"Lady Anna… here is a blanket." Rickel's voice was soft.
Mechanically, Anna shifted herself onto the blanket, then closed her eyes. The starbursts still cascaded across her now-dark field of vision, and she opened her eyes.
Fhurgen handed her a chunk of bread. She took a small bite. Then she twisted and retched across the dust, adding yet another stench to those of fire and death.
Fuck Defalkan conventions! I'm not doing this again… . Despite the violence of her thought, Anna wondered. In Liedwahr, with its emphasis on force, could she totally avoid the use of greater force? And how?
How… in the name of God or the harmonies… or whatever?
45
ANNA stood on the worn stones of the battlement of the front corner tower of Suhl, looking blankly over the valley. The surface of the mound Sargol had raised was bare, with no sign of the infernal crossbow. The tents had been struck, brushed clean, and stored in one of the keep's storerooms.
Three deep holes gaped in the ground—mass graves. Four wagons were scattered across the grass, each heaped with bodies. Under the watchful eyes of subofficers, armsmen stripped each corpse of weapons and valuables before lifting it onto the wagons.
Caaaw. … A large crow flapped its wings in settling onto the other corner tower. Nearly a dozen of the scavengers circled over the meadow, under the wispy thin clouds scattered across the morning sky.
Absently, Anna's hand strayed to the wound on her arm. It was still red and itched, if less than before. Behind her, by the steps up from the lower wall, stood Rickel, his broad-shouldered form casting an even broader shadow. Another guard was at the base of the stairs.
Boots scuffed on the tower steps, and Anna turned as Jecks emerged into the hazy sunlight.
"Lady Anna, how do you feel?"
"Close to human, until I look out there."
"You did what had to be done." Jecks crossed the stones of the tower, then stopped next to the stone wall, perhaps two yards to her right. "Sargol would not have surrendered. He tried to kill you twice." He paused. "And he would rather have stopped his ears against your spells of obedience."
"I suppose so." She frowned. Obedience or loyalty spells were clearly Darksong, and her body and the harmonies were telling her their use was most definitely limited—if she wanted to survive. Yet… was the alternative slaughtering thousands? Did that make her any better than Sargol? Wanting to survive?
She looked down at the bricks of the rampart walk underfoot.
"You did what needed to be done. You showed mercy at Synfal, and that was first. You have shown what will happen to those who resist."
"What's left of Suhl? Besides mass graves filled with loyal armsmen?" asked Anna abruptly. "A handful of shattered souls? Serfs and women too frightened to think. Three idiots, and a dozen infants, a handful of children. Three of them were Sargol's." She laughed, bitterly. "At least, he had heirs. At least, I don't have to worry about finding someone else to make a lord of the Thirty-three. At least, they'll be southern lords without delicate sensibilities."
Jecks' face went stony again, and Anna didn't care, or almost didn't care. Her eyes focused on the wagons and the armsmen dumping bodies into the pits in the meadow. The light wind carried the faint odor of death.
"You asked me how those lords would feel, lady. I told you." His voice was hard.
"You did, and you were probably right," Anna said quietly. "I don't have to like a situation where I must choose between letting Defalk disintegrate, slaughtering thousands, or dying trying to use Darksong."
Jecks did not answer, but stood by the battlement, turned so he faced neither toward her nor away from her.
"My lord," she prompted quietly, but firmly.
"What would you have me say?" The words sounded dragged from his lips. "That I did not know how terrible your sorcery would be? From me, who has seen battles for all his life? I did not know?"
Anna remained silent, and the methodical clank of spades and the dull sounds of teams moving wagons drifted across the tower. The wagons carried far too many bodies.
"You saw the Sand Pass."
"Those were dark ones, not Defalkans."
Anna felt less sympathetic to Jecks. "They were people, Lord Jecks. Just as those poor armsmen I slaughtered the day before yesterday were people. They loved; they hoped; and they died."
"Lady Anna. Think of your flame spells. Did you not direct them at those who rebelled. Only those who rebelled?" Jecks asked softly.
"Yes," she admitted.
