Darksong Rising

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Still flanked by her ubiquitous guards, Anna rode Farinelli westward across the hillside to where Lord Nelmor and Falar stood, also holding the reins of their mounts.

  "Lady Anna."

  "Regent."

  "Lord Nelmor, Falar," Anna looked at both-the lord and the would-he lord. "I would like your support one last time on this campaign. I have to ask, here, not order, and if you're not comfortable with this, I understand." She paused. "Lord Nelmor, we had once discussed the duties of the Lord of the Western Marches. One of those duties is to bid one's Regent welcome." A cold smile crossed her face. "While we have been bid welcome, all the armsmen in Westfort carry double blades."

  Nelmor's face paled. Falar frowned.

  "I intend to use sorcery to disarm the keep, but I will need armsmen to hold it while I look into what has occurred...."

  "You will not use the fire spells?" asked Nelmor.

  "Not against any armsmen who do not attack me-and not at first."

  The tall blond lord nodded. "We will ride in with you."

  "And so will we," seconded Falar.

  "Himar will order the riders," Anna said.

  "We will follow."

  Anna inclined her head. "Thank you." She turned Farinelli back toward Himar and Jimbob.

  Himar was waiting at the head of the ranks forming up- with Kinor and Jimbob-when Anna and her entourage returned. "What will you?"

  "We'll enter Westfort," Anna said, "as if nothing were wrong."

  "We will lead with two companies," Himar proposed.

  "Then the players... Anna added her own spell strategy for disarming Jearle's forces. "This will happen once those companies hold the courtyard."

  Himar nodded. 'That is best-before you enter the keep. And it will leave our lancers safer as well. If there is a problem with the spell, you remain outside."

  Anna nodded. But there shouldn't be. As the lancers formed up, she went over the spell in her mind, time after time.

  The sun had finally reached midday before the column started downhill toward Westfort, but the chill winds made white steam of some mounts' breath.

  The gates to Westfort were open.

  Anna watched as the purple company swept through them, three abreast, then the green company. Farinelli was less than ten yards from the open gates, and the guards in red and black when Anna reined up and turned to Liende, who, with the players, rode right behind Kinor and Jimbob.

  "Now!" ordered the Regent

  Alarm crossed the faces of the two guards at the gates, but neither said a word as a pair of lancers appeared next to each with bared blades.

  Anna didn't even dismount, but sang full voice from the saddle, letting her spell flood into the courtyard and the keep of Westfort.

  Turn to water, turn to rust, turn each Westfort blade into dust. Break the shafts that fly from any strings....

  Holding her lutar ready, Anna watched as one of the Westfort guards in red and black tried to draw a blade, and found himself with a handful of red dust. She nodded, and called back to Liende. 'That's all for now."

  Himar nodded, then ordered, "Purple company! Green company! Take the keep!" He looked at Anna. "Best you wait at the gates."

  Surrounded by her guards, Kinor, and Jimbob, Anna waited. She held the lutar, her eyes darting to the high walls, and then into the lancer-held courtyard. Farinelli sidestepped once or twice, almost as if to say that he was ready for a stall and some grain.

  In less than half a glass, Himar rode back across the courtyard and out through the gates to Anna. "The hold is ours."

  "Was anyone hurt?"

  "One lancer was stabbed with a kitchen knife by an armsman in red. That armsman will not stab another. Other than that..." Himar shook his head. "Lord Jearle awaits you in the entry hall."

  Anna dismounted, but kept the lutar, and let Rickel and Lejun, using their shields, lead the way through the open double doors into the dimly lit entry hall.

  Jearle stood, flanked by Defalkan armsmen, just inside the great entry hall of Westfort His face was flushed as she stepped toward him, and his jaw seemed to quiver. A pair of armsmen in red and black stood behind Jearle. Both wore twin scabbards, empty.

  Carrying the already-tuned lutar, Anna stepped forward, accompanied by Rickel and Lejun. Kinor advanced beside them, and Jimbob remained several paces behind the older redhead.

  "I have invited you into Westfort, and this is how you have mocked me!" Jearle blustered. "The Thirty-three will hear of this. They will, and they will strip your Regency."

