The Regent listened. A small high voice reached her ears—Secca’s.
“ … she’s not like that. She worries about everyone. You just worry about you. Lords can’t do that. They have to worry about everyone.”
Anna waited.
“You’re too young to say things like that, Secca.” The older youth’s voice held a sneer. “You’re being silly.”
Anna wanted to slap Jimbob for the patronizing tone, but instead remained silent, waiting to see how Secca would handle the heir.
“You’re like all boys. When someone’s right, and you don’t like it, you tell them they’re silly. Or you hit them.”
Anna couldn’t help but grin.
“I do not,” replied Jimbob.
“You would,” Secca insisted. “You’re afraid of Lady Anna and your grandsire.”
There was silence in the corridor.
“A lot you know,” Jimbob finally answered.
“You could be nicer. You should be if you want to be the lord like your father was.”
“I’ll be lord. It doesn’t matter what you think.”
“It matters what Lady Anna thinks, and if you don’t get nicer, you’ll never be lord.”
“Nice people don’t win battles,” snapped Jimbob. “Lady Anna isn’t always nice. She’s killed scores and scores of people. You just see her here in Falcor. It’s different in battle. All the lancers say so.”
Have you become two people … nice when it suits you and ruthless the rest of the time? Anna frowned. If you wanted to survive, did you have any choice?
“She’s only nasty when people like you make her that way! I don’t have to talk to you.” The sound of small footsteps headed toward the corner.
Anna waited and let Secca run almost into her. “Secca! Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Secca stopped, and looked up. Her eyes were bright, but not tearing. “Lady Anna.” She bowed. “I have to get my scrolls for figures. Dythya said we had to bring them every day.”
Anna smiled. “Don’t let Jimbob get to you. He’s having trouble understanding that just because he’s the heir doesn’t mean that the rules are any different for him.”
“He said … you weren’t always nice.”
Anna looked straight into the redhead’s amber eyes. “Sometimes, I’ve had to do things that weren’t what I wanted. You will, too. We all do the best we can. When you can do something better—or nicer—and you don’t, that’s when you get in trouble.” Like you have …
Secca smiled shyly, then bowed again. “I should go, Lady Anna.”
Anna watched as the redhead scurried down the corridor. Then she turned and headed toward the staircase. The receiving room was empty when she reached it, except for another pair of guards, Kerhor and Blaz—and the dark-haired Skent, who waited as the duty page.
“Skent? Would you see if Lord Jecks and Arms Commander Hanfor could meet with me shortly?”
“Yes, Lady Anna.”
Once inside her de facto office, Anna sorted through the scrolls that represented what she needed to do, beginning with the last draft of her proposed “newsletter” scroll. After reading it and nodding, she set it aside for the copying she had to set up by the fosterlings. Before you go off anywhere.
Her thoughts drifted to young Farsenn and his drums, and she shook her head before she finally picked the scroll that held the summary of accounts. She scanned Dythya’s latest summary—not so bad as previously, not with the three thousand golds from the Liedfuhr and the four thousand from Dumar. Almost enough to do what you’d planned … Except that there were more needs—like forage for the grasslands people, or what seemed like the tenth petition for lower taxes on the merchants of Falcor, and the fifth for lower tariffs on the rivermen.
Then … she needed to do something about Secca’s mother, the lady Anientta, who had probably poisoned her consort … and about the succession in Fussen … or did she? You’re becoming like all those bureaucrats on Earth … stalling because any decision is worse than none.
She took a deep breath and reached for the water pitcher. After filling her goblet and taking a deep swallow, she sharpened the quill and began to add to the list of tasks that she needed to address.
Anna was still adding to that list when Jecks and Hanfor arrived. She set aside the quill and waited until the two men were seated across the conference table from her. “I’m thinking of taking tenscore armsmen and going to Mencha … and if nothing happens while I’m there, going on into Ebra.”
Hanfor nodded slowly. “You remain worried about the Sturinnese?”
