"What you do want?" Anna asked. "I'm sorry if I'm too blunt, but I know little about you, except that we spoke briefly before the battle of the Sand Pass, and that you seemed honest. The few common people who knew you thought you kept your word."
Jecks smiled briefly, an open smile that Anna liked, although she kept her distance, her eyes occasionally checking the horsemen on the ridge. Spirda had said they were well out of bow-shot, and she hoped he was correct.
"I have heard the same about you, and also that you are a sorceress who has great power, and dislikes using that power."
He wouldn't have said that if he'd been around Falcor lately, thought Anna. "The situation here seems designed to force me to employ everything that I know," she admitted aloud. And much that I don't, she added to herself. It isn't Kansas, Dorothy, or even Ames, Iowa.
After a puzzled look, Jecks added, "You, and Lord Brill, served Lord Barjim in trying to stop the dark ones. You may recall that my daughter was his consort."
"I recall." Anna had liked Alasia, certainly a point in Jecks' favor.
Jecks nodded. "I managed to recover half my forces from the battle. The dark ones were reluctant to pursue after your efforts. Instead of returning.directly to Elhi, I rode to Falcor and escorted my grandson from the liedstadt to his ancestral home—where he now remains."
Anna could feel her forehead knitting in puzzlement. "What do you want from me?"
"Might I ask why you have chosen to serve the Prophet Behlem? If you would not mind telling me?'' Jecks offered another wry smile, looking much younger than the silver-white hair initially had indicated.
The sorceress pursed her lips for a moment, scanning the horizon again, but neither her squad nor Jecks' horsemen had moved. "I didn't see anyone else trying to stop the dark ones. After that battle, I felt someone had to. Those people are… They're evil," she concluded, much as she hated to pin that label on anyone.
"Why do you feel you must fight them?" Jecks asked.
"Humor me, please, with these questions. I am an old man, trying to protect his only grandson."
Jecks, for all the white hair, didn't look that old, probably not any older than Anna was, and he was stocky, muscular, and doubtless quite a fighter. In fact, Anna concluded to herself, he was a lot more attractive than any of the men she'd seen so far, clean-shaven, honorable, and willing to stand up for what he believed in. Plus… he seemed to have a wry sense of humor, or something like it.
"I saw terrible things in my world, and they only got worse because no one would stand up to stop them. There, because magic was different, I could do nothing. Here I can." She laughed, not quite harshly. "You might say that life has called my bluff."
"Thank you, Lady Anna." Jecks bowed his head. "I would beg your leave to talk with you again. The Prophet sent a messenger, but I would reply first through you. You may tell the lord Behlem that while I will not join his forces, I will not fight him, and I will do all that I can to hold back the dark ones." The older lord offered a more wintry, but still open smile. "Florenda, the player Liende, and Albero wish to be remembered to you. It was their idea that I speak with you, and I am glad I heeded it. A good trip back to Falcor to you, Lady Anna."
"I will tell the Prophet, and I will do my best to persuade him of your goodwill."
"I would not deceive you, lady. I bear neither goodwill nor evil will for Lord Behlem. I wish to save Defalk." Jecks inclined his head, then turned his mount toward the east.
What was that last bit all about? wondered Anna. She shook her head as she eased Farinelli back toward her squad.
"Will you destroy them?" asked Spirda as Anna reined up Farinelli.
"No. He had a message for the Prophet, and the Prophet should hear that message and make his own decision." Anna reached for her water bottle. Suddenly, her throat was dry, and she was thirsty. Since Jecks had agreed to fight the dark ones, she didn't believe that Behlem had so many armsmen that he could afford to spurn the offer. Still, she wasn't sure, and she wasn't about to blurt it out.
"The Prophet may not be pleased."
Anna finished drinking and eased the water bottle into the straps, then nudged Farinelli enough to start the gelding on their interrupted course toward the bridge. "The Prophet has requested allegiance, and Lord Jecks has asked me to deliver his reply. The Prophet should make his own judgment on Lord Jecks." And he'd be a fool to take on a fight he doesn't need to right now.
