Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Are you all right, Lady Anna?” asked Kinor.

  “Well as I can be.” With her free hand, she massaged the back of her neck for a moment.

  “Will they come after us?”

  “I wouldn’t, but who knows?” Anna eased her mount next to Hanfor’s as the column rode at a fast walk back eastward along the road. Behind them, the company of lancers Hanfor had left as a rear guard formed darker shadows on the road, barely outlined by the coals and few flames of the Neserean camp.

  “Hanfor … when you came to serve me, you said you would not lead armsmen into Neserea. Would you consider them leading you?”

  “What might you mean?” Anna could hear the frown in the arms commander’s voice.

  “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fighting battles between Defalk and its neighbors. Rabyn had no heirs—not that anyone knows. I’m asking you to consider becoming High Counselor and ruler of Neserea.”

  The veteran swallowed, loudly even in the darkness, for the first time since Anna had known him. “Lady Anna … I am not a ruler … .”

  “You’ve seen enough to know dishonesty and scheming, and you’re honest enough to try to do a good job. And you are from Neserea. If they don’t attack us, I’m going to ask the Mansuuran lancers to support you. And it may be that the Nesereans who are besieging Westfort might also be agreeable to that.”

  Hanfor laughed. “Those at Westfort are the Prophet’s Guards you bespelled in Falcor last year. They can do nothing against you, but whether they would follow me is a different question.”

  “Would you consider it?”

  Hanfor bent his head. “I cannot say that it would not be good to return. Yet … will either the Mansuuran lancers or the people accept me?”

  “We’ll know about the lancers shortly. As for the people … most of the time, they haven’t been the biggest problem in Defalk.” It’s only in a democracy where people are the problem … because they have some power, and people with power always get into trouble? What about you? Anna didn’t want to deal with that question, not yet, anyway.

  “We shall see, lady, but I do not think that many will see matters as you do,” prophesied the arms commander.

  Anna nodded in the darkness and reached for the cheese and stuff in the small food pouch. Perhaps that would help.

  The faintest hint of gray was appearing in the east, and by the time the column rejoined Himar’s forces, the predawn light was strong enough that Anna could turn in the saddle and study the players. Several, like Palian and Delvor, were clearly pale, but no one was about to fall out of the saddle.

  Himar rode out to meet the column, his eyes surveying the riders nearing him. “How went it?” asked the overcaptain. “We saw the fires in the sky.”

  Hanfor looked at Anna.

  “The Nesereans and those who followed Rabyn are dead. So is Rabyn, and his drums—he used Darksong—got burned up. The Mansuuran lancers … we don’t know what they’ll do yet.”

  Himar frowned.

  “I didn’t want to kill them and get the Liedfuhr ready to take over Neserea. Not yet, anyway. I’d like to try something else first.”

  That got a slow, if reluctant, nod from Himar.

  “Can I borrow one of your grease markers and the sketch board? I need to send a message to the head of those lancers.”

  Hanfor said nothing when Anna dismounted and handed Farinelli’s reins to Kinor. She walked to the lower side of the road and propped herself against an oak that still held most of its leaves. As the dawn brightened, she used Hanfor’s grease marker and his sketch board as a desk while she slowly wrote out the message she wanted on the brown drawing paper.

  Once done, ignoring the looks from Liende and Kinor, and even Hanfor, she read over the text once again.

  … The Liedfuhr has pledged not to enter Defalk anymore, although he could not countermand orders from the Prophet Rabyn. I have spared you and your lancers—my price for sparing you is this. You will assist Arms Commander Hanfor—who loyally served Neserea until he was betrayed by the Prophet Behlem. Hanfor will be the High Counselor of Neserea, under the support of both the Liedfuhr and the Regent of Defalk.

  The people of Neserea should not have to pay … .

  And what if the Mansuuran commander refuses? She took a long deep breath and rolled the scroll, looking at Hanfor, who had not dismounted, but continued to study the road to the west.

  “Are they headed this way?”

  “I think not, and the scouts have reported that they are salvaging what they can and packing their remaining mounts and wagons.”

