"I've heard it said that your mother’ s and your uncle’ s line predates both by many generations,” Secca suggested.
“It could well be, lady,” Haddev replied. “The tunnels are very old and very deep. The back parts were walled off generations back."
“What is your uncle like? Lady Auna exchanged scrolls with him, but I never have, nor have I ever met him.”
“He is built more like Verad than me. He is slender, and his hair is thick and silvered. He rides well, and has made a practice of mastering all arms. He even can use a morning star.” Haddev shook his head admiringly.
“Has he instructed you in such?” asked Secca.
“Not the morning star, but in all other weapons. My sire said that would be best for both of us, for he doubted we would learn from him.”
“Often children have difficulty learning from their parents, or so I am told. That is one reason for fostering. Did you enjoy the time at Silberfels?
“At times. It was lonely at first. Uncle Selber is a man of great skills and few words. . .”
When Haddev finally eased his mount back toward his company, Secca could not help but notice that while he smiled at Richina, and inclined his head, he did not pause to share a word with the younger sorceress. A smile, faintly sad, crossed Secca’s face.
Shortly, a broader and shorter officer in pale blue rode up from the rear of the column. “You requested my presence, Lady Secca?" asked Alcaren.
“I did,” Secca acknowledged. “I have had little time to talk to you. I do not know you, overcaptain, yet you volunteered to accompany us. Just why did you suggest that you accompany and aid us?" asked the red-haired sorceress, trying to ignore the chill of the wind. “You made the suggestion to the counselor.”
“There were two reasons. I wished to fight against the Sea-Priests, and I did not wish to return to Encora and to be a guard captain,” Alcaren replied. "That is almost imprisonment. One is restrained by the needs of those one must guard”
“I had not thought of it in that way,” mused Secca. “That is most interesting. Do you come from a family of lancers?’
“Me? Hardly. My mother is a trader, as are many in Encora, and my father is an artisan.”
“Your mother trades in what?”
“Anything she can, but mostly in furs and dyestuffs, sometimes raw cotton and cloths from all over Erde.”
“You did not wish to be a trader?”
“She had hoped I would be, but I was not suited for it” The reserve in the Ranuan’s words suggested a story there, but she did not think it wise to pursue that immediately.
"What kind of artisan is your father?”
“A sculptor, in the main.”
“So how did you become a lancer?”
“How does one become anything?” countered the Ranuan easily. “I had a skill with blades, and perhaps because it upset my mother, and because I was unruly and contrary, I pursued it. They did not encourage it, and it was some time before I was allowed to follow that road…” He shrugged. “And here I am, far from Encora.”
“Just like that?” Secca raised her eyebrows
Alcaren laughed, a warm and self-deprecating sound. “It took much longer. The Matriarch finally allowed me to become a guard captain in her household. Most of those in Encora who knew my family were less than pleased at such a waste of talent.”
Secca wanted to laugh at the dryness of the overcaptain’s tone, instead, she said, ‘What changed the Matriarch’s mind?”
“She said little to me except that she had decided the Harmonies had a use for me.”
“She didn’t give you any idea what that use might be?”
“Not until she sent me to Elahwa.”
Again, with the dryness in Alcaren’s voice, Secca wanted to smile. She did not. “Tell me about Encora, if you would.”
Alcaren pursed his lips for a moment. “There is much to tell...and little.”
“Start with the much,” suggested the sorceress.
Alcaren laughed, this time gently. “It is a city based on a harbor that is wide and deep enough for many trading ships, yet easily defended against the Sturinnese.”
“How can it be both?”
"The harbor is like a basin that is all the same depth, no less than seven yards, no more than ten, but there are rocky shoals farther to sea, except for the main channel, and that is less than a half-dek wide. Seaward of the shoals, the water is shallow, no more than three or four yards in depth, often far less, for another eight to ten deks out to ward the Southern Ocean.” Alcaren shrugged. “A narrow channel is more easily defended.”
“The harbor at Elahwa is similar, is it not?"
“Both have long stretches of shallow water . . . it is true."
Secca nodded, wondering if that might be why the Sea-Priests had been unable to call massive waves against those ports. “How did you go from being a guard captain of the Matriarch to an overcaptain of South Women ?"
Alcaren laughed easily. “I had wanted to be a lancer, but the Matriarch preferred me as a guard—until there were no others to be sent to the aid of the FreeWomen except the SouthWomen, and she would not send them anywhere beyond Ranuak under their own overcaptain. They have accepted me as necessary, for they dislike the Sturinnese more than any.”
“They always have, from what I have learned. Isn’t that true?"
“Very true. They dislike any men who would force women to submit to their will.” Alcaren smiled. “I always give orders to their captains.”
After a moment, Secca said, “Tell me about the Matriarch. I know almost nothing.”