“I’m worried about someone like Bertmynn, who’ll accept Sturinnese coins.” And having to pick up the pieces later, at a higher cost.
“What have you seen in your pool?” Jecks asked.
“Bertmynn is about to head downriver toward Elahwa, if he hasn’t already. It looks like he wants to take over the city and port there.”
“Would it not be wiser to wait … to see the results in Ebra?” questioned Hanfor. “Or do you wish to call a hundredscore levies now?”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t think so. Calling the levies before Rabyn does anything will only reduce their useful time of service. We can’t wait on Ebra, either. Dolov wasn’t affected by my sorcery against the Evult. Synek was more than half-destroyed, and Elahwa was partly destroyed. The freewomen are trying to do something in Elahwa, and Bertmynn’s against that. I’d like to stop him, or if I’m too late, attack him before he gets more arms and armsmen from Sturinn.”
“You cannot defend all of Liedwahr,” Hanfor said slowly.
It does sound like that’s what you’re trying to do, doesn’t it? Anna paused, then reached for the goblet. It was empty.
Jecks refilled it from the pitcher, then looked at Hanfor. The grizzled veteran nodded, and Jecks filled all three goblets.
“Let us say you are successful,” Hanfor finally continued after a swallow from the goblet before him. “You destroy Lord Bertmynn. You are two weeks or more at a hard ride from Falcor. If the Nesereans attack? What would you have me do without levies?”
“I think we should call up some levies, preferably enough to make up a force for you to train … perhaps somewhere near Dubaria or Denguic. Not too many, though.”
“And?”
“If we do so, then …” Anna paused, thinking, before concluding, “then Rabyn will have to move more armsmen to Elioch or the West Pass, and that will take time.”
“You still may not return that quickly,” Jecks pointed out. “What would you have your arms commander do if the Nesereans do cross into Defalk?”
“Defend Defalk.” Hanfor offered a half smile. “Preferably with some effect.”
“If you can manage it, Hanfor, have Rabyn attack Fussen,” Anna said dryly. “And put Lord Ustal in charge of an attack on their center … or wherever. If that doesn’t work, try to slow them down without losing too many levies. Give up territory rather than men. We can get the territory back, but not the armsmen.”
Jecks laughed. “That will not make your western lords pleased.”
Nothing will please them except the world not changing. “It may not come to that.” Except it will, because most men in Liedwahr instinctively believe that over time no woman can keep defeating men.
“I think I will draw up plans for a retreat through Fussen.” Hanfor’s lips quirked. “I doubt not that you will succeed in Ebra, but success takes time.”
“I leave the details to you,” Anna acknowledged, turning her eyes to Jecks. “Lord Jecks, in the next day or so, you and Hanfor should discuss which levies to call up … and how many. Then I’ll draft the scrolls.”
Both men nodded.
“Oh … and I think I’d like some of the lancers who can handle bows to come with me.”
“That would be best, lady,” Hanfor said with a grin. “Most can only get the shafts into the air and pointed in the direction of the enemy without you and your spells.”
Anna
was afraid that still might have been the case.
“Do you wish me to accompany you in Mencha … and beyond?” asked Jecks.
“I had thought of it,” Anna replied. “I also thought that we might bring Lord Jimbob along.”
Hanfor nodded. “Words mean little to him.”
“His father had trouble with them as well,” Jecks answered dryly. “The peach falls not far from the tree, alas.”
Anna frowned. “What about bringing one of the older students, too?”
“You would not wish Hoede, and Skent went to Fussen. There are no other fosterlings, only pages.”
Anna ignored Jecks’ unconscious chauvinism. “What about Kinor? Liende’s son? I think they all need to see what Defalk faces.”
“Best you ask your chief player,” Jecks suggested.
“I will. If she’s reluctant, we can bring Resor.” Anna took a sip of water. “Oh … what do you think about making Skent an undercaptain? And bringing him?”
Jecks frowned.
Hanfor nodded slowly. “I would have him work with Jirsit, beginning this day. He has the sense, and you have need that he become experienced in arms and battle.”
