Anna smiled, ignoring the whispered speculations, waiting for the subofficer’s response.
“I cannot say that I …” The subofficer broke off his words with an embarrassed smile.
“It might be best if you conveyed my message to Lord Behlem,“Anna said.”Just tell him that the lady Anna has arrived, as he requested.” There was no way she was entering the castle or its grounds until Behlem knew she was there.”I will be happy to wait here.”
“It’s hot out here, lady. I was only thinking of your comfort.” His smile turned slightly sick looking.
“I’ve ridden from the Sand Pass to Synope and then here. A little more sun won’t hurt.” She smiled and patted Farinelli.
After a long moment, the subofficer bowed slightly, turned, and made his way into the shadowed archway and through the door in the portcullis.
“She’s got guts … .” whispered Fridric, before Stepan jabbed him in the ribs.
The guards remained drawn up, holding positions loosely at ease, all except for a graying armsman who stepped forward to take the subofficer’s position. He did not look toward the five riders who waited.
Sitting on Farinelli in the late-afternoon sun, Anna could feel the heat on the side of her face and her neck, and the sweat in her hair. Her legs threatened to cramp again, but she held her seat, as if it were a performance before unfriendly critics—and it well might be.
In time, two green-coated officers, with silver-braid swirls on the shoulders of their tunics, appeared, flanking a white-haired older man in cream and green. The subofficer trudged behind.
The whispers rose as the four neared the far side of the portcullis.
“Counselor to the Prophet …”
“ … more than pretty she must be …”
“ … think old sharp-tongue’s in for it now …”
“ … she can get the captains here, she’s someone …”
The armsman who had taken the subofficer’s place stepped back as his superior stepped in front of the guards.
“Honor … arms!”
Twelve blades flashed in salute.
The white-haired man stepped toward Anna. “I am Menares, counselor to the Prophet.” He bowed, then straightened. “I recognize you from the waters, lady, and bid you welcome to our temporary abode.”
“I am pleased to be here.” Anna swung out of the saddle, hoping her legs would hold. They did. “I have arrived as quickly as possible.”
“Your haste is appreciated in these times,” Menares said, before lowering his voice. “If you would all follow me …”
Anna turned and nodded to Markan, and the four dismounted, Daffyd slightly behind the others.
“Let them enter!” Menares ordered.
“Raise the gate!” said the stockier of the two officers who had accompanied the counselor.
After a moment, with a creaking series of squeaks, the gate lurched upward and into the stone grooves behind the heavy wooden gates.
“Return … arms!”
Anna led her entourage forward through the narrow stone archway, hoping that she was doing the right thing. Farinelli only side-stepped once.
Once they were in the courtyard, Menares turned to Anna again. “The Prophet will meet with you—only briefly at the moment—but he will receive you more formally at dinner tomorrow when you have had a chance to rest and refresh yourself.”
And when he’s had time to gather everyone to examine me, Anna thought. Or decide what he really wants to do with me.
Menares motioned to the slender officer. “Namir will ensure your armsmen—”
“—and my player,” the sorceress interjected.
“—have their mounts stabled and are refreshed, while I escort you to Lord Behlem.”
“Now?”
“What better time, Lady Anna?”
The sorceress shrugged, finally handing the reins to the Neserean subofficer. Farinelli neighed and side-stepped.
“Easy,” Anna commanded, and the gelding subsided.
With a last look back, and a quick smile at Daffyd, she followed the white-haired counselor across the courtyard and through a wide double door. Their steps echoed through the high ceilings of the hall, or liedburg, echoed off worn and polished stone floors that had no mats or carpets. The walls were bare red stone, except for sconces holding unlit lamps set at irregular intervals. The lamp mantles were uniformly sooty.
A sour odor permeated the hall, one that would have been more unpleasant, Anna suspected, had the climate not been so dry.
At the end of the main hall, Menares started up the grand staircase. Anna tried not to wince as she lifted her sore legs and feet.
“I must admit that I was … taken by surprise … at your speedy arrival,” said the older man.
“I didn’t see much point in waiting,” Anna said. Not since I really had few choices.
“Sorceresses do not have so much freedom as many surmise,” Menares continued. “Nor do lords.”
Anna nodded. Counselors to rulers weren’t stupid, not even in backward realms, not if they survived, and she had better remember that.
They halted outside a set of double doors, where two armed sentries stood. The one on the right eyed Anna silently.
“This is the lady Anna, the sorceress the Prophet summoned. She has ridden for the past week to answer his summons.” Menares waited.
“As you wish, counselor.” The sentry turned and opened the right-hand paneled door.
Menares gestured, and Anna entered, hoping it was not an elaborate trap, mentally readying the burning spell, hoping it would not be needed.
The room was long and not much more than five yards wide, with high shelves on both sides, and a single, manhigh window at the far end.
“What do you want, Menares?” The voice came from the end of the long battered table, where maps were strewn almost haphazardly. A pitcher and a single goblet stood in the midst of the various sheets of parchment and paper. In person, Behlem looked even less impressive. Hardly into his late twenties, the light beard concealed a weak chin and highlighted shifting watery eyes.
