“We have been practicing,” Liende acknowledged, her eyes dark with fatigue.
“I can tell. Thank you.”
Liende bowed slightly, and Anna took another swallow from her water bottle.
Even after drinking and eating several biscuits, she remained light-headed, and might until the next day. But she remounted Farinelli, offering a smile to Himar. “Shall we try the ford?”
“As you wish, Regent,” responded the overcaptain gravely. “As you wish.”
Once the column was remounted, Anna urged Farinelli toward the stone causeway that sloped down to the Chean River, toward the ford only she thought was necessary. Was it really for faster travel to Mencha—and Ebra? Or because you destroyed the old ford? To redress the wrongs your sorcery has created?
Her gut feeling remained that she had done the right thing, but the uncertainty as to why remained, long after the column had passed through Sorprat and the Chean River sheeted near silently over the newly wrought stones of the ford.
2
WEI, NORDWEI
With the knock on the door, Ashtaar sets aside the polished black agate oval and straightens herself behind the wide table of a Counselor of Wei. “Enter.”
Gretslen bows as she enters, and again as she approaches the table where the dark-haired spymistress waits.
Ashtaar nods toward the chair, but remains silent behind the table as the younger woman seats herself.
After a moment of silence, Gretslen begins to speak. “As you requested, your mightiness, we have scried the waters of harmony and dissonance. Both the Sturinnese and the Liedfuhr are assisting Bertmynn’s efforts to conquer the freewomen of Elahwa. He is gathering barges at the river quays on the south side of Dolov. Three Sturinnese ships are skirting the Shoals of Discord now. Earlier, they anchored off the northern coast.”
“Has the Liedfuhr sent any assistance in recent weeks?”
“The seers have found none.”
“What of the sorceress?”
“The sorceress has sent some golds to Hadrenn, but neither armsmen nor arms. Hadrenn has sworn fealty to Defalk and the Regency. The sorceress did use Clearsong to repair the ford on the Chean where she massacred the Ebrans. That will reduce the time of travel to the east of Defalk and to Ebra. She is returning to Falcor, but she has done nothing about the dark-singer in Pamr. It is possible she does not know of his efforts, local as they are.”
“And the Maitre of Sturinn?”
“The high forests of the Ostisles are being cut to build more ships to replace those lost in Dumar,” replies the blonde seer. “Near-on half a score already rise from the ways at Yular and almost as many at Puertoclaro.”
“Has the situation changed in Neserea?”
“The fiftyscore Mansuuran lancers remain in Esaria, but our sources indicate that they will soon be posted to Elioch. Even so, it is unlikely they will ride near the West Pass. No Neserean lancers or armsmen will accompany them.”
Ashtaar nods—once. “Watch Esaria and Elahwa most closely.”
“Not the sorceress?”
“She has never moved without provocation, and you have told me how strained your seers are. Once there is provocation … then, it will be time to watch her more closely.”
Before Ashtaar speaks again, Gretslen asks, her voice deferential, “Will the Council do anything to assist the freewomen?”
“Earlier the Council sent food and tools to help rebuild Elahwa from the floods loosed by the sorceress when she destroyed the Evult. There may have been some weapons and golds in those ships, and it is possible that there could be additional assistance to the people of Elahwa.” Ashtaar’s voice is level.
“It is possible,” Gretslen repeats, her voice equally level.
“Do not press, Gretslen.” Ashtaar stands. “You may go.”
3
The white and scattered puffy clouds of morning had thickened and darkened throughout the early afternoon until a nearly unbroken stretch of gray filled the sky. A cool breeze blew out of the northeast and across eastern Defalk, fueled by the chill of the distant icy peaks of the Ostfels. Anna enjoyed the break from what had seemed a steamy and unending ride back from Sorprat toward Pamr. She’d been happy to pull off the floppy brown hat and let the light breeze blow through her neck-length hair, scarcely longer than that of some of the armsmen. Hair any longer than that was hardly suited to riding, or washing in a half-medieval culture, and she had far more to worry about than her hair. Like how to build an effective national army so that you don’t have to resolve every border problem with song-sorcery or the threat of it.