Abruptly, Jecks smiled. “I will work with him, as well. But he should not sit with you at table until after he proves himself.”
“You mean, wherever we go?”
Jecks nodded.
“If you two would tell Skent, and let him know that this is an opportunity for him?”
“Best I do this,” said Hanfor.
“We’ll also need some wagons and some armsmen to leave at Mencha … another score or so. I’ll explain later.” Anna smiled. “We may have some … goods to bring back to Falcor.”
“Derived through sorcery?” asked Hanfor.
“Or battle,” suggested Anna. She looked down at the list before her—the long list. “Now … you know Lord Vyarl, Lord Jecks … how many coins should we send him to buy forage … ?”
She didn’t want to think about all the other problems they needed to address before she dared leave for Mencha, like sending a message to summon Halde to Falcor once she returned. That’s assuming you return. Or reworking the accounts with Dythya … or preparing the levy notices for Hanfor or making sure that her de facto postal system was launched … or … the list seemed endless.
30
The midafternoon, preharvest sun warmed the back of Anna’s vest as the column neared the western bank of the Chean River. Several of the old oaks flanking the road were bare-leaved—dead—or graced with yellow leaves well before fall’s turn. The air was so still that the afternoon seemed as hot as midsummer.
“River’s running higher than in years,” Jecks observed to Anna, before turning in the saddle to glance at Jimbob and Kinor—two redheads riding abreast before the second set of Anna’s guards and before the players.
Behind the players rode the majority of lancers, ninescore or so. Somewhere back in the dust rode a new and determined undercaptain, Skent. The other score of lancers served as the vanguard and had already crossed the ancient stone bridge that lay slightly more than a hundred yards ahead of Anna.
“That’s good.” Anna patted Farinelli, then glanced at the bridge ahead, leading over the Chean and then into Pamr.”Maybe it will help some of the trees.”
“For those, it’s too late. It will be years before the forests begin to grow back.”
Farinelli’s hoofs clicked on the stones of the bridge. Anna glanced down at the brownish blue water, swirling past and through the brush that had grown up during the dry years of the Evult’s drought.
“ … always talking about the drought …” Jimbob’s voice was barely audible.
“Wasn’t it that bad in Falcor? We lived in Mencha,” Kinor replied, “and some days when the wind blew, you couldn’t even see the fields for the dust. Once Lord Brill had to use sorcery to move big piles of dust out of his keep, and half the trees in his apple orchard died, even with the sorcery he used to bring water to them.”
Anna smiled. Perhaps bringing Kinor would have advantages beyond those she and Jecks had discussed. She pulled off her floppy hat for a moment to try to let her short hair dry from the sweat beneath, then replaced it.
“ … never really saw much outside of Falcor … my sire … mother … were gone … more than they were there in the last years …”
“I suppose they didn’t have much choice,” offered Kinor. “The lady Anna doesn’t seem to. There’s always a problem somewhere.”
Jimbob’s reply was inaudible.
As Anna realized she was nearing Pamr—and the chandler who used Darksong—she twisted in the saddle and reached for the lutar, half-wrestling, half-easing it from the leather case. She fumbled to tune the instrument, and began a vocalise, “Holly-lolly-pop … .”
“Arms ready!” snapped Jecks and Himar almost simultaneously.
The hazel-eyed lord’s blade was clear of his scabbard before he finished the command.
Anna could sense that both Jimbob and Kinor had drawn steel as well, but she hoped neither would have to use a blade. As she tried to clear her throat and cords, Anna surveyed the houses that led toward the crossroads in the middle of Pamr, her eyes shifting from one to the next as the blond gelding carried her eastward. At the fourth or fifth house, she thought she saw a woman’s face, but the shutters closed quickly.
Pamr was still, the streets empty, too empty for a midweek afternoon. Again. The only sounds were those of the lancers’ murmuring, mounts breathing, and hoofs striking the dusty clay of the street.
She let the second vocalise die away, and holding the lutar ready, continued to survey the dwellings and buildings on both sides of the street.