"Yet but a handful survived. What would you have? An entire hold seething in rage? This is not Synfal, where Arkad did not incite revolt, where no one raged against you. Arkad did not like the regency, but in his own way, he honored Defalk."
Anna forced herself not to answer, to consider his words first. After a time, she spoke, slowly. "Are you saying that so many died here because they violently opposed the Regency and Jimbob?"
"That is what I believe."
The regent and sorceress leaned on the warm worn stone, resting her head on her arms. Lord, Lord…
"Their ties are to these lands, to their lord, not to Defalk. They still think of themselves as Suhlmorrans."
"You said the Suhlmorrans had not ruled here for centuries… for hundreds of years."
Jecks shrugged, almost sadly. "Still, they call themselves Suhlmorrans."
"How can we ever…"
"You already have."
"No. Enough lived that they'll hate Jimbob and the Regency more."
"Not if you direct the heirs."
"Where will I get another administrator?" Anna asked. "Who will hold the keep? We can't garrison it, not with Gylaron and Dencer left to deal with."
"You need not leave more than a handful of armsmen—the wounded among them. No one will dare attack here. There would be no advantage, either. You will declare that his infant son will be the heir, will you not?"
"Have I any choice, realistically?"
"No," Jecks admitted.
"Have someone draft up the statement, but don't make it too specific, only that his heirs will hold the land. Don't name names. I'll sign it, and have a messenger take it to Synfal and let Herstat have it copied. He can send them to all of the thirty-three who haven't risen—and to Hadrenn." She hoped whatever reached her didn't need too many changes, but she was still too tired to think as clearly as she'd like. The harmonies help her if she ever had to handle large battles on two days running.
After another silence, punctuated with the clank of spades from the graves, Jecks asked quietly, "What will you with the golds in the storeroom?"
"The same as always." Anna laughed harshly. "The Regency gets some. I get a little. You get a little, and most of it stays here for Sargol's administrator and heirs."
"What of your armsmen?"
"You think they should get a bonus?"
Jecks frowned at the word.
"Something extra?" Anna corrected. "A silver each? Two? What would be customary?"
"Two silvers would be most generous, and appreciated."
Anna tried to calculate. Roughly two hundred lancers, and the players should get more. That worked out to… what? Forty golds? She wanted to shake her head. If that were expected with every battle, she'd be paying several hundred golds, maybe a thousand before the whole mess was resolved.
For some reason, the thought that she'd paid two golds for five yards of velvet crossed her mind—and an armsman who risked his life got a pair of silvers. Yet a bonus of a single gold—several times during the campaign ahead, and there would be a campaign, that was clear—that bonus would bankrupt Defalk. Cloth was always overly expensive in pre-technology societies. She frowned. Another excuse, no matter how true?
Jecks waited silently
"That sounds reasonable, but let's talk to Hanfor. He has to lead the men." She paused. "Any ideas on who could run this place?"
"It would not take great experience," Jecks offered. "Not at first. What about the sis
ter and ward of Lady Gatrune?"
Anna tried to remember the young woman's name. Anna had met her at Lady Gatrune's holding in Pamr, when Lord Hryding's armsmen had been escorting Anna to Falcor to offer her services to Behlem after the Lord of Neserea had conquered Defalk. "Herene?" Tall and blonde, like Gatrune, but thinner than her older sister. Anna nodded to herself. "Herene."
"A woman here would be good," Jecks said. "With a solid armsman and officer at her hand before long."
"So that the other lords would understand it wasn't a power grab?" Anna also understood another element of Jecks' logic. A male caretaker or administrator meant takeover—such as with Jimbob and Herstat at Synfal—while a woman meant continuity of the male heirs. She took a deep breath. You can't change everything all at once.
"They would be less threatened."
"I can see that." Anna wanted to threaten them all, but she only said, "In this case, that makes sense. If something like this occurs again… we'll have to see."
"That will be your decision, as always." Jecks bowed slightly, his voice formal.
"Let's find Hanfor." Anna turned from the battlement, blotting her damp forehead, and started down the steps, followed by Rickel. Two other guards swung behind her at the base of the tower. The sorceress had begun to feel that, no matter where she went, she was leading a parade.