Spirda rode silently beside Anna, frowning. The sorceress ignored his displeasure, wishing the subofficer would grow up. Then, she reminded herself, Spirda had not seen or felt that dark massed power of the Ebrans, and some people learned only from what they experienced personally. Was she like that? She hoped not, but self-delusion was the easiest of all deceptions.
76
Esaria, Neserea
The raven-haired woman leans forward, stopping short of where the top of the low-cut pale green gown would reveal too much to the officer in the maroon uniform of a lancer of Mansuur. "You have followed the dispatches from Falcor?"
"Yes, my lady Cyndyth." The officer remains erect, his voice polite, formal.
"Is it true that this sorceress who has joined the Prophet killed many of the darksingers at the battle for the Sand Pass?" Cyndyth leans back in the dark polished wooden armchair that is not quite a throne, her green eyes the same shade as the brocade trim of the chair's head-high upholstery.
"So it is said, my lady."
"And she has joined the Prophet's forces in Falcor?"
"Yes, my lady."
Cyndyth lifts the crystal goblet, sips the pale red wine, then replaces it on the silver tray that sits upon the table to her right. Long slender fingers lift a candied almond from the silver dish on the tray. "Is she beautiful?"
"She is said to be young and blonde." The lancer's forehead crinkles ever so slightly as he adds, "Yet it is also said that she has children as old as you are, my lady."
"Does she have scars, great gashes on her skin?" asks Cyndyth. "I heard the dark ones nearly killed her."
"The dark ones seek her, or so says the counselor Menares, and she was thrown from the walls by their attack. Yet she lives."
"You do serve the Liedfuhr, do you not?"
"As I must, Lady Cyndyth. As my family has ever." A faint sheen of perspiration coats the officer's forehead.
"And you know that my father is ever vigilant?"
"The vigilance of the Liedfuhr is legendary."
Cyndyth laughs, softly, throatily, and lifts the goblet for another sip of the wine. "It is legendary. You are so comic, Nubara. So formal. So careful."
"I understand my duties, lady, and do my best to fulfill them."
"So you do." Cyndyth's voice turns lazy, slow, as she continues. "A sorceress who is young and blonde… a battle against the dark ones that must be won… and after that?" She shrugs and a smooth-skinned shoulder is momentarily uncovered. "Once the mighty Eladdrin is vanquished, will the Prophet need a sorceress? Will the Liedfuhr?" She straightens in the chair and reaches for another almond. "Oh, you might wish to inform my sire that we will be departing for Falcor."
" 'We,' my lady?" asks Nubara.
"You are the envoy of the Liedfuhr to the Prophet, and the Prophet—and the sorceress—are in Falcor. How could you possibly deal with the sorceress from here? Or serve the Liedfuhr?" Even white teeth delicately crush the almond, and Cyndyth takes another sip of wine. "You will serve the Liedfuhr, will you not, by ensuring that the next battle of this sorceress is her last battle?''
"I serve the will of the Liedfuhr." Nubara's forehead is even brighter with sweat.
"I am so sure you do, Nubara." Cyndyth smiles slowly, showing white teeth framed by reddened lips. "So very sure that you will not misunderstand his will in this. We leave tomorrow."
77
Anna dried her just-washed face, then straightened her last clean set of riding clothes. Again, the night before, they had ridden late to reach Falcor, and she had probably over
slept, but at least a covered tray of bread and cheese had been waiting when she rose, a heaping tray, thankfully. From Skent, she suspected.
She looked at the pile of the floor and the two buckets of water beside them. With a sigh, she took out the lutar. Sorcery to do laundry? Was it worth the headache it would cause? What else could she do? The last time she'd asked for it to be done, the clothes had been returned brushed clean of dust and dirt, but still stained and smelly.
After too long a time, and the headache she had anticipated, Anna hung the two sets of trousers, tunics, and shirts around her room, as well as twice that many undergarments. The idea of her room looking like a Chinese laundry bothered her, but not so much as dirty clothing.
She put the lutar away and sat down to a goblet of water and the one chunk of bread left over from breakfast. Almost -before she finished the bread, she jerked the bellpull, and waited.
Birke arrived almost immediately.
