Darksong Rising

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  "I do."

  "We have slain perhaps twoscore. I would do more, but I dared not hazard my men too greatly"

  "I understand," Anna said. "Dubaria doesn't have the riches of Synfal or Lerona." She offered a smile. "It has more courage than either."

  Nelmor flushed. "Now that you are here, I offer my forces to your service."

  "I accept them gratefully. We will try to defeat Rabyn with as few injuries as possible, and as soon as practical." With effectiveness and no honor...even if you haven't quite worked out the spell you need. "I was meeting with Arms Commander Hanfor and my chief player on that when you arrived."

  Nelmor offered a smile, if a wintry one. "You knew of my concerns."

  "I know you and your sister were close. I'm sorry."

  "In these times... well.... one hopes, but hopes are not always answered." Nehnor inclined his head. "I will settle my men."

  "Then perhaps we can talk." Anna said.

  "I am at your command, lady. At your pleasure."

  "Thank you." Anna forced a smile. "I need to find Hanfor and my chief player."

  Nelmor bowed a last time before leaving.

  Anna did not have to look far. Even as she stepped out of the tent, Hanfor, Himar, and Liende stepped from under the nearest tree and began to walk toward her. From a spot midway between where the players continued to practice and the tree watched Kinor, Falar, and Jimbob. Anna noted their presence, but did not look in their direction.

  Once the de facto council had regrouped in the tent, Anna once again addressed Hanfor. "When would you attack Rabyn?"

  "Tomorrow at dawn would be best, save we have too many arms leaders who have but arrived."

  "The morning after?" questioned Liende.

  "If the sorceress feels she will be ready." Hanfor looked toward Anna. "Regent Anna?"

  "I guess I'd better be ready." Tomorrow will be another long day.

  84

  Anna sat on the stool in her tent and dipped the quill into the inkstand on the too-small camp table. Despite the coolness of the morning, a droplet of perspiration fell onto her brown drafting paper, leaving an irregular circle and blurring the first two letters of the word "turn" into a black blot. She looked at the words on the paper once more.

  Turn to fire, turn to flame all Nesereans who revere Rabyn's name, turn to ashes, turn to dust, all those in blue...

  Now... how was she going to end that spell? She put the quill in its holder and concentrated. After a time, she picked it up and wrote.

  turn to ashes, turn to dust, those in blue Defalk can't trust...

  She winced as she reread the words. Besides the poor language, she didn't like the idea of a spell where a country was the one "trusting." You have a very long morning ahead of you. Even after she got the words of the spell completed, she'd have to use the lutar to check to see if the words and the note values matched. Sometimes, the sung words didn't work out the way she thought they would.

  A dark slash went through the last line, and Anna set the quill down once more, trying to think of another way to word what she needed.

  "Lord Nelmor to see you, Lady Anna," Kinor announced. The young man seemed to be taking over as a sort of chamberlain in the field, for which Anna was grateful.

  Anna rose from the paper-strewn table and stepped to the front of the small tent, gesturing toward the tall blond lord. "Please come in." She remained standing, since the only places to sit were on her cot and the stool.

  Nelmor bent to enter, then straightened, his head almost touching the silk roof paneL He glanced around the spare tent. "You travel light, Regent, especially for a woman."

  Anna forced herself to smile. "Everything I don't bring allows more supplies or faster travel."

  "Arms Commander Himar said that you would have to tell me how long before we might see battle," Nelmor ventured.

  "The Nesereans have dug in on the hills. Did Hanfor tell you that?"

  "He did."

  Anna gestured toward the papers stacked not quite haphazardly across the camp table. "I've been working on the necessary spells. Once they're done, we'll attack. Rabyn's not about to move."

  "The Prophet has far greater numbers of lancers."

  "That's true," Anna admitted.

  "Also... if your spells defeat the Liedfuhr's lancers as well as the Prophet's, will the Liedfubr's honor not require him to attack Defalk?"

  Anna smiled wryly. Nelmor had figured out quickly enough another part of her dilemma. If she were going to destroy the Nesereans, and if her spells worked, she'd also need something to stop the Mansuurans-and a fallback spell for them if her ways of halting them without killing them failed. "That could be a problem. I'm working on that, also. It seems like everything I try to do to make Defalk secure upsets someone."

