Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  She turned to the desk and looked at the pile of scrolls stacked neatly there. She shook her head. A bath and a full stomach came before she even wanted to get near all those scrolls. Turning, she went straight to the bathchamber, carrying the lutar.

  It took only a short spell to heat the water, and Anna slipped into the steaming warmth with a sigh. Dinner could wait. Not long, because the others were hungry, but for a few moments. Only a few, nagged a small voice within her. After too short a time, she sat up with a second sigh and quickly washed, then got out and dried, donning a loose gown from the open closet and the slipperlike shoes. She squared her shoulders as she walked to her chamber door.

  The scrolls could wait until after dinner.

  60

  Sylvarn, the lancer subofficer from Synek, bowed in the saddle. “Lady Anna, you have been most generous, and Lord Hadrenn will be most thankful for the golds we carry.”

  Seated on Farinelli, on the north side of Loiseau’s courtyard, Anna inclined her head in return. “I am most certain that you will carry them safely to him and that he will use them wisely.”

  “Indeed, lady and Regent. Our thanks for all you have done, and may the harmonies always be with you.” Sylvarn bowed even more deeply, before turning his mount.

  Anna and Jecks watched as the Ebran lancers rode out through the gates of Loiseau, eastward toward Synek.

  “There are advantages to being a sorceress,” Jecks observed. “All those lancers saw you destroy armsmen with a spell. They will return the golds to Hadrenn.”

  “They would scarce do otherwise,” added Himar.

  Anna hoped so, but wasn’t so sanguine as Jecks or Himar, even though she had given each lancer three golds personally, with the strong suggestion that failure for the remaining golds to reach Hadrenn would result in dire consequences. Once the lancers in green were well clear of the gates, she flicked the reins and guided Farinelli out through them and along the lane to the domed work building. “We need to see what’s happening with Hanfor and Rabyn before we leave.”

  “I fear we know already,” answered Jecks, glancing back as if to ensure that Anna’s guards followed the three of them.

  They did, as did Frideric and Wiltur.

  Anna wasted little time once she reached the work building, only waiting for Wiltur to check the domed structure before she slipped the lutar from behind the saddle and hurried in, the lutar in one hand and a handful of scrolls under the other arm. Jecks and Himar followed, but the guards took up posts outside the door.

  The scrolls went on the small table against the wall in the scrying room, and she began to tune the lutar. She’d already warmed up when she had dressed so that once the lutar was ready, she launched into the spell.

  Show me now and show me there

  Hanfor’s forces and how they fare … .

  The image in the scrying pool showed Hanfor’s forces riding southward—at least the position of the early-morning sun and shadows indicated that.

  “He is up earlier, in the cool of the day,” noted Himar. “He will let the Nesereans weary their mounts in the heat.”

  Anna didn’t recognize the landscape and looked at Jecks, then Himar.

  “I cannot say where he is,” admitted the overcaptain.

  “We can’t do much, and he seems to have all the lancers he left with.” Anna released the first spell, then sang again.

  Show me now and show me clear

  Rabyn’s forces that any might fear,

  near any hold or castle strong … .

  The silvered waters of the pool revealed a line of lancers in the blue and cream of Neserea posted along a ridgeline, with Westfort in the background—its gates closed.

  “Rabyn has left enough lancers there to keep Jearle within his walls,” suggested Himar.

  “No … enough lancers there for Jearle to claim he was kept within his walls,” countered Anna.

  Jecks nodded agreement with Anna. After a moment, so did Himar.

  “Still … those can’t be all the armsmen Rabyn has out there.” Anna sang the release couplet and thought, then tried again.

  Show me now and show me bright

  where Rabyn’s forces may go to fight … .

  The next image that wavered up in the pool showed a field beginning to catch fire, with Nesereans in uniform carrying torches.

  Anna winced.

  “That is good,” Jecks suggested. “They have not won any battles, so that they must stoop to firing crops.”

  “There are no Mansuuran lancers there, either,” suggested Himar.