  “I’ve finished this.” Anna held up the scroll. “Will they respect a messenger?”

  “Now that the Prophet is dead, I would say that they would.” Hanfor shook his head. “We can send him under a parley flag.”

  “Would you?” She handed the scroll to Hanfor.

  “If it means fewer men who die, the attempt is worth some effort.”

  “Thank you.” Anna remounted Farinelli and rode the gelding to the tree-lined part of the hillside where the players had dismounted and were resting, instruments near at hand.

  Liende glanced up inquiringly.

  “So far, it looks as though they aren’t coming our way.” Anna cleared her throat. “We’ve made them a proposal.”

  Liende waited.

  “I’m proposing a Neserean as regent of Neserea under both the Liedfuhr’s and my protection. If they accept … then we work out the details.” Anna moistened her lips. “If they don’t, we’ll have to work out another set of details.”

  And she needed to talk to Nelmor and Falar, to let them know about what she was proposing, or they’d feel slighted as well. At least, she suspected Nelmor would.

  The sorceress took a deep breath. All she wanted was a nap … but she wouldn’t get that, not for a while. She rubbed her forehead again.

  90

  Sometime before midmorning, a maroon-clad messenger under a pale blue parley flag rode slowly eastward along the road toward the Defalkan lines. His whole body posture bothered the sorceress. His eyes surveyed the purple-clad Defalkan lancers, and his shoulders were slumped. The parley flagstaff was jammed into his lanceholder, and the banner drooped in the clear windless morning air.

  The steps of his mount slowed as he neared the Defalkans.

  Anna mounted Farinelli and rode up onto the road to watch from almost half a dek away, and she found all of her guards mounted and surrounding her, as well as Kinor and Jimbob.

  The wind had shifted to where it blew out of the northwest, carrying not only the faint odor of moldy leaves, but also the odor of fire and charred meat. Anna swallowed quietly, watching intently as the Mansuuran messenger rode toward them, each step of his mount seemingly slower than the last.

  Rickel and Bersan brought their mounts forward, their shields high, partly screening Anna from any surprise attack. Kinor stationed his mount to Anna’s left.

  Hanfor nodded at a Defalkan lancer Anna did not recognize, and the Defalkan rode forward alone to meet the Mansuuran and to accept the scroll carried by the Mansuuran. After handing over the scroll, the Mansuuran saluted and turned back westward, spurring his mount into a slow trot.

  “He’s not happy,” observed Kinor. “I’ll get it.”

  “We won’t be either. Thank you.” Anna waited as the redhead rode to meet the lancer and take the scroll. When he returned, she accepted the scroll, unrolled it immediately, and began to read.

  Honored Regent of Defalk, Most Powerful Sorceress, Protector of Lands, Overlord of the East …

  The compliments went on for three lines before the message became clear.

  Much as I would like to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I am a loyal Mansuuran overcaptain and the arm of the Liedfuhr. I am not so empowered and cannot accept your request that I use my lancers to support a turncoat or to turn the Prophet’s land over to one not of his lineage.

  The signature was: “Relour, Overcaptain and Arm of the Liedf
uhr.”

  Anna sighed. Here we go again. Another stubborn male who would rather stick to his procedures and beliefs and have his troops killed than use common sense. Does he really think I’m going to allow lots of Mansuuran troops to stay in Neserea after all this? “They’re not interested.”

  “Will you destroy them?” asked Jimbob, who had eased his mount up beside Kinor’s.

  “I think I have to give them a chance.”

  “They would have given you none, lady,” offered Hanfor.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll still have to follow them for a while, at least until they’re almost out of Defalk.” She nodded to herself, half-smiling. There was no reason to kill the Mansuuran lancers. Not if she didn’t have to, but there was certainly no reason to spare Relour. Loyalty didn’t excuse stupidity—or arrogance. “I wonder what he was really thinking.”

  Hanfor laughed. “I would wager that Relour would be regent and ruler under the arm of the Liedfuhr. Like Nubara.”

  “You would attack them now?” asked Himar.