Hanfor stood on a mounting block in the courtyard, directing officers and armsmen. When he saw the two, he stepped down, shaking his head. "Sargol was not organized."
Anna had suspected that from the beginning of the fight two days earlier. "We won't keep you, Hanfor, but Lord Jecks and I have been thinking. Would an extra payment of two silvers an armsmen be an appropriate reward for their efforts?"
Hanfor's face crinkled into a smile. "So long as you tell them now, and let them know that they will receive it when we return to Falcor. Otherwise, too many will find local spirits."
"Should I announce it, or should you?"
"Normally, I would announce that." The arms commander grinned. "But if you would prefer…"
"I'd prefer the normal," Anna said. "Two silvers when they return to Falcor."
"To be received when they are not on duty," Hanfor added.
Jecks smiled.
"Of course," Anna agreed. "You set the terms."
"You see, Lord Jecks, why so many of us prefer her reign?"
"So do many of the lords. Would that all understood." Jecks' voice was dry, barely rising above the clop of hoofs, and the clamor of voices of the armsmen crossing the courtyard, and the wagons returning through the gates.
"They will," Hanfor affirmed. He glanced over his shoulder.
"We'll talk later," Anna said, "about what we do next. After dinner?"
"I will be there." Hanfor bowed, and then turned to where Alvar stood, waiting.
"The wagons?" asked the swarthy officer. "Can we use two of them to gather provisions?"
Anna stepped back, letting Rickel, Jecks and her guards follow. "I need to talk to Liende, Lord Jecks. If you would excuse me?"
"As you wish, lady." The white-haired lord inclined his head.
"Thank you." Anna forced a smile. "At dinner?"
"At dinner, my lady." Jecks offered a pleasant smile in return.
It took three inquiries to find the wing where the players were quartered, and Anna had tried two doors before she rapped a third time on the ancient oak.
"Yes?" Liende opened the door, sleepy-eyed, hair rumpled. "Oh… Lady Anna. Oh… I was so tired."
"Don't worry about it." The sorceress stepped into the small room, shutting the door, and leaving Rickel and the guards in the brick-walled corridor. "I feel that way still."
Liende glanced around the room, her eyes touching on the single chair and the pallet bed. Anna pulled out the chair and sat. The player perched on the edge of the bed.
"Your pleasure, lady."
"I've been thinking, Liende, and I wanted to talk to you. I don't want to repeat what happened here at Suhl," Anna said. "Perhaps Sargol and his armsmen deserved it for their treachery earlier…"
"It was treacherous to attack you unprovoked."
"I don't understand why." Anna shrugged. "I wasn't even heading toward Suhl."
"He was fearing that you were."
The sorceress nodded.
"And he claimed the lineage of Suhlmorra."
"He wanted to re-create the kingdom of Suhlmorra?" asked Anna.
"So it is said." Liende offered a tight smile.
The regent shook her head. The last thing Defalk needed was fragmentation into more small countries. "Anyway… I hadn't wanted to use such terrible spells…"
"Even with Lord Brill…" Liende looked down.
"No. Lord Brill was too gentle." Anna laughed, then cut off the laugh before it turned hysterical. The thought of her as a ruthless and bloody butcher was insane. It was also true. "Too gentle."
"Yes," agreed Liende. "But Defalk needs you."
Defalk needs a woman butcher? What does that say about Defalk? Or you? "I will try to do what we need with less violence."
"That may not be possible, Lady Anna." Liende offered a sardonic smile.
"I know. We'll try, though. I'll be giving you two more songs, short ones, that I hope will help."
"No one can play before the morrow. Kaseth… he may not play for another day, yet. His fingers shake."
"We won't leave Suhl until all of you are ready to play."
"Thank you, lady."
Anna wanted to scream. Thank her for what? For butchery or common sense or both? She just stood. "You're welcome. Take care, and let me know if any of you need anything."
"We are well quartered and fed." Liende rose, slowly, as though she were stiff.
Anna nodded again, then slipped out into the corridor.
