch ignores the implied question, instead standing to signify that she has said what she will say.

  Alcaren conceals a smile and bows deeply. “At your will and command, Matriarch.”

  “And with my best wishes, Alcaren.”

  “Thank you, Matriarch.”

  The Matriarch shivers slightly, but not until the door has closed behind the new overcaptain and she remains alone in the formal receiving chamber.

  53

  The afternoon was quiet, the road empty, and but a handful of cart tracks marked the clay of the road that ran along the south side of the River Syne. Stepan rode to Sécca’s right, Richina to her left. Ahead rode Wilten, with the standard bearer Dymen, and immediately behind the sorceresses rode Delvor and Palian.

  After nearly a glass of silence. Stepan cleared his throat. “More than a score of years ago, since last I traveled these roads with so many armsmen.” He chuckled. “One would think that times change, but betimes I wonder if only we change, and each of those who follows us must discover anew what we have found.”

  “Some don’t, it appears,” Secca pointed out, shifting her weight in the saddle, then reaching up and adjusting the green felt hat.

  “Each generation has its fools, though I was young and foolish then, as well.”

  “You seemed wise enough in battle. That was what Lady Anna said,” Secca prompted.

  “In battle, and in training lancers, in advising Gestatr and Lord Hadrenn.” A twisted smile crossed Stepan’s lips. “Two consorts I lost to being headstrong, and almost a third. Not that you young women wish to hear of an old warhorse’s foibles.” He glanced overhead at the clear sky, marked by but a single wisp of a white cloud to the north.

  "Too fair a day to talk of foibles and war and the evil that well-meaning men can do.”

  “There is always malice among those in power,” Secea temporized.

  “Why have those who opposed you and the Lady Anna been so filled with malice and so foolish?” asked Richina. “Even Lord Hadrenn and Lord Robero are less than pleased. From the foot of the table, that I can see.” Abruptly, she flushed and turned to Stepan. “Begging your pardon, honored arms commander.”

  Stepan laughed, generously. “No offense taken, sorcer­ess. What you have seen so have many others. It is scarce a secret.”

  Secca decided not to speak, but glanced at Stepan.

  “Malice?” mused the older man. “I think not. Those who opposed the Lady Anna acted by their beliefs and to pre­serve their power.” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you wish to be bartered off to whatever lord pleased your sire, for perchance a promise of friendship, some kegs of good wine, and the thought that another lord would be pleased to accept your daughter in the same fashion?"

  Richina glanced down at the mane of her mount.

  Secca smiled briefly, then asked. “Would you, Richina?”

  “No… you know that.” Richina’ s face screwed into a puzzled expression.

  Stepan nodded. “Because of Lady Anna, you and your mother have some say over your body and your life. You would not give that up willingly, would you?”

  “Of course not.”

  ‘Would you use your sorcery and all at your beck to hold to the right to defend your control of your own body?” pursued Stepan.

  “Yes.”

  “Well... before Lady Anna, the Lords of Delalk had the right to control all women within their demesnes, and they saw what she did as taking away their rights, and they fought with all at their beck to keep their rights. What is the difference?"

  “It is not fair... to ask of a woman what they will not ask of themselves.”

  Stepan did not speak, and Secca realized he would not push the matter. “What is the difference?" she asked Richina.

  “It’s... different..."

  “Is it, do you think?’ Secca asked Stepan. “Different?”

  “Different...that is a matter that men and women will argue over in all times and all worlds.” He shook his head. “‘This I will say. Those who opposed Lady Anna were neither foolish, nor were they malicious. They would have said--- they did say--- that the lady was the malicious one. She took away many of their powers, and gave some to women, and some to sorceresses. They said she was fool­ish, for women could never wisely hold such.”

  Richina shook her head. “I do not understand how any­one could think so.” She paused, then looked at Secca. ‘What do you think? Were they right by their lights?”

  Secca laughed harshly. “I would say not. They tried to kill me when I had less than half a score of years. Yet one must understand why people act as they do. Why do the Sea-Priests attack all of Liedwahr? Is it because they are stupid? Or thoughtlessly evil? And why do they so do in this season of this year?"

  Richina shrugged.

  For several moments, the only sounds were those of hoofs on the road, the breathing of mounts, and the low murmurs of the lancers and players in the column behind the three.

  “I would hazard,” Stepan said slowly, “that it is because what the Lady Anna began, if not halted, will change all of Liedwahr, and perhaps the world. The ladies of Defalk were servants of their lords. Perhaps some still are. But they were far less constrained than those in Ebra or in Mansuur, and never were they chained by custom, as in Sturinn. Nor had they their tongues removed if they es­sayed sorcery.”

  Richina shivered.

  Secca frowned the business with tongue-removals was not something she had heard.

  “Yet the Sea-Priests believe such is the way all should live,” continued Stepan. “To see a
woman unchained, to know that a woman practices sorcery--- to them, those are abominations far worse than dancing or Darksong. They believe, as do most folk, that the world should live as do they. Unlike most folk, they have the sorcery, and lancers, and fleets of ships, to try to make the world live in the way they think best.” The arms commander shrugged. "The Lady Anna once told me, when I was not a great deal older than the young sorceress, and I protested, as you now protest, that seldom is power ever surrendered willingly, and great power surrendered even less willingly. The Lords of Defalk had great power and privilege, and they did not wish to lose such. You two—and I as well have less power, but far more than most folk in all of Erde. We will fight to hold that. We can also tell ourselves that it is better that we hold power than others. Is it?’ Stepan laughed, once more ruefully, yet gently. “We judge our­selves more kindly than might others judge us when we speak of our honor and duty.”