Shadowsinger: The Final Novel of The Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt

  The marshal nods. “And…what of Lord Dostal?”

  “Once you have the hold well in hand…the usual. Leave the women, restrained suitably, of course. We will need serfs and servants in the years to come.”

  122

  Gray clouds filled most of the afternoon sky, with occasional patches of blue. The wind came and went, as did quick pattering rain, never enough to more than dampen the dust on the road stones before the rain stopped and the sun shone, if briefly, before another series of gusts and more showers scudded over the low and rolling hills that were mostly forest. While some of the scattered cottages had small fields ready to be tilled, most of the open ground was pasture, and here and there were some flocks of sheep.

  Secca had the green felt hat tucked in her belt but preferred not to wear it. She bent forward slightly in the saddle and patted Songfire on the shoulder, still marveling that she was riding a raider beast and enjoying it.

  Abruptly, she straightened as she saw riders coming from the south along the great western road. She squinted to make them out, then relaxed as she saw the green uniforms mixed with several of blue and crimson. Some of the lancers Wilten and Delcetta had sent out as scouts were returning.

  “They must have something to report,” Alcaren suggested.

  “I hope it’s good.” Secca shifted her weight in the saddle. As she continued to ride southward along the western road, she watched as Wilten finished talking to the scout.

  Then the overcaptain turned his mount and headed around the vanguard and back toward Secca and Alcaren. Wilten eased his mount around and rode beside Secca. “The scouts have returned with a messenger from Lord Tiersen. His forces are scattered through the lands ahead, but he will meet you at a small hamlet several deks farther to the south.” The overcaptain frowned, wrinkling his forehead. “The hamlet is called Sedak. It has a sawmill, and is in the woods a dek to the east of the road.”

  “Where it is more difficult to scry,” Secca noted.

  “I would judge so, lady.”

  “Have they had any trouble with the Sturinnese?”

  “They attacked a scouting party,” Wilten reported. “None of the Sea-Priest lancers survived, but Lord Tiersen lost some of his lancers.”

  “Not too many, I hope.”

  “The messenger did not say.”

  “Send back a messenger to tell Lord Tiersen we will be there shortly.”

  Wilten nodded, if dubiously.

  “The glass showed no Sturinnese near here this morning. They cannot have reached here yet, and we have more than enough lancers and sorceresses to deal with anything else,” Secca pointed out.

  “You will let us send out an advance squad?”

  “Of course. You have my leave. Remember…” Secca shook her head. Wilten wouldn’t know what she was thinking. “Tiersen and his consort saved my life when I was a child. She almost died in doing it. I owe them greatly.”

  Some of the stiffness left the overcaptain’s face.

  “Tiersen is a good lord, and he will help us in any way he can,” Secca added. “Your squad should be careful, but I would doubt that the dangers lie with him.”

  Wilten bowed. “I will accompany them.”

  “Thank you.” Secca wasn’t about to countermand that decision by Wilten, not when doing so would have implied that all she had just said was false or misleading—and it wasn’t. “Tell Lord Tiersen I look forward to seeing him as soon as we arrive.”

  “That I will, Lady Secca.”

  As Wilten rode back toward the vanguard, Alcaren laughed softly. “He still trusts not those he does not know.”

  “Better that than trusting blindly,” Secca replied.

  As they rode the next dek of the road, Secca did notice that she saw no flocks in the meadows and no smoke from chimneys. She glanced back over her shoulder. Had it been that way for a time, and she hadn’t noticed, or was there a change as they neared Dubaria?

  While the road was smooth and level, it did wind around the hills, and when they rode around another gentle curve, they came to a crossroads of sorts. There two lancers had reined up, one a SouthWoman and the other in the green of Loiseau. The lane led eastward into a heavy forest.

  Delcetta, who had taken over command of the vanguard in Wilten’s absence, rode back to Secca. “They say that the hamlet is a dek to the east.”

  “We might as well follow the lane, then,” Secca replied.

  “I would send the vanguard at least a half-dek ahead,” counseled the SouthWoman overcaptain.