  "I was invited into a hold where all armsmen wore double blades," Anna countered. "I was invited into a hold that made no effort to break its siege while other lords hazarded all that they had to help Defalk."

  Jearle studied Anna. "You knew Rabyn would invade Defalk. You knew he would attack Westfort. Yet you took your forces into Ebra, and left us to fend for ourselves. You abandoned the Thirty-three."

  Doesn't he understand anything? "No," Anna said quietly. "I did not abandon the Thirty-three. I returned, and your lands are safe, and will be for years to come. You made the decision two years ago to allow Lord Behlem through your lands to save your soul and your lands and your golds. Don't condemn me for letting his son come into Defalk so that I could save it."

  "You play with words, Lady." Jearle's face turned from red to almost purple.

  Anna nodded. "Blaz, Fielmir. Tie up his lordship." Jearle lunged forward, coming up and in low toward Anna with a thin shining dagger.

  Although Rickel and Lejun closed shields, another figure was quicker.

  "No!" Kinor crashed into the older lord, and both dagger and lord went down. The dagger slid along the stones, leaving a trail of dark liquid.

  "Poison!" snapped a voice from somewhere.

  Blaz and Fielmir yanked Jearle to his feet Bersan held a bright blade at the lord's throat.

  "Do your worst, bitch."

  "I Intend to." Anna lifted the lutar.

  Jearle, lord, Jearle, lord the same, with this spell turn to fire and flame, fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust, the end of all unworthy of a Regent's trust.

  With the line of fire searing from above, the guards threw Jearle to the stones.

  This time, the brief screams did not even bother Anna. Are you getting that callous... or did you dislike him that much?

  When the entry hall was still once more, deathly still, she turned, holding the lutar. "Kinor... would you come here?"

  Kinor glanced at the gray dust on the stones, then at Anna. "No matter what occurs, will you be loyal to Defalk, to Lord Jimbob as heir, and to me so long as I am Regent?"

  "Lady... I only thought of your safety...."

  "That's loyalty." Anna paused. "Do you swear loyalty to Defalk, Jimbob, and the Regency?"

  "Yes... of course... how could I otherwise...?" The young man was clearly flustered.

  "Good." Anna turned to Himar and Jimbob, then motioned to Liende, standing well back at the end of the hall.

  Liende approached warily, her eyes darting from Anna to her son and back again.

  Anna waited until the chief player had neared before continuing. "Westfort needs a strong, and intelligent, and loyal lord, and one young enough to support the Regency and Lord Jimbob for many years." She smiled at Liende. "What do you think about Lord Kinor?"

  Kinor's mouth dropped open. Liende appeared poleaxed. Jimbob grinned. Himar nodded slowly.

  "Lady... I did not... I never meant," Kinor stammered, for the first time since Anna had known him.

  Anna shook her head. 'That's exactly why you are now Lord of Westfort and Denguic. You will not be Lord of the Western Marches. At least not for many years. That will remain with Lord Nelmor so long as he wishes it and can maintain it." Anna motioned for Nelmor to step forward. "As you will note, Lord Jearle has no objections, Lord Nelmor. You are the Lord of the Western Marches."

  Nelmor bent his head.

  "You have earned that right by honor and by your support of Defalk and
the Regency."

  Anna raised her voice. "All those in Westfort who don't wish to serve Lord Kinor will leave, and they will depart within the week. Lord Jearle's heirs must leave Westfort today, and Defalk within the week. Otherwise, their lives will be forfeit."

  "Never!" The broad-shouldered man at the top of the stairs drew a sbort blade, a wide-bladed dagger, and began to charge down the steps, drawing it back as if to throw it.

  Anna lifted the lutar and began to sing.

  Jearle's heir, lord he'd name, with this spell turn to fire and flame.

  Lejun flung up the shield.

  Thunk! The guard staggered back with a heavy short blade embedded in the shield frame.

  The sorceress concentrated on completing the spell.

  ...fire flay you from flesh to ash to dust. the end of all unworthy of a Regent's trust.

  A single pillar of fire flared midway down the stairs.