  "A weak neighbor invites conquest. A strong one creates fear. Rulers who see a weak neighbor becoming strong will try to stop that."

  "I'm already being criticized by many of the Thirty-three for spending too much time and too many golds on foreign adventures."

  "All northern lords, no doubt. They have not watched two armies from the west pour through the Mittfels." Nelmor snorted. "They have not seen the Evult destroy all the lords of Ebra and then start to do the same in Defalk."

  "Lord Ehara also sent lancers into the south, and then refused to admit he had," Anna added.

  "Much good it did him." Nelmor's laugh was mirthless. Anna let the silence draw out, then asked, "Would you consider accepting the title and duties of the Lord of the Western Marches?" She smiled. "And the one-third reduction in liedgeld that accompanies it?"

  "The Lord of Westfort and Denguic has traditionally been the Lord of the Western Marches." Nelmor's tone was cautious.

  "That may have been true, but Lord Jearle has made no effort to defend those marches. He avoided Lord Behlem's forces and Rabyn's," the sorceress stated.

  "He could not attack twentyscore Neserean lancers-or more," Nelmor said.

  "I believe the Lord of Dubaria had more to lose, and yet he made an effort," Anna pointed out with a smile. "And be didn't have the title of Lord of the Western Marches. Or the high walls and the golds from fertile lands."

  "Lord Jearle would scarce take that well."

  Anna nodded. "He would not, and I won't say anything to anyone until I've resolved matters with Lord Jearle. If he has no strong objections, would you consider it?"

  "I would be honored, but I would not accept such an honor if it brought greater strife to Defalk."

  "I appreciate your thoughtfulness and concerns, and I won't put you in that position." Especially not after what my failures cost you and your sister already. "We can't do much, anyway, until after we fight Rabyn."

  "That is most true." Nelmor bowed. "I appreciate that you think so highly of me and of Dubaria." He laughed. "Though such an honor may come more dearly than one might wish."

  "All honors do," Anna riposted, "including being Regent of Defalk."

  Nelmor smiled. "By your leave, Regent."

  Anna nodded, waiting until she was sure that the tall lord was well away from the tent. Now...for Falar.

  Stepping out into the chill mist that had remained although it was approaching midday, she glanced around. "Lejun... Bersan... have you seen Kinor?"

  "He was here but a moment ago," answered Lejun.

  "Lady Anna?" Kinor trotted up from behind the tent. "Were you seeking me? Jimbob and I were studying the maps with Overcaptain Himar."

  "I was wondering if you could find Falar for me?"

  "He was down by the south tielines, above the stream. I can see if he is still there." With a smile, the redhead was off.

  Anna went back to trying to recraft the defective spell, but had only managed to write and cross out the last line twice before Falar was announced by Lejun.

  "You sought me, Lady Anna?" Falar peered into the tent.

  "I did." Anna stood and motioned for him to enter. "You know that we'll be attacking the Nesereans before long
. Certainly, within a few days. Have the arrangements that Hanfor has made worked out for you?"

  "Your arms commander is very thorough, and we have benefited from his advice and from his armorer."

  "Without Hanfor, strengthening Defalk would have been much harder." Anna hadn't even known that Hanfor had found an armorer, but she didn't smile at her arms commander's resourcefulness.

  "I can offer but twoscore armsmen, not all proper lancers, even," Falar said. "We will all fight." He paused. "Hanfor has suggested that I act as one of your captains, between him and Himar."

  "If Hanfor asked, he feels you can do the job," Anna said.

  "It is foolish." Falar inclined his head. "Yet wisdom is foolish too."

  "At times," Anna agreed. "Lord Hanfor has suggested that your brother has remained within his walls even though the Mansuuran lancers ranged across his lands." The regent waited for a response.

  "Worse than that." Falar snapped out the words, "The pigs have seized near-on a half-score of girls to pleasure that beast-and burned the dwellings and shops of any who opposed them. Yet Ustal has done nothing. He has not even recompensed the tradesmen for their losses."