  “As you see fit, overcaptain. I will also uncase my lutar.”

  “I trust we will need neither,” Delcetta replied, “yet I would be prepared.”

  Secca waited until the vanguard was almost out of sight on the lane that rose slowly along an ancient ridge, then urged Songfire forward. While the mare’s ear’s lifted slightly for a moment, she seemed relaxed.

  The lane had been cut through ancient oaks, whose trunks were a good fifteen yards back from each shoulder of the clay track. The heavy trunks and the towering crowns overshadowed the entire lane, and in the gloom the air was colder and far damper.

  “It would be hard to find someone hidden here with a glass,” Alcaren pointed out.

  “I’m certain Tiersen—or Lysara—thought about that,” Secca replied.

  After less than a dek, the lane curved to the south and began to descend. Abruptly, the ancient trees ended, revealing a clumping of buildings set against a hillside, where an older building overlooked a millpond and millrace. Below the mill was a long lumber barn, and Secca could smell damp sawdust.

  Wilten’s advance squad was drawn up before another group of riders, headed by a tall and muscular blond figure.

  “Secca!” The call came from the muscular blond man.

  “Tiersen!” Secca replied, grinning in spite of herself as she rode toward the dwellings of the hamlet behind the SouthWomen. The lancers eased aside as Secca neared Tiersen and his lancers.

  Favoring Secca with a broad smile, Tiersen noted, “I see you’ve taken to riding raider beasts.” Even after more than a score of years, the Lord of Dubaria retained the same lankiness he had possessed as a youth.

  “Songfire was a gift from Lord Vyasal.” On the mount behind the Lord of Dubaria, Secca recognized another figure, although the red hair was now streaked with gray. “Lysara!”

  “You haven’t changed at all,” Lysara offered.

  “Not in some ways,” Secca replied. “I’m still small.” She paused. “I didn’t tell you, not directly.” She gestured to Alcaren. “This is Alcaren. We were consorted by the Matriarch in Encora at the turn of spring.”

  “By the Matriarch,” said Tiersen with a laugh. “I am impressed.” He smiled openly at Alcaren. “Welcome to the lands of Dubaria, such as they are. If Secca chose you, you must have many talents. She is very choosy; she even turned down the Lord of Defalk.”

  Alcaren glanced toward Secca.

  Secca flushed, in spite of herself.

  “She did,” Lysara insisted, with a mischievous grin. “She even once told him he was a worthless bully.”

  “I doubt that I can compare to the lord of a land,” Alcaren said.

  “He doesn’t compare to you, my love,” Secca replied. “Not in any way.”

  Tiersen cleared his throat.

  The others looked to him.

  “I saved the largest dwelling in the hamlet for you and your immediate party,” Tiersen offered.

  “Thank you.” Secca felt confused by all the crosscurrents. “Oh…you recall Palian, and Delvor. They head my players. And Richina, and this is Valya, the oldest daughter of Vyasal.”

  “It has been years since we have seen Palian and Delvor,” Lysara said, “but it is good they are here.”

  Palian returned the pleasantry with a nod.

  “We have seen both Richina and Valya, if a few years back, when they were neither so old, nor so beautiful and capable,” Tiersen said.

  “It is a good
thing you added the word ‘capable.’” Lysara laughed.

  “I am slow, but over the years I have learned,” Tiersen replied. “Now…can we escort you to your dwelling, such as it is, and dismount? We have been riding since before dawn.”

  Both Lysara and Secca laughed. Secca turned in the saddle toward Wilten and Delcetta. “Can you work out some arrangements for all the lancers?”

  “They say the lumber barn is mostly empty,” Wilten called back. “We will manage.”

  Delcetta nodded.

  Secca hoped so, but there was at least some shelter.

  Less than half a glass passed before a group of ten was crowded around a too-small table in the common room of the dwelling that Tiersen had commandeered for Secca. Besides Secca and Alcaren, Tiersen and Lysara, and the two younger women, Palian and Delvor had joined them, and last, Wilten and Delcetta. Richina and Valya stood, while the others sat on the battered wooden benches, except for Secca, who perched on a stool.

