"He is but a child." Hanfor stroked his beard. "Yet your words about women have a bitter wisdom."
"This poor land doesn't need another lineage." Anna looked at Hanfor. "My children are worlds away, and I can have no more. For now, I am acting as regent—in the absence of anyone in the lineage of Defalk." Anna smiled. "Do you mind serving an acting regent, Hanfor? I will release you…"
"I will stay. My life would be worthless in Neserea." The weathered face cracked into a smile. "Matters here will be interesting, anyway."
"You will have much to do. We need to summon Lord Jecks… and take care of all sorts of details, such as the transport and burial of Lord Behlem and Lady Cyndyth." She nodded toward Menares. "It might be best if most of the armsmen, particularly the Prophet's Guard, were returned to Esaria as soon as possible to ensure the safety of Rabyn. Isn't he the Prophet now?"
"Ah… that would have to rest on the lords of Neserea, Lady Anna," mumbled Menares.
"You would know better than I, but shouldn't young Rabyn be offered some protection?"
"I would be happy…" stuttered Menares.
Anna shook her head. "Your assistance will be needed here, Menares. And I suspect you will be far safer here. Far safer." She paused, shaking her head. "There's so much, and I don't know where to start. I feel you're playing a deeper game. I don't know who else is involved, but I'd suggest you tell me. Before I use sorcery to find out." Her eyes bored into his.
"The Council of Wei… they… my sister… the story is long…"
Hanfor's mouth opened, then closed with a smile.
"You work for me," Anna said. "Hanfor and me. Or you leave tonight for Wei."
Menares gulped and looked down the corridor. "I work for you… Lady Anna."
"Do not forget it. Ever."
"No, Lady Anna."
"Do you intend to take the lord's quarters?" asked Hanfor.
"Not tonight. Maybe not ever."
The overcaptain raised his eyebrows.
"I'm too tired to worry. My own quarters are comfortable enough, and," Anna smiled, "I can defend them." Her fingers tightened around the lutar. "Later, I might get a room with a bath. Later. I haven't slept much lately."
"That will not get any better," offered the overcaptain.
"No. It won't. But I hope other people will sleep." She turned toward the north tower, and Hanfor turned with her.
"You left some confused officers," he pressed.
"I know. I'm not demanding loyalty. They gave it to the Prophet. Most of them should go back to Neserea and defend his son. He's their duty now."
"Can I tell them that?"
Anna rubbed her forehead. "Yes. I should have thought of that. I should have. There's so much I should have thought about."
"You have made a start, and that is more than most." Hanfor inclined his head, with a look at Menares who tagged along like a lost old dog. "You can't think of everything, lady."
I'm going to have to, especially now. Especially from now on.
After Hanfor left, with the two guards remaining outside her door, Anna shook her head. Why? She still didn't know exactly why. Was she power-hungry, just like every other woman who protested loudly that only men were? Or was she just tired of reacting when she had the chance to do more?
She didn't know, really, and she might not ever. We all deceive ourselves, with the best of motives.
In time, she slept, most uneasily, waking and wondering how many things she had forgotten and left undone, then dozing.
105
Anna stood at the tower window in the stillness of dawn. Could she have somehow just exiled the two? Then the officers would have remained loyal. Loyalties were more personal than national on Erde, and only death dissolved them. Sandy had argued that modern war was insane, that thousands died because no one would kill a madman who happened to be a ruler. But Behlem hadn't been a madman. He and his consort had just wanted to kill Anna, or use her until she died for their purposes.
She shook her head and looked out beyond the walls at the lines of tents in the gray light. Now what?
Messengers to Lord Jecks, and to all the lords announcing her temporary regency. Should she invite them to Falcor? Was she prepared? Would they come?
First… Jecks.
And what about all the armed Nesereans? How could she disarm that situation? Should she rely on the officers she had ensorcelled? That didn't feel right.
Anna turned back to the basin. She heard occasional clankings and that meant she had guards. With a sigh, she yanked the bellpull.
