The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I like him,” Anna admitted.

  “He likes you,” Quies repeated. “I like to see that.”

  With a last pat, Anna headed out of the stable and back to the hall, far enough behind the others that the courtyard was empty. She could feel the sweat beading up under the hat, and she swept it off when she stepped inside the entry hall, where Florenda waited.

  Anna repressed a sigh as she climbed the steps to the second floor, absently peering down the hallway as she stopped at her door. Brill’s rooms lay at the end of the corridor. That Anna knew, though she had never been there. In fact, the issue had never come up, and in some ways that bothered her almost as much as if it had.

  Was she getting that old? Brill was as old as she was, or close to it.

  “Florenda?”

  “Yes, lady?”

  “I’m going to need some clean clothes.”

  “They’re all clean, or drying, except for what you have on, lady.”

  “All right.” Anna couldn’t help but smile. “Go find something to do. Get me an apple, if you can.”

  Florenda grinned briefly, then bowed. “I will ask Serna.”

  “Fine.”

  As Florenda hurried away, a figure stepped into a doorway at the end of the hall. Anna thought the woman was Liende, but she wasn’t sure.

  If so, Brill wasn’t going after the young ones like Florenda. She could have been wrong, but he didn’t strike her as the type to chase a number of different women at the same time. “Interesting,” she murmured.

  Her chamber remained cool, and she set the hat on the flat surface in the robing room, then began to wash up, getting rid of as much dust as she could. After she blotted her face dry, she returned to the bedchamber and stood in front of the window, gazing out the tinted window at the same clear sky, the same sunbaked view of Mencha, the same dusty and empty roads.

  After a time, she turned to the table and lifted the water pitcher.

  Thrap … thrap.

  “Who’s there?”

  Someone answered, but she didn’t catch the name. So she walked to the door.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Liende, Lady Anna. Might I enter?”

  Anna opened the door, then gestured for Liende to come in and to take a seat at the table. The player took the one facing away from the window, crossing her trousered legs and showing a pair of pale tan leather boots.

  Anna closed the door and took the chair across the table from the other woman.

  “I needed to talk to you,” Liende said.

  Anna felt tongue-tied. Why did the clarinetist feel this way—because she was Brill’s lover? Or was she? Was Liende worried? “I should have thanked you earlier,” Anna started. “Without your help, I understand I could have died.”

  “You are stronger than that, Lady Anna. I was pleased to have been able to help.” The red-haired woman cleared her throat gently. “It is about Lord Brill … . You saw me … and …”

  “There’s nothing to explain,” Anna said. “Lord Brill has offered great hospitality, and I value his friendship, especially because I’m a stranger here. But I’m not interested in him, not in a romantic way.” She added, “I also get the impression that he is far more interested in my sorcery than in anything else I might offer.”

  Liende gave a gentle smile. “I am not certain about the last, but with women he is a true noble. He has been with me.”

  “I can only offer you water. Would you like some?” asked Anna.

  “Thank you.”

  “You know, Lord Brill loves Loiseau.”

  “Loiseau?” Anna set her own goblet on the table before her.

  “That is the name of the hall and holding. That is why he will turn to darksong against the dark ones. That is why he hopes you can help. Loiseau is all he really has. He cannot have children. At least, he never has, and it appears unlikely.”

  Anna understood that. In a world without modern birth control, if Brill had no children at his age, he probably never would have them.

  “You say Lord Brill is kind,” Anna temporized. “Yet Daffyd says that he killed his father. He says he killed him for humming.”

  “Some things are true, and that is true,” Liende admitted. “But it was not quite that way.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Anna. “Humming?”

  “Daffyd did not lie. Lord Brill did kill his father, and Culain hummed for years. He could not really even hum. There was no music there.” Liende shook her head. “The only melody was in his violino.” She lowered her voice. “The humming was the last note. Brill had stood it long enough. He couldn’t stand it any longer.”

  “Stand what?” Anna took a long sip from the goblet, wondering what else she would find out.

