Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Fine. You need to declare that his son—or other heir—will hold the lands around Dolov … but only there. And you need to proclaim that as widely as possible. You also need to proclaim that you have accepted the protection of the Regent and Sorceress of Defalk for all of Ebra to assist in repelling any who would strike at your land … or some words like that. And you need to send someone to Elahwa … saying that you will recognize a government by the freewomen.” Anna paused. “They may not believe you. You might ask for the Matriarch to send a representative—but make sure it’s a representative of the Matriarch and not of the South Women.”

  Hadrenn’s eyes contained the expression of an ox stunned with a heavy hammer. Behind the younger lord’s shoulder, Jecks shook his head gently, and mouthed, “Be gentle … be gentle.”

  Anna nodded that she’d heard. “Let me explain,” she addressed Hadrenn patiently. “The SouthWomen started this mess by shipping blades to Elahwa. You don’t want them in this. You do need someone outside of Ebra whom the women of Elahwa can trust. If you do that, the Matriarch and their grain factors will look on you more favorably, and you won’t have another revolt on your hands in ten years. You—and Ebra—can’t afford that. Neither can I.”

  “You do not sound as though you are fond of Ebra.” Hadrenn’s voice contained the hint of a querulousness.

  “In my shoes … boots, would you be? My lands have been invaded by Ebra once, and I have to fight battles again a year later in Ebra in hopes of getting a just and peaceful ruler as a neighbor. However,” Anna added, “I will recompense you slightly. Send a score of lancers with me, and I will send them back with golds to help you rebuild Synek—and Elahwa.”

  Hadrenn looked down. “You are generous.”

  You may be a damned fool. “Hadrenn, I want a peaceful neighbor strong enough to ensure that the free state of Elahwa survives and powerful enough that Ebra can keep the Sturinnese out of Liedwahr. I’m not after an empire like the Liedfuhr seems to be. Most empires don’t last, and those that do aren’t places most people would like to live.”

  Another puzzled look crossed Hadrenn’s face, but he did not speak.

  “The mist worlds have had more empires than Erde has ever dreamed of—or should.” Anna glanced toward the west. “Do you have any questions? We need to be leaving.”

  “Leaving?”

  “Leaving. There are no forces left in Ebra, except yours. You have my support, and, once you proclaim the free state of Elahwa for the freewomen, you’ll have some support from the Ranuans. At the very least, they won’t oppose you. You have Gestatr, and his judgment is sound. What else do you need?” If Hadrenn can’t handle it now, he’ll never handle it.

  “Gestatr said that you would be fair … no matter what it cost you. I was not certain.” Hadrenn bowed his head. “Synek and Ebra will stand before and behind you, Regent and sorceress, for none could have a better ally nor a worse enemy.” Hadrenn looked up, his eyes upon Anna. “I will not keep you, but I will also tell Stepan your words of wisdom, and we will begin.” He paused. “Can I offer you an escort? You lost lancers, and you brought few enough.”

  “Just the score you’ll need to bring back the golds I’ll send. And an officer or subofficer you trust.”

  “You shall have them.” Hadrenn bowed again.

  As the younger lord turned, Anna drew Jecks toward her. “I didn’t mean for you …”

  “Who else, my lady?”

  “Thank you.” Anna smiled. “I don’t say that enough. Especially to you. Without you … without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I think not, my lady. Without you, Defalk and Elheld would yet lie under Behlem’s boots and I in an unmarked grave.”

  Anna shook her head. “I won’t argue this one, but I don’t agree. We’d better get ready.”

  Now … all you have to do is march across two countries and figure out how to defeat another madman without losing any more lancers—and that doesn’t even count all the problems you don’t know about.

  57

  Under a gray and misting sky that had threatened a full rain all morning, the green banner of Synek and the purple-and-gold banner of Defalk headed the column of lancers riding toward the eastern end of the river town whose name Anna did not know.

  Rickel and Kerhor had brought out the heavy shields as they neared the town and had moved up to flank Anna. Jecks surveyed the small daub-and-wattle dwellings at the edge of the town, and then the wood-and-brick ones nearer the center of the hamlet.