“Her given name is Alya. She has a consort. That is Aetlen, and they have two daughters. Her mother was the Matriarch, and she had two daughters as well.”
‘What does she look like?”
“She was blonde as a younger woman, and her hair is silver and blonde these days. Unlike her mother, she is most slender, and her voice is higher, more like yours. She is most firm in a courteous but unyielding fashion.” Alcaren glanced at the road ahead
Thinking of all the rivalries in holdings in Defalk, Secca asked, ‘What happened to the Matriarch’s younger sister?"
“The Matriarch is the younger sister,” Alcaren replied with an amused smile. “You met her older sister. That was Counselor Veria.”
Secca blinked.
“The story is well-known in Ranuak,” the Ranuan over-captain continued. ‘When the FreeWomen revolted against the Lord Bertmynn, Veria joined the SouthWomen against the Matriarch’s wishes and went to Elahwa to fight. She almost died, but was saved when the great sorceress defeated Bertmynn and forced Lord Hadrenn to accept Elahwa as a Free City. Veria has been in Elahwa ever since, and is most respected,”
Secca noted the reference to Anna as the great sorceress, but continued, “And Counselor Veria did not insist you return to Elahwa?”
“I doubt she would have given her sister the pleasure,” Alcaren said dryly.
For all his ironic tone, and seeming straightforwardness, Secca had to wonder. “What does the Matriarch gain by having you accompany me?"
“Your good will, I would judge, and any knowledge of you I may choose to provide her.”
“You seem...you are most polite when you speak of the Matriarch,” Secca observed.
“She deserves my respect,” Alcaren replied.
“How did you get to be one of her guard chiefs?" “She respects my abilities, and she told me she refused to allow me the luxury of self-pity." Alcaren offered a laugh that contained equal parts of humor, amusement, and irony.
“And you respect her abilities?”
“How could I not? She is a most effective Matriarch.”
“She must be,” Secca said. “You are here.”
“Of course?’ Alcaren could not quite conceal the frown that he tried to smile away.
Again, Secca wondered exactly why Alcaren had volunteered to aid her forces, beyond what he had said. She definitely needed to k
now more, but she needed to think before she inquired too deeply.
She also worried that she wanted to like the man, without knowing almost anything about him.
72
Mansuus, Mansuur
Kestrin paces back and forth in front of the study desk, ignoring the rattling of the windows in their casements from the northwest wind that hurtles through the clear skies above the hilltop palace.
Bassil’s eyes follow the Liedfuhr for several cycles of pacing before the older man just lets his eyes rest on the wmdow directly behind the desk.
Abruptly, Kestrin halts before the desk and turns. “Aerlya has asked for support against this Belmar. He is raising the holders of the south and the west against Annayal.”
“Will you support her, sire?” Bassil’s words are uttered with the barest hint of a question.
Kestrin shrugs. "Not over the protests of Defalk, or not unless he vanquishes the Sorceress of Defalk.”
“If he does, would it be wise to send lancers?”
“Probably not.” Kestrin’s laugh is forced. “These days, nothing is wise. We have a force of Sea-Priests sweeping toward Narial. There is revolt in my sister’s land, supported by a sorcerer-holder trained by the Sturinnese. The Sea-Priests are trying to wrest Ebra from the Sorceress-Protector of the East, and she receives but little aid from the lord whose lands she is trying to preserve. Yet the Lord of Defalk holds back one of his sorceresses in Falcor, where she can do him no good.”
"The Sea-Priests will not succeed in Ebra,” Bassil predicts.
“You think not?”
"The shadow sorceress has broken their force at Elahwa, your seers say, and slaughtered fifty score or more in two battles.”
“But she has not touched their fleets,” Kestrin points out “That is where the power of Sturinn lies."
“The ships cannot be used with great effectiveness against Ebra, though the Maitre may try once more to support the heir of Dolov, if only to weaken and delay the sorceress.”
“You think that they will hold Dumar?”
“Once they set a goal, the Sea-Priests always attain it, though it may take years.” Bassil remains standing before the desk, but shifts his weight, as though he does not relish the words he has spoken.
Kesirin purses his lips, then nods.
“You have decided,” Bassil says. ‘What will you do?”
“Send twenty ccnnpanies of lancers to Unduval, and a message to Lord Robero saying that I am doing so, but only to support Annayal, should she need such.”
“And you think he will believe such?’
“He will doubt it, I am sure.” Kestrin shakes his head. “You will also dispatch another thirty companies to Deleatur.”
“So that if your sister needs not your aid, you can move all to Dumar?”
“With the south in revolt, one way or another, southern Neserea lies open to the Sea-Priests once they take Dumar. I would rather fight on another’s lands than mine, and I am most certain that whoever may be Lord High Counselor of Dumar will not object to our assistance.”
“I foresee great conifict,” Bassil says quietly.
