"I don't jest. I never have. All I'm interested in is keeping Defalk strong and independent and keeping the dissonant Sea-Priests out of Liedwahr." Anna paused. "And probably keeping the Liedfuhr out of any place he isn't already."
"You do not intend to make an example of… us?"
"Why?" Anna asked. "All that would do would be to make people mad and wanting to hate Defalk more, especially later. Some already hate me for the flood, but that was your consort's fault, not that any good Dumaran would wish to believe that." She took a deep breath. "If I killed you all, then I'd have to figure out how to govern Dumar, and I'd be spending more time here than in Falcor. It's your land. You can run it. You just have to be loyal to Defalk, and since we don't really want a war, and you can't…" Anna laughed, not quite harshly. "… Why, things should work out."
"How can you trust...?" asked Siobion.
"I can raise enough of a flood to make the last one look like an afternoon rainstorm. Do you want all your main towns and cities washed away again?"
Siobion looked down. "You will not live forever."
"No. I won't. But I hope by then everyone will figure out that peace is easier… and more profitable."
Siobion frowned. "Do you think to stop the Sea-Priests?"
"I don't have to," Anna pointed out. "You do."
Siobion paled. "You are cruel."
"I'll help, as I can. But would you would rather spend the rest of your life in chains, the way the Sturinnese women do?" asked Anna.
"You… leave few choices."
"Your consort left me none," Anna said quietly. Did you really have to invade Dumar… or are you rationalizing again? "Not if Defalk were to remain independent for long."
Jecks nodded at Anna, and she realized she'd said enough, possibly more than enough.
The sorceress stood. "You may go."
"By your leave, Regent?" asked Siobion. Her hand touched Clehar's shoulder.
"By your leave?" echoed the dark-haired Clehar.
Anna nodded, watching as the two walked to the study door, opened it, and slipped from sight.
"Did I say too much?" the sorceress asked once Fhurgen again closed the door firmly.
"I would not say such. There was no need to say more."
"I'm becoming such a bitch," Anna mused. "I don't like it."
"As you said, my lady, the harmonies have left you little choice. As you also made most clear to me…" Jecks' voice was warm, sympathetic, and Anna wished—for a moment—that he would just hold her. Not long before, she'd wanted to clout him. Would it always be like that?
"Damn… dissonantly little," she agreed. "Tomorrow, we'd better start after Ehara. The mirror says he's moving slowly, but it'll still take nearly a week to catch him. I just want this to be over."
Jecks frowned momentarily.
"Are you saying it won't ever be over?"
"I had thought to enjoy my lands once Alasia consorted with Barjim." Jecks offered a wry smile. "Now I accompany a warrior sorceress and consider myself lucky to have survived."
"I've never been that angry at you," Anna said with a grin.
"There have been times…" Jecks' voice was ironically rueful.
They laughed, and Anna enjoyed the laughter, pushing away thoughts of the morrow… and those to follow.
114
ANOTHER hot and sweaty afternoon on the road in Dumar, and Anna wondered why she'd even bothered to get her riding clothes clean in Dumaria. Two days on the road in the humid summer air of Dumar, and one of her two sets of trousers and shirts already smelled like she'd spent weeks in it.
The Envar River, smaller even than the Chean in Defalk east of Sor-prat, where Anna had yet to rebuild the ford, lay on the south side of the road from Dumaria to Envaryl. The ever-present sheep kept the brush low, and only scattered trees dotted the water course. The land was almost flat, with the stretched-out hills no more than a few yards higher than the river bed. Even to the northwest, where Envaryl lay three more days over the horizon at the base of the southern Mittfels, according to both maps and glass, the land extended in the same featureless flat plain to the horizon.
Anna leaned forward in the saddle and patted Farinelli on the shoulder. "You're a good fellow."
The gelding continued at an even pace, as if to indicate that, of course, he was, and there was no point in acknowledging such fatuous praise.
The road contained the hoofprints of Ehara's fleeing forces, the only evidence of life along the road, except in the towns, with their boarded doors and shuttered windows.