  Several figures peered out of open windows, and the column slowed as someone from the town called something to the Ebran lancers.

  Anna glanced over her shoulder at the distant rumble of thunder, but the gentle mist did not intensify.

  Sylvarn—the subofficer in charge of Hadrenn’s lancers—replied loudly. “The sorceress and Lord Hadrenn defeated Bertmynn, and Lord Hadrenn is now Lord High Counselor of all Ebra, thanks be to the Regent and Sorceress of Defalk, his ally and supporter.”

  “ … who will rule Dolov?”

  “Lord Bertmynn’s heirs will hold his lands, and the free-women will hold Elahwa—at the sorceress’ insistence—but both pledge allegiance and fealty to Lord Hadrenn.”

  A low murmur, not entirely friendly, followed Sylvarn’s second response. Rickel and Kerhor edged closer to Anna, their shields higher.

  “The sorceress is returning to her demesnes … for her assistance is no longer necessary, but Defalk and Ebra have pledged friendship, and there will be peace between them.” Sylvarn blurted out.

  “ … peace … after the fire flood …”

  “ … peace … why not?”

  “Better peace than war …”

  In the time it took Anna to ride the hundred yards to the small square, people poured from the buildings and stood, watching as the cavalcade made its way along the damp clay of the road, past, first, a small chandlery, and then past a cooper’s.

  “That’s her!” whispered a high voice, either a young boy or girl. “The evil sorceress!”

  “I don’t want to hear it. She’s not evil now,” answered a woman. “She slew the war-dog of the north.”

  “But the man said …”

  “The officer said,” repeated a stronger voice.

  “The sorceress slew the war-dog; young Hadrenn could not have done so himself.”

  “But she made the mountain of fire …”

  “Hush …”

  Abruptly, the girl ran to the front of the cooper’s porch and called, “Sorceress … did you slay the war-dog of the north?”

  Anna wanted to sigh, but she turned in the saddle to face the smudged-faced child and answered. “Yes. He used Darksong, but Clearsong was stronger. He died in fire.”

  “Darksong …”

  “Darksong …” The word passed through the small crowd of perhaps forty souls, repeated again and again. Some seemed to shudder at the word itself.

  “Well put,” murmured Jecks.

  Luckily put was more like it, Anna thought, but she kept a smile on her face all the rest of the way through the town—a smile on her face, but eyes that looked everywhere.

  Neither Rickel nor Kerhor lowered their shields until the entire column was through the town and well along the River Syne on the road leading to the Sand Pass.

  58

  MANSUUS, MANSUUR

  “So … Bassil … she has vanquished Bertmynn, and placed young lordlet Hadrenn as her puppet over all Ebra.” The Liedfuhr’s hazel eyes flash, seemingly turning black momentarily, and he leans forward, putting his large hands on the polished walnut of the desk standing before the open windows of his private study. “And she has given the Matriarch a foothold in Ebra, without the slightest of requests and without any concessions from Ranuak.”

  “Yes, sire.” The raven-haired lancer officer bows. “She also lost near-on a third of the lancers accompanying her, and she must return to Defalk, traverse the entire land, and meet with the overwhelming forces of your grandson.�
��

  “And most probably a hundredscore of my own lancers—as you recommended, Bassil.”

  “If she loses … then you bring all your forces into Neserea and Defalk because of the instability, and you will control all of Liedwahr. Neither Lady Siobion nor Lord Hadrenn can stand against you, and the Ranuans will remain as they always have. The Sturinnese will have to look elsewhere, and you have the beginnings of your empire of magic, sire. And you will not have to offer Aerlya to Rabyn.”

  “That … that … even I would never do, and I do not wish to hear aught of that again.” The Liedfuhr’s tone is like the ice of the polar caps south of Pelara.

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Now … how does your logic run, if the sorceress wins—again?” questions Konsstin.

  “Then you hold by your bargain and offer her half of Neserea. The Council of Wei will not move against her. Nor will the Matriarchy, and in all events she will take the rest of her long life to settle the internal affairs of what she holds in Defalk and Neserea. You will consolidate your hold on western Neserea, and Mansuur will be the most powerful land in Liedwahr.”