  A woman screamed from the upper landing, and Anna stood in the hall, finding herself shaking... and amazed that she had managed the spell, even if it had left her with a splitting headache.

  Lejun lowered the shield and looked at his shoulder, also astounded that the blade had gone several spans through the shield itself but missed his body.

  Blaz stepped up to take Lejun's place, blade bared, and Fielmir held a blade to Lady Livya, standing on the foot of the stairs.

  Anna turned and walked forward toward Livya.

  "You have taken everything... you outland... creature..."

  "Your consort gave me few choices," Anna said. "I could not trust him, nor you, nor your son. He wouldn't support Defalk in its time of need. Twice, he failed. When I came and lifted the siege, he armed everyone in the keep against me. And you think I should have supported him?"

  "You... don't... understand... don't understand... at all... haven't any children..." Livya kept weeping, not even really looking at Anna.

  Everyone thinks that his or her problems are unique, and so many are all the same.

  Anna looked tiredly at Kinor. "Lord Kinor... you have much to do. With honor comes grief, and the knowledge that every action taken by a ruler or a lord hurts someone. Every action! Never forget that. Never."

  Kinor swallowed.

  Anna refrained from sighing. She turned to Himar. "We have a keep to clean up, and more plans to make."

  Himar nodded.

  Anna's eyes went to the blank face of Falar. Another problem. Falar might have made a good lord, but his history with Anna was short... and the last thing she needed was Falar being the lord. She offered a smile to the red-haired scoundrel. "Falar... I'll need to talk to you later, if you would."

  "Oh... Lady Anna, I am at your command."

  You hope so... and that you can wend your way through more of these intrigues. "I'm not commanding, only requesting from someone who has offered great service." there... was that laid on heavy enough? She smiled again.

  III

  LETZTLIED

  99

  ENCORA, RANUAK

  'The Matriarch studies the formal receiving hall, sniffs the almost-metallic air, and turns to her consort "Dyleroy will be arriving soon, and we will begin another story in the sagas of the mistresses of the Exchange."

  "The story of the sorceress is more interesting," observes Ulgar, fingering the mandolin he appears ready to play. "A most intriguing tale."

  "None would believe it, above all those who would know all of it," answers the Matriarch, reaching out just short of the blue-crystal chair. Her fingers seem to shimmer, and the chair hums, but for a moment.

  "Were hers a drama upon the stage in the Hall of Amusement," said Ulgar quietly, "the tale of the sorceress-Regent would end now."

  "True, my dear," answers the tired-eyed, but round-faced Matriarch, who yet wears black. "For has she not vanquished all her enemies beyond Defalk? Ground them into dust? Is that not where the minstrels always end the tales, with the great victories?"

  'Her hardest battles are those ahead," predicts Ulgar.

  "Not the hardest. Those that will take the most persistence and win her the least renown. Those that will have the lords who will not change carping to their neighbors."

  "She has an even more terrible battle to confront," Ulgar insists.

  "Yes," the Matriarch sighs. "Those who love-" At that moment, a bell rings, and the round-faced woman who is the soul of Ranuak turns toward the door of the audience chamber, then seats herself on the blue-crystal throne. "Yes?"

  Ulgar slips out through the door that becomes just one of the wall panels as he closes it behind himself.

  A stocky, but not heavy woman in the sea-blue of the Exchange opens the main door to the chamber and steps inside. Her eyes dart from side to side, and an expression of puzzlement appears as she sees no one but the round-faced woman in the blue-crystal seat. "Dyleroy, at your request, Mairiarch."

  "You may approach."

  Dyleroy steps forward across the blue stones that comprise the floor of the chamber. She stops a half dozen steps short of the Matriarch. "You summoned me?"

  "I did." After a pause, the older woman continues, "Do you understand why your predecessor is no more?"

  "I cannot say that I do, Matriarch." Dyleroy bows her head. "Would you enlighten me?"