"What would happen if Ehara escaped us and returned?" she asked. "Would people follow him as readily?"
"No," said Jecks, "but it would be better that he—and the heir with him—not escape. Fewer still would cross you."
"Oh? The sorceress who never relents? Who will destroy every hostile armsman in order enslave an entire land?"
Jecks laughed. "Can you imagine a better reputation in Liedwahr? Do you think Sargol would have spurned your rule had he seen what you have done?"
"Probably not," the sorceress admitted. "But it's force again. Not reason, not intelligence, just force."
"Since when has it been otherwise, my lady?" Jecks offered both a smile and raised eyebrows.
Anna couldn't offer any rebuttal to what was clearly a rhetorical question—either in Liedwahr or on earth. "You're right, but I don't have to like it. I can try to change it." How? By using more force through sorcery? Her own self-inquiries reminded her that she still had to deal with her conscience, and the nagging questions it prompted.
"Am I relying on sorcery so much that when we leave Dumar no one will even consider remaining loyal?"
"Once… once…" Jecks pulled at his chin. "Once I might have thought that. Now… thousands of the finest armsmen of Sturinn and Dumar lie dead. Now… much of Dumaria and all of Narial lie in ruins. A huge stone bridge spans the Falche, one that would doubtless withstand even another flood you sent forth. The Lord of Dumar flees you, and all have seen your armsmen. And no armsmen remain where you have been save as are loyal to you."
"At least in name," she added.
"I doubt that many will forget you." He smiled, half sadly. "Or cross you."
"But Jimbob will have problems?"
"Each generation must solve its own. You have given him the chance."
Anna's eyes went to the gray dek-stone on the right shoulder of the road, its lower part obscured by grass. As Farinelli carried her closer, she could make out the words: Jusuul—3-d.
Anna glanced from the gray stone along the flat road toward the hamlet ahead, a gathering of several dozen roofs in the hazy afternoon. Behind her, the players began to talk more loudly.
"… how many towns are there?"
"Dissonance… another town, another seeking spell…"
Anna recognized Delvor's voice, and she turned in the saddle and called, "Liende… would you explain to Delvor that if we find people disloyal to Defalk before they find us, they aren't likely to fill him with arrows?"
A low laugh ran through the guards, and a broad grin crossed Rickel's face.
"Hanfor?" Anna gestured.
"Companies… halt!"
She guided Farinelli back to Liende, offering an ironic smile. "Chief player… we will need another seeking spell."
"I had thought as much, Regent, and we will be ready." Liende offered a crooked smile, and raised her voice slightly. "Even young Delvor will play his best."
Delvor flushed, and subdued smiles and chuckles crossed the faces of the mounted players.
After the column slowed and stopped, Anna and the players dismounted, performing the all-too-familiar procedure with the scrying glass.
"Show from Dumar, danger to fear,
All the threats to me bright and clear…"
The mirror flickered through a series of images, but Anna could not discern a one because one image replaced another so quickly.
"There's a danger ahead… but I can't tell what it
is." Anna pursed her lips.
"The Sea-Priest?"
"Might be."
She tried again, using the same spell, except with the name Jusuul in place of Dumar. The mirror remained clear, showing no danger.
Then came the armsman-seeking spell—but Jusuul harbored no armsmen.
Anna glanced along the flat road toward the roofs of the town ahead. "There's no problem here, anyway."
"That cheers me not greatly, my lady."
It didn't cheer Anna exactly, either, especially since the danger spell had shown nothing when they had passed through the three other river towns earlier in the day.
"Does the enchantment hold on the small shield?" Jecks asked.
"It's still there." Anna could sense the slight drain on her strength, but that was a small cost. Jecks' idea had already saved her life once. She wondered if the shield, and the additional spells she'd developed, at his insistence, would be enough. Nothing's ever enough.
"Thank you, chief player… all of you," Anna said, with a nod of acknowledgement before turning and walking back to where Rickel held Farinelli's reins. She remounted the big gelding quickly.