  “You make it sound so easy—for both me and the sorceress.”

  “For you, sire, there is little risk. The sorceress gambles much, in everything that she ventures. She attempts to remake a land that has undone everyone who has tried such. She will anger the Matriarchy and the SouthWomen because she does too little for their taste, and the old lords of Ebra and Defalk because she changes too much. Your grandson understands neither, nor will he, even when he perishes, and that will not be long, even should he defeat the sorceress.”

  “Now you are a prophet?”

  Bassil laughs at the Liedfuhr’s ironic tone. “No, sire. He schemes openly. He has poisoned wenches and innocent girls alike because they displease him, and he will soon take those goods and women he wants. With each taking, more will hate him, until there are so many against him that he will have no supporters. Even should he defeat the sorceress, he cannot take Defalk. Who has the lancers to wage thirty-three separate campaigns a land away?”

  “The sorceress has taken Defalk.”

  “No, I must differ, sire. She has improved the lot of perhaps half the lords, and cowed the others into submission. Some of those cowed will rebel, or plot, or both, for they detest a woman of power, and it will take years for her to deal with them all in order to truly unite Defalk. And she acts to restore the old line, which gains her much of her appeal. Rabyn would not have the support of any lords.”

  “We shall see, Bassil.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Best you are right.”

  Bassil nods. He does not wipe his damp forehead, a forehead that has perspired despite the cool breeze from the open windows of the Liedfuhr’s study.

  59

  Anna glanced into the low sun, squinting through the dust to see if she could make out the outlines of Loiseau, but all she saw was a flock of sheep to the right of the road and a half a dek north.

  “Sheep—there wasn’t anything out here last year,” she said to Jecks, holding off a cough from the dust until she finished her words.

  “So long as they do not graze too many,” he said.

  Anna had to nod at his words. That was something else she needed to discuss or leave a scroll about for Halde—the condition of the land and to watch that it wasn’t overgrazed. She shook her head. She didn’t even know when Halde was leaving Synfal. Even using the scrying mirror, there was so much she didn’t know, and half the time she ended up with headaches from trying to find out too much through scrying.

  Her legs were sore, and assorted aches permeated muscles she’d not been aware she had. At least, not since the last long trip. Harvest had probably come in most of Defalk while she’d been gone, and the days were shorter, and the nights definitely cooler than when they had departed.

  “ … there be the sorceress’ holding …” called someone from the vanguard.

  Anna squinted again, trying to see Loiseau against the glare of the near-setting sun. After more than a week of travel back from the battle north of Elahwa, she was riding up to the gates of her own hold. And it would take nearly another two weeks, if not longer—assuming the roads remained dry—before she reached the area west of Defalk where Rabyn’s forces were chasing Hanfor. She just hoped the wily veteran could keep from losing too many armsmen until she could get there. Though, Lord knows, you’ve lost too many even with sorcery.

  Thoughts and speculations of how she might better have planned things preoccupied her, and she kept riding, straightening in the saddle when Farinelli’s hoofs struck the stone causeway leading to the open gates of Loiseau.

  “It’s the Regent!” called one of the lancers on the wall, part of the detachment Anna had left to guard both the hold and the spell-concealed gold in the strongroom beneath it, although she had told no one, except Jecks, her personal guards, and Skent and a few of his men most trusted by Himar, all of whom had helped move it, that the gold was there. And none of them could see it now. Not while you live … anyway … and after that … who cares?

  “The Regent!”

  Anna plastered a smile in place, nodding as she rode into the courtyard, and guided Farinelli to the right.

  The white-haired stablemaster Quies was waiting as Anna reined up beside the smaller personal stable inside the walls on the north side of the hold. “Welcome back, Lady Anna.”

  “It’s good to be here, if only for a short time.” And it’ll be better to sleep in a bed, get a bath and clean clothes without sorcery. She dismounted gingerly, holding to the saddle for a moment until her legs adjusted to her weight.