"Birke? I'd like to talk to Garreth."
The page swallowed.
"Don't worry. I just want her to draw something for me." Anna held in a grin. "Do you like her?"
"She draws well," answered the page.
Meaning yes, Anna inferred.
"I also need you to take a message to Counselor Menares. I have a message from Lord Jecks to the Prophet."
"You have a message from Lord Jecks?"
"To the Prophet," Anna added. "I'll be either here with Garreth or upstairs with Lady Essan."
"You do not intend to come directly?" Birke's brows lifted.
"That would waste my time and his." Anna smiled. "Garreth first."
"Yes, Lady Anna."
Anna said nothing, though she could sense the youth's disapproval. Would he disapprove of every contact she made? She shook her head as she closed the door to the landing.
Even before the sorceress had finished her second goblet of purified water, the door knocker thunked, announcing Garreth.
"Birke said you had requested my presence," said the thin-faced brunette, her eyes on the stones of the landing before the door.
"Please come in." Anna motioned to a chair, but the young woman barely sat on it, almost perching on the edge. Garreth's eyes wandered around the room, glancing at the garments draped around.
"Laundry," explained Anna.
The brunette frowned. Anna didn't explain, feeling that she'd come across as arrogant and condescending if she attempted to discuss cleanliness, especially since the room had gotten dusty in her absence.
"Your room is cold. How be it so?"
"Sorcery," Anna admitted. "Erde gets too hot to be comfortable for me."
Garreth shivered, but said nothing.
"I had a request of you," the sorceress finally said. "Could you draw a picture of me, say on the tower, with some of Falcor behind me? It doesn't have to be fancy, but something that's recognizable as me."
Garreth frowned, ever so slightly, her green eyes slightly hooded.
"I'd pay you for it," Anna added. "I don't have that much coin, but… would a silver or two help?''
"It is not that, Lady Anna. I not be that good."
"You're better than most of the pretenders who call themselves artists."
A faint smile flitted across Garreth's lips and vanished.
"I would also consider it a great favor."
"If you would explain that to Lady Essan…"
"I would be happy to—very happy."
"How big?" ventured the brunette.
"It must be small, to fit in an… a packet." Anna framed a space with her hands. "And soon, if that's possible."
"I could come back this afternoon, when Lady Essan rests."
"Good." Anna smiled, and stood. She still needed to see Essan, preferably before Menares and Behlem. "Is Lady Essan in now?"
"She usually be in, Lady Anna." As she stood, Garreth's voice was polite, but Anna felt stupid. Where would the widow of the former Lord of Defalk go?
"I'll talk to her now."
". "Then I will return to my corner."
Anna waited until Garreth's steps died away down the tower steps before she headed up toward Essan's room. The stairwell was hot and close, even before mid-morning, and smelled faintly of urine and worse from the jakes on the level below Anna's quarters. She wrinkled her nose, but kept climbing.
She paused outside the lady Essan's room, then rapped on the door.
"Yes? What is it?"
"It's Anna, Lady Essan."
The older woman opened the door. "You have returned safely. Do come in." Essan turned to the stocky woman with white-streaked black hair. "You may go, Synondra."
Synondra bowed her head, first to Lady Essan, and then to Anna, as she stepped out of the room.
Anna followed Essan toward the pair of purple upholstered and embroidered chairs. The polished table held the small silver platter, empty except for a few of the almonds, and the same pewter pitcher and paired goblets.
"What happened on your journey, sorceress woman-girl?" Essan settled herself into the chair with the pillow. "Have you found a way to defeat the dark ones and thus ensure Defalk as a province of Neserea?"
Anna wanted to wince at the bitter undertone.
"Don't mind me, Anna." Essan lifted her goblet. "I am old enough to say what I please—in my own small quarters, anyway."
Anna still didn't know how to answer. After a moment, she spoke. "I might have created something that will help defeat the Ebrans, but until I try it, how will I know?" She forced a shrug, feeling slightly dishonest as she did. "Even if it does work, will that ensure that Lord Behlem can hold Defalk?"