  “We have been trying to protect the road to Falcor by ambushing their scouts and foraging parties, but we pulled back when they sent thirty companies east,” Tiersen said. “Jolyn sent a messenger—she’s with Kinor now—saying that they had a sorcerer with them and to be careful.”

  “Thirty companies? Where are they headed?”

  “To Aroch, it would appear. Dostal was in favor of at least talking to the Sturinnese.” Tiersen frowned. “Klestayr was cruel, but even he wasn’t that stupid. His son…”

  “Is a fool. He’s always been one,” Lysara said. “I warned Ruetha, but she wanted to leave Falcor no matter what.”

  Secca looked at the mirror on the table. “We should see where the Maitre and the other Sturinnese lancers are.” After leaving the table and returning with the lutar, she quickly tuned it, then sang the seeking map spell.

  The dark-bordered mirror displayed a map of western Defalk, showing the Sturinnese in two places, the larger body being on the main road perhaps fifty deks west of Aroch, and the smaller body perhaps twenty deks from Lord Dostal’s keep.

  The second spell, focused on the easternmost Sturinnese, showed a column of lancers in white riding along the stone road to Falcor.

  “More than twenty companies,” suggested Alcaren. “Could be thirty.”

  Secca pointed. “That’s a drum cart. Just one, though.”

  “They’re sending a sorcerer, then?” asked Lysara. “Poor stupid Dostal.”

  Tiersen glanced to Secca.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “It’s a good two-day ride from here, maybe three.”

  “Two and a half,” Tiersen replied. “If it doesn’t rain. The stone roads go the longer way and are a hard four and an easy five.”

  “We’ll still have to go to Aroch,” Secca said. “Let them take it. We’ll bring it down around them.”

  “If it doesn’t rain,” said Delcetta. “If it does, they could be gone.”

  Secca frowned. “Perhaps. They may want us to come to them.”

  “So that they can fight where they want?” asked Lysara.

  “What is the land like there?” Alcaren looked at Tiersen.

  “The keep overlooks the town from the north, and the land slopes down. To attack the keep from the main road, you have to ride uphill.”

  “And from the north?”

  “There are hills that overlook the keep, perhaps as close as a dek, but there is a gorge between them. There are bridges to the east and west, but they are several deks away.” Tiersen frowned. “I do not recall exactly.”

  Secca nodded. “It might work.”

  “What?” Tiersen looked at Secca.

  “What I’m thinking about.” Secca looked to Palian. “Can the players practice later this evening? I may need a spellsong we haven’t used recently.”

  “That we can. Today’s ride has not been hard.”

  “As can we,” Delvor added.

  “Perhaps you should run through the fifth and sixth building spells now—or once they are settled?” asked Secca.

  Palian rose. “By your leave?”

  Secca nodded, and both chief players left. Then she turned to the overcaptains. “I don’t know about their lancers, but you may have to be prepared to hold those bridges. I will know more later tonight, or in the morning. We will be riding tomorrow.”

  After Wilten and Delcetta left, Secca looked into the lined faces of her friends, recalling how youthful Lysara had appeared so many years before, when the now-graying Lady of Dubaria had taken up a blade, almost losing her life to save Secca’s. “You yet look most serious.”

  “The Sturinnese are but half the problem,” Tiersen said slowly.

  “Robero?”

  “He’s still the same Jimbob you called a bully,” Lysara said.

  Richina’s eyes widened, as did Valya’s, but neither spoke nor moved.

  “He would rather rule badly by himself than well with aid,” Tiersen added. “Even Alyssa has left him, though she merely pleaded her need for the healthful air of the mountains of the south.”

  “We heard something of the sort from Lady Andra,” Secca replied.

  “Cassily was most fortunate there,” Lysara said.

  “Do you think Anna foresaw this?” asked Tiersen. “That we would be working together?”