  “No. We’ll follow for a time. They’re inside Defalk. I’m not going to attack all of them, anyway.” Just Overcaptain Relour. “Not yet. Not until I’ve tried one other thing.”

  Hanfor nodded, and Kinor nodded in return. Jimbob merely looked puzzled.

  Anna did not shake her head, although she wanted to do just that.

  91

  Ignoring the sounds of conversation and cooking coming from outside the ever-dingier small silk tent, Anna looked from Liende to Hanfor.

  “You wished to talk with us?” asked Hanfor.

  The walls of the tent rippled in the momentary breeze, and stopped moving. Anna cleared her throat, then took a long swallow from the water bottle. “Sorry. My throat gets dry with all the road dust.” She cleared her throat a second time. “Yes, I did. I wanted to talk about the Mansuurans. If we leave the Liedfuhr’s lancers in Neserea, we’ll have the same problem in another year. Two at the most.”

  “You wish to destroy them after all?” asked the veteran, fingering his gray beard as he did when thinking or nervous. “You destroyed near-on a hundred fifty-score of the Neserean lancers and armsmen Rabyn raised.”

  “That leaves almost a hundredscore lancers, and that makes them more powerful than the armsmen left in Neserea.”

  “Are they not better trained?” asked the chief player.

  “Far better,” Hanfor acknowledged.

  “Tonight, we’ll try something,” Anna said.

  Hanfor raised his eyebrows.

  “Do you have two or three lancers who can send a heavy arrow farther than the others?”

  “A half-score would be better.”

  “We’ll get as close as we can, and I’ll use the lutar to enchant a few shafts.”

  “You would kill the overcaptain? That will not persuade the captains under him,” Hanfor predicted. “They would regard that as cowardice.”

  “Then, I’ll remove them one by one until some idiot gets the message.”

  Liende smiled sadly. “There will be many you may remove, and before you get that far, one will order the lancers to attack us.”

  Anna felt like throwing up her hands. “What am I supposed to do? I spared the Mansuurans because they didn’t start this mess, and because I wanted to make a gesture to the Liedfuhr. But they aren’t exactly helping things either.”

  “They would regard that as treason … unless they had no choice.”

  “Then … maybe, we won’t give them any choice,” Anna said.

  “If you attempt this, do not essay it too often,” suggested Hanfor. “Or they will attack, and you will not be prepared to destroy them, for there is every chance that is what you will have to do.”

  “Can we try this once?” asked Anna.

  Hanfor smiled. “Once … they will not expect, not after you have let them escape.”

  “And then what?”

  “They will turn and attack, tomorrow morning.”

  Anna sighed, then looked at Liende. “Can you have the players ready with the long flame spell and the arrow spells?” Always the flame spell, and always the innocents die because of the arrogance and stupidity of their superiors. Including you …

  “We will be ready. Like you, I would wish otherwise, but I do not see such.” Liende offered the sad smile that Anna had seen too often.

  “Neither do I.” The Regent looked at Hanfor. “Do you?”

  “As I said, Regent, they will not accept aught you offer that does not leave them in control of Neserea, and that you and Defalk cannot accept.”

  “Tonight then. They get one chance.” Which is more than people have usually given you.

  92

  WEI, NORDWEI

  “You summoned me, honored Counselor?” Gretslen’s voice is low, and she bows deeply as she approaches.

  Ashtaar remains standing, but gestures toward the straight chair before the flat table-desk. “You may sit.”

  Gretslen sits, her eyes darting nervously from the black agate oval on the flat polished wood to the spymistress, then to the window, and back to Ashtaar.

  Ashtaar still does not speak, but walks to the wide window that is open, the hangings drawn back to reveal the sunlit hillside that overlooks the river, and the rebuilt bridges above the port itself. After a time, she does speak. “What is Wei, Gretslen?”

  The hard-eyed blonde seer moistens her lips, once, twice, before she finally replies. “It is the capital of Nordwei. It is a great trading city.”

  “No.” Ashtaar’s voice is cold. “Wei is an idea. All cities are ideas. They exist because people believe that being in a city is better than not being in a city. What is the idea behind Wei?”