  Anna wanted to shake her head. Instead, she pursed her lips, then let the image go and tried another spell, one that mentioned the Mansuuran lancers.

  The image was similar to the first, except the riders were in maroon.

  “So the Mansuurans released to Rabyn chase us, while the Nesereans burn fields and lay siege,” offered Jecks. “That speaks ill of Rabyn’s forces.”

  “Mayhap …” Himar’s response was slower. “The Mansuurans may have refused to burn fields.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Except it does … and there’s a reason why. Anna frowned, but she couldn’t remember what that might be. Finally, she took a deep breath, released the image, and replaced the lutar in the case. “We need to get moving. That’s what it shows.” She glanced at Himar. “If you would have everyone ready to ride in a glass … .”

  Himar inclined his head. “We will be ready. By your leave?”

  “You may go. We won’t be long.” As the overcaptain left, Anna walked to the side table. “All of the scrolls can wait, except these. We need to go over them—quickly. Then I need to write what replies are necessary, and then we leave.” Anna picked up the first of those she had culled; the others were packed to be taken back to Falcor and considered when necessary—and if necessary. “Herstat reports that he thinks Halde can leave Synfal, and would like our permission.” She handed the scroll to Jecks.

  After reading it, he nodded. “Herstat is cautious, but you need not have asked …”

  “Jimbob is your ward, and I’d prefer to ask about things involving him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I also thought if I sent off an answer with a fast messenger, Halde might be able to get to Falcor by the time we’re there.” Anna picked up the second scroll, then passed it to Jecks. “Lady Anientta is suggesting, ever so politely, that I make some sort of proclamation to Lord Tybel about how Lord Hryding’s lands will go to his heir Jeron. That sounds to me like she’s trying to stop a power grab by Tybel.” Anna’s smile was wry.

  Jecks nodded more slowly after reading Anientta’s missive. “Must you act now?”

  “That was my thought,” Anna admitted. “We already have problems with Lord Dannel, but he hasn’t sent me a protest, and that bothers me as much as if he had. Unless I go to Synope or Arien, nothing will change. It might be better if Tybel did try something … .” Anna let her words die away.

  “That way you could replace both?” Jecks raised his eyebrows.

  “After meeting some of her shirttail relations in Pamr, I don’t know that there’s anyone in Tybel’s whole family that could be trusted with lands.”

  “Then you should wait until you return from the Western Marches.”

  Anna lifted another scroll. “Lord Hulber of Silberfels wishes me well, and would like to remind me that the lands of Loiseau were once of Silberfels until graciously granted to Lord Brill’s grandsire. He is most confident that I will manage all that is on and below them well.” Anna snorted. “He must have a seer, or be able to do it himself. In short, he’d like a little of the gold as a gesture.”

  Jecks shook his head.

  “I’ll write him and thank him and tell him that I appreciate his wishes, and that I’ll find some way to repay the graciousness of his family once Defalk is rid of the immediate threat from Neserea.”

  A wide grin lit Jecks’ face.

  “Only two more,” Anna said. “Your neighbor,
Lord Clethner, expresses concern about the deteriorating state of Wendell with Lord Genrica’s long illness, since Genrica’s offspring are all daughters, and since Lord Fustar of Issl has numerous sons. That’s a warning of another land grab that may be coming. Do we wait and beat up on Fustar … or try to head it off?”

  “When you face a mountain cat, do not go out of your way to trample on a viper.”

  “Wait. All right.” Anna rummaged for the last scroll. “We don’t have to do anything on the next one, not until we get to Falcor, but it’s the rivermen. Menares says that they are threatening to lay up their barges unless I reduce their tariffs.” Anna offered a falsely bright smile. “Some days, I just love being Regent.”

  Jecks nodded slowly as Anna packed away the scrolls and then picked up the lutar.

  61

  With Farinelli’s reins in her left hand, Anna rubbed her forehead and temples with her right, trying to massage away the residual headache that had started soon after they had ridden out of Loiseau. Something in the air? Worry about how long it would take to reach western Defalk? Who knows? She tried to concentrate on riding, on the river ahead.