"We stop for provisions here?" asked Hanfor.
"It's small, but there might be something," Anna agreed, reaching for her water bottle to moisten her throat before she had to sing again.
Rain, humidity, heat, dust, rain, humidity, with seeking spells every few glasses, and never a sight of the fleeing Ehara—the pattern seemed unending, yet she'd only been doing it for a few weeks. At the same time, she couldn't help worrying about what might be occurring in Defalk— even though she could do nothing at all about it.
No… she wasn't cut out to be a horse-warrior and a conqueror. Definitely not.
She took a long swallow from the water bottle as the Defalkan forces resumed their advance on small Jusuul.
115
BY midmorning of the fourth day on the road out of Dumaria, Anna was sweating profusely, her shirt glued to her back, the band of her floppy felt hat sodden with perspiration, and driblets of sweat running down the back of her neck.
The afternoon and evening rains had done little more than damp the road dust and raise the humidity, so that the sorceress felt she were riding through a steambath. Farinelli swished his tail almost constantly, trying to hold off the continual swarms of small white flies that buzzed around all the horses—and stung.
Because of the profusion of towns, and the delays involved in using spells to seek out any recalcitrant armsmen—and they'd discovered but a handful, Envaryl remained at least another two days away. What bothered Anna even more than the effort involved was the realization that she was reaching but a fraction of the people, just enough to ensure the safety of her forces, and that only so long as Ehara remained on the run. And, of course, it delayed her return to Defalk and multiplied the problems arising there that she'd have to resolve. Still, she was instilling the idea in the Dumarans that it was hard to hide from the sorceress. Great… More fear… Machiavelli would have loved it.
She shook her head and glanced to her left. The Envar River had shrunk to little more than a stream not more than ten yards wide and only a few yards deep. Beyond the river to the south stretched deks of fields filled with knee-high plants, beans, wheat, or corn, as it was called in Liedwahr, and oilseeds of some sort.
Anna's stomach tightened, and she found herself gripping the leather of the reins so hard that her hands had begun to ache. Finally, she spoke. "I need to use the glass."
Riding on her right, Jecks nodded.
"Hanfor," Anna continued, "I need to stop and see what Ehara's doing."
As Alvar and Hanfor brought the force to an orderly and now well-rehearsed stop, Liende rode up beside the sorceress. "Have you need of us, Lady?"
"No… actually, yes, thank you." Anna forced a smile she definitely didn't feel. "I'm just looking, but it would help—if it won't tire you too much. I'll need you all when we catch up with Lord Ehara."
"We could do a spell now and still stand ready."
"Thank you." Anna dismounted, unwrapped the traveling scrying glass and took a deep breath as she waited for the players to tune, afraid of what the glass might show. Jecks and Hanfor had also dismounted and stood only slightly back of her as she prepared to sing the spell. Anna's guards held the reins of the three mounts.
She glanced at the mirror where it lay on the lush grass that seemed to grow everywhere in western Dumar, then cleared her throat. When the players began, so did she.
"Mirror, mirror on the ground,
show me where Ehara's forces may be found…"
The image in the glass was clear. The Dumaran forces neared a small town.
"That must be Hasjyl… if the maps are correct," murmured Hanfor.
Anna squinted as she tried to recall the maps she had pored over. Hasjyl—less than a day's ride from Envaryl, the last sizable town in the west of Dumar before the southern rim of the Westfels, or was it the western end of the Mittfels? The two ranges intersected north of Envaryl, and geography, Anna was discovering, was even less precise in Liedwahr than it had been in Iowa where to her, one cornfield, one low hill, had pretty much resembled another.
She released the image quickly. Jecks handed her a water bottle—her own orderspelled water—even that spell took effort. But everything in a military campaign cost, she'd discovered.
"He will try to fortify Envaryl—or plot some trap there," predicted the white-haired lord. "Or before we reach there."
Anna nodded, wondering why she bridled so much every time Jecks offered some totally obvious observation. She handed back the bottle and wearily lifted the lutar once more.