  “Brill took a fancy to Nyreth—that was Daffyd’s mother. She was never happy with Culain, but she used Brill to buy her way out of Defalk. She was beautiful even then, and Brill was lonely. All sorcerers are. You are already, and you will become more powerful and even more lonely.”

  Powerful and lonely? Anna wondered if that would be all bad. At Ames, it had seemed like she was powerless and lonely.

  “You should know how hard sorcery is,” Liende continued. “The slightest mistake in his thoughts, and Brill could destroy his own spell, or what he strove for … or even himself. That is why sorcerers are so touchy. And Culain was a hard man. A fair man, but hard. Hard,” Liende repeated. “He beat Nyreth more than once.” Liende shrugged. “Brill was gentle. He is kind in his own way. But Culain kept nagging him silently. Culain kept humming to annoy him and distract him. He told Daffyd how terrible Lord Brill was.” Liende shrugged.

  If what Liende said were so, that put a different light on things. Still, Brill had killed Culain. Anna wasn’t quite sure what to think. “What happened to Nyreth?”

  “Folks say she’s a lady in Elioch, but no one really knows. With a sorcerer, anything’s possible, but when she left, a week later, my cousin Zania saw her on the longcarriage to the west, and she gave Zania a silver to keep her mouth shut for a week. That must have been five years now.”

  “Why did you agree to be Brill’s … lover?” asked Anna.

  “Gaelin died four years ago. Brill is gentle, and,” Liende touched her hair, “sorcerers can make you young again, and it stays. Nyreth looked like first youth—that’s why no one recognized her.”

  “But Brill isn’t young.”

  Liende cleared her throat, then looked toward the closed door. “Those are the rules. Sorcerers can’t do anything for themselves.”

  Anna pursed her lips. Brill wanted her to make him young—or worse. Every time she learned something, life got more complicated. That hadn’t changed from earth to Erde. It didn’t look like it would, either.

  26

  Anna struggled to unfasten the cinches and got them both loosened before Quies entered the stall. “Would you mind, lady,” he asked ironically, “if I did my duties and racked the saddle?”

  Anna had to smile. “No. That would still be hard.” She added after a brief pause. “I’m not trying to do your job, but I guess I feel that if I ride Farinelli, I should know how to take care of him.”

  Quies racked the saddle with the effortless motion that came of long practice, and healthy shoulders. “That feeling might not sit so well with other lords and ladies, excepting Lord Brill, and maybe one like Lord Jecks.”

  “They don’t have to live with me,” Anna said. “I do.”

  Quies smiled briefly. “Then let me show you how to take off the bridle. Anyone can fumble a saddle into place.”

  Anna thought of Farinelli’s teeth, but nodded. Good intentions and an open mouth always led to trouble.

  “Horses are just like people. They’re not much for others fiddling with their mouths,” said Quies. “Now, watch.”

  Anna watched.

  “You try it now.”

  She felt like her hands were all thumbs, and reaching up to get the top over the gelding’s ears strained her sh
oulder. She winced involuntarily, but managed. Farinelli whuffed, as if to ask that she get it over with, but, surprisingly, did not toss his head or attempt to nip.

  She patted his shoulder. “Good boy.”

  “He likes you. That helps.”

  “I like him, and I owe him a lot. He got me back here.”

  “You did that, Lady Anna. Your mount helped, but you did it. Took a lot to do that.”

  Anna flushed. Although she felt she was a survivor type, she’d never thought of herself as courageous or one of those people who rode into battle. Then, again, she hadn’t. She’d just survived … again, and there wasn’t much sense in taking herself too seriously for that. “Thank you, but I did what any sensible person would do. I rode to where I could get help. I didn’t fight off people or protect anyone.”

  “Sense is the last thing most people have with a war arrow through their chest.”

  Realizing that Quies would always think her actions were special, Anna shifted the subject. “Lord Brill said that your son could help me with learning something about the knife.” Anna’s fingers touched the hilt. “He sent them to me, or someone did, but I don’t know where to find him.”

