Judge ourselves more kindly? Seeca frowned.
“Each man—or woman—does as he senses best,” Stepan said. “Few indeed set out to do what they see as evil. We—or others—may see it as such. That is our judgment, but they may see what we do as evil to their way of thinking.” He laughed. “What I say is simple. So simple any child could grasp it, and yet…generation after generation, lands and men fight because they cannot agree on what way of life is good.”
Somehow, with Stepan’s gentle words, the afternoon felt even colder, although no clouds covered the sun, and the wind remained less than a vagrant breeze.
54
In the late afternoon, standing before a tent fluttering in a cold but light wind, under a sun whose fading light provided little heat, Secca glanced at Richina, then at Stepan and Wilten, and finally at the two chief players. She felt as though each waited for her to speak, and as though whatever she said would be faulted, if silently.
Secca moistened her lips before beginning. ‘I’ve been worrying about what the Sturinnese are doing. There wasn’t much point in following them day by day until we had to decide. Stepan tells me that late tornowow or early the next we should reach where the River Dol and the River Syne join together. We can go south to Elahwa or north so Dolov. Before I decide, I'm going to try to see what faces us in each place."
Wilten nodded, as did Palian and Richina. Stepan's face was impassive. A faint smile creased Delvor’s lips.
Secca picked up the lutar and began the spell.
“Show me now and in this glass
what in Elahwa has come to pass,
with ships of Sturinn on the sea...”
As the last notes of the spell died away, Secca looked down at the mirror, where an arcing line of ship masts appeared in the silvered surface. Two ships were moored at the stone pier in the foreground, but there were no figures on the pier, and apparently not on either ship.
Secca frowned, wondering why the Sea-Priests were blockading the port, and why they had not used sorcery to flatten Elahwa. Was there a reason why sorcery would not work in the eastern part of Liedwahr?
After a time, she released the spell.
“You say the Sea-Priests raised the waves to destroy Narial?” asked Stepan.
“They did.”
“Yet they have not done so in Elahwa,” pointed out Wilten. ‘Perhaps they wish the port?”
“Narial is a far better port. The waters are shallow off the Shoals, and the channel is narrow and goes on for deks through those shallows.” Stepan frowned. “And the FreeWomen will fight to the death, perhaps beyond.”
“Why would they have ships so close to the port, if the channel to deep water is so long?’ asked Palian.
“Smaller boats, perhaps?’ suggested Delvor. “They wish to starve the city?”
Secca nodded slowly. That sounded like what she had heard of the Sturinnese.
“They are blockading the city. They must have lancers somewhere,” suggested Stepan, glancing at Secca. “If we could see...”
That made sense to Secca, but she had to think for a time before she came up with the spell words she needed.
“Show us now and as you will
if and where lancers battle still
near Elahwa and by the city’s sea...”
The mirror showed a battle—or a skirmish.
A line of lancers in white charged up a gentle incline. Another force met them a third of the way down the incline. Most of the defending lancers were women who wore tunics of a brilliant crimson. Scattered among them were other lancers—both men and women whose colors were a pale blue.
“The blue--- those are the colors of Ranuak,” Richina blurted.
As she spoke, the attackers fell back, but not before leaving bodies in crimson and blue strewn on the hillside.
‘Would one expect less?” asked Stepan. “The Free City is supported in part by the Matriarch, and it is said that one of the councilwomen is her sister.”
‘They are losing,” offered Wilten.
Stepan nodded, and Richina looked to the over-captain.
“The defenders have repulsed this attack, but they have lancers from three units together,” Wilten said. “One does not mix lancers from different companies in a battle unless none have enough to stand alone.”
“The Ranuans have companies of male lancers and women lancers, but they do not mix them. The women are the armsmen and sailors of Elahwa, while the men are the artisans and crafters,” Stepan added. “Here all three groups fight in the same place.”
Richina looked at Secca, as if to ask what the planned.
Secca released the second scene. She felt tired, almost light-headed, and one or two more quick sciying spells were about all she was ready for without eating and refreshing herself. “Let us look at Dolov,” she temporized. Perhaps she should leave Dolov until later.
“Show us now and show us fair
the keep at Dolov and lancers there..."
The mirror split into two images, one displaying a keep on a bluff overlooking a river, the other side showing lancers in white in the courtyard. In fact, the entire rear of the courtyard held tents with white banners.
‘They must have landed off the coast and ridden overland,” Wilten said.
“They could have landed just beyond Elahwa and taken the road on the east side of the river north,” suggested Stepan.
