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Seated on Farinelli with the late-morning sun warming her back, Anna watched as the last of the Neserean lancers rode westward, back toward Elioch—and eventually toward Esaria. She’d miss Hanfor, his quiet competence, but Neserea needed him. And so did Defalk—in Esaria. She wished she’d had more time to say good-bye, but that wouldn’t have altered things, and the sooner the Nesereans were out of Defalk, the sooner she could deal with her other problems, hopefully before they became insurmountable.
She turned in the saddle, looking at Himar, who had watched with her. “You don’t mind being the arms commander of Defalk, do you, Himar?”
The sandy-haired and clean-shaven veteran laughed. “No armsman with aught between his ears would believe what you have bestowed. In two years, you have made a junior overcaptain a ruler, and two lowly captains arms commanders of entire lands.”
“That’s because you were all good.” The ones who weren’t are gone or dead.
“A ruler who rewards skill, lady … we armsmen know how rare that is.”
Anna hoped she rewarded skill, but she knew she wasn’t the best judge of her own judgment. “We’re running out of armsmen again, and we’re running out of officers,” mused the sorceress. “Do you think Jirsit is ready to come back from Pamr as a captain?” She brushed back strands of blonde hair that the light gusty winds had tugged from under her brown felt hat.
“He would do well, I think.”
Anna glanced at Rickel, speculatively. On the other side of Himar, the nearest guard was Bersan. Blaz, Lejun, and Fielmir were reined up a good ten yards away, behind Jimbob and Kinor.
“If you please, lady,” replied the blond guard, shifting uneasily in his saddle. “I would rather remain as I am.” Rickel paused, then lowered his voice. “Lejun and Blaz—they would make good subofficers, I think.”
“Are you sure you wish to remain as a guard?” asked Anna, her eyes straying toward the keep on the lower hill, watching for a messenger.
“I am guard captain, in all but name …” ventured Rickel.
Anna grinned. “That we can fix, Guard Captain Rickel.”
Jimbob, Himar, and Kinor, seated on their mounts, half-facing Anna, all grinned as well.
“What do you think about Lejun and Blaz?” Anna asked Himar.
“They have seen you through many battles, and none has lost his head,” Himar said. “We should see—if they are interested.”
Anna and Himar watched as a lancer in purple rode forth from the now-open gates of Westfort—the messenger she had sent earlier to inform Jearle that the siege had been broken, though she had her doubts about how tight a siege it had really been. “I wonder what response we’ll get.”
“He will welcome you, Regent, no doubt. Whether he does feel welcoming or not,” suggested Himar. “I would not be so charitable toward him.”
“It’s his trying to show he’s being charitable toward me when he’s not feeling that way that bothers me,” Anna admitted. Her eyes crossed the hilltop to where Falar and Nelmor sat astride their mounts, looking toward her. She did not acknowledge their glances, but she would have to talk with them, shortly. There’s always somebody … and if you don’t, they get their feelings hurt, and that leads to more trouble.
The nine of them—Himar, Anna, Jimbob, Kinor, and five guards—waited silently for the lancer to reach them and rein up.
“Lord Jearle bids you welcome, and to enter Westfort, bastion and keep of the Western Marches of Defalk.”
Even though the words were Jearle’s, and repeated faithfully by the lancer, Anna bristled at the message conveyed. “Thank you,” Anna said.
“If you would wait over there,” Himar suggested politely to the messenger.
“Yes, ser.” The lancer eased his mount away, not reining up until he was a good thirty yards from the group.
“Is it wise to enter his keep, Lady Anna?” Kinor asked from her left.
“I can’t very well incinerate one of our own lords because I don’t like him. I can’t just march away either. And we need supplies. We have enough problems as it is.” And more than enough lords who are problems. Anna smiled crookedly. “But I will insist on all my guards, and I’ll carry the lutar.”
“Perhaps I should enter first,” suggested Himar.
“What about an undercaptain you trust?” Anna suggested. “A very cautious one who will inform Lord Jearle that we have, say, tenscore lancers who will need food and quarters, and Lord Nelmor and the brother of Lord Ustal.”