  “That … all can benefit by free trade among all cities?”

  “You remember that from lessons. Nonetheless, it is true. Wei is more than that, but that is one idea on which it is based. Now … why is the Sorceress and Regent of Defalk so dangerous?”

  Gretslen frowns, and her brow wrinkles, but she does not reply. She moistens her lips once more.

  Ashtaar turns from the window, her eyes on the seer, waiting.

  “Because she will unite the south of Liedwahr, and will have the power to invade and destroy Nordwei?”

  Ashtaar closes her eyes, then opens them. “You can do better than this, Gretslen. If you cannot, I will make Kendra the head of the seers.”

  The blonde licks her lips again. “I do not understand. I have worked hard. I have reported faithfully.”

  “You have done all that, and more. What you have not done is think.” Ashtaar turns back to the window. In time, she turns once more and faces Gretslen. “Tell me exactly what has happened in Defalk.”

  “The sorceress has ignored the rebellious lords in Defalk. She has used her powers to destroy Lord Rabyn. She has not destroyed the Mansuuran lancers, but she follows them westward.”

  “Now … does the sorceress have the power to destroy the Mansuurans?”

  “Yes, honored Counselor.”

  “Is the sorceress stupid? Or mad?”

  “No, honored Counselor.”

  “Then why did she not destroy them when she could?”

  Gretslen’s hands curl into fists. She does not answer. Finally, she speaks. “I could not say, honored Ashtaar.”

  “That is certainly correct. You cannot.”

  Gretslen cringes at the scorn in Ashtaar’s voice.

  “You cannot,” the spymistress continues, “because you cannot or will not understand. What is dangerous about the sorceress is not her power alone. Nor is it what she believes. It is that she believes and that she will use her power to accomplish what she believes. Now, why did she not destroy the rebels in Defalk first? Because she is intelligent enough to know that they cannot match her face-to-face and because Rabyn and the Sturinnese were the greater threats. Why does she not destroy the Liedfuhr’s lancers?”

  “Because she wants something more?”

  Ashtaar finally nods. �
�You must find out what she plans. In Dumar, she molded the succession to support her. In Ebra, she used her power to elevate Hadrenn—but under her control. There is no succession in Neserea, and logically, she should have wiped out the Mansuuran lancers to send a message to the Liedfuhr. She did not. She is not like Behlem’s Cyndyth, toying with folk. So … she has a deeper reason. You must find it, and before it is too late.” Ashtaar laughs. “Or the Council will have to consent to any reasonable agreement she proposes.”

  “To the sorceress?” blurts Gretslen.

  “Certainly not to Konsstin. The Liedfuhr is shrewd, but his ideals are limited. Hers, I fear, are not.” The spymistress gestures. “Go. Think upon what I have said, and discover what she seeks beyond victory.”

  Gretslen stands, bows, and backs out, as if pleased to escape Ashtaar’s wrath so easily.

  The spymistress returns to the window, where she surveys the city that is Wei, the city built on one ideal.

  93

  Farinelli whuffed once, tossing his head, when Anna flicked the reins to begin the evening’s journey from the encampment and the torches that marked it. The sorceress glanced overhead, but the only stars visible were to the south, beyond the slow-moving heavy clouds that had moved across the sky from the northeast earlier in the day. The wind was cool, but not as chill, and there was a dampness in the air that suggested mist or rain.

  According to the maps and the images Anna had been able to call up in the traveling mirror, and from what Hanfor’s scouts had seen, the Mansuuran forces were camped literally on and around the road to Denguic, not more than twenty kays east of Denguic. The camp itself was on both sides of the road, with pickets more than a half-dek from the center, and scouts stationed farther out.

  So Hanfor and Anna had looked for one of the side and back roads—and found one that wound within a quarter dek of the south side of the Mansuuran camp. It wasn’t patrolled, probably because there was a steep and wooded gully that separated the lane from the camp, clearly impassable to mounts and lancers. Since Anna had no intention of trying to ride into the camp, the side road would suffice for what she needed to do.