Darksong Rising (54 page)

Darkness rose around her on her hillside as the fires died on the slopes opposite her, and she

could feel herself toppling forward under the backlash of overstressed harmonies that centered

on her.

54

ESARIA, NESEREA

Nubara stands in the corner of the stone-floored room that had once been a workroom, as the

thunder of the drums buffets him. Reflections glitter off the smooth finish of the drums,

reflections showing the motions of the three drummers, and the timekeeping motions of the

Prophet of Music who directs the three who sit on the high stools, a pair of mallets wielded by

each.

The three drummers with their mallets watch Rabyn, and their motions follow his direction, yet

each drum has a different voice, and the three separate voices combine in a thunder that seems to

shiver the plaster-covered stone walls of the Palace of Music.

The Mansuuran officer squints, shakes his head, for a shimmering, and barely visible blue

nimbus surrounds the blue-Clad Prophet of Music.

Craccck! A floor stone splits, and a wavering line rums for several yards around and through the

solid paving stones of the workroom.

Rabyn does not even turn his head. “Heavier! Drum three! Faster, like I showed you! Don’t

make anyone wait!”

Sweat pours down the face of the drummers as they follow the tempo set by the Prophet who is

no longer youth, but not yet man.

Sweat darkens the blue tunic worn by Rabyn, and his face glistens with perspiration. His eyes are

hard.

55

 
The gray of morning seeped into the silk tent, then the brighter light of dawn itself. Anna slowly

pried open her eyes. Jecks lay under a single blanket, snoring lightly, practically against the tent

wall.

At his snoring, Anna found herself smiling—until she tried to raise her head. While she didn’t

have the double images engendered by the use of Darksong, a flash of lightning with the impact

of a sledge drove her back onto the rolled blanket that served as a pillow, and tears streamed

from her eyes.

“Shit..." She murmured under her breath. They can murder thousands of women who just wanted

to be free and not even get a headache, and you do the same thing to those who did it and you

can’t even sit up. And you even offered them terms, if they'd just let the women who survived rule

themselves.

“Lady?” At her slightest word, Jecks rolled out of his blanket and stood by the cot.

“I’m here.” Her voice was raw, hoarse.

The white-haired lord brought her the water bottle from the narrow camp table and held it to her

lips, watching as she did.

"Today... you must rest," he said.

“...don’t think I have much choice, do I?”

“You cannot use so much sorcery so often, my lady,” Jecks said.

Tell me about it. “I can see that." But it wasn’t the sorcery but the guilt... the backlash... or

something. “Why... why... wouldn’t they accept terms... not as though... I was going to make

anyone a slave..."

“You are a woman, and they have not seen your power.”

Anna took another long swallow of water.

“In time, they will understand,” Jecks insisted.

How much time and how many deaths? And will anything really have changed once you're

gone?

Anna closed her eyes again.

56

The next morning, Anna sat on the edge of her cot for a long
 
time, her head in her hands, before

she dared to stagger up and retrieve the water bottle. Finishing off the water bottle helped some,

as did eating too much of the hard cheese and biscuits. Finally, ignoring the dull and throbbing

headache, she stepped out of the tent into a morning that felt far too bright for her physical

condition.

Jecks turned quickly, but his smile was professional enough to tell her that she looked about the

way she felt—like horse droppings flattened by a long column of lancer mounts. “Good morning,

my lady."

Lejun and Kerhor both nodded, and a half dozen yards to their right, Kinor and Jimbob watched

warily.

“It is morning.” Anna admitted, “I think.” The sky was a hazy white, not quite gray. Another

result of sorcery... or guilt about sorcery? She stopped herself from shaking her head, knowing it

would fall off. At least, it felt like it might.

The matted grass was damp, and the acrid odor of the cook-fires drifted toward her on the light

breeze. Her stomach turned at the scent of something cooking. Cheese and biscuits had been

better, but even they had settled uneasily.

“You should not ride today,” Jecks said.