Himar nodded.
“Might I go also?” asked Kinor.
Anna frowned, thinking about what Liende might say.
“Kinor has the graces, Lady Anna,” Himar pointed out. “While Lord Jimbob does also, it would be less than wise to send the heir until we know how matters stand.”
Anna considered the options. Finally, she looked at the tall redhead, more wiry than when they had begun nearly a season before, and less boyish. “Be careful, Kinor. Tell him that I didn’t wish him to be surprised, which is why you’re there with the advance party. If you notice anything strange, ignore it, and tell Lord Jearle you have to come get me. Then get out of there.”
A half smile cloaked Kinor’s face. “I understand, Regent and lady.”
“If you will excuse me, lady?” Himar eased his mount across the hilltop toward the nearest formation of Defalkan lancers.
Anna turned to Jimbob, reflecting upon how quiet the youth had been for most of the campaign. “You may come with us, Jimbob, but I’d rather not announce to Lord Jearle who you are. Not in advance, anyway.”
“That I understand, Lady Anna.” The younger redhead offered a surprisingly shy smile. “I thank you for letting me accompany you. I have seen what I had been told. I did not see before, but I think I might see more now.”
Why? Because you’ve finally seen how real the killing and the deaths are? The pain that goes behind ruling? Lord … I do hope so … and that it sticks. “Sometimes, you have to see things,” she temporized.
Jimbob nodded. “I am not so good at hearing words and understanding.”
At least he understands that. Maybe there’s some hope there, yet.
Himar reappeared with a squat and swarthy figure riding beside him, an officer even darker than Alvar, who had served Anna so well and now was Arms Commander of Dumar.
Both officers reined up, then bowed in their saddles, waiting.
“This is Dutral, Lady Anna. He has been serving as the captain of the purple company these past weeks.” Himar nodded in the direction of Kinor. “This is Kinor, Dutral. He is an aide to the Regent, and has been tutored by her. He will be going with you to inform Lord Jearle of our needs.” Himar laughed harshly. “You will take the purple company, and you will see what you can, and return to escort the Regent.”
“Yes, Regent … Overcaptain … Arms Commander.” Dutral offered a knowing smile.
“Thank you,” Anna said warmly. “And you, too, Kinor.”
Once the purple company had left, Anna dismounted to stretch her legs, looking to the north, where a fringe of low clouds had appeared on the horizon. She hoped that they didn’t herald more rain or snow.
Once again, she was waiting, but at times waiting was far better than rushing in. The problem was that she didn’t always have the time to wait.
She had remounted by the time Kinor and Dutral returned.
“You are bid welcome,” Kinor said, “but there are many armsmen, and all I saw wear two blades, both the shortsword and the longer battle blade.”
“That is true,” affirmed Dutral. “Yet we saw no archers. Nor any crossbowmen.”
“How many armsmen?” questioned Himar.
“Threescore, perhaps four, that we could see.”
Anna thought. Might as well do this right. “Kinor … if you would send a messenger to Lord Jearle saying we will be there presently.”
“You have a plan?” asked Kinor.
Anna nodded. “But I need to talk
to your … to the chief player.”
This time Kinor was the one to conceal a smile at Anna’s near slip in referring to his mother.
“And to Lord Nelmor and Falar … and Himar and I need to work out a few details.”
Kinor bowed his head. “I will send a messenger.” Then he rode back to where the purple company had reined up.
Anna flicked the reins, and Farinelli stepped easily across the brown grass. The sorceress went to find Liende first.
The chief player and the other players were standing by their mounts a hundred yards east of where Anna had been viewing the keep.
“Lady Regent?”
“Liende.” Anna paused. “I will need a spellsong just before we reach the gates. Can you have the players ready to dismount and play? The flame song. It’ll be a different spell, but the same tune.”
Liende frowned.
“This one is not for killing, but for disarming. Lord Jearle has welcomed us, and double-armed his men.”