The road through the green fields and the river valley were both flat—flatter even than Iowa—and the air was humid, despite the breeze. Even the road dust was heavier, coating only a span or two of the horses’ legs.
Thrummmm … . The muted and distant thunder rolled out of the northeast.
“We’ll see rain before we reach Pamr.” Himar glanced to Lejun, the guard to his right, as if for confirmation.
Anna studied the clouds for a moment, shifting in the saddle, and absently patting Farinelli on the neck. “A light rain. Maybe not that much.” She looked at Rickel, riding to her left. “You’re from around here, aren’t you? What do you think?”
The broad-shouldered Rickel cocked his head, but his eyes continued to survey both the road and the waist-high bean plants that flanked the road behind the irrigation ditch filled with muddy water. “I’m from Heinene, but I’d agree with you, Lady Anna. The clouds aren’t dark enough. Not by half.”
Heinene? He does look like one of the grassland riders … .
At the sound of a muted hail, all four looked westward along the dusty road.
“That would be the messenger.” Himar pointed toward the rider who neared after passing the scouts riding nearly a dek ahead of the main column. “There’s another rider with him, in blue livery.”
“I hope that Lady Gatrune is at home,” Anna said.
“You would be welcome even if she is not,” pointed out the overcaptain.
“That might be, but it would be less awkward if she is.” And it would be seen as less of an imposition by the more hostile lords of the Thirty-three.
The young-faced messenger reined up short of Anna and Himar, as did the second rider. The grizzle-bearded older man wore the Prussian blue livery Anna recalled from when she had first met Lord Kysar before the old lord had died at the battle of the Sand Pass, before his consort Gatrune had taken over running his lands for their son and heir, before Anna had ever even thought about becoming a regent.
“Regent … Overcaptain,” offered the older armsman, “the lady Gatrune expects you and bids you welcome.”
Anna concealed a frown. The armsman looked familiar. She repressed a sigh. The name wouldn’t come. Finally, she offered a smile. “I should know you, armsman, but I’m tired, and your name escapes me.”
“Meris … I asked to come, Regent.”
Meris? Anna could feel the broader smile with her recognition of the man. “You were the one who made it easy for me to see Lady Gatrune after the Sand Pass battle—on my way to Falcor. It’s good to see you.”
Meris beamed. “Thank you, Regent. Like I told Beyless when you came to Pamr … I owe you my life for that.”
Anna fumbled with the wallet at her belt, then extended a gold. “Meris … I promised you once I wouldn’t forget you. I couldn’t recall your name, and you did a service that I couldn’t repay you for then. Words are fine, but golds help with getting on with life.”
Meris took the gold slowly. “Wouldn’t as I came for that …”
“I know that, but when a regent promises …” Anna offered another smile.
“Thank you, lady. Thank you, and Eniabel will thank you, too.” He bobbed his head. “Like as she will, seeing as she’s said words like that often enough.” Meris offered a grin.
Anna nodded at Meris, then Himar. “We’d better keep riding, or we will get caught in the rain. And so
will the armsmen.”
Meris guided his mount into the column somewhere behind Anna and beside the messenger as the force resumed the ride toward Pamr. Shoulder-high maize graced the fields ahead, still green in the late summer. Anna glanced at a hut, smoke circling from its chimney, recalling when most of the small dwellings between Mencha and Pamr had been abandoned because of the drought caused by the Evult’s spells. Then she turned her attention to the problem Jecks had set her before she had left Falcor. What should she do about Neserea? Could she do anything about the Liedfuhr’s buildup of armsmen and lancers in his grandson’s realm? Or did she need to wait until Konsstin acted? Probably … or the lords of the Thirty-three will get even more upset … .
That didn’t include the thousand golds she still owed the Ranuan Exchange, golds her predecessor had borrowed to pay for the armsmen to fight off the Ebrans. Or the golds she needed to build her own national army so that Defalk wouldn’t always be at the mercy of its adventurous neighbors—and of the fractious nobles of its own Thirty-three. She took a deep breath.