46
Anna's boots clumped heavily on the worn stone floor tiles of the dim corridor. Her nose itched, and she rubbed it. Like everything else in Suhl, the corridor held the faint odor of mold and must. Even five years of drought hadn't been enough to destroy that—or the recent rains had revived the spores quickly. She rubbed her nose again, trying not to sneeze.
"The family quarters and the nursery are just ahead, lady," said Fhurgen. "We've removed…"
"They need an honorable burial," she said tiredly. "And stone markers or whatever's customary." Her head still throbbed; her legs ached; and sharp pains stabbed through the balls of her feet with each step. "Honorable?" asked Hanfor. "After his treachery?"
"He and his consort paid for it, didn't they? There's no point in disgracing the dead." Anna stopped and looked at the hollow-eyed Jecks. "Is there?"
"An honorable burial in the lords' plot would serve many purposes."
And mollify the sensibilities of my squeamish northern lords. "Fine. Let's set that up." There was so much to set up with only a few handfuls of retainers remaining. Yet Anna couldn't afford to have Suhl go down in ruins, not when her goal was to rebuild Defalk, not destroy it. Great start you're making.
"The nursery." Hanfor gestured to the open door.
Anna stepped into the long narrow room, with its narrow embrasured windows and weathered inside shutters. Only Jecks accompanied her. She glanced at the three children—the dark-haired girl and the two brown-haired boys—then at the short and stocky woman who stood behind them protectively.
"I'm not about to hurt them," the sorceress said, even as she could sense the nursemaid's doubt. Still, the woman had survived, and that meant she wasn't disloyal. Or that her first loyalties were to the children. "They weren't the ones who tried to kill me."
"Lady, Lord Sargol was a good man." The nursemaid's voice quavered.
Anna respected the opinion, and the courage it took to voice it. "He was good to his people, I'm sure. He wasn't good for Defalk or those who lived around him. And totally good lords don't refuse to pay their liedgeld and attempt to kill regents who aren't even threatening them. Nor would he have died if he hadn't been plannin
g treachery. You weren't, and you're alive."
The maid's eyes widened slightly, as though she had not thought about that.
"Tell me the children's names."
"Keithen is the older boy. He's five. Resthor is his brother. He's two, almost three, at eight-week of summer. Dinfan, she be the daughter. She's eight, I think."
Anna turned to the girl. "Dinfan, do you know who I am?"
"Da, he said you were a harpy of discord."
That's one for honesty. "Some people have said that. It's not true. I'm the Regent of Defalk."
"He said you were bad." The girl's voice was unsteady, but she held her chin firmly, almost defying Anna, much as her own Irenia had. Irenia, the accident, the funeral—they all seemed so far away, so distant.
Anna swallowed, trying to keep her composure before she spoke. "I have done bad things. So has your father. So do most people. So, child, will you. That doesn't make us bad people." Anna waited, still measuring the girl.
''Will you kill us, too?"
"No. You, if you learn enough, will hold Suhl. If you don't, one of your brothers will."
"Women aren't lords." Again, that defiant echo of Irenia.
Anna forced a smile. "Lady Gatrune holds Pamr. Lady Anientta holds Flossbend. I am Regent of Defalk."
For the first time, Dinfan's eyes dropped.
"You are your father's daughter. You must learn all you can. Perhaps, when you are older, you will come to Falcor to learn. Then you will know more when you are old enough to hold Suhl."
There was no answer. Behind her, the nursemaid's eyes widened. "Do ye play with the child, lady?"
"No. I don't play games. Lord Sargol didn't understand that. Some of the other southern lords still don't. Suhl is Dinfan's so long as she is responsible and loyal to Lord Jimbob and the Regency. I hope you will make that clear." Anna paused. "I will ensure she, and her brothers, have a tutor until they are old enough to come to Falcor. You will ensure they are loved. You will not tell them tales. You may tell them that their father rebelled and tried to kill me, and for that I slew him." Her eyes fixed on the nurse. "Do you understand?"
The nurse shivered. "Your will is law, Regent."
Spellsong 02 - The Spellsong War Page 30