At the creak of a door the Regent turned in the saddle toward the inn—The Green Bull—but the shaded porch remained empty. Her eyes went to the chandlery across the street.
The bearded brown-haired man—the drummer Anna had seen in the scrying pool—glanced at the column of riders, then darted back inside the building, closing the door with a thud.
“Not good,” Anna murmured. “Listen for drums …”
“Drums?” Jecks’ face clouded. “Vile things.”
Despite the ominous silence and the vanishing drummer, the column passed through the center of town and out along the north road without encountering anyone and anything—except a stray black dog that slunk away behind a browning hedgerow on the north side of Pamr.
Anna frowned as Pamr dropped behind her. She would have liked to do something about the young chandler—but what? She didn’t really even have any proof that he was using Darksong—only her own visions in a scrying pond, and she had more than enough problems in Defalk without imprisoning or killing someone who hadn’t actually done anything.
Still … Anna did not relax her guard until she reined up in the open area below Lady Gatrune’s mansion—or keep, where the black-bearded captain Firis stood with a smile.
“Welcome, Lady Anna.” Firis bowed. “Your presence is always welcome.” He turned toward Jecks. “And yours, Lord Jecks.”
Anna gestured toward the two redheads. “Captain Firis, this is Lord Jimbob, and Kinor, one of my students in Falcor.” Student was as good a term as any, since Kinor was neither fosterling nor page. “And you remember Overcaptain Himar and my chief player Liende.”
“Greetings and welcome,” Firis responded. “Lady Gatrune awaits you … once you take care of that beast.”
Farinelli tossed his head, if gently, as though to suggest to Anna that he needed to be brushed and fed.
“Yes, I know.” Anna patted the gelding’s neck, then dismounted. She looked at Jimbob and Kinor, then Liende. “Once we have the mounts stabled, we’ll go up to the main house together.” As she finished, she caught a glimpse of Skent leading his company toward the rear stable area.
Her words brought nods, and she turned and began to follow Firis toward the stable. Behind her came Rickel and Lejun.
Once at the stable, Lejun took
both guards’ mounts, while Rickel remained within a few steps, his hand on the hilt of his blade as Anna led Farinelli into the large stall clearly reserved for the big gelding.
Firis stood for a moment at the end of the stall as Anna loosened the girths, and then swung the saddle onto the rack above the stall wall.
“You still amaze me, lady.”
“Why? Because I take care of Farinelli?” She slipped off the blanket and found the brush.
Firis laughed. “That … and many other things.”
“Pamr seemed … quiet … . What have you heard?”
Firis’ smile died away. “It is far too quiet, my lady. No one in the town talks to us, any of us, except when they must.” He shrugged. “Yet … one cannot punish folk for silence.”
“Is anyone forging arms or anything?” Anna patted the gelding and began to brush out the dust and road dirt. “Easy, there, fellow.”
“We have seen nothing. We have heard nothing. More of the men’s consorts have come here to live. Few live in town any longer.”
As she continued to groom Farinelli, Anna pursed her lips, silently pondering the situation in Pamr. Should you have done something? What?
Firis stepped back. “Best I see that quartering is going well.”
Anna smiled and nodded. As Firis stepped away, from farther inside the stable, Anna heard some murmurs.
“ … doesn’t even bring a lancer to groom her mount …”
“ … you want someone to groom your mount?” Kinor’s voice was loud enough for Anna to identify.
“Not … seemly …”
“It’s more than seemly,” answered Jecks, not quite sharply. “And it is effective, Lord Jimbob. Your sire and your mother groomed their own mounts as well. When rulers do such, then lancers and others do not complain and are more willing to heed orders.”
Anna nodded, wondering how long—if ever—it would be before Jimbob understood the power of example. And the finer points in using guilt? She laughed to herself. Not all people could be guilt-tripped, especially not all men.
Rickel and Lejun returned, and Rickel picked up the cased mirror, and Lejun Anna’s saddlebags.
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 17