Rather than stand in a thin gown on the landing with two strange guards, she waited until the door knocker thunked.
Resor and Birke and Skent all stood on the landing, crowded indeed with three pages and two guards.
"How about some buckets of water and some breakfast?"
"Yes, Lady Anna!" The three chorused before departing on their errands.
The guards, if they looked at her disheveled state, did so so surreptitiously that she did not notice.
After eating and washing, and dressing in clean riding clothes, she sent Skent to request Hanfor's presence. While she waited she began to draft her letter to Lord Jecks. That had to be handled quickly so that the message was traveling while she attended to other matters.
Hanfor was punctual, and she had barely finished her proposed note to Lord Jecks before he arrived, with another thunk of the knocker.
"How did it go last night?" Anna asked, after she had closed the door, and gestured toward one of the chairs.
"Well enough," Hanfor shrugged, sitting on the front edge of his seat. "You were right about not being there. Most appreciated the freedom to talk. Except they whispered at first, as if Alvar or Spirda or I might overhear something."
"And?"
"They are still confused."
Anna shook her head. "From what I've read, and heard, this sort of thing happens here. Why are they confused? Behlem tried to conquer a neighbor, and he didn't succeed. The sorcery might be new…"
"It be not that. They are not used to that kind of directness from a woman. Ladies are either not heard, or they are like Cyndyth or the bitches of the south."
Anna raised her eyebrows.
"Ranuak," he explained. "They spent much time talking to Himar. He confused them more, the honest wright, for he confirmed what Alvar said."
"Will they go home peacefully?"
Hanfor snorted. "All will go home peacefully. Only poor officers would want a fight against a sorceress. But Konsstin will hate you. Nubara will see to that."
"Nubara?" Again, Anna felt in over her head, with names she had never heard.
"He was Konsstin's envoy to Neserea. He came to Falcor with Lady Cyndyth, but he and his retinue left at dawn this morning. In great haste, I might add."
Anna nodded. "The assassins?"
"I would expect so."
"How is Menares?"
"He appears wrung and plucked with dissonance. He will obey you, though, for no others would have him."
"If his deviousness serves me, fine, but I'll need other counselors, too." Anna brushed back the blonde curls that were getting far too long. "And what about Behlem? Shouldn't the bodies go back to Neserea?"
Hanfor nodded. "I put Himar in charge of that. That detail of lancers will leave this afternoon, but he will stay. He asked to. The sooner the coffins are out of Defalk, the better."
"All of their personal servants go also," Anna added. She handed the two sheets of paper to Hanfor. "I thought I would send this to Lord Jecks. What do you think?"
"It is not—"
"Hanfor. How can we work together if you're not free to be honest with me?"
The overcaptain read slowly, and Anna thought, wondering about what else she had forgotten. She needed to act quickly, before people got ideas, while they were still stunned.
Perhaps some sorcery in parts of Falcor—to rebuild some of the damage from the floods?
"Will he believe you?" a
sked Hanfor.
"We have met twice. I could have destroyed him the second time, and the Prophet would have preferred that I did. He knows that."
"Then… he may come. But if he does not?"
"I must go to him."
"You feel strongly."
"About some things." About a lot of things, these days. Or is it that I'm letting myself feel strongly?
Hanfor waited.
"That leaves one problem—how to deal with the armsmen. I think I should talk to them."
"That could be dangerous. What do you gain?"
"Respect."
"Is respect for those who will soon be gone worth the risk?" asked Hanfor gently.
"That's not it. If I stand up to all those armsmen, then…" Anna shrugged. She couldn't explain, but somehow it was important, and not just to her. It had to do with the people of Defalk and the armsmen who would guard the liedburg and… everything else.
"What will you do if one expresses open disrespect? Best you think of that. And the Prophet's Guard…" Hanfor paused, then said. "Many are like Zealor."
"A compromise," Anna said. "All except the Prophet's Guard? I ride Farinelli, and I carry the lutar."