  “That raider beast of yours, he could use a mite bit more grain,” Quies said, eyeing Farinelli as Anna led the big gelding into his stall. “Other’n that, he looks good.”

  “Are you trying to say that he looks better than his rider, Quies?” Anna grinned.

  “Ah … no … beggin’ your pardon, Lady Anna.”

  “He probably does.” Anna laughed tiredly. She unstrapped the lutar, and then the mirror, then handed the saddlebags to Kerhor, then bent and loosened the girths.

  Farinelli shook himself slightly and whuffed once Anna had the saddle and blanket off.

  “I know. It feels good, I’m sure.” She picked up the brush and took it to the palomino’s coat.

  “He still comes first,” offered Jecks from the end of the stall.

  “Only when it comes to grooming and feeding,” she replied. “He deserves it.”

  When she finished with Farinelli, Quies filled the feeding box, then cleared his throat.

  Anna looked at the old ostler.

  “Lady … I’d a been mentioning Vyren to you … and you said …”

  “I said you could start to train him.”

  “I thought as you’d like to meet him … .”

  “Of course.” Anna smiled in spite of her tiredness. “Is he around?”

  Quies gestured, and a thin black-haired youth stepped shyly forward. “This is Vyren, Lady Anna.” He looked at the boy. “And this be the lady Anna, Lady of Mencha, and Regent of all Defalk, and the most powerful lady in all Erde.”

  “Ah … that’s …” Anna flushed. No matter what she said, it would be wrong. “I’m sure there are others …”

  “Not many, likewise.” Quies grinned, then tapped Vyren on the shoulder. “Manners, lad.”

  Vyren bowed, his eyes not quite meeting Anna’s. “Lady … Regent … thank you …”

  “Just learn everything Quies can teach you, Vyren.” Anna smiled again.

  Vyren looked down, then stepped back.

  “Thank you, Quies,” Anna said.

  “Being my pleasure, lady.”

  Anna and Jecks walked across the paved stones toward the main hall. Anna carried the lutar, Jecks the mirror and his saddlebags, while Kerhor carried her saddlebags, and Lejun surveyed the darkening courtyard. She marveled again at the comparative airiness and beauty of Loise
au. No wonder poor Brill had never wanted to leave it. The more she saw of Liedwahr, the more a compact marvel her own holding seemed to be.

  “You are deep in thought,” Jecks ventured.

  “Just appreciating Loiseau. I forget how elegant it is.” And how clean.

  “As is its holder.”

  “You’re gallant … very gallant.” She smiled, warmly, in spite of her fatigue.

  “It is easy to be so with you.”

  “Flattery …”

  “Truth,” corrected the white-haired and handsome lord, leaning forward and gesturing for Anna to enter through the front double door.

  Serna, Florenda, and Gero were waiting in the entry foyer.

  “Your messenger came early,” Serna began immediately. “Dinner will be ready for your party, Lady Anna, within the glass, as you wish. The folk I brought on from Mencha, as you asked, lady, they are already serving the armsmen and the regular players in the rear barracks hall.”

  Anna nodded. “I may take a bit … almost a glass.”

  “We will be ready.” Serna nodded, then added, “There were many scrolls. I put them on the writing desk in your chamber, Lady Anna.”

  Many scrolls? Of course … scrolls from Dythya, Menares, Hanfor, and who knew who else. Perhaps Birfels, or that insufferable pain in the ass, Lord Dannel. “Thank you.” Anna nodded and walked through the foyer, then trudged up the stairs and back to her chambers.

  Jecks walked beside her, and once inside her rooms, set the mirror on the side table in the study alcove, and Anna took the saddlebags from Kerhor. “Thank you.” She added, “Make sure you get something to eat, you and Lejun.”

  “Yes, Lady Anna.” The dark-haired Kerhor smiled as he closed the door to take up his post outside.

  Anna turned to Jecks. “I’ll try to hurry, but … the way I feel I just can’t eat.” Her stomach growled.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ll hurry.”

  Jecks smiled broadly, then bowed slightly. “As will I, my lady.” He slipped out, leaving Anna alone, really alone for the first time in days.