  The road from Mencha to Pamr sloped slowly upward to the bluffs on the south side of the Chean River, then swung abruptly northward around the steep-walled, sinkhole lake that was the remnant of Anna’s destruction of the Evult’s forces. She glanced to the west, noting the lake’s now-blue waters sparkling in the sunshine, sunshine that had come and gone all morning with the scattered clouds. The low mudflats were now covered with bushes and clumps of grass, and the crumbling clay walls had become less steep. The lake itself did not appear any smaller to Anna than when they had traveled past it on the way to Loiseau. “It is hard to believe that so many died there,” Himar said, turning in his saddle to look at Anna. “Alvar … he … never had he seen anything like it.”

  “I wish I hadn’t,” Anna replied.

  “People do not learn,” Jecks interjected. “She destroyed the Evult’s lancers and armsmen—all of them—and yet he raised more lancers.”

  Anna shook her head. Were people really like that? Did she have to annihilate any opposition … or fight them endlessly? Or just individuals like the Evult or Lord Ehara?

  “Some are like that.” Himar turned and guided his mount around the wide curve back toward the river. “Some will not believe what they have not seen, and some will not credit their own eyes if what they have seen does not accord with what they wish.”

  Like about half of the Thirty-three.

  At the top of the bluffs, before the road cut down to the ford, Anna slowed Farinelli. She continued to study the rock base of the ford set by her sorcery as the palomino gelding carried her down to the river.

  When she reached the edge of the river, she could see the water sheeting evenly across the line of stone, so smoothly that it seemed like flowing glass. She couldn’t help but nod. You did do a good job replacing the ford After a moment, the qualifying thought popped into her mind. More than a year later.

  Farinelli stepped into the water without hesitation, following Himar’s mount along the rock shelf of the ford. The sound of splashing replaced the dull thud of hoofs on clay, and drops of water left small blotches on the lower legs of Anna’s dusty riding trousers.

  “ … one of the holding armsmen at Pamr called it … Sorceress’ Ford …” Kinor’s voice drifted forward from where the lanky redhead rode beside Jimbob—a smaller redhead.

  “ … stone like that … last forever …”

  Forever? Will you be remembered by things like fords and bridges … or by the number of bodies you’ve left strewn across Liedwahr?

  Beyond the ford, the first fifty yards of road were dark and damp from the river water carried there by the mounts, but beyond that the dust resumed—as did the conversations behind Anna. The low fields were brown and cut to stubble, or in the case of those that had held beans, brown-dappled green plants stood in the noon sun ragged and wilting.

  “Be late by the time we get to Pamr,” Jecks said, glancing at the flat road that stretched through the fields toward the northwest.

  “I know … but Gatrune and Firis will take care of us. I worry about Hanfor.”

  “Best you worry about yourself,” Jecks suggested, his hazel eyes twinkling. “My lady.”

  He said that like he wished it were so. Lord … you wish this were all over. Then maybe there’d be time for you. But then, even on Earth, there had never been, what with job demands, Avery’s demands, those of the kids. Now … there were the demands of spoiled lords, the need to fight off invaders, and endless demands for her time to deal with situations that shouldn’t have been problems. Not to mention the worries—from the big ones like whether it had been stupid to go into Ebra to the littler ones like whether she should have pushed Hanfor and Himar into accepting Skent as an untried undercaptain.

  That’s life anywhere. She took a deep breath, looking at the still-long road to Pamr, and beyond.

  62

  Once more, Anna found herself massaging her neck, trying to reduce the growing throbbing in her skull, an ache that had increased with every dek she had ridden from almost the time she had left the gates at Loiseau. Too much sorcery? Or had she used Darksong and not even known it?

  But how? She glanced back along the column, past Kinor and Jimbob. She’d left with two hundred lancers—tenscore—and eight players. Now she had eightscore, and that included the score of newer lancers half-trained by Jerat at the Sand Pass fort and the cyan company under Skent. Himar had put two veterans as senior lancers beside Skent and told the young man to heed them.

