The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Some believe that already.” Birfels’ tone was cool.

  “I did not say that would happen now,” Anna said, forcing her voice to remain warm, “but half of Defalk is women, and Defalk stands against much of the world. Our enemies use the skills of their women. Can we afford to do less?”

  Birfels bowed his head briefly. “Some would say that such a course would leave us little different from them.”

  “I believe,” Anna answered, “that those who lead should be the best because they are the best, not because they are either men or women.”

  “You have daughters?”

  “I have a daughter and a son—but they’re on earth—the mist world, and neither will benefit from what I do here.”

  “I must think for a bit, Lady Anna, before I decide about Birke. It is clear that Lysara will benefit. I do not know about my son.”

  “Think as long as you want,” the sorceress responded. “I like Birke, but I will neither reward him nor punish him because of that liking. Nor will I reward nor punish you because of it.” She rose from the table.

  “I respect you, Lady Anna. I am not prepared to like you, or what you represent.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, Lord Birfels, and that you said what you felt. I hope, in time, you will find it easier to like what I stand for.”

  Birfels bowed.

  Anna inclined her head in return.

  After the red-haired lord left, Anna sank back into her chair at the table. How many more interviews and meetings would it take? How many more years before some of them recognized that women were people, competent people? Or would her success, if she were successful on the coming expedition, make the lords even more wary?

  She had no choice, not as she saw it. She rose. Time for more work with Daffyd and the players.

  115

  “This arrived by messenger, Lady Anna.” Skent bowed as he offered the scroll.

  “Thank you.” She paused. “Has Birke left?”

  “He rode out this morning.” The dark-haired page paused, as if to speak, then closed his mouth.

  “Was he all right?”

  “His sire was pleased.”

  That meant Birke wasn’t totally happy about something. Anna hoped the stiff-necked redhead would be back, but she had her doubts, especially after meeting Lord Birfels. “Thank you, Skent,” she repeated. After the page left her alone in her receiving room, she broke the red wax seal, unrolled the scroll, and began to read.

  Lady Anna—

  I apologize if the title is not correct, but word is slow to reach the south. I have received your invitation and messages from both Cataryzna and Drenchescha. They both confirm that you immediately gave them the freedom of the hall.

  From my own sources, I have learned that you have kept your word in all matters. This is a rare trait in these days, and especially for one so powerful. While I would like to have Cataryzna come home to visit as soon as possible, I also feel that her future would be better assured in Falcor under your guidance. I do not say this to spirit her away, for I know that my defenses would avail me little against you. I assure you that she will return after her visit. I do wish to see her, but my ability to travel is most limited.

  I recognize your power and appreciate your efforts to return Defalk to order and to the eventual hand of young Lord Jimbob … .

  The precise signature read Geansor. The sorceress nodded, then lifted the bell. “Skent? Would you ask if Lady Cataryzna and her aunt are free to see me?”

  “Now?”

  “If they can.”

  Skent stood rooted there, and Anna took pity on him.

  “It’s nothing to worry about, but it’s only fair you learn it from Cataryzna. She should hear first.” If she doesn’t already know. “Now … go, you imp.”

  Skent gave the sorceress a quick grin. “Yes, Lady Anna.” He was still grinning as he left the room.

  While she waited for the two, the sorceress pulled out the first listing of Dythya’s “families of costs” and began to read where she had left off. Some made sense. The accountant—that was how Anna thought of Dythya, for want of a better local term—had managed to get all the crop revenues in one category. But on the expense side, there were too many categories—cooperage, baskets, pots were listed separately and in totally separate parts of the list, as were cutlery and glassware. She jotted a note to create subcategories for domestic operations of the liedburg, as opposed to similar costs for Hanfor’s forces. She wanted to know what it cost to maintain the liedburg proper, in comparison to the armsmen.

  She lifted the quill pen and began to write—laboriously, since the ink took forever to dry, and the slightest brush of her hand turned whatever she touched to illegibility. She hadn’t gotten even through reorganizing the major cost categories the way she wanted them before Giellum knocked and then pushed the door ajar.