“Does he think you blind?”
“Probably. I’m only a woman, and I did nothing when we visited him in the fall.”
“The more fool he.” Liende snorted. “We will prepare to play just before the gates.” She walked toward the players. “Here! We have a task!”
Still flanked by her ubiquitous guards, Anna rode Farinelli westward across the hillside to where Lord Nelmor and Falar stood, also holding the reins of their mounts.
“Lady Anna.”
“Regent.”
“Lord Nelmor, Falar,” Anna looked at both—the lord and the would-be lord. “I would like your support one last time on this campaign. I have to ask, here, not order, and if you’re not comfortable with this, I understand.” She paused. “Lord Nelmor, we had once discussed the duties of the Lord of the Western Marches. One of those duties is to bid one’s Regent welcome.” A cold smile crossed her face. “While we have been bid welcome, all the armsmen in Westfort carry double blades.”
Nelmor’s face paled.
Falar frowned.
“I intend to use sorcery to disarm the keep, but I will need armsmen to hold it while I look into what has occurred … .”
“You will not use the fire spells?” asked Nelmor.
“Not against any armsmen who do not attack me—and not at first.”
The tall blond lord nodded. “We will ride in with you.”
“And so will we,” seconded Falar.
“Himar will order the riders,” Anna said.
“We will follow.”
Anna inclined her head. “Thank you.” She turned Farinelli back toward Himar and Jimbob.
Himar was waiting at the head of the ranks forming up—with Kinor and Jimbob—when Anna and her entourage returned. “What will you?”
“We’ll enter Westfort,” Anna said, “as if nothing were wrong.”
“We will lead with two companies,” Himar proposed.
“Then the players …” Anna added her own spell strategy for disarming Jearle’s forces. “This will happen once those companies hold the courtyard.”
Himar nodded. “That is best—before you enter the keep. And it will leave our lancers safer as well. If there is a problem with the spell, you remain outside.”
Anna nodded. But there shouldn’t be. As the lancers formed up, she went over the spell in her mind, time after time.
The sun had finally reached midday before the column started downhill toward Westfort, but the chill winds made white steam of some mounts’ breath.
The gates to Westfort were open.
Anna watched as the purple company swept through them, three abreast, then the green company. Farinelli was less than ten yards from the open gates, and the guards in red and black when Anna reined up and turned to Liende, who, with the players, rode right behind Kinor and Jimbob.
“Now!” ordered the Regent.
Alarm crossed the faces of the two guards at the gates, but neither said a word as a pair of lancers appeared next to each with bared blades.
Anna didn’t even dismount, but sang full voice from the saddle, letting her spell flood into the courtyard and the keep of Westfort.
Turn to water, turn to rust,
turn each Westfort blade into dust.
Break the shafts that fly from any strings … .
Holding her lutar ready, Anna watched as one of the Westfort guards in red and black tried to draw a blade, and found himself with a handful of red dust. She nodded, and called back to Liende. “That’s all for now.”
Himar nodded, then ordered, “Purple company! Green company! Take the keep!” He looked at Anna. “Best you wait at the gates.”
Surrounded by her guards, Kinor, and Jimbob, Anna waited. She held the lutar, her eyes darting to the high walls, and then into the lancer-held courtyard. Farinelli sidestepped once or twice, almost as if to say that he was ready for a stall and some grain.
In less than half a glass, Himar rode back across the courtyard and out through the gates to Anna. “The hold is ours.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“One lancer was stabbed with a kitchen knife by an armsman in red. That armsman will not stab another. Other than that …” Himar shook his head. “Lord Jearle awaits you in the entry hall.”
Anna dismounted, but kept the lutar, and let Rickel and Lejun, using their shields, lead the way through the open double doors into the dimly lit entry hall.
Jearle stood, flanked by Defalkan armsmen, just inside the great entry hall of Westfort. His face was flushed as she stepped toward him, and his jaw seemed to quiver. A pair of armsmen in red and black stood behind Jearle. Both wore twin scabbards, empty.