  Quies laughed briefly. “The armory, such as it is, is on the other side of the stable. He’s there now.”

  “Good. I have some time before the midday meal.”

  “Nearly a glass,” confirmed Quies. “Albero will help. He likes sensible women.”

  “Thank you.” Anna didn’t shake her head. Were sorceresses not supposed to be day-to-day sensible?

  She tried two doors before she found the armory. The first was a storeroom filled with barrels, and the second she left sneezing from the hay or grain she stirred up just in opening the door. The third door opened into a dim and narrow room.

  A redhead with his back to the door sat on a stool pumping a grindstone with his foot as he sharpened a long blade. He looked up as Anna entered, then stood and set aside the blade. “Lady.”

  “I had hoped that you could help me with the knife,” Anna said.

  The red-haired young man smiled. “If you had not- already been wounded, Lady Anna, I would say that you needed no blade.” The smile vanished. “Times are changing, my sire says, and not for the better.”

  “So it seems. Where do we start?”

  “I cannot teach you the knife in days, or even in seasons. I can help you enough so that you can stop a desperate or stupid man, or hold off someone long enough to use one of your spells.” Albero eased the yard-long blade he had been sharpening onto a set of brackets on the side wall, then stepped out into the open space to the right of the grindstone. “Take the knife out of the sheath.”

  Anna struggled for a moment, then wrestled the blade out. She looked down at the short length of polished iron—or was it steel?

  Albero laughed. “That is the first problem. You have to draw your blade quickly enough to use it.”

  Anna flushed.

  “I do not mean to jest. The simple matters are important. You must keep the blade oiled and sharpened. Do not use too much oil, just enough that there is a thin layer, one you can almost not see. Do not touch the edge. Your fingers will dull it. A clean blade draws quickly.”

  That made sense to Anna.

  “Also you must have a sheath that lets you draw the blade quickly. That one is pretty, but it catches the blade.” Albero turned toward the shelves on the wall to Anna’s right. After a moment, he returned with a battered but stiff black leather sheath. “Let’s try this one.”

  Anna fumbled the softer, tooled leather sheath off her belt and replaced it with the more functional looking one. The knife slid in and out smoothly.

  “Can you feel the difference?”

  She nodded.

  “Now … there’s holding a blade. How would you hold a blade to strike me?” asked the armsmaster.

  Anna shifted her grip and raised the knife.

  “No! A good knife fighter always strikes directly—or underhanded. Look.” Albero drew his own dagger, shimmering, wide-bladed. “If I raise the knife … see … my whole chest is open. If you keep the knife low and between you and the other, you can always strike.” He laughed. “Besides, a low blade says you know something, and that will make him cautious. And if you use your stick”—he pointed to the short truncheon that hung from Anna’s belt—“if you use it on his blade, then he cannot hurt you.”

  “Like this?” Anna asked, shifting her grip on the knife.

  “Put your thumb on the flat side there.” Albero demonstrated. “Like this.”

  She held in a deep breath. Why was she learning about knives? Because, like everything else in her life, from taking the crummy position at Ames to going deeper and deeper in debt to get Elizabetta and Mario through college, she had no choice if she wanted to survive. With that thought, she emulated Albero’s grip.

  “Good. Now … . Your feet are important. You have to keep them far enough apart so that you are not unbalanced, but you have to be able to move … .”

  Anna shifted her weight.

  “Better if one foot be forward of the other … .”

  The singer tried to follow Albero’s instructions, on position, on moving, on keeping the blade before her.

  A faint clang of the bell penetrated the thick stone walls.

  “That’s enough for now, lady. If you just practice those few things—the drawing, the holding the knife, and those one or two moves—leastwise no one will just rush you.” Albero grinned. “Best you practice casting spells while you use the knife, too.”

  Anna had to return the grin. He was right.