“This is the lady Anna,” Menares said, stepping forward into the space at the foot of the table. “She just arrived with an escort from Lord Hryding. He’s the lord in Synope.”
Behlem looked toward Anna, and the watery eyes focused.
Anna could feel her skin crawl, but she smiled. “Greetings, Lord Behlem. I am here because of your proclamation.”
“You are … younger than the waters showed.”
“I am who I am,” she responded.
“Will you help us against the dark ones?” The Prophet’s words were blunt, almost harsh.
“Yes,” Anna answered, equally bluntly. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Behlem blinked. Then he nodded, and said more matter-of-factly, “We are crowded here, Lady Anna, but I believe there will be room for you in the north tower with some of the other distinguished ladies and envoys.”
“And my player?” Anna asked.
“That is easier. There are smaller rooms with my players. All players seem to enjoy each other’s company. Unlike armsmen and counselors.” The Prophet smiled. “Menares will ensure you are both comfortable.” He glanced at Menares. “She had an entourage?”
“Some armsmen from the south. I had thought to feed and quarter them for a day or two and then allow them to return to their lord with words from you.”
Behlem’s hand wandered to his beard again, even as his eyes strayed across Anna. Then he straightened in the chair. “I am sorry if I appear preoccupied.” He offered a broad smile. “If you would ensure that the lady’s needs are all completely satisfied, Menares, I would be most grateful.” Behlem turned back to Anna. “Have you supped yet?”
“No. We came to the … liedburg … as soon as we reached Falcor.” Anna’s head ached, and her legs still threatened to cramp.
“Then perhaps you could use the small hall to feed them before seeing to their qua
rters and needs?” Behlem smiled at the older man.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at dinner, Lady Anna. Surprise us.”
Anna suppressed the swallow and returned a smile. “I will try to, Lord Behlem.”
A faint frown crossed Behlem’s face and vanished. “Do so. I will see you after you have settled Lady Anna and her party, Menares.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The Prophet looked back at his maps, and Anna followed Menares from the dim study.
As they walked down the stone steps, Menares asked, “What are your impressions of the Prophet, lady sorceress?”
“He is preoccupied … perhaps worried about having the resources to do what he must.” That was certainly safe enough.
“What else?”
“He’s younger than I had thought.”
“So are you. And more beautiful. Perhaps too much so,” the counselor added dryly.
“I am not so young as I might appear, counselor, but I am here to do what I can to stop the dark ones.”
“Why? You come from afar.”
“Someone must,” Anna said. “And without making this land safe, how can I ensure my own safety?” She hoped that also struck the right chord, true as it was. No one was going to feel happy with a sorceress they didn’t feel grateful to—or something like that.
“You see to the heart of matters.”
Anna wanted to shake her head, but she followed the counselor back toward the courtyard.
60
In the courtyard below, another set of messengers had arrived, their horses’ hoofs clacking on the ancient stones. The unwavering sun cast the shadows of the walls across most of the eastern side of the courtyard.
Anna wiped her forehead and turned from the narrow window back into the hot confines of the modest tower room. Falcor was more humid than Synope or Mencha—not so bad as Ames in the summer, but hot and damp enough to make her uncomfortable. Could she come up with some spell to cool the place?
Less than four yards square, the stone walls contained a bed somewhere in width between a double and a twin, perhaps a three-quarter bed like the one in her grandparents’ guest room on the Cumberland holler farm. Every bed in Defalk seemed to be a different size, but she supposed each was built individually for the room it was to occupy.
She had a flat dressing table with a mirror that distorted her image slightly, a stool, a straight-backed armless chair, a large chest, a washtable, and the ubiquitous chamberpot. There was also a jakes on the level below her, but the smell outside it was overpowering. A single braided purple-andbeige rug lay on the floor, its braid frayed and close to unraveling. The purple coverlet on the bed was also frayed and worn with remnants of stains that no washing could remove.
A large pitcher of water with a single goblet stood on the chest. She’d definitely orderspelled the water, especially after the ride through Falcor. She’d cobbled together yet another spell to rid the room of vermin the night before, and the immediate headache she’d received had convinced her that there had been vermin, and that she would be better using the mandolin or lutar whenever she could.
Still, she had slept better than since she had left Brill’s hall, despite some nightmares where faceless figures in dark robes had chased her through the night. Were the dark ones still looking for her?
Anna snorted to herself. Had they stopped seeking her?
Breakfast had arrived on a tray, as had a midday lunch, and she had enjoyed both the attention and the time to relax and practice the chords on the lutar, far trickier than she had imagined. But she didn’t doubt she was a prisoner of sorts—although the only bolt on the door was on the inside.
That didn’t matter for the moment. What was important was getting ready for the dinner reception, just like for a performance, and that’s what it would be.
Thunnnnkk! The heavy knocker on the tower door clunked.