Secea shook her head. There looked to be at least ten companies of Sturinnese lancers garrisoned yet at Dolov, and that didn’t even count whatever lancers Mynntar had left in reserve, lancers that his brother might well use against Secca and Stepan’s forces.
After a moment, as dayflashes appeared before her eyes, she released that image.
She had enemies in both places. Which way should she lead her forces? And why?
Somehow, she had the feeling that either decision would be wrong. Four or five days upriver, possibly a battle and sorcery, and then five or six days back to Elahwa--- if the weather held, If Wilten and Stepan were right... She looked at Stepan. “The FreeWomen cannot hold for two weeks.”
“Not if that battle shows their strength.”
‘They cannot last...“ Stepan murmured. “Not without reinforcements.”
Robero had ordered Secca to secure Dolov—except he hadn't. He'd requested. That meant that it was all on her head. If she went to Dolov, then she’d face an entrenched enemy by the time she returned to Elahwa and one doubtless reinforced by the blockading ships.
“We’ll have to go to Elahwa,” she finally said.
The hint of a momentary frown passed across Wilten’s, forehead.
Stepan said quietly, “If you attack the Sea-Priests from the north, the city forces can help you. If you go to Dolov, then you must face both enemies without aid.”
At that, both Wilten and Palian nodded.
Secca could only hope she was making the right decision.
55
Encora, Ranuak
The tall and muscular woman who steps into the Matriarch’s formal receiving room wears the hooded cloak of black that shadows her face, as with all the Ladies of the Shadows, and the black trousers and calf-length boots. Despite the winter gloom and the cloak, her dark brown hair and clean hard jaw betray that she is neither in first youth nor old, and that she is a different lady from the last who had visited Alya.
“You wished me to see you?" The Matriarch’s voice is pleasant, but not warm, as she looks down from the blue crystalline chair on the dais.
‘We did. We offered a warning before, and you have chosen to ignore it.”
“I took your warning, and I did not ignore it. I have not used socrery, save for information. There is nothing against what you believe in dispatching lancers to support Elahwa.”
“We are deeply concerned that you have sent... that you have sent a...” The brown-haired woman shakes her head as if she cannot bring herself to utter the next word. “...a sorcerer to Elahwa.”
“He is not a sorcerer, not like those you have in mind. He was trained in sorcery, as well you know, so that he would not misuse those talents.” Alya offers a scornful snort. “What would you have me do? Murder every child who shows the ability to truly sing? Or lock them away in a prison?"
“You could have sent the SouthWomen without him. There are other overcaptains.”
“Who would you have had me send? There are no others of ability that Elahwa could spare, not that either the Free City or the SouthWornen would accept as ovexcaptain.”
“Those who receive aid should not be that choosy, Matriarch.”
Alya’s lips tighten, and for a moment she is silent. Then she takes a slow breath and smiles, almost lazily. “As I understand your words, and those of the lady who came earlier, you feel so strongly about what you believe that you would risk the destruction of Ranuak and the sacrifice of all those who died in the Spell-Fire Wars to hold to your beliefs. Yet you think that the FreeWomen should relinquish their beliefs for two companies of lancers?’
It is the turn of the Lady of the Shadows to be silent for a time. Finally, she replies. “It is not the same.”
“It is the same,” Alya replies, adding more gently, “Besides, the overcaptain does not know battle sorcery. He has never been trained in such, and there are no players to support him."
He is a sorcerer, and a man.
“Sorcery is like any other tool,” Alya points out. “It can be used or misused. Without the Great Sorceress of Defalk, we would have the Sturinnese as our neighbors already, if not as our masters.”
“The great sorceress was a woman, and she had suffered. She was older, and she had some idea of the powers of sorcery and what they could do to our world. As she discovered her powers, she used them less, not more. Even as an outlander, she had some understanding and remorse. Your overcaptain is a man, barely more than a child, and no man in this world has ever restrained such powers.”
“What would you have me do? Recall him? Tell the Free City that because you fear the disasters of the past, in which he took no part, they may not have his abilities?”
The Lady of the Shadows shakes her head within the dark cloak “If, if all is as you say, and if he acts as an overcaptain should, then all will be acceptable... but only because of the respect we have for the office of the Matriarch.”
“You wish Ranuak to fall into the hands of the Sea-Priests?” Alya’s voice remains low, almost gentle.
"It will not come to that. The Harmonies will not let that occur, not unless we fail in our duties to restrain the evils of song-sorcery.”
“The Harmonies do not seem to be restraining the evils of the thunder-drums, nor of the Sturinnese song-sorcery. Nor did they restrain the sorceries of the Mynyans.”
‘That is because Liedwahr has not rejected its evils,” replied the Lady of the Shadows. “How can the Harmonies protect us when we embrace evils such as song-sorcery?"