"I would wager, naive-wise woman, that whether the Prophet holds Defalk rests solely upon you." Essan popped one of the two remaining almonds into her mouth and pointed to the remnant. "The last is for you."
"Go ahead," Anna said. "I'm not hungry now." Not too hungry, and I need to let my stomach settle, if it will.
"I hope you enjoyed the ride," Essan went on. "The liedburg staff, those left from earlier days and not rooted out, have made you into a warrior hero. Your knife has grown to a yard in length, and you destroyed half the stable in your fury. You also cursed all the Prophet's captains— those that you did not burn to ashes—and even the Prophet has doubled his Guard against you."
"Oh…"
"These things happen. Harmony knows they need a champion, and now even a sorceress from the mist worlds will do. Until you win and they discover you are a woman," Essan added dryly.
Two quick raps sounded on the door, and a frown crossed Essan's wrinkled forehead. "Not even up here is there peace, not with that clown of music in the hall."
Anna started to stand, but Essan waved her back to her seat. "I would get it. You are a guest, and small as my kingdom is, guests answer no summonses."
Anna held in a grin as Essan marched to the door.
"It's Birke, Lady Essan. Is Lady Anna there? The Prophet wishes to see her now."
"She is here, young Birke, and I will tell her."
"Thank you, Lady Essan."
Anna could hear Birke's steps on the stones of the tower stairs before Essan closed the door.
"Oh, the Prophet wishes to see you." The white-haired woman's eyes twinkled. "Even Donjim at his drunkest was not that peremptory. But then, you did not present yourself at his chamber and wait and wait upon his pleasure."
"I don't do that anymore."
"You have experienced more than that youthful face shows. What it does not indicate… your voice does. Best you be careful with that tongue." Essan smiled as she warned Anna. "Still… you should not keep our present lord and master waiting too long."
Anna wasn't certain she held back the grin as she stood, "I appreciate your thoughts, Lady Essan."
"Another thought, sorceress. For all your age you are far too honest to play with power." The older woman shook her head. "Yet Defalk could ill afford to lose such honesty—it is so rare. Best you be on your way. Lord Behlem is not long on patienc
e, especially with women."
Anna nodding, thinking as she walked toward the door that few men in Liedwahr seemed to be patient with women—or anyone else.
"We must hurry," Birke insisted as Anna stepped out onto the landing. "The counselor was very insistent."
"That may be," Anna said, "but it won't do anyone any good if we fall down the stairs and kill ourselves." She steadied herself on the rough stones of the stairwell wall.
Once they reached the main corridor beyond the tower, Birke began to walk faster and faster. "Counselor Menares said to hurry, Lady Anna."
After taking the wide steps and heading halfway back along the unlit hallway where the glass mantles on the wall sconces for the candles were smudged and dusty, Birke stopped short outside a doorway. An armsman stood on each side, and a page by the door handle.
Birke bowed to the older, black-haired page. "Seckar, announce to the Prophet that the lady Anna has arrived in response to his summons."
Seckar eased the door open. "The lady Anna."
"About time!" came from beyond the door.
The sorceress thought the Prophet's voice sounded more petulant than commanding, but she stepped past Seckar.
Behlem sat in a high-backed wooden chair placed on a dais. Menares sat on an armless chair on the floor level, but rose as Anna entered. The Prophet did not. His hand touched his beard briefly, then dropped to the padded arm of his chair.
The receiving room was hot and smelled of sweat. The row of high windows on the left-hand side all remained closed. Anna wanted to wipe her forehead. Instead she bowed slightly. "I came as soon as I received word."
"Where were you earlier this morning?" asked Behlem.
"We returned last night. I sent word to Menares right after I rose." Anna bowed toward the white-haired counselor.
"Time is important, Lady Anna. The last of the Ebran reinforcements are in the Sand Pass," Menares said. "In two days they will be in Mencha, and in four Eladdrin will be on his way to Falcor—unless he heads north to Elhi first." The counselor looked to the Prophet.
Behlem fingered his reddish blond beard, but shook his head.
"What have you to offer the Prophet?" asked Menares, reseating himself. Neither man suggested Anna sit, and there was no chair obvious.
The Saprano Sorceress Page 40