“It would certainly strengthen those in Defalk who urge that we treat with the Sea-Priests,” said Kinor. “It would also leave Dumar and Neserea open to mischief, either from Mansuur or even from Nordwei.
“Not immediately,” Secca pointed out. “They will wait some weeks, but if we do not show Defalk as strong and able, all will scramble to treat with the Maitre—or to take any lands they think they might hold.”
“Defalk is not strong and able,” pointed out Lysara, from the corner by the hearth. “Its sorceresses are. Defalk cannot afford to have you seen as unable or unwilling to deal with the Maitre, not if we wish to avoid unending battles in the years to come.”
Secca feared that Lysara was all too close to the truth. Even if they did prevail, unless they could utterly destroy the Sturinnese, they would be fighting skirmishes and visiting every lord in Dumar, Neserea, and Defalk for years and years to come just to keep order. It was certain Lord Robero could not. “That may be, but we need to work on the spells as well.” Secca looked to Palian. “Did the players have a chance to practice the sixth building song?”
“We practiced for almost a glass tonight. We will practice in the morning before we ride.”
“And the first building song?”
“They know that one well, and we ran through it but once.”
“We will try that first when the time comes,” Secca said. “If they can shield against it, then we will use the sixth building spell.”
“You have not used that spell before, Lady Secca?" asked Palian, the faintest trace of a smile betraying that she already knew the answer and wanted Secca to elaborate.
“No. It is more terrible than any you have seen or heard,” Secca paused, then looked at Wilten, Delcetta, and then at Tiersen and Kinor. “We will need spades and mattocks. These spells will have to be sung where the spellsingers and players can immediately take shelter behind berms and walls of earth.”
"From deks away?” asked Wilten.
“Yes. From deks away.”
Wilten looked down. Delcetta did not. Tiersen shifted his weight from foot to foot. Kinor nodded slowly.
“We will use the glass in the morning before we ride out, and let you all know what we have seen.” Secca forced a smile. “Until then.”
She watched as the others began to file out, then gestured to Jolyn. “Once they leave, we will need to practice, using blank syllables.”
“Ah . . . in a few moments?”
“Are you well?”
Jolyn smiled uncomfortably. “I hope to be. It is not the best time of my season.”
Secca nodded. “A little later? A half-glass from now?"
“That would be better.”
The older blonde sorceress slipped out of the cottage, and Secca turned to the two younger sorceresses and Valya. “You may remain here, if you wish, so long as you are quiet.
“Thank you . . . if it truly would not bother you, lady?” asked Valya.
“If you are quiet,” Secca replied with a smile, “you may enjoy the fire.”
Richina and Anandra grinned, and Richina began to drag the bench in front of the hearth.
Secca walked over to Alcaren, who had commandeered one of the stools and sat facing a fire that had mostly stopped hissing, his lumand held loosely in one hand, a single sheet of paper in the other.
“How are you feeling?" she asked.
“Tired,” he admitted. “But better than yesterday.” He smiled at her. “You know that sorcery is also like exercise?”
“Exercise?” Secca frowned.
“When we first did the wards, and the Sea-Priests sent sorcery against us, neither of us could do much more than hold those wards. Now . . ."
Secca nodded slowly. What Alcaren said was true. Yet that opened another box of dangers. Did that mean that she had to offer ever-stronger spells to maintain some sort of superiority over the Sturinnese—or whoever might try to follow the Sea-Priests? That there would be someone, should they succeed, of that she had no doubts.
“I have been studying the spellsong,” Alcaren continued, “and I have played out the melody and sounded out the note values. It is not difficult . . . not too difficult.” He paused. “I worry that after tomorrow we will face attack upon attack.”
“So do I. Yet . . . if we wait, they will only strengthen their hold on Aroch. With the exception of the Maitre, I do not believe their sorcerers are as strong as we are, but there are more of them, and in time . . ."
“They will either prevail or keep us spending every moment containing them. So we must be prepared to do what we must.”
Secca worried that doing just that would leave everyone exhausted before they could establish themselves on the hills to the north of Aroch . . . before they could sing a spell that would change Liedwahr forever—either because they would fail, or because they would succeed.
131
The mist and rain of the previous days had vanished, and the late-morning sky was clear. The day was also cold, as if a touch of winter had blown in with the northerly winds that had swept out the clouds. The column was now riding nearly directly south, toward Aroch, or more properly toward a hamlet about two deks to the north of the gorge that protected the rear of the keep.
As a splatter of something struck Songfire’s shoulder, Secca glanced down at her legs. Although the road was only slightly muddy, the vanguard had churned the road somewhat, and Secca would have hated being at the end of the column. Still, she had far less of the stuff splattered across her legs. She smiled--- another advantage of riding a raider beast. Then, perhaps Richina and Valya, who were riding directly behind her, might be receiving a greater amount of mud thrown from Songfire’s hoofs.