  She hurried back to the main hall, washed quickly, and scurried down to the salon, where Brill waited.

  “I’m sorry.” There, she was sorry again. She was always sorry. Why? “I was learning more about using a knife.” She slipped into the chair across the table from the sorcerer.

  “That is wise, as long as you don’t spend too much time at it.”

  “Albero said the same thing,” Anna admitted.

  “Lord Barjim and the last of his forces will arrive here the day after tomorrow.” Brill filled his goblet with the vinegary wine, the amber version, as Serna quietly slipped the serving platters on the table.

  More cheese, hot apples, and bread—Brill had warned her about the lack of variety in fare, and he’d been right.

  Anna waited.

  “That means putting up tenscore armsmen and Lord Barjim and Lady Alasia,” the sorcerer continued.

  “Where?” ventured Anna.

  “Oh … the corner rooms opposite yours at the far end—those have been for the Lord of Defalk since my father’s time. It’s easier that way. As for the armsmen, there’s more than enough space in the barracks. When my grandsire built Loiseau, Lord Donjim’s grandsire was always guesting—it was a way to extend the treasury of Defalk. Barjim’s a fairer man than old Firsah or his uncle, but some of that’s because of Alasia. She’s Lord Jecks’ oldest daughter, and she handles a blade better than most armsmen. She rides with him, and he listens to her.” Brill shook his head ruefully. “Good thing, too. Barjim’s honest, and fair, but some mules have more between the ears.”

  Anna offered the bread to the sorcerer.

  “You might be wise to appear in the green gown,” Brill mused. “There’s nothing like that here.”

  “Alasia is suspicious?” Anna asked, refilling her goblet with water. Lord, she’d drunk a lot of water lately.

  “She has to be. Old Gelen can’t or won’t ride. He’ll stay in Falcor and keep tutoring young Jimbob.”

  “Gelen?” About the time she thought she understood something about Defalk, something else popped up.

  “Gelen’s been one of Barjim’s advisors since he was a boy. Between them, Gelen and Alasia keep him riding the right direction.”

  Anna frowned. Women behind the man in power always bothered her. They were often worse than overtly power-hungry bitches.

  “How long will the
y stay?”

  “Just overnight. Then we’ll all ride east to the Sand Pass to smite down the dark ones.” Brill refilled his goblet.

  “You still haven’t been very forthcoming about what you expect from me,” Anna pointed out.

  “I expect nothing,” Brill said gently. “I hope you can find some way to use your powers to kill either the darksingers or their armsmen—or both. If we do not destroy most of them, like dark locusts they will crawl across Defalk, consuming everything in their path.” His single swallow from the goblet half drained it.

  Anna sipped her water, and then helped herself to the apples. Brill was drinking more of the wine each day, and withdrawing more and more.

  “I have some spells,” she finally admitted. “I can’t really test them, though.”

  “How true!” Brill’s laugh was overloud. “Unlike the dark ones, we must wait till battle to see if what we devise will work.”

  Anna wished she could stomach the wine. Instead, she refilled her goblet with water again. “About harmony—vocal harmony … . According to your books, two voices with the same words, but—”

  “Harmonies are too dangerous.” Brill shook his head. “If we had worked together for years, perhaps, but there is no time to ensure that they would be perfect, and perfect they would have to be.”

  “Perfect?”

  “They would have to be perfect.” Brill’s voice turned flat, stubborn.

  Anna wanted to scream, but she only smiled. “I understand … but would you think about it?”

  “With all else I must consider?” He shook his head.

  Anna decided not to push, since he didn’t seem likely to listen. “When you do have more time.”

  “If that time comes, Lady Anna, then … perhaps.”

  Was he afraid of losing control, like all men? She managed to keep from shaking her head, just barely.

  27

  Anna looked at the words on the paper, mentally fitting them to the familiar melody she strummed on the mandolin.

  “In the terror of the tempest, death is brought between the hills,

  with a slashing through the bosom that flattens monks it kills.