  Both Secca and Lysara looked at him.

  “That was the whole point of Anna’s fostering so many with ability, my dear,” Lysara said. “If you recall. Think about where they all are now.”

  Tiersen shook his head, mock-ruefully.

  “Was abandoning Dubaria hard?” Secca asked Lysara.

  “Not that hard. Not after Jolyn showed us in the glass what the Maitre did to Esaria. The hard part was sending Lystar and Terlen to Abenfel. Birke insisted that, no matter what happened, they’d be safer there. Lystar didn’t want to go. A year past his score and he wants to fight the Sturinnese on his own.”

  “I suppose he points out that you fought?” Secca grinned.

  Lysara grinned back. “I told Lystar that he could fight once he could find a sorceress to protect him from sorcery and not until. I fear he might.”

  “One of Birke’s daughters?” Secca asked.

  “Birke says that Bireya is much like Clayre, except she has red hair. She is almost fifteen, and he was thinking of sending her to study with you.”

  “Fylena must approve, then.”

  “Bireya’s a younger daughter,” Lysara said, “and both Laron and Stefan are strong and healthy. Laron is looking to consort with one of Cataryzna’s daughters.” Lysara grinned. “Her name is Annya.”

  Secca swallowed as a sudden emptiness filled her, that sadness she could never exactly predict when she felt so deeply the loss of Anna.

  “It still hurts, doesn’t it?” Lysara asked softly.

  “At times. Sometimes, I miss her so much. I wonder if she really knew.”

  “I’m sure she did. You always wanted to please her so much.” Lysara shook her head. “Seeing you on that raider beast…”

  “Songfire,” Secca supplied automatically.

  “…you looked so much like her, yet you’re not. But you had that air, that presence.”

  “I’ll never be like her. No one will,” Secca demurred.

  “You are her daughter. Not by blood, but in every way that counts, Secca. Even Tiersen saw it.” At the cough from outside the dwelling, Lysara broke off whatever else she might have said.

  “Lady Secca,” Gorkon called, “there will be food in a glass. Overcaptain Delcetta wanted you to know that.”

  “Thank you,” Secca replied.

  Lysara rose, glancing at Tiersen.

  “You and your consort could use a few moments’ rest,” said the Lord of Dubaria, “and we need to see to our lancers and the supplies we brought.” He grinned. “You will eat better, even if we are on the run, so to speak.”

  Secca returned the smile, warmed by both the presence and words of two old friends.

  123

&nb
sp; In the dimness of the common room, a single oil lamp oozed light over the sheets of parchment and paper before Secca on the table. Alcaren sat across from her, watching as she pored over them.

  Secca nodded and lifted a single sheet, which she set beside two others.

  “Which one was that?” Alcaren gestured to the parchment in Secca’s hands.

  “It is a release spell for the wards.”

  He frowned.

  “If, as the messengers say, Jolyn joins us tomorrow, I will have her sing it, and then have Richina and Anandra take the wards for the next days to allow you and Jolyn to rest. That way, we will have one set of wards guarding us all.”

  “Will you have Jolyn sing against the Sturinnese?”

  “In some fashion, but she must have some rest. I would have her join us, if I can. There is a greater complement to our three voices with hers, rather than Richina’s.”

  “And you do not wish Richina to sing one of the terrible spells?” Alcaren murmured, inclining his head toward the smaller room where the two young women had retired, ostensibly to sleep, but more probably to share stories.

  “I would prefer not. I would rather have her, Valya, and Anandra well back from the players.”

  “The spells are that deadly?”

  Without speaking, Secca passed two sheets across the battered wooden table to Alcaren.

  He took them, looked at them, but did not immediately begin to read the words. Instead, his eyes went back to Secca.

  “Those two are the only ones that look to have the power to break through the wards of the Maitre,” she explained. “Read them. Anna also wrote notes explaining each. Those are the words below the spell itself. Tell me which spellsong you prefer. You will have to sing them with us if they are to succeed.”

  “Did she say that?”

  Secca shook her head.