Darksong Rising (103 page)

eyes fix on the dark-haired officer. “Why did I ever listen to you? Why?”

Bassil swallows.

“Why? Answer me!”

The officer squares his shoulders, then meets the Liedfuhr’s blistering scrutiny. “Because I have

given my best judgment, whether it later proved wrong or not. Because I have never lied to you,

and because that is greater loyalty than flattery.” The lancer officer swallows, and the sweat

pours down his brow and cheeks.

Abruptly, the Liedfuhr nods. “And you have the nerve to tell me so.” He sighs. “Best we read

these.” He breaks the purple wax seal and unrolls the scroll.

Bassil watches.

The Liedfuhr’s frown deepens as he reads. Silently, he finishes the first scroll, then breaks the

seal on the second, a much shorter length of parchment. Near the end of the scroll, suddenly, he

laughs, and shakes his head. ‘Things could be worse... far worse.”

“Sire?” blurts Bassil.

“She has appointed a professional armsman as Lord High Counselor of Neserea, and she has

gone back to Falcor—or somewhere. She has also suggested that I support the new regime in

Neserea, and rather politely suggested that she’ll forgive my sending lancers into Defalk, but that

she’ll do the same to them again if I send any there or into Neserca." Konsstin pursed his lips.

“She’ll probably live longer than I will, and that means Kestrin will have to deal with her for a

time as well.”

“But the second one?” prompts Bassil.

“Oh... that is from the armsman. He was quite short, if most circumspect. He just said that

Neserea regarded Mansuur as its friend, and Defalk as its protector, and hoped that I would

understand why it must be so.” The Liedfuhr drops both scrolls on the shimmering polished

wood of his table-desk. After a moment, he begins to pace back and forth. “What to do... what to

do...?”

Bassil holds his tongue, waiting.

Konsstin straightens, nods to himself. “It might work. It will work."

The lancer officer leans forward, as if encouraging the Liedfuhr to explain.

“Aerlya. . . she’s sixteen,” Konsstin says. “If he has no consort, and I’d wager he does not. Is he

not the one who was her arms commander?”

“Who?”

“This Hanfor.”

“She had an arms commander of that name. That was what your envoys reported.”

“Aerlya... she needs a consort, and what would be better than the new Lord High Counselor of

Neserea?”

“Sire?”

“Bassil. . . if you are going to say something trite about Aerlya being too sweet. . . that’s the

point. The envoys—I remember their report—they said this Hanfor was honorable. If he’s

survived in Defalk and if he survives in Neserea, he’ll be most intelligent as well—his scroll

shows that. If the sorceress trusts him, he’ll be a good man. A bit hard, perhaps, but good, and he

will not treat women badly. Not after what the sorceress has done, he couldn’t have survived.

And...he’ll know treachery. What an honorable man is most influenced by is by honest respect

and, in a woman, sweetness. Aerlya is strong, but she’s not a schemer. Not too much, anyway.”

Konsstin laughs. “And this Hanfor, he will have to balance between us, and Aerlya, she has seen

enough scheming to respect honor.”

“She may not love him.”

“She may not. But he cannot afford to turn her down, and she cannot afford to turn down being

the consort of a ruler. And her being his consort will ensure both his rule, and the succession of

their children. So... Kestrin’s heirs will have a chance. While the sorceress lives, no one else will

take Neserea.” Konsstin shrugs. “Even if that doesn’t work out, I’ll have grandchildren ruling

both lands.”

“Yes, sire.” Bassil’s face bears a faintly puzzled expression.

“You’ll see,” predicts the Liedfuhr. “You will.”

111

Anna looked over the lane leading to the house—not really a hold—that now belonged to Lady

Herene. The trees beside the packed clay were bare, and the cold wind out of the northeast

swirled fallen leaves along the ground. The scars in the plaster and timber of the outbuildings

had been painted or oiled over, and the air smelled merely of damp leaves and fall, unlike the

odors of her last visit.

Just two figures stood on the lower steps that led up to the dwelling Anna had rebuilt with her

sorcery—Skent and a tall blonde woman.

Skent bowed as Anna reined up at the foot of the steps, still trailed by Himar, Falar, and guards.

“Lady and Regent.”

“Captain Skent, Lady Herene.” Anna smiled at the dark-haired young captain, then looked at

Herene, who stood behind him.

“Regent.” Herene bowed. Her blonde hair had been cut shorter than the one time before when

Anna had met her. Now it was not much longer than Anna’s.