As the first houses of Pamr appeared, Anna forced herself into a more erect and regal position in the saddle.
A gray-haired woman looked up from the basket she carried, saw the horses, and the Regent’s banner, then bowed her head to Anna. A door opened on the porch of the next house, but no one stepped out. The old woman quickly lifted her basket of laundry and struggled into a scurry toward the back of the nearer house.
The dusty main street of Pamr remained empty, all the way to the center of the town. There, as Anna guided Farinelli to the right onto the street that would become the north road to Lady Gatrune’s holding, her eyes went to the chandlery on the street leading westward out of the center of town. She found herself shaking her head ever so slightly, recalling how Forse the chandler had tried to rape her—and she’d scarcely been that provocative, not in trousers and shirt and vest and covered with road dust. All she’d wanted had been directions, and she’d ended up turning him to ashes when he’d barred the door and turned a bow on her after she’d refused his advances.
Anna looked back over her shoulder, realizing that the entire town had been quiet, that outside of a dog and the older woman carrying laundry, she had seen no one. The rain?
She frowned, then straightened in the saddle and looked ahead along the road. It would be good to see Lady Gatrune’s friendly face.
The day was darkening into twilight, and sprinkles of rain had begun to fall a good half-glass before Anna’s force and her players rode slowly through the stone gates a dek or so north of Pamr. The duty guards rang a bronze bell by the gates—an innovation since Anna’s last visit—and Captain Firis was waiting by the stables. Even in the dim light of late twilight, Anna could tell that Firis’ salt-and-pepper beard was even whiter than it had been a year before, although his face remained almost as young-looking as ever, despite the few additional lines around his eyes.
“Regent and lady.” Firis bowed as Anna reined up. “More beautiful than ever.”
“Captain Firis, bold as ever.” She couldn’t help grinning at the man’s effrontery. “It’s good to see you.”
“I but follow your example as Regent and leader.”
Anna shook her head and dismounted, trying not to stagger as her legs took up her weight, and holding the raised cantle of the saddle for a moment before stepping a pace or so away from Farinelli.
“You will groom him? Before you go to meet Lady Gatrune?”
“It won’t take long.” Anna nodded. Farinelli suffered only Tirsik in Falcor, Quies in Mencha, and a handful of other grooms in all Defalk to approach him except to feed him. One of the drawbacks of a raider beast. “Is there some sort of shelter for my players—and armsmen?” She beckoned. “Liende?”
The chief player eased her mount forward, stopping beside Himar.
“Himar is my overcaptain,” Anna explained, “and Liende my chief player. You may recall Liende. She was with us at the Sand Pass battle.”
“The players—Lady Gatrune said that they would be quartered in the main house, as would your officers. Lady Gatrune asked me to join you and … the senior members of your party for dinner, once you have all refreshed yourselves.” Firis paused. “You have fivescore … ?”
“Armsmen, yes.”
“It will be crowded, but between the hall in the west barracks and the few empty caserns in the older barracks, we can shelter all of them. I would be pleased to show Overcaptain Himar …” Firis nodded again. “The front large stall has been swept and cleaned for you.”
“Thank you. If you would show Himar …” Anna said tiredly, beginning to lead Farinelli out of the light rain and toward the stable.
“I would be pleased.”
“This way …” said Firis to Himar.
While Lejun unsaddled and groomed both guards’ mounts, Rickel stood watch as Anna began to groom Farinelli. Before Anna knew it, Firis had returned. He peered over the stall wall. “It amazes me to see a regent grooming her mount.”
“Why? He’s saved my life more times than I can count.” The discomfort of the remark, almost like a faint sense of Darksong, prompted Anna to add, “A good handful of times, at least.” After setting aside the brush, she left the stall, carrying the lutar that had been strapped behind her saddle. Lejun carried the saddlebags with her few changes of clothes and limited toiletries.
“How are you doing in training the lady’s forces?” Anna asked the captain, as she stepped out of the stable into the light rain.
Firis smiled. “The training here goes well.” His smile faded.
“There’s a problem.” Anna glanced around. “Perhaps you should come and see me later.”