  Anna forced herself to ignore Falar's priorities. At least, the young man had some sense of outrage for the fate of the poor girls. "No one told me this. Not about the girls." From what she'd known of the young Prophet's parents, she wasn't surprised at Rabyn's actions, but she could feel her anger rising. But this world gets you angry all the time.

  "My brother the lord remains behind his wails. He will do so until he can sally forth and triumph without danger."

  Put that way, Ustal's actions made sense-for Ustal. "That would seem prudent," Anna said. "It's hard on the people, but it's prudent."

  Falar glanced at Anna strangely, as though he could not believe her words.

  "Is it prudent for me to plan an attack against nearly two-hundred-score armsmen with twentyscore?" asked Anna dryly.

  "If you are a sorceress, lady." Falar bowed.

  "If I am a successful sorceress," she corrected.

  A smile crossed the would-be lord's face. "Success makes wise men of fools, and failure fools of wise men."

  How true, and which will you be? Anna inclined her head. "Thank you again for coming, Falar. I will find some way to reward you and your men." She paused. "I may not change the succession of Fussen, but I do repay loyalty."

  "All have said that." He grinned. "I cannot say I hoped for aught else."

  Anna returned the infectious smile. "You may go. you scoundrel."

  "By your leave, sorceress and Regent."

  "You have my leave."

  She shook her head after he departed. Falar was a scoundrel. but she usually read people right, and he was an honest scoundrel, and that was a great improvement over his brother. And most of the lord, of the Thirty-three.

  Her eyes fell to the stacks of brown paper, and the spells she had yet to finish adapting. With a long deep breath, she pulled up the stool and sat beck down at the camp table.

  85

  NORTH OF FUSSEN, DEFALK

  The Prophet of Music sits on a gilded straight-backed chair set before the table covered in blue linen. Nubara stands at Rabyn's left shoulder. To the left of the cloaked Mansuuran overcaptain and to the right of the Prophet are guards in blue, two on each side. All four guards watch as a slender brown-haired overcaptain in the maroon of Mansuur enters the large pavilion tent.

  After brushing his boots, Relour steps forward on the carpet, then stops, and bows. "You requested my presence, Prophet Rabyn, and Hand of the Liedfuhr." With the last words, his head inclines to Nubara.

  "We did," Rabyn replies. "The sorceress gathers her forces. She will attack soon. She has never been slow to act. The Dark-song drums are ready. How have you prepared?"

  "We stand ready, but it is most unlikely that the Regent of Defalk will soon press an attack. Half those lancers rode in yesterday, and their mounts are tired, sire."

  "She has been in her camp several days. So have many of her lancers. She doesn't need lancers and mounts for sorcery," Rabyn says, an edge to his voice.

  "Nor do you, sire, but should sorcery prove wanting, or take longer, you need the lancers to hold the lines and take the flght to the enemy. You seek the best from your wiser officers, and so does the sorceress. She is known for that. Her officers will not wish to fight with tired mounts."

  "You may be correct, but it will go ill with you if she attacks soon, and your lancers are unprepared."

  "The Mansuuran lancers have yet to be caught unaware, sire. The Sorceress of Defalk will not do so."

  "Good. You may go."

  "As you wish. Good day, sire... Hand of the Liedfubr." Relour bows and retires.

  When the tent flap is closed, Rabyn turns in the gilded chair. "Have you found another wench, Nubara?"

  "Not a willing one, honored Prophet." Nubara shivers within the heavy maroon woolen cloak. "The guards had to use your potion. She is in your tent, tied to the camp bed, as you requested."

  Rabyn's eyes glitter. "Is she clean?"

  "She has been bathed, massaged with rose oil, and anointed with perfume."

  "Is that a scratch upon your neck, Nubara? I trust you did not pleasure yourself before your ruler enjoyed himself."

  "No, most mighty Prophet. The girl's body is as we found her." Nubara laughs bitterly. "Your other potions have assured that you have no fear from me."

  "That is as it should be"

  Nubara's eyes turn hard and glitter, but Rabyn has already turned his attention to the goblet of amber wine he has poured.