Secca looked up to see Wilten riding toward her, along the shoulder of the road. With him was a lancer in the bluish green tunic of Defalk, Secca frowned, then nodded.
“A messenger?" asked Alcaren from where he rode to her left.
“It has to be, and I’d guess we won’t like what it says,” Secca replied. “Not if it’s coming from Lord Robero.”
“Lady Secca,” began Wilten even before he reined up short of where Secca had halted Songfire, ‘The undercaptain bears a message scroll from Lord Robero, and he insists that he must deliver it to you personally, and take a response from you back to Lord Robero.”
“Lady Secca.” The undercaptain bowed in the saddle, then extended a scroll circled in blue ribbon.
Wilten intercepted the scroll, then eased his mount closer to Secca before passing the scroll to her.
Secca took the scroll.
Wilten looked to Secca, as did the messenger.
“I will read Lord Robero’s message, and then I will decide whether there needs to be a return message.”
“Your pardon, Lady Secca. Lord Robero asked for a response."
“I’m most certain that he did, Undercaptain,” Secca replied politely. “At the very least, I will need to read his message and consider it. She paused. You may go. Secca looked to Wilten. “Perhaps the undercaptain could ride with you or overcaptain Delcetta in the vanguard for the moment.”
Wilten smiled in return. “That might be best.” He nodded to the square-bearded but young undercaptain. “Shall we ride up to the vanguard, Undercaptain?”
“Yes, ser.” Both words were filled with fatalistic resignation.
“Undercaptain,” Secca said, “Lord Robero may punish messengers who do not tell him what he wishes to hear. I do not. You may go,” she repeated.
Once the two had turned their mounts back southward, Secca broke the seal on the scroll and untwisted the long blue ribbons. With a slow deep breath, she began to read.
Sorceress Protector Secca
You were ordered to secure Dolov, and then aid Elahwa. You aided Elahwa, and then destroyed Dolov. You were ordered to aid the Lord High Counselor of Dumar, and help him defeat the invaders. You killed him, and failed to destroy all the invaders, allowing them to invade Neserea and devastate it. Yo
u were ordered to return to Defalk, in order to protect the land, and you did not do so, but took a ship to Neserea, arriving too late to save Esaria, or indeed, any of the towns in the northern part of the country, and also allowing an invasion of Neserea by the Liedfuhr of Mansuur because Defalk had not honored its commitment to protect Neserea and the Lady High Counselor.
For all these reasons, and others which we need not enumerate herein, we have been required to treat with the Maitre of Sturinn and reach an accommodation in order to prevent further devastation and depredation of Defalk...
Secca took another long and deep breath, forcing herself to read the remainder of the lines written on the parchment.
As Lord of Defalk, I must insist that you honor the agreement reached between Defalk and Sturinn and do not attack the Sturinnese forces as they return to Neserea. Further, once they are withdrawn, I must insist that you return to your ancestral lands, and turn over the demesne of Mencha to a suitable successor to be named appropriately...
Secca snorted, then turned in the saddle and thrust the scroll at Alcaren. “When you finish it, Jolyn should read it as well. But no others.”
Alcaren read silently, his face expressionless until he finished the scroll. “He has lost his mind.”
“He never had much of one,” suggested Jolyn, as she eased her mount forward to take the scroll from Alcaren.
“No. He has lost his scorceresses.” Secca smiled wanly. "Do you not see? Jolyn left Falcor before we reached the Ostisles. We have sent Robero no messages.” Secca turned to Jolyn. “Have you?"
“Why would I have done that? He would not listen to aught I said.”
“He believes that all Sturinn will descend upon him.”
“Send him a message and tell him otherwise,” suggested Richina, who had also eased her mount forward to hear what was occurring.
“Let Jolyn read the scroll,” Secca temporized. All too conscious of those pressing their mounts nearer to hear what was happening, she stood jn the stirrups. ‘We have received a message from Lord Robero. He does not seem to be aware of what has happened, and we will be considering how to answer his scroll in a way that benefits the people of Defalk.”
No one moved away.
“That is all!” Secca said loudly, not quite snapping. “We still must deal with the Maitre and the Sturinnese. Let us ride on.” After gesturing to Wilton, she settled back into the saddle, then eased Songfire forward.
Slowly, the column began to move.
Jolyn rode forward and passed the scroll back to Secca, who tucked it inside her green leather riding jacket
“You will not obey,” Jolyn said.
Secca steeled herself inside. “1 think not. Nor will we respond. Any response that is good for Defalk will merely enrage Lord Robero. We will do what we must against the Maitre. Then we will decide how best to reply to Lord Robero. The undercaptain can remain with us for the time.”