"Show from Dumar, danger to fear,
All the threats to me bright and clear…"
The mirror flickered through a series of images, but Anna could not discern a one because one image replaced another so quickly. She canceled that spell even more quickly.
"The same danger ahead… but I can't tell what it is." Anna pursed her lips.
"Can you call an image of the Sea-Priest?"
This time she used a variant of the mirror spell.
"Show from the Sea-Priest, danger to fear…"
The image of the Sea-Priest was clear enough, but it showed little beside the man's face—and the burns across it, one almost festering, and the hatred in the dark eyes. Those—and the background of fields—or perhaps long grass.
"That one—he will kill you any way that he might," said Jecks.
Anna could see that, but it didn't help when she couldn't formulate spells precisely enough to determine where the sorcerer was or what he had in mind.
She tried a last spell, the danger spell, using the town name of Hasjyl in place of Dumar. The mirror remained clear. The sorceress lowered the lutar and glanced along the flat road toward the roofs of the town ahead. "There's no problem there, anyway."
"I am not greatly cheered, my lady Anna," Jecks said wryly.
Neither was Anna. Every time she had used the general danger spell, she'd gotten the flickering response, but it had shown no danger in any of the river towns through which they had passed. There was danger, but she couldn't find it. Or didn't know how. Or the Sea-Priest had a way of hiding it from her. Or…
Tiredly, she replaced the lutar in its case, while Jecks rewrapped the mirror.
"We continue, Lady Anna?" asked Hanfor.
"Until we find Ehara," she answered. "Until we can end this mess." She climbed into the saddle, then wiped away more sweat. She flicked the reins gently, and Farinelli started forward.
Once the column was moving, she reached for the water bottle. Another swallow of lukewarm water helped, but she still sweated in the midafternoon sun. To the west, the afternoon clouds were building for the storm that would ensure the next day would be another steambath.
116
ANNA rubbed her eyes. Although it was well after dawn, and she had munched through bread and cheese, the standard travel breakfas
t, she still felt groggy. Not enough sleep? Worrying too much? Coffee would have helped, but coffee, or anything drinkable with the same effect, wasn't one of the plants known in Liedwahr. Brill had brewed a bitter evergreen tea, so bitter that one or two sips on those first hot days in Loiseau had convinced Anna that she was better off without it. Her stomach was dubious enough about the morning without the kind of jolt provided by Brill's bitter yellow tea. Cider, hot or cold, wasn't much better first thing in the morning.
She licked a stray bread crumb from her lips, tired of stale bread and cheese, and looked down at the mirror on its leather wrappings. Then she began her morning spell-scrying.
Despite three different spells, the mirror showed nothing new. Ehara had almost reached Envaryl, from what she could tell, and the Sea-Priest was next to the Envar—somewhere—but the images of scenes that posed possible danger continued to shift so rapidly that she could tell nothing.
After rewrapping the traveling mirror and recasing the lutar, she slipped the heavy blanket onto Farinelli, and then the saddle.
Whufff…
"I know. It's early. Tell me."
Farinelli declined the opportunity, and Anna cinched the girths, then patted the gelding's shoulder.
"Another long day." She looked westward, along the river road, though the Envar was now more like a stream.
Clearsong hung just above the western horizon—the smallest dot of light as the pink haze of sunrise flooded into orange before the sky turned pale blue.
Anna looked at the disc of the small moon, searching for the smaller, redder point of light that would be Darksong and not finding it. She'd never really even followed earth's moon. How did she expect to follow the motions of the two moons of Erde?
As Hanfor rode up, signaling that the armsmen were ready, so did Liende. Jecks led his mount toward her and Farinelli.
"Players are mounted and ready, Lady Anna," said the chief player.
"Thank you." Anna mounted easily, but slowly, as did Jecks.
Fhurgen and Rickel slipped their mounts in front of the sorceress. Jecks rode on her right. To the left, the Envar glittered silver in the postdawn light.
Spellsong 02 - The Spellsong War Page 57