Hanfor frowned again.
"It's a feeling, and it's important."
"I would not go against strong feelings," answered Hanfor in his dry voice. "Not those of a sorceress."
Anna smiled, briefly.
"There is a question of the banner," Hanfor offered.
"Banner?"
"Whose ensign shall the liedburg fly? Do you wish to design one?"
"No." Anna frowned. "Is there one of Lord Barjim's?"
"That would not be proper——-He no longer lives."
"Was one ever designed for Jimbob?"
"I would not think so."
"All right. Put a black border on Lord Barjim's and fly it. Would that work?"
"For a time."
"And have someone design one for Jimbob, and then have them add whatever device is necessary to indicate a regent for him."
Hanfor nodded slowly. "You remain tied to that view?"
"I feel that it's right, and that it will work."
"Will Lord Jecks and the other lords accept that?"
"I don't know," admitted Anna, "but it seems they would prefer that to losing everything."
"Lords are not always reasonable," said Hanfor.
"That's true. We'll wait and see. Now… what about seeing the armsmen?"
"You still believe—"
"Yes."
Hanfor shrugged. "Then I would do it quickly, without notice."
"Fine. I'll meet you in the stable shortly. Or is that too soon?"
"Lady Anna, the sooner this idea is past, the happier I will be." Hanfor rose, and Anna escorted him to the door.
Open disrespect? What could she do?
For a time, she pondered, then finally jotted down something on a scrap of paper. She tried the chords, and said the words, separately, several times before she was satisfied.
Then she gathered the lutar into its case and stepped out onto the landing. Anna carried the lutar, feeling almost self-conscious with the pair of guards tramping down the stone steps behind her.
It got worse as she crossed the courtyard. Although there were but a handful of armsmen, and Behlem's players, standing about, all conversation ceased. She could hear the echo of her boots and those of the guards, and it seemed like every eye was on her.
She'd thought that the attention a ruler received might be like being onstage, but she didn't like the idea of being onstage all the time. You'd better get used to it, she told herself as she entered the stable.
"Lady Anna." Tirsik almost went to his knees.
"Enough," she said softly. "I'm the same Lady Anna I always was. How's Farinelli?"
"He is as usual—feisty to the rest of us."
"Good. I think." Anna paused and drew the stablemaster aside. "Hanfor is looking for good Defalkan armsmen. We need them. Do you know of any?"
"Me?"
"Tirsik, I've tried to tell everyone. I am an acting regent only, regent for young Jimbob. Defalk belongs to Defalk. Now… I'm going to groom Farinelli."
Why was it that no one ever believed what she said?
Farinelli whuffed and pranced sideways, as she set the lutar aside and opened the stall door.
"It's only been two days," Anna remonstrated, as she ran the brush across her mount's shoulder.
The gelding whuffed again.
"All right."
The time seemed caught in molasses, and grooming Farinelli took forever, but Hanfor had barely arrived with Spirda and a full squad of guards when she led Farinelli out of the stables.
"… more of a lord than any of them…" murmured Tirsik.
She doubted that, even as she appreciated the sentiment.
"The officers are drawing up the ranks now," Hanfor announced. "They were not told why. I thought that was better."
If he were right, Anna reflected it certainly was. If not, it made no difference.
Somewhere, in the corner of the courtyard, as various armsmen and Behlem's players still watched silently, a chicken brawwked. Anna wanted to laugh. Only the chicken had the right outlook. Life went on, and chickens brawwked, and the sun turned things hotter, and sometimes the wind blew, no matter who held what city or liedstadt.
She mounted and rode toward the gate, Spirda pale-faced and to her left, Hanfor to her right, the squad behind,
The portcullis was up, and Anna turned Farinelli across the cracked and dried ground that had been mud.
"The first group there."
Anna's eyes followed Hanfor's gesture.
She reined up Farinelli in front of the next line of tents, her eyes going to the walls of the liedburg, and then to the loose formation of men.
"Armsmen! Ranks!"