Alya nodded politely, although the nod war scarcely of agreement, but of resigned acknowledgement. ‘We will see."
“Indeed we will, Matriarch, and we will be watching. We cannot ever accept the dissonance and destruction of song-sorcery. Not ever again.” The woman in the black cloak bowed. “By your leave, Matriarch?”
“By my leave.” Alya nods once more.
The hooded figure bows a last time, turns, and departs. Looking to her left, toward the closed windows that hold out the wind and the cold winter mist, Alya shakes her head, slowly, sadly.
56
A lancer rode almost to where Secca stood with Richina as the two sorceresses were adjusting the ties on the tent that they had helped set up on the knoll to the south of the river road. Secca had tucked the green felt hat into her belt, because it kept threatening to blow away, and brushed back a strand of red hair disarranged by her efforts and by the light, but occasionally gusty wind that remained cold, but not quite bitter.
She waited as the lancer inclined his head.
“Lady Secca, Overcaptain Wilten sent me to tell you that young Lord Haddev is nearing. He is less than a dek away.”
“Thank you, Duryl. We will await him here.”
The lancer nodded and turned his mount back toward the road.
“So Hadrenn did send him,” mused Secca, retying one of the tent’s tie-strips.
“I wonder what he looks like,” added Richina.
Secca glanced at the younger sorceress. “I doubt you’d be happy in Synek, especially with your powers to do sorcery greatly diminished. And they would be, with the need to produce heirs quickly.”
Richina flushed.
“Sometimes, love does triumph. But usually, it’s lust, and that’s a defeat for most women.”
“Most?” Richina raised her eyebrows. “Were you thinking of someone in particular, lady?”
“Not necessarily,” evaded Secca, since she had been thinking of Jolyn, who seemed, from Secca’s vantage point, to use men as some men used women.
“Do you think a sorceress can ever truly love, lady?” ventured Richina.
“Lady Anna did.”
“But Lady Clayre hasn’t, has she?"
“I don’t know,” Secca confessed. “Clayre and I are friendly, but... she came to Falcor when I was barely nine. She was more than six years older and trying to avoid being consorted to anyone who was available. By the time I was just a few years older than you are, Lady Anna brought me to Loiseau. Clayre and I have spent more than ten years apart from each other except for a few weeks a year, and we have seldom talked about such matters.”
"Oh..."
Secca smiled faintly. “Very few lords anywhere—or their heirs--- wish a consorting with a woman more powerful than they.”
“But there aren’t any sorcerers left in Defalk--- not since Lord Brill died.”
‘There is one in Neserea.
“Is that why Lady Clayre...?"
“No.” Secca shook her head. “Lord Belmar is not her friend. I fear he is in league with the Sea-Priests. At best, he wishes to use sorcery to become the Lord High Counselor of Neserea.”
“Or the Prophet of Music?’ asked the sandy-haired young sorceress.
“That is possible.”
After a slow nod, Richina slipped into the tent to brush her hair and make herself more presentable, Secca suspected.
Rather than worry about that, Secca rummaged through her provisions bag and finished off the last chunk of stale bread and some white cheese that was getting soft. Swallowing it took several healthy swigs of water from her bottle.
Before long a column appeared on the road to the west, consisting of perhaps a company’s worth of lancers not in the green of Ebra, but in mottled black tunics. At the head rode Stepan, along with a younger, clean-shaven man. The column turned off the road and halted, and Stepan and Haddev rode slowly past the tethered mounts toward the single tent that was Secca’s.
Haddev was taller than his father, and had a full head of reddish-brown hair. His smile was warm and friendly as he reined up and dismounted simultaneously with Stepan.
“Haddev,” Stepan said warmly. “this is the Lady Secca. She holds both the lands of Mencha, as her right as Sorceress-Protector of the East, and those of Synope, as her birthright.”
The tall young heir bowed deeply and directly to Secca, then again, not quite so deferentially, to Richina. The smile as he rose was definitely for Richina.
In a way, that both reassured and troubled Secca.
Haddev returned his gaze almost immediately to Secca. “My grateful thanks, and those of my sire, for your efforts to protect Ebra, gracious lady and sorceress.” He paused. “Lady Sorceress, I joined you as soon as I was able. I also brought another company of lancers, although they are from Silberfels... a token from my uncle.”
“We welcome your presence, and the lancers. They are certainly more than a token, and I owe great thanks to Lord Selber.” Secca also wondered why, after years of reticence, and almo
st isolation, one of the Lords of Silberfels was actually providing lancers. Was Selber that worried about the Sturinnese?
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