"We will do as you feel we must,” Jolyn said. “It cannot be otherwise.”
“No, it cannot,” Alcaren said firmly. “Not now.” His gray-blue eyes fixed on Jolyn.
The older sorceress looked down after a moment
Secca wondered if the moment had been foredestined years ago, when a tiny redheaded girl had told an heir that he was a bully and defended Anna by saying that Anna was only nasty when people made her be. Will you end up repeating that pattern, as well?
Secca looked bleakly southward as Songfire carried her toward Aroch . . . and a future she had never imagined, could never have imagined.
132
Aroch, Defalk
The Maitre stands on the northwest corner of the north tower, under an overcast that threatens rain at any time. Beside him, on his right, is Marshal jerLeng, and on his left is jerClayne. The Maitre surveys the hills beyond the gorge that lies nearly a dek to the north of the walls of the keep.
After a time, he points. “She will take the high ground there, and they will arrive there later this afternoon. I want to make them fight for it.” He turns to jerLeng. “Send fifteen companies over each bridge, and have them attack as soon as she nears. You should understand which tactics work.”
Marshal jerLeng looks straight at the Maitre. “You wish me to send another thirty companies to their deaths?”
“In a good cause, yes,” the Maitre replies.
The marshal does not respond.
“Do you recall what happened at Elahwa?" The Maitre glances from jerLeng to jerClayne.
“We lost,” points out jerLeng. “Only five companies survived.”
“Had jerClayne and I been there, we would not have lost. At the end, neither sorceress could sing a spell. They had to use blades to save themselves. One more charge . . . one more charge would have finished them.”
“That is easy to say now. We had but five companies remaining after all their sorcery, and they had three times that,” the marshal points out wearily.
“That is not the point,” the Maitre counters, his voice sharp. “They have but two sorceresses now.”
“I count three and an assistant, and possibly the Ranuan.”
“The Ranuan cannot have learned that much in a season, and it takes one sorceress and the assistant to hold their wards, just as it takes two Sea-Priests. That means they have but two sorceresses. We will transfer the wards to the three junior Sea-Priests as soon as we leave this tower. This afternoon, you will attack them, using companies in groups large enough to overwhelm their camp unless they use sorcery. I will send two apprentice Sea-Priests with you. They are strong enough to deflect any sorcery but the most powerful.”
“That will gain us some time, but little more."
“Even with the lancers she has gained from Lords Kinor and Tiersen, she has but eleven companies, and half are understrength. Lord Robero has told her not to attack, and she will not gain lancers from him---"
“Do you believe his message?"
“He is neither that deceptive nor that willing to risk lying to us. He truly believes that we will triumph.” The Maitre smiles. “That should say much to your lancers, marshal. As for the sorceress, she lost near—on two companies from Captain jerDrall’s attack, and that attack greatly weakened the sorceresses. I can tell that from the scope of the wards.”
“We are to keep attacking until they can use sorcery no more?"
The Maitre nods. “By attacking this afternoon, we will make sure that they get no rest, and we can hold Aroch under a shield. Tomorrow, we will destroy them with fireballs and fire whips as we did those in Fussen.”
The marshal waits, as if expecting more.
“There is one other way you might break through,” the Maitre adds. “She is using sorcery that cannot strike within her own troops without destroying them. Her lancers have become used to this. That was how jerDrall destroyed nearly two companies. If you have a company with strong mounts that can sprint forward before she begins her dissonant sorcery, they might well reach her.”
“We will offer that to the captains.” JerLeng pauses, then asks, “What if thirty companies are not enough---"
“You have sixty remaining at present,” the Maitre replies coldly. “What are they for but to assure victory?”
“Yes, Maitre.”
“Do you want that . . . those abominations . . . to survive? Do you want the home isles to fall to the bitch traders of the north—or the Matriarch?”
“No, Maitre.”
“We are all that remains of the power of Sturinn, and we are all that can reclaim it. To do that, we must destroy the sorceress. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Maitre.”
“Then do your duty.” The Maitre turns and makes his way toward the steep stone steps that lead downward into the keep.
133
Secca had hoped that the skies would remain clear, but by the end of the two days it had taken them to ride around the fire and storm damage created by Alcaren’s sorcery, the winds had shifted once more. Low clouds had
slid across the sky from the south, and the air was chill and damp, although it had not rained, not yet
Ahead of the vanguard, partly visible to the left of the hill around which the road curved eastward and then south, and above the low and bare limbs of an apple orchard, were the back sides of the hills that overlooked Aroch. After finishing a vocalise so that she would be ready whenever the Sturinnese appeared, Secca stood momentarily in the saddle, then reseated herself, reflecting that a year before she’d had no idea that she would have ridden across half the continent of Liedwahr, fighting a war that would have seemed inconceivable.
The ShadowSinger Page 58