“Do you think I am wrong?” Kestrin raises his eyebrowse.
“No, sire. I fear you are right. My only advice to you would be to make sure you have more lancers to dispatch by summer. And pray to the Harmonies that the sorceresses of Defalk are most effective.”
Kestrin frowns, but does not speak.
73
High and fast-moving clouds had scudded overhead most of the day as Secca’s force had ridden northward. Occasionally light flurries of snowflakes had fallen, flakes that melted with the next burst of cold sunshine.
By late afternoon, when it was time to stop for the day, Secca and her forces had passed the river junction, but were still short of where the two roads split. Melcar and Wilten had recommended a bivouac site on a stream feeding the River Dol, one that had eroded away the clay on one side, leaving a low bluff on the northeast side that blocked the wind.
Once tielines had been set, and lancers organized into their own areas, Secca had summoned the overcaptains, the chief players, and Haddev. Because the wind was light, if chill, and the tent small, she propped up the traveling mirror with stones at a slight angle against the outside rear panel of the tent, so that all could more easily see.
"I'm going to try to see what the Sturinnese are doing. At midday, they were still riding the coast road, but they weren’t moving that swiftly.” Secca let her fingers run over the strings of the lutar. Then, abruptly, she glanced up toward Richina, and handed the younger sorceress the lutar. “Pethaps you should try, first. You have seen them enough to hold the image.”
Richina nodded gravely and took the lutar, fingering the strings and clearing her throat.
Finally, she began the spell.
“Mirror, mirror, on the ground...”
As Richina finished the last words, Secca realized that while almost everyone crowded around the mirror watched as the image formed out of the silver mists, Alcaren had not. His eyes and attention had been totally on Richina, on her words and playing.
Trying not to dwell on that observation, Secca studied the image along with the others.
The picture in the glass wavered at first, but then seemed to steady as Richina concentrated. Most of the silvered picture showed just a wide beach, but as Secca looked more closely, she could see the ships apparently anchored in dark gray water that appeared almost glassy. White-coated figures filled several boats.
“They’re landing more,” said Haddev.
“Look again,” Melcar said. “They’re climbing nets into the ships.”
As the eight watched, another boat rowed toward the nearest vessel, and more of the lancers swarmed up the nets. Secca squinted, trying to make out the strange craft on the beach, with a ramp on it. She blinked, realizing that the square boat was a barge bearing a half-score mounts, scarcely a small craft. While Secca and the others watched, the barge began to move, although there were neither sails nor paddlers.
Alcaren pointed. “They have a cable, and they are using a winch. They will lift the horses aboard with a crane.”
Secca had the dismaying feeling that the Sturinnese had done just what she had watched many times before, and that they could unload mounts and lancers---perhaps even more swiftly than they were loading both. “They must have used the thunder-drums to still the sea near them.”
“If need be,” Alcaren said, “but that sorcery lasts only a short time, less than half a glass, and cannot be repeated often,”
The image wavered again, and Secca nodded to Richina, murmuring, “You may release it.”
After singing the release couplet, Richina took a long slow breath. Secca smiled.
“They would not be doing such were they planning to stay in Ebra,” noted Melcar.
“Or not near where they are,” said Wilten.
“We cannot reach them before they have loaded all the lancers and mounts,” said Haddev. The heir flushed, seeming to have realized, belatedly, that he had but stated the obvious.
“Best we hasten to Dolov,” said Secca.
Alcaren raised his eyebrows.
"Twice the keep has rebelled. There will not be a third timed”
“There should not be,” affirmed Melcar.
Haddev nodded.
At Alcaren’s continued faint frown, Secca looked to the Ranuan. “You may recall that Mynntar’s sire sacked Elahwa, and abused or killed most of the women there. There seems to be little difference in outlook between those of Dolov and those of Sturinn.” She paused, before adding, “We also may well be needed elsewhere before long, and we cannot leave Dolov in such unfriendly hands.”
“Elsewhere?’ murmured someone, so low that Secca could not determine who might have spoken.
“Dumar . . . or even Neserea,” Secca suggested. “The Sea-Priests might bring more vessels back upon Elahwa. So we must act swiftly."
If she coul
d . . . riding against time and winter, without the most experienced arms commander, and without the experience she herself could have used.
74
By midmorning, Secca and Richina were riding northwest on the river road, well beyond the fork where the road to the coast had split off to head due east. The recent hoof-prints in the damp clay of the coast road confirmed the earlier passage of the Sturinnese, and Secca’s use of the glass in the early morning had shown that the Sturinnese had completed loading all the lancers and mounts. The Sturinnese fleet was sailing southeast, doubtless to skirt the Shoals of Discord. Secca but hoped that she could deal with Dolov quickly, before the Sturinnese created another situation with which she might have to contend.
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