  “The ladies Cataryzna and Drenchescha, responding to your summons, Lady Anna.”

  “Send them in.” Anna sighed and stood, moving toward the chair on the dais. Everything ran into everything else, but she had to remember to deal with people first. She could reorganize lists while others slept.

  Cataryzna, blonde as ever, and the narrow-faced Drenchescha eased into the receiving room. Anna did not invite them to sit, instead standing on the dais beside the gilt chair and looking down at the two.

  “When we last talked, you asked me what I would do about your situation. I have decided. As you know, I have mentioned your continuing lessons here in Falcor, and I sent a message to that effect to your father, Cataryzna.” Anna lifted the scroll. “I have received a message in return.” Her eyes surveyed the two, and she smiled faintly. They were not surprised, which meant that they also knew, one way or another. That didn’t surprise her, either. Despite the lack of modern communications, everyone seemed to know everything. “Your father has requested that you visit him immediately for some period of time. He also feels that after that visit you should return here for lessons.”

  Anna cleared her throat. She was talking as much now she was a regent as she had when she’d been teaching, or so it seemed. “You should make arrangements for your trip home, if your sire has not already. If you need an escort, I can find some worthy armsmen to accompany you.”

  “You mean it?” burst out the blonde.

  “Yes.” Anna held up her hand. “If you return, and that must be your choice, you will have not only the freedom of the liedburg, but of Falcor—with one stipulation. Since you are a young woman, whenever you leave the liedburg, you must have adequate companionship and a guard for your own protection. If your father wishes, you may bring a guard back of his and your choosing. I only ask that such a guard be devoted to you and physically able to defend you.”

  “You cannot defend her in Falcor?” asked Drenchescha.

  The sorceress looked coldly at the pinched face of the aunt. “I can guarantee her safety within these walls. In any liedstadt, there are thieves and brigands. While I will do my best to ensure everyone’s safety, a few precautions don’t hurt. I cannot be everywhere.”

  Cataryzna laid a hand on her aunt’s arm. “The regent is far more forbearing than either Lord Barjim or Lord Behlem.”

  Drenchescha glanced at her niece, but the blonde’s eyes were steady.

  Anna suspected that Lord Geansor was also a determined man. He had to be in this society, to hold his lands together while crippled.

  “Cataryzna … if you need any assistance, please let me know. I would appreciate knowing exactly when you intend to leave and if you need any escorts.”

  The blonde bowed. “I will, Lady Anna. And thank you. My sire will be most pleased.”

  After the two had departed, Anna tucked her accounting list away and headed for the middle halt—trailed by the ubiquitous Blaz. She hoped that Daffyd’s players were still there and she would be able to determine their progress. The acoustics weren’t all that bad in the middle hall, unlike the great hall where the hard plaster thre
w echoes every which way.

  After the rehearsal, she had to meet with Hanfor to go over the plans for the trip to Elhi—and beyond. She glanced at the wall lamps—the glass mantles were dirty again, and the floors were dusty. She needed to talk to Virkan. Actually, she needed a lord chamberlain or a liedburg butler or something like that. Maybe Lady Essan would have a suggestion.

  Anna opened the middle hall door and tried not to wince at the inadvertent squawk from one of the horns. The young redheaded player looked guiltily at Daffyd, then at Anna as he lowered the horn—something shaped like a cross between a Wagner tuba and a French horn, but with less elaborate tubing, and a slightly bigger mouthpiece than a French horn.

  “Sorry … Lady Anna,” said Daffyd.

  “I am most sorry,” said the offender.

  Anna held back a smile. “That’s all right, Ristyr. So long as you don’t make that sort of mistake when we go to Elhi.”

  Glances went around the group.

  “Elhi?”

  “It’s cold up there already.”

  “ … told us we’d travel.”

  Anna let the comments roll around the hall for a moment, then spoke. “We have some work to do for Lord Jecks—that’s where Lord Jimbob is staying. I’ll be visiting a lot of the lords in the next year. So will you.” She nodded at Daffyd. “Let’s hear the battle hymn.”