“Lady Anna …”
The two pages who had apparently been assigned to her, as some sort of disciplinary duty, she suspected, stood there. Their arms were filled with ill-assorted fabric, with shades ranging from mottled brown to mottled green.
“Just bring me some cloth, linen and cotton,” Anna had said. “Any kind.” Well … they had brought all kinds.
“Put it on the bed.”
“Would you like anything else, lady?” asked the thin redhead.
Anna ignored the slight overemphasis on “lady,” and answered. “Is there a bathing room in the tower?”
“Ah … no, Lady Anna.”
“Then bring me two large basins of clean water. And some good soap.”
Both pairs of shoulders slumped.
“I know. It’s a long walk.” She smiled. “But I would appreciate it, since I must appear in court tonight.”
“Court?”
“Before the Prophet,” the sorceress explained. Every so often she used some common phrase, and everyone looked blank. It was so like the year she had studied in London.
The two exchanged glances.
“We could bring a big bucket for your basin,” said the redhead.
“If you could get one more basin with the bucket …”
“We’ll try, lady,” promised the more voluble redhead.
After they left, Anna sorted through the dozen yards or so of assorted fabric. Some appeared to be cotton, and a small swatch of blue was something like velvet. All was poor quality.
After picking up the lutar again, she had to spend more time tuning it, and she probably would every time until the strings finally broke. Three spells later, two goblets of water, and more retunings than that, she had a passably decent recital—or court—gown, a dressing robe, and a nightgown. And still several yards of cloth left.
She’d have to think about what else she needed. In the interim, she folded the spare fabric and tucked it under the bed.
Shoes? What could she do about shoes? She snorted.
Green suede shoes, instead of blue? Why not?
That worked easily, even if she never had seen green suede heels. The spell, or her visualization, had even matched the suede with the green of the gown. She tried not to worry about the source of the leather. At least her boots remained intact.
Then, reminded of the heat by the sweat on her forehead, and the need for another goblet of water, she tried a cooling spell, using an offshoot of the basic water melody.
Mist rolled off the walls, and a hammer slammed through her skull. She slumped into the chair and massaged her forehead. Maybe enduring the heat was easier.
She just sat for a time, until another thunk on the door announced the return of the two youths with the water.
After standing and setting the lutar in the corner by the window, Anna opened the door.
The redhead gaped at the bed, where the green gown lay, with the shoes beneath. “Where … lady? Did you bring a seamstress?”
“Sorceresses make their own gowns, didn’t you know?”
“It’s cool in here.” The dark-haired page set the heavy bucket on the floor. “Cooler than down in the water room.” His arms trembled.
“Don’t spill the water, lad,” Anna cautioned. She paused. “I can’t keep calling you two ‘lad’ or what have you. What are your names?”
Both swallowed.
“Uhhh …”
Anna shook her head. “Names mean nothing. If I wanted to, I could cast a spell on you without your names.”
“But …”
Anna waited.
“I’m Birke,” said the redhead. “My father is Lord of Abenfel.”
“Skent. My father was guard-captain of the liedburg.” The brightness of Skent’s eyes warned Anna.
“Bear with me,” she said. “I have much to learn. I am a stranger here.”
“Is it true you’re from the mist worlds?” asked Birke. “That’s what the armsmen who brought you said.”
“Yes.”
“What are the mist worlds like?” Birk
e persisted.
“I only know my own world. Where I live is cooler than here, especially in the winter … .” Anna paused and looked at Skent, who was holding himself still and trying to keep his lip stiff.
She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t touch me.” His words were cold and trembling.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to upset you, but I can tell it hurts.”
“How would you know?” burst forth from the dark-haired boy.
“My children are in my world,” Anna said. “My oldest daughter died not very long ago, and it still hurts.”
Birke stiffened, but Skent continued to tremble.
“I wanted to hold her …” Anna swallowed, then said quietly, “I never can.” She pulled back into herself. “I’m sorry, Skent. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“That’s … all right. You are a lady.”
“Can we do anything else?” Birke asked quickly.
“No.” Anna glanced to the window. “How long before dinner?”
“They eat when the sun sets,” Skent said coldly, the chill radiating from his words.
“Thank you.” She paused. “I need to wash up and get ready, then.”
The two slipped out, and Anna did not close the door all the way, listening to whispers over the steps that slapped down the stone stairs.
“Maybe she is a sorceress … .”
“ … better act like she is, Skent … she’s something, and I wouldn’t want to get in her way … .”
“She seems nice … a lot nicer than the others, anyway … .”
Anna hoped the story would get around. She needed all the help she could get, and that might not be enough. Her eyes flicked to the lutar and then to the heavy bucket of water. She had a lot to do.
Even washing up wasn’t that simple. She had to use another spell to clean the water again in order to wash her hair, but she wasn’t going to her first dinner with the Prophet of Music without looking her best.
The bell in the liedburg differed from that used by Brill, but Anna was ready, looking out the window toward the sun that touched the tops of the houses on the west side of Falcor.
Thuuunk. “Dinner will be served, lady,” called Birke, his high voice carrying through the heavy wood.
The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 32