Firis frowned, then smiled wryly. “Almost, Lady Regent, I would have deferred. Yet I recall our first meeting. After you are refreshed, and we dine, I will attend you at Lady Gatrune’s will.”
“That might be best.” Anna was glad Firis had suggested consulting Gatrune. You’ve got to get out of the habit of saying what comes to mind when you’re tired and hungry. People listen to every word. With a faint smile, Anna nodded, recalling her first meeting with Firis. She’d been tired and not thinking clearly, and Firis had suggested sorceresses were worse than useless. She’d almost turned Firis into a bonfire—targeting his goblet instead of him, before apologizing. Then, after the near-disastrous Sand Pass battle, he’d gathered Lord Kysar’s armsmen after the lord’s death, and returned the forces to Pamr, where he’d become the chief armsman for Lady Gatrune.
Anna lifted the leather-cased lutar, and the two began to walk across the nearly flat ground toward the dwelling. Rickel and Lejun followed them through the misting rain.
The tall and big-boned Gatrune was waiting on the wide stone steps for Anna. In the light of the lamps beside the double doors, her smile was wide and genuine. “All of Pamr welcomes you, lady, sorceress, and Regent.” Lady Gatrune bowed deeply. Beside her, her son bowed, if a trifle after his mother.
Anna struggled to remember the boy’s name.
“As do Kyrun and I,” the Lady of Pamr added smoothly, as if she had sensed Anna’s inability to remember the heir’s name.
“I am most glad to be here, Lady Gatrune, in the hold that was the first to welcome and support me, and for that I will always be truly and deeply grateful.” Political as her words had been, Anna still meant them. “Both to you and Kyrun.”
“What brings you so far east? Will you stay long?” Gatrune stepped back and gestured toward the entry hall beyond the doors.
Anna laughed. “We’re returning from Sorprat … I finally managed to find time to repair the ford there … the one I destroyed more than a year ago.” Just a year ago … it seems like it’s been two or three.
“Let me offer you the guest chamber—and a bath—before we eat.”
“That would be wonderful.” Anna didn’t have to feign gratitude for the offer as she followed Gatrune down the side corridor.
Kyrun and Firis remain
ed in the entry hall, as did Lejun, but Rickel followed his Regent, eyes flicking from side to side along the dim-lit corridor.
The Lady of Pamr stopped perhaps fifteen yards down the passage and opened the heavy dark-oak door. Beyond the door was a bedchamber, a room large enough to hold not only the oversize bedstead, but a love seat before the yellow-brick hearth, and a small writing desk with a chair. Two wall candles lit the room.
The older-looking blonde led the way to the second door—one that led to a combined dressing room and bathchamber. The copper-enameled tub was already filled, and the doors of the wardrobe against the inside wall lay open. “I know you travel light—like an armsman. There are several gowns in the wardrobe, should you find one you like.”
“Thank you.” Still holding the lutar, Anna smiled. “I won’t be long.”
“We await you, lady, and look forward to what you may say.” Gatrune bowed and eased out of the chambers.
Once the doors closed, with Rickel stationed outside them, Anna uncased the lutar and tuned it, then accompanied herself on the water-heating spell.
Hot and steaming, clean and clear,
now make this water to appear … .
Setting aside the lutar, she peeled off her dusty riding clothes and slipped into the copper-enameled tub, where she luxuriated in the hot water for a time before rousing herself and dressing in a green dress from the wardrobe—possibly the same one she had worn the year before. She also borrowed a pair of sandals. Then she opened the chamber door and walked back down the corridor, hoping she hadn’t delayed dinner unduly for the others.
Both Himar and Gatrune bowed as Anna approached. A moment later, so did Liende. As if the big-boned, but rangy Lady of Pamr had been waiting but a few moments for Anna, Gatrune gestured toward the open double doors of the dining hall.
Anna did not argue, but took the seat at one end of the table. Gatrune took the other end, and Firis and Himar sat on the side to Anna’s right, Liende to her left. Two sets of twin-branched candelabra provided the light.
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 2