  “Battle hymn,” repeated Daffyd.

  Feet shuffled, and the players repositioned themselves—Anna had insisted that they play all pieces standing, since that was likely to be the case in the wilds of the Ostfels.

  As they dropped into the melody, Anna hummed along, testing her ears against the players.

  “Too slow!” Anna interrupted. “After the first measures, you’re dragging. The tempo is upbeat! And the spell won’t work if I have to slow down or try to drag you with me.” She nodded to Daffyd, whose forehead had begun to shimmer with perspiration. “Again, from the top. Keep it moving!”

  Getting the tempo right all the way through took nearly half a glass—and for a three-verse spellsong that lasted less than four earth minutes for all three verses. Except, this time it had to be perfect for what Anna had in mind. She was hoarse, as if she were teaching music appreciation to meet general-ed requirements once again.

  “All right. You’ll need to work more on that. Now … the fire spell.”

  That was even shorter—and worse, although how a twenty-second tune could be that bad, Anna didn’t understand. She was beginning to have more sympathy for orchestra conductors—they had to get hours’ worth of performances right.

  The sorceress was soaking wet by the time she dismissed the players.

  Daffyd waited until the others had left before he spoke. “You were hard on them.”

  “Daffyd, I’m not asking a lot. I want five spellsongs. I want them perfect. All together, they don’t last longer than a third of a glass—if that. I’ve had to learn hours’—glasses’—worth of songs, and sing them perfectly almost without breaks.”

  “The horns—they say it is hard on their lips.”

  “Their chops … .” muttered Anna. The French horn professor at Ames had always been talking about his chops and who had the chops. With a glint in her eye, she looked straight at the young violist. “What’s the difference between a horn and an onion?”

  “What?”

  “At least you cry when you chop up an onion.”

  Daffyd just looked puzzled.

  “Never mind. Just get them to play. There’s not much time left.” She paused. “Do you need more silver?”

  “It might help.”

  “Fine. Tell them they each get a silver bonus if I’m pleased the next time. I’ll tell Dythya to have the silvers ready.”

  “It is that important?”

  “It’s that important,” Anna affirmed. She touched his shoulder. “I know I’m being difficult, but you’ll understand why when the time comes.”

  “If you say so, Lady Anna.”

  “Believe me. Believe me.”

  She left the bewildered player and headed back down to the receiving hall and the accounting lists she still had not had time to revise. Outside, the pre-sunset shadows from the west wall had cloaked the courtyard in gloom.

  Before she had even dipped the quill in the ink, Giellum was knocking.

  “Lady Anna, there’s someone to see you. A lord, and he has his daughter with him.”

  “Send them in.” The sorceress sighed and stood, not caring that she was still perspiring or that the room remained too warm for her.

  The two stepped into the receiving room. Both wore stilldusty riding clothes, but the big-boned blond lord held a floppy cap in his hand. The daughter, also taller than Anna, still wore a green scarf that set off the fine blonde hair. Both had straight, strong noses, more fitting on the father than the daughter.

  The blonde man bowed. “Lady Anna, my sister Gatrune bid me see you.”

  Anna tried not to frown. Who would he be? She didn’t nod, either, as she guessed. “I don’t know all the names I should, but would you be Lord Nelmor? And Ytrude?”

  Nelmor bowed. “At your service.”

  Anna gestured to the table. “Please sit down.” She rang the bell and waited for a response.

  “Yes, Lady Anna?” asked Resor.

  “Some pastries, if we have any, and something to drink—perhaps some of the apple brandy that Lady Essan favors and some cold water for me.”

  Resor nodded.

  “You do not favor the brandy?” asked Nelmor, easing himself into a chair.

  “Not if I want to function.” Anna studied the girl while Ytrude sat. As Essan had said, Ytrude was almost a younger version of Gatrune, except Anna thought her features were finer, even with the strong nose. “You look like your aunt.”

  “Many have said so, Lady Anna.” The brown eyes darted away from meeting those of the sorceress.

