Darksong Rising (30 page)

also showed the statue of a naked blonde woman, extraordinarily beautiful and lifelike. The

brighter image depicted the same scene except with a crude clay figure.

Jecks swallowed. “Drums... the obscenity..."

“Darksong, I think,” Anna said. Or worse. She sang a release couplet, and the pool returned to its

blank silver state.

“Never has good come from drums,” Jecks murmured.

“I think we should stop in Pamr.”

“How would you deal with this chandler?” asked Jecks. “Turn him to flame like his sire?”

“You don’t think that would be a good idea? Why not?”

“Did not Lady Gatrune tell you what difficulty she and Captain Firis had in obtaining any

information?”

Anna nodded. “You think that this Farseun has used Darksong like the Evult... to turn the town

against me?”

“The men, I would guess.” Jecks gestured at the pool. “Would women be ensnared by the statue

of a woman?”

“I’d doubt it.”

“And if this Farsenn discovers you are coming to Pamr? Would he use Darksong to raise the men

of the town against your armsmen? Will you then destroy Pamr—or the men in it? Will you

leave the lady Gatrune without the means to pay her liedgeld?”

Anna winced. “That wouldn’t make me any better than the Evult, would it? Or Behlem? Or

Sargol? But if I sent a force to bring him back to Falcor, wouldn’t he just use Darksong on

them?”

“I would think so. Anyone who would use drums..." Jecks shook his head.

Another impossible situation. If Farsenn has spelled all the men, or even most of them, and you

use sorcery against Farsenn, then you destroy Lady Gatrune. If you don’t sooner or later, you’ll

have bigger problems.

“You do not have to decide now,” Jecks pointed out. “You can do nothing until you reach Pamr.

If you insist on going to Mencha... and onward.”

“We’re going. If I let others decide what happens, then I know things will be worse." Long

experience had already taught her that, well before she had come to Liedwahr. Anna tried to

ignore the bleakness in her own voice.

27

The sun had barely cleared the horizon when Anna entered the receiving room and sat down at

the conference table and began to write. She’d awakened early, unable to sleep with all the

thoughts and ideas for what she had to do running through her mind.

First, she had to finish her newsletter so that the fosterlings and pages could start making

versions for each of the Thirty-three. And she needed to get Hanfor to make plans for lancers to

act as couriers. She picked up the quill, then looked for the penknife to scrape the nib and

sharpen it. Then she had to stir the ink, and then clean the quill again when the first attempt

deposited a black blob on the brown paper. Finally, she began to write.

After a time, Anna glanced down at the rough paper that tended to soak the ink and turn her

letters into fat blobs... but she didn’t want to use parchment or the good paper for drafting the

first of her scrolls to the Thirty-three. She scanned the words remaining from what she had

crossed out and rewritten.

... Fighting may soon take place in Ebra. As you may have heard, the Lord Bertmynn of Dolov is

sending arms-men against the freewomen of the city of Elahwa.... Lord Hadrenn of Synek has

pledged fealty to the Regency, placing himself and his lands between Defalk and Lord Bertmynn.

Bertmynn is receiving golds front the Maitre of Stirinn....

She slashed out part of the line and changed the wording to read “appears to be receiving.”

“A newsletter sent as a scroll and written for bureaucrats,” she muttered as she continued. “Don’t

forget the fosterlings, either.”

... the liedburg of Falcor is now home to more than a dozen fosterlings and pages from across

Defalk, who are receiving tutoring in a wide range of subjects. Some fosterlings come from as

far as Abenfel, Sudwei, and Dubaria....

She set down the quill. What else? After a moment, she began to write again.

... the Regency continues to receive information from the Council of Wei... the Liedfuhr of

Mansuur has pledged that he will respect the lands of Defalk and has backed that pledge with a

token gift to the Regency... has also indicated that he will support his grandson as the new

Prophet of Music of Neserea....

How long it had taken her, she wasn’t certain, but the room had warmed considerably by the

time Jecks eased through the door.

“Lord Jecks.”

“My lady.” Jecks bowed. He wore a padded brown doublet, stained in several places, and rudely

mended in others. “Lejun says that you have been here since dawn. Have you eaten?”