  "The harmonies demand that like be treated as like. Abslim did not wish to understand such." The Matriarch studies the middle-aged face, one with lines radiating from the eyes, but not across the cheeks. Finally, she speaks again. "The harmonies do not care what we wish nor what we believe nor what we would like to occur. Abslim wished the sorceress-Regent of Defalk to act according to Abslim's own desires and beliefs as to how Abslim herself would have acted had she been Regent of Defalk." The Matriarch smiles. "There is no harm in wishing. But when Abslim instructed the Exchange to treat Defalk and its traders as though they had violated the harmonies, when they had not and had acted in honor, that was her first step against those harmonies. When she diverted funds from the Exchange to the SouthWomen-yes, I know you are a SouthWoman, and that you urged her to do so-that was her second step. When she defied me and the harmonies, the balance had to be redressed."

  Dyleroy looks evenly at the Matriarch. "Knowing that, you would accept me as Mistress of the Exchange?"

  "You are said to be intelligent and honest You are also said to be willing to learn. I can always hope that you learn from your mistakes and those of others." The Matriarch nods vaguely in the direction of the harbor. "The Free State of Ebra now needs your assistance; it would have needed far less had my daughter Veria and Abslim let the harmonies and the sorceress run their course."

  Dyleroy looks at the blue-stone tiles of the floor.

  "Both my daughter and Abslim failed to understand that I have no hesitation in acting. They did not understand that the Matriarch only acts when the harmonies require, not when my whims or wants would wish it so." After a pause, she adds, "Perhaps someday you will understand what wisdom is necessary to determine when to act, and what great will and courage it requires not to act, when all around you are urging such."

  Dyleroy looks into the Matriarch's cold eyes. Although the new Mistress of the Exchange continues to meet the gaze of the older woman, Dyleroy shivers, even in the sunlight of the formal receiving hall.

  100

  Anna's eyes dropped to the flat table and the pile of parchment Kinor had asked his new staff to round up for her. So many messages to write, and she couldn't really afford to stay in Denguic long-just long enough to give her lancers and players a little rest, to resupply, and to ensure Kinor had a firm enough hold on the keep-and that meant leaving Dutral and the purple company for a time, at least.

  She could have used-again-a secretary, but, besides her fosterlings, whom she already used at times that way, who else was there? Fluency in written language wasn't exactly common outside the aristocracy, and she'd already coopted most of those flexible enough for such a position.

  She laughed to herself, then wrinkled her nose.
Despite the sorcery she had used, the large guest chamber of Westfort still smelled faintly of mold, but she'd killed and removed all the vermin in the oversize bed with the dark walnut headboard that was carved with yet another hunting scene that she disliked even looking at, with its dying stags and boars.

  She'd already penned a scroll to Jecks, outlining the events of the weeks since she'd left Falcor and asking him for a report from Dythya on the progress of liedgeld payments from various lords.

  The next step was a missive to Konsstin, the Liedfuhr of Mansuur. She couldn't imagine the Liedfuhr being pleased, not with the loss of a hundredscore lancers and assorted captains and overcaptains. And he certainly wouldn't be pleased with the death of his grandson, even if Rabyn had been a perverted little bastard.

  With a deep breath she reseated herself at the table, taking a chunk of bread from the platter on the edge of the wide table, following that with a swallow of water. You've got to get your weight back up. Then she sharpened the quill and began the draft of the letter to Konsstin, knowing it would likely take her several attempts and more time than she wanted to spend on it.

  Most Puissant Ruler of all Liedwahr, Liedfuhr of Mansuur...

  Anna wondered what other flowery titles she could attach to the scroll, then added, "Ruler of the West." She left a blank area and began on the body of the missive.

  You had stated in your last message that your lancers were not meant to invade Defalk. Unhappily, they were persuaded to do so, either by their commander or by the former Prophet. I initially spared these lancers out of consideration for you and for the people of Mansuur... and in response to your earlier communications and gestures...

  Anna swallowed hard. At least she didn't have to say the words. Writing them was bad enough.

  ...but their commander insisted on being less than reasonable. Overcaptain Relour not only refused to recognize the Prophet's successor, but also refused to return to Mansuur. Again, I tried to spare your forces, and called down sorcery just upon Overcaptain Relour. His successors immediately attacked my forces-in my land...