  “What might I do for you, Lord Nelmor?”

  “You had sent a scroll to me, and so had Gatrune.” Nelmor shrugged. “Also, I have spoken with Lady Essan, and she favors you and your regency greatly. I fear that Dubaria is … somewhat distant, especially for Ytrude.” The big blond man stopped with a smile.

  The sorceress wanted to kick him. The oaf wasn’t about to ask for anything, and he was setting up Anna to ask or state something, and she was too tired to play courtly word games. “In short, you can’t offer a good education for your daughter; there’s no one suitable nearby for a match; and your sister is pressuring you to let Ytrude come to Falcor and study with me?”

  Nelmor’s brown eyes turned flat. “Mayhap I misunderstood.”

  Anna smiled, professionally, bright and hard. “Lord Nelmor, I ask your pardon if my words offend. I am a stranger. I do not always know the polite way to say things, and I have all too often found that attempting to be blandly polite creates more confusion than understanding. I am attempting to provide a better education for the children of Defalk’s lords. I am also attempting to rebuild the ability of the regency to protect its people. I am more interested in actions than words. So, if I offend, pardon me, but understand that I act from the best reasons.” After a pause, she added, “I am also tired, because my predecessors left a mess—or as you would say it, a mighty dissonance.”

  The faintest of smiles creased Ytrude’s face, and Anna wanted to hug the girl for it. Instead, she waited.

  Nelmor turned to Ytrude. “The choice be yours, daughter.”

  Anna really wanted to kick Nelmor, because he was washing his hands of the situation.

  Resor slipped through the door with a large tray, bearing two pitchers and three goblets. Behind him, Skent bore a platter of pastries.

  “Please, help yourself.” Anna smiled more warmly.

  Nelmor’s eyes went from Anna back to Ytrude, and then to the pitcher. He filled a goblet all the way to the top. Anna took the pitcher and asked, “Wine or water, Ytrude?”

  “The wine … if you please, Lady Anna.�
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  Anna half filled the girl’s glass with the wine, better than vinegar, but not much, and refilled hers with water. “Would you like to stay here for a time, and see if you like it?”

  “Ah,” reflected Nelmor with a smile. “A trial. That might be best.”

  “I would … like that,” Ytrude said slowly, her eyes darting to her father and then back to Anna.

  Poor girl’s never had a real choice, thought Anna. “You can stay now, or you can return at your leisure.”

  “Your ways are strange, Lady Anna,” Nelmor said after draining half his goblet. “You suggest, in a veiled way, I have no choice, yet you offer my daughter a choice.”

  “I do not deal in veiled words, Nelmor,” Anna said. “They cause trouble. I offered you an honest choice, both for Ytrude and Tiersen—that is your son’s name?”

  “Tiersen—yes.” Nelmor refilled his goblet and eased a pastry into a hamlike hand.

  Anna nodded to Ytrude. “Please have one. You must be hungry after such a long ride.”

  The blonde girl took the smallest, eating it in quick small bites, as if she could not believe she were allowed to do so.

  “Gatrune said you were not like other women,” offered the big man. “She said that even her armsmen respected you.” He swallowed the pastry in one huge bite, jaws moving ponderously.

  “I can see you have had a long journey,” Anna said. “I would be most pleased to have you join us for the evening meal. There we could continue our discussion.”

  “Thank you. We would be honored.” Nelmor smiled.

  “While you refresh yourself, I, unfortunately, must attend to a few other needs before dinner.” Anna forced a smile as she stood. “I look to see you later.”

  Nelmor took the hint and rose. After a moment, so did Ytrude.

  The sorceress waited until they had left before she hurried through the hall, across the courtyard, and up the open steps in the east-wall quarters, with Blaz hurrying along behind his regent. While her guard set himself outside the door, Anna stepped into the largest room in the east barracks. Hanfor had insisted on a space there, rather than a space in the hall proper, as a measure of his independence. Anna had agreed, but insisted that he take the largest space for his de facto command center and conference room.