Anna dismounted, then gestured to the redheaded Falar, who quickly dismounted as well. ‘This

is Falar. He has been serving as a captain for me, but he is also second in succession to the lands

of Fussen.”

“For now.” Falar smiled engagingly at Herene. “My brother but recently took a consort.”

Anna gestured at Himar—still mounted. “Lady Herene... Arms Commander Himar.”

Herene inclined her head slightly. “Arms commander.”

“Lady Herene,” answered Himar. “Lady Anna, if you would excuse me...”

“Of course.” Anna watched as Herene’s eyes flicked back to Falar for a moment, then centered

on the Regent.

“Your messenger said you had come from Flossbend?”

Anna nodded. “Another unfortunate duty. You may have recalled Lord Hryding?”

Herene nodded.

“After his death, his consort Anietitta was holding the lands for his sons. She died rather

suddenly. So did her sons. Then Lord Dannel attacked Falcor and tried to kill young Secca. After

that, Lord Tybel’s younger brother Beltyr took over the lands. Tybel attacked us on our way to

Arien to look into the matter." Shading the truth a little there, you are. Anna shrugged. “So...

now young lord Zybar, Tybel’s nephew, holds Arien, and Secca is the heir to Flossbend.”

Herene shook her head. “Did they think you would allow that?”

“They did not think,” Skent suggested.

“That may be.” Anna shrugged, then belatedly handed Farinelli’s reins to Blaz. “But Defalk has

to change, and they didn’t want to see that." Anna smiled, half-sadly. “1 am sorry that you have

had to bear the grief of your sister’s death and the burden of restoring the hold, but I am glad to

be here. You and your family have been encouraging from the beginning."

“You are always welcome. Always.” Herene returned Anna’s smile with one of her own. “You

have given me a hold and a home to make, and though it comes from sadness, so does all of

worth and value.”

The sorceress couldn’t help but notice that Falar continued to watch the new lady of Pamr as she

spoke. You hadn’t thought about these two.... She refrained from shrugging. If it’s meant to be...

In the meantime, she had a tired gelding to unsaddle and groom. . . and yet a long journey back

to Falcor. She forced herself to keep smiling.

112

WEI, NORDWEI

The oil lamps on the Council Chamber wall cast a low light, but one strong enough that the faces

of the five counselors are reflected in the black-polished and gemlike surface of the long table

around which they are seated. Chill seeps from the stone walls as leader Tybra raps the ebony

hammer on the ebony striking plate. Several darts of light flash from the black-and-silver seal

suspended from Tybra’s neck.

“The Regent-sorceress has once more done the unexpected. Counselor Ashtaar, would you

explain?” Tybra turns to the spymistress. “As we have all received your scroll outlining the

actual events, please confine your remarks to explaining how this occurred.”

Ashtaar looks to her right and then to her left. “Before I explain, I would like to suggest that we

consider building more warships.” She ignores the frowns and continues. “The real problem we

have faced with the Regent and Sorceress of Defalk is that she is truly strange.” Ashtaar shrugs.

“She looks as we do. She can be injured or wounded as we are. But she is not as we are. We

thought she was merely after power, like Lord Behlem or his son, or the Liedfuhr. So did the

Evult, Lord Ehara, Lord Rabyn, and many of Defalk’s Thirty-three—”

“She is clearly after power. She has destroyed close to a third of the Thirty-three,” responds

Virtuul. “She has replaced those lords with others and ladies who support her.”

Ashtaar’s smile is cold. “No, I said that we thought she was merely after power. Unlike the

others, this one sees power as a tool. Think... most rulers consolidate their power at home first.

They eliminate rivals, force consortships, raise taxes and armies—and then they strike at their

neighbors and seize lands and goods. Some engage in foreign campaigns as a way to pacify their

people with either excitement or loot, or use the campaigns to place rivals in places where they

may be more likely killed by enemy blades or shafts. Has she done any of that?” Ashtaar’s eyes

rake those sitting around the long polished table.

 
"...not that we know,” comes a whisper from the end of the table, “or you would not have asked

the question."

Ashtaar nods toward the figure cloaked in black and shadows. “No…she has reformed the way

Ebra is governed—and destroyed all the lords and armsmen who could protest—and gone home.

She has eliminated all the Liedfuhr’s lancers east of the Westfels, and most of the armsmen in

Neserea, and then placed a good and honest man as ruler over that land. She did not invade it,