  Anna hoped Skent would. Then … that’s what he has to learn if he wants to get Cataryzna as a consort … with your support.

  She winced. Are you any better than Dieshr was in using people? The sorceress continued to scan the column until her eyes came to rest on the red-and-white hair of the chief player. Not looking up toward Anna, Liende rode slowly, apparently lost in her own thoughts. She’s doing this for her children … not for you, not for Defalk.

  On each side of the road, the bare and harvested fields stretched out until they merged with twilight of what had turned into a gray day with dull low clouds. Ahead, off the right shoulder of the road, was a squat stone column. Anna squinted to make out the numbers chiseled there, finally reading the number and the single letter. Another two deks to Pamr, and perhaps another two beyond that to reach Lady Gatrune’s holding.

  The Regent and sorceress yawned, then absently massaged her neck again.

  “You are tired,” said Jecks, easing his mount closer to her.

  “I don’t know why. Riding isn’t that exhausting.”

  “Riding and thinking, mayhap?” The bushy white eyebrows lifted. “And fretting about what may come. You have not reckoned what the battles cost you, either.”

  “It was a gamble to go to Ebra … but I wanted to settle things there without worrying about Rabyn and the Liedfuhr.”

  “Nothing is ever settled in Liedwahr,” suggested Jecks. “Had you not defeated those of Ebra once, and those of Neserea?”

  “Not really the Nesereans. I killed their leader and his consort.”

  “Did you not spell some of them?”

  “I did.” Anna wanted to shake her head, except she had to stifle a yawn. That could be why some of Rabyn’s forces were standing siege duty in western Defalk. Before she’d fully understood—or been forced to understand—the limits of Clearsong, she’d spelled the Neserean forces remaining in Falcor to be loyal to her. Did Rabyn even know that? Nubara wouldn’t. He’d fled Falcor well before that. “But how many of those are in the forces attacking Defalk … I don’t know.”

  The sorceress looked through the dim twilight toward the indistinct shapes that had to be the outlying dwellings of Pamr. She blinked. Surely, there should be some light, some torches or lamps in some windows. The clouds made the early evening darker, although it would have been dark enough, since Darksong was the only
moon visible at dusk in the weeks after harvest.

  A faint clanging or tinkling of a distant bell echoed through the night from somewhere up ahead, going on and on.

  She stiffened. What on earth—or Erde—was she thinking? They were entering Pamr, and she was so tired that she was woolgathering. Lord!

  “Himar!” Anna turned in the saddle and tried to fumble the lutar free from its straps.

  “Yes, lady?”

  “It’s Pamr, and that chandler! We need arms ready.”

  “Arms ready!” snapped Jecks, belatedly understanding Anna’s concerns, and relaying her order. “Arms ready!”

  “Arms ready!” echoed Himar.

  As Farinelli carried Anna past the first darkened dwelling, Anna heard a dull rumble and glanced skyward toward the clouds that had been getting lower with every glass that had passed since midday at the Sorprat ford. She glanced up to see if it had started to rain, but she could feel nothing.

  She began to try to tune the lutar in the dimness, but her fingers were clumsy. Her eyes strained to catch sight of the inn and the chandlery near the center of town. Yet all the buildings were dark. Dark?

  “That is not thunder,” Jecks said abruptly.

  Anna swallowed. He was right. The sound was that of drums, and the pounding of those drums rumbled through Anna like the thunder she had first thought the drums had been.

  “Now! Men of Pamr! Strike!”

  The words floated in Anna’s ears for a moment. Then, torches flared up beside the packed-clay road, and arrows whistled past her guards.

  A good score of bearded men wielding spears and axes and other odd weapons charged out of the near darkness, directly toward Anna.

  Shit! You’re so tired you didn’t even think … dumb!

  “Blaz! Kerhor! Take them!” bellowed Rickel, as he and Lejun lifted the heavy shields, quickly, despite the deks of travel, while Anna bent, turned in the saddle, and tried to wrestle the lutar free.