“I had some cheese and bread.” Anna thrust the ink-spattered and much-corrected missive text at

the hazel-eyed and handsome Jecks. "If you would read this..."

Jecks took the heavy brown paper and began to read, then looked up. "This... this is what you

would have the fosterlings and pages copy and send to all of the Thirty-three?”

“Sort of. Each one will start off with a personal note to each lord or lady, then this part will be in

the middle, and then the closing will be personal.”

Jecks nodded and went back to reading. After a time, he looked up. “Perhaps... I would not

suggest..."

“Go ahead,” Anna replied with a smile.

“You might mention that the tribute from Dumar arrived before it was due, and that the debt to

the Ranuan Exchange has been paid, so that lords might have greater freedom to borrow there.”

“I’d meant to mention the Exchange debt... but it slipped my mind when I was writing. The coins

from Dumar—that will make some happy, and have some asking to have their liedgeld reduced.”

She snorted and picked up the quill, absently sharpening it before dipping it into the ink. “They

ought to have it increased.”

“You are not considering such?”

“It’s not acceptable, but the liedgeld doesn’t bring in enough coins to defend Defalk, or build

bridges and roads... or much of anything. It’s fine, except if you have enemies, droughts, or

problems, and from what I’ve seen Defalk’s never been without most of those. So... next year,

we’ll inch up the liedgeid, and mine will go up more than anyone else’s, and you can tell

everyone that.”

“Some will not be pleased….” he observed.

The Thirty-three will never be pleased... not until Defalk returns to a time that never was, that

exists only in their memories. “They may not be.” She smiled. “So you should be thinking of

ways to convince them that they’re better off under the Regency with a higher liedgeld. For one

thing, they’ve all held their lands—except for Lord Arkad—and that wouldn’t have happened

under either the Evult or Lord Behlem. Maybe ... a reminder from the Lord High Counselor?”

“Do you still intend to go to Ebra?”

“I am only going to Mencha for certain....”

“Why... if I might inquire? Your lands do not require attention that urgently.” The hint of a smile

crossed the lips of the white-haired lord.

“I have an idea, one that might help Defalk a lot.” If it works. “And it won’t put anyone in

danger.”

“You are not sure it will work?” Jecks raised his eyebrows.

“If it doesn’t, it won’t hurt anyone.”

“Saving you." Jecks frowned. “Defalk needs its Regent. Do not hazard yourself."

“I’ll try.” Anna paused. “What do you know about Lord Hulber? Of Silberfels?"

“Less than most of the Thirty-three. The line is old, older than even the Corians, and Hulber has

always paid his liedgeld and answered the calls for levies—but never offered more... or less. I

have never met him, nor had Barjim or Donjim. Not to my knowledge.”

"Hmmmm... what about his lands?”

“He is said to have one fertile valley on the Chean, and the rest fit for little but forage for sheep.

His consort is the youngest daughter of Lord Clethner’s sire, perhaps ten years younger than

Clethner. You recall him?”

“Lord Clethner? I met him at Elheld before I went to Vult.”

“He was impressed with you, and he may have written his sister. How close they are. I would not

hazard.” Jecks paused, then added, “If you will excuse me.. . this morning Himar and I are

instructing both the lancers in the penal detail and the fosterlings.”

“The doublet. I should have realized,” Anna said. “Don’t let me keep you.” Then she asked,

“How is Jimbob responding?”

Jecks shrugged. “He is doing as I expected.”

“Not quite sullen, and going through all the motions without being overtly rebellious.”

“You understand?”

“Unhappily, yes.”

Jecks bowed again, then turned and left the receiving room.

Jimbob—what could she do about the spoiled brat he had apparently become? Or had always

been? Despite taking the punishment of a lancer penal detail, the youth wasn’t listening to

Jeccks... and had clearly withdrawn more into himself.

The problem was that there really wasn’t anyone else to inherit Defalk—the acceptability of

everything Anna and the Regency were doing rested on the idea that she was doing it to preserve

and enhance the succession. Without Jimbob, there was no succession, and without the

succession.. . She didn’t even want to think about the mess that would occur. Not now.

She took a long and slow deep breath, and set aside the draft message to the Thirty-three. Next

she needed to work on the spell for mining or refining—through sorcery. She reached for