Carrying the already-tuned lutar, Anna stepped forward, accompanied by Rickel and Lejun. Kinor advanced beside them, and Jimbob remained several paces behind the older redhead.
“I have invited you into Westfort, and this is how you have mocked me!” Jearle blustered. “The Thirty-three will hear of this. They will, and they will strip your Regency.”
“I was invited into a hold where all armsmen wore double blades,” Anna countered. “I was invited into a hold that made no effort to break its siege while other lords hazarded all that they had to help Defalk.”
Jearle studied Anna. “You knew Rabyn would invade Defalk. You knew he would attack Westfort. Yet you took your forces into Ebra, and left us to fend for ourselves. You abandoned the Thirty-three.”
Doesn’t he understand anything? “No,” Anna said quietly. “I did not abandon the Thirty-three. I returned, and your lands are safe, and will be for years to come. You made the decision two years ago to allow Lord Behlem through your lands to save your soul and your lands and your golds. Don’t condemn me for letting his son come into Defalk so that I could save it.”
“You play with words, lady.” Jearle’s face turned from red to almost purple.
Anna nodded. “Blaz, Fielmir. Tie up his lordship.”
Jearle lunged forward, coming up and in low toward Anna with a thin shining dagger.
Although Rickel and Lejun closed shields, another figure was quicker.
“No!” Kinor crashed into the older lord, and both dagger and lord went down. The dagger slid along the stones, leaving a trail of dark liquid.
“Poison!” snapped a voice from somewhere.
Blaz and Fielmir yanked Jearle to his feet. Bersan held a bright blade at the lord’s throat.
“Do your worst, bitch.”
“I intend to.” Anna lifted the lutar.
Jearle, lord, Jearle, lord the same,
with this spell turn to fire and flame,
fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust.
the end of all unworthy of a Regent’s trust.
With the line of fire searing from above, the guards threw Jearle to the stones.
This time, the brief screams did not even bother Anna. Are you getting that callous … or did you dislike him that much?
When the entry hall was still once more, deathly still, she turned, holding
the lutar. “Kinor … would you come here?”
Kinor glanced at the gray dust on the stones, then at Anna.
“No matter what occurs, will you be loyal to Defalk, to Lord Jimbob as heir, and to me so long as I am Regent?”
“Lady … I only thought of your safety … .”
“That’s loyalty.” Anna paused. “Do you swear loyalty to Defalk, Jimbob, and the Regency?”
“Yes … of course … how could I otherwise … ?” The young man was clearly flustered.
“Good.” Anna turned to Himar and Jimbob, then motioned to Liende, standing well back at the end of the hall.
Liende approached warily, her eyes darting from Anna to her son and back again.
Anna waited until the chief player had neared before continuing. “Westfort needs a strong, and intelligent, and loyal lord, and one young enough to support the Regency and Lord Jimbob for many years.” She smiled at Liende. “What do you think about Lord Kinor?”
Kinor’s mouth dropped open. Liende appeared poleaxed. Jimbob grinned. Himar nodded slowly.
“Lady … I did not … I never meant,” Kinor stammered, for the first time since Anna had known him.
Anna shook her head. “That’s exactly why you are now Lord of Westfort and Denguic. You will not be Lord of the Western Marches. At least not for many years. That will remain with Lord Nelmor so long as he wishes it and can maintain it.” Anna motioned for Nelmor to step forward. “As you will note, Lord Jearle has no objections, Lord Nelmor. You are the Lord of the Western Marches.”
Nelmor bent his head.
“You have earned that right by honor and by your support of Defalk and the Regency.”
Anna raised her voice. “All those in Westfort who don’t wish to serve Lord Kinor will leave, and they will depart within the week. Lord Jearle’s heirs must leave Westfort today, and Defalk within the week. Otherwise, their lives will be forfeit.”
“Never!” The broad-shouldered man at the top of the stairs drew a short blade, a wide-bladed dagger, and began to charge down the steps, drawing it back as if to throw it.
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 47