  "I wonder if this one will choose to do as I wish," muses the young Prophet. "Or if I will have to enjoy her in other ways." He turns his head in Nubara's direction. "What do you think, Nubara?"

  "It would not be for me to say, honored Prophet." Nubara's eyes do not meet Rabyn's. "I would suggest that you leave her gagged until you are certain of her... inclination."

  "You are so delicate, Nubara!" Rabyn laughs, cruelly. "I will take care not to let her upset your Mansuuran lancers. Or anyone else." He lifts the silver goblet.

  86

  The walls of the tent rippled in the cool wind, glanced up from where she sat on the camp stool, studying the spells, again, trying to ensure that she had the words firmly in her mind. She'd still carry the written words in her belt wallet just in case, but she thought she had them down. You'd better. Just try to read them in the dark by candlelight.

  She'd used the mirror twice, but the Neserean camp remained the same, and she certainly didn't want to look at Rabyn again. At the thought of what she'd seen, she could feel her heart racing, and her anger rising. No wonder people got angry at absolute monarchs! That a youth barely past puberty could be so sadistic with a girl!

  She made a deliberate effort to unclench her jaw, then rubbed her forehead. She massaged the back of her neck with her right hand, concentrating on relaxing her breathing. After a time, she stood, deciding against snuffing the single candle in the short glass mantle before slipping from the tent. She stopped immediately outside the tent, between Rickel and Fielmir. The cool breeze was calming.

  The earlier clouds had lifted into a high haze, and the twilight was already chill. Most of the lancers around the cook-fires wore their tunics and wool jackets. The sorceress wore a jacket, but it wasn't fastened, and she wasn't cold, despite the stiff breeze out of the north. Kinor and Jimbob stepped toward her from the nearer cookfire, which served Anna and the officers.

  "Have you eaten, Lady Anna?" asked Kinor.

  "I ate a little while ago." She'd had to force down the fatty mutton, and it had taken nearly half a loaf of heavy bread, but she had imagined Jecks telling her to eat more, except the handsome lord would just have looked at her and gotten the idea across without a single word.

  "It's greasy," said Jimbob.

  "Everything cooked in the field is probably greasy or charred or too hot or too cold," suggested Kinor.

  Anna
smiled faintly. "Not always, but often." She looked at Fielmir. "Is Kinor right?"

  'The food here is better than in many camps," answered the guard.

  "But it's less than wonderful," Anna responded with a laugh. She found herself walking away from the tent, realizing that Rickel followed and Lejun appeared from somewhere to join Rickel. She shook her head, and turned back. You're nervous, that's all.

  "How soon will we fight the Prophet?" asked Jimbob.

  "We'll have to be up early tomorrow. Very early." Anna eased back toward her tent, stopping close enough that the guards wouldn't be following her every step. "Then we'll see how things look."

  "Have you seen anything in the mirror, Lady Anna?" Jimbob pressed.

  "The Nesereans aren't moving. Not yet, anyway" She offered a smile. "Tomorrow well see."

  Anna could see Hanfor walking from cookfire to cookfire, inspecting each, talking briefly to the cooks or subofficers, and then moving on. She knew where Hanfor had to be headed, but the deliberation with which he inspected each fire and talked with those there made his approach seem almost as if it were happenstance and a part of some elaborate and long-established procedure, just another routine. She appreciated the calming impact of his efforts, wishing she felt as calm as the veteran looked.

  As Hanfor left the nearest cookflre, Kinor nudged Jimbob, then took the younger redhead's arm. "Let's see if there's more"

  Anna smiled as Kinor hurried Jimbob away, watching as Hanfor eased toward her tent.

  "Lady Anna." Hanfor bowed, then stepped up toward her.

  Anna motioned for him to enter the tent. then stepped inside. She would have held the entry panel for him, but Hanfor-like Jecks-just would have taken the panel from her to allow her to enter first.

  "Are we ready?" she asked.

  "All your lancers stand prepared. Have you scried anything new?" His eyes went to the cased mirror resting on the end of the camp cot. then back to Anna.

  "Nothing's changed." Her mouth twisted. "Except that... pervert... is abusing some poor girl.... It makes me want to attack now."