Several armsmen slouched. One, at the end, spit on the ground.
Anna picked up the lutar, concentrating on the two.
"Armsmen lax, armsmen strong, turn to order with this song. Armsmen lax, armsmen bold, respect and fear my hold!"
Both men stiffened, and Anna could sense, the fear, fear from more than the two.
"I could have turned you two into ashes. I didn't, but I could have. Ask around. Ask what happened to Lord Behlem, or Captain Zealor, or Captain Delor. I don't sneak around. I also don't kill people for no reason, but I will be obeyed.
"Some of you may have seen me before. Some may not. You have heard, or been told that I hold the liedburg, and that your officers respect my claim. I am not asking you change your loyalties or theirs. I am telling you face-to-face that times have changed. I risked my life to stop the Ebrans, and that saved many of your lives. I could treat you as I did them. I will not. You invaded our land. That choice was not yours, but the Prophet's. He has paid for that. Too often the everyday armsman pays for others mistakes. Instead, you will have to march home, without dying in a battle you did not choose. I'm telling you that because you deserve to hear it from me." Anna nodded, and waited a moment, trying to gauge the reaction. "That's all."
"… guts… where they find her…"
"… keep her and the dissonant Prophet…"
"… nervy bitch…"
"… shit… four weeks marching for shit…"
Anna couldn't expect to like all that she heard, but she wished, knowing that it was a futile hope, that the armsmen would see that she was as straightforward as anyone. She pursed her lips and turned Farinelli toward the next line of tents.
"One down," murmured Spirda, his eyes raking across the tents.
Fhurgen and Mysar followed, the rest of the squad behind.
Anna looked over the next row of blank faces and wanted to scream.
Maybe Hanfor was right. Maybe, but she had to try. Her mouth was dry as cotton, and she swallowed as she drew up Farinelli for another performance, another duty.
106
Wei, Nordwei
What is it now?" asks Ashtaa
r. "Gretslen, my lady. She insists that she must see you now." The words tremble from the guard's mouth.
"Show her in." Ashtaar set the bed tray aside and props herself up with the pillows, then straightens the coverlet.
Gretslen steps into the bedchamber, eyes downcast.
Ashtaar waits.
"I fear great troubles, honored Ashtaar." Gretslen's voice is hard, hard with the effort of suppressing uneasiness.
"Don't tell me your fears, not so early in the morning. Tell me the facts."
Gretslen swallows. "Last eve, from what I scried, the blonde sorceress killed Lord Behlem and Lady Cyndyth and now holds Falcor."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, Ashtaar."
"How did a stranger who knows no lords, bears no blade, and beds no man, manage this feat? With what sorcery did she manage this extraordinary occurrence?" Ashtaar's voice is dry.
"I do not know. I have tried to discover how, but there were no great spells, and no large chord tremors." Gretslen licks her lips. "There are always tremors around her, all the time, and we cannot…"
"I understand that. No large disruptions of the harmonies?"
"None."
"And she holds Falcor?"
"The ensign of Lord Barjim flies, bordered in black, and already Neserean armsmen and wagons march westward."
Ashtaar shakes her head.
"It is most puzzling, and we cannot determine how this occurred. Her chamber remains a small tower room, and yet the overcaptain of the Nesereans serves her, as does Lord Behlem's counselor."
"Your influence remains, then?"
"I do not know. That mirror is shattered."
The spymistress raises her eyebrows.
"She has discovered our influence, I fear."
The spymistress smiles. "It is extraordinary, and unforeseen, but to our advantage. Rather than Behlem uniting two countries into one stronger land, we have a stranger ruling Defalk, and that is bound to create more dissension. She must still face the Evult, who is gathering yet another army, and she has an occupying army she must see out of Defalk—leaving with no defense but her sorcery, and she cannot be in more than one place at a time." She laughs. "Unforeseen, but not unfortunate. Not unfortunate. Now go." Gretslen bows and turns.
The Saprano Sorceress Page 51