“With Rabyn probably at Elioch?” She raised her eyebrows. “I couldn’t ride yesterday. That cost

us a day already.”

“You cannot do anything if you reach Denguic exhausted.” Jecks met her eyes with concern in

his own hazel orbs.

“I know, but we can shorten today’s ride and the next day’s if I get tired, but we can’t push the

horses to make up that distance once I get recovered, not if the lancers need to fight.” She

snorted. “No matter what I try, it seems that we still need men with sharp blades and strong

arms.”

A greater hint of cook fire smoke and the fainter odor of burned grass filled Anna’s nostrils, and

with those reminders of the impact of her sorcery, her stomach turned and churned even more as

she stood before her little tent. Another set of battles... thousands more men dead... will it ever

end? Can it ever end?

She took a deep breath. “We need to talk to Hadrenn. There’s no point in dragging this out.”

Jimbob and Kinor slipped back and toward where Liende had gathered with the players a good

fifty yards to the south.

“Now?” Jecks looked at her, then nodded. “I will have him summoned.” The white-haired lord

slipped past the tent and walked swiftly toward another tent with a green pennant set before it.

Anna started after Jecks, then stopped, and shrugged. She hadn’t meant to have Jecks chase

down the young lord of Synek.

It seemed but a few moments later when Jecks returned with Hadrenn beside him. Both men

stopped well short of the Regent.

“Sorceress and Regent.” Hadrenn inclined his head. “You have destroyed Bertmynn. What can I

say to express my gratitude?”

“We all did what needed to be done. I’m glad we could help you.” Anna forced a smile she

didn’t really feel.

“All Synek is grateful...." Hadrenn let his words slide into silence.

“And that will help erase some of the unpleasant memories of last year?” Anna offered an ironic

smile.

“It cannot but help, and I will ensure all know."

“Does Bertmynn have a son or daughter?” asked Anna.

A look of puzzlement appeared in Hadrenn’s deep brown eyes. “I have heard he has two sons...

but those are words on the wind.”

“Fine. You need to declare that his son—or other heir—will hold the lands around Dolov... but

only there. And you need to proclaim that as widely as possible. You also need to proclaim that

you have accepted the protection of the Regent and Sorceress of Defalk for all of Ebra to assist in

repelling any who would strike at your land... or some words like that. And you need to send

someone to Elahwa... saying that you will recognize a government by the freewomen.” Anna

paused. “They may not believe you. You might ask for the Matriarch to send a representative—

but make sure it’s a representative of the Matriarch and not of the SouthWomen.”

Hadrenn’s eyes contained the expression of an ox stunned with a heavy hammer. Behind the

younger lord’s shoulder, Jecks shook his head gently, and mouthed, “Be gentle…be gentle."

Anna nodded that she’d heard. “Let me explain,” she addressed Hadrenn patiently. “The

SouthWomen started this mess by shipping blades to Elahwa. You don’t want them in this. You

do need someone outside of Ebra whom the women of Elahwa can trust. If you do that, the

Matriarch and their grain factors will look on you more favorably, and you won’t have another

revolt on your hands in ten years. You—and Ebra—can’t afford that. Neither can I.”

“You do not sound as though you are fond of Ebra.” Hadrenn’s voice contained the hint of a

querulousness.

“In my shoes... boots, would you be? My lands have been invaded by Ebra once, and I have to

fight battles again a year later in Ebra in hopes of getting a just and peaceful ruler as a neighbor.

However,” Anna added, “I will recompense you slightly. Send a score of lancers with me, and I

will send them back with golds to help you rebuild Synek—and Elahwa.”

Hadrenn looked down. “You are generous."

You may be a damned fool. “Hadrenn, I want a peaceful neighbor strong enough to ensure that

the free state of Elahwa survives and powerful enough that Ebra can keep the Sturinnese out of

Liedwahr. I’m not after an empire like the Liedfuhr seems to be. Most empires don’t last, and

those that do aren’t places most people would like to live."

Another puzzled look crossed Hadrenn’s face, but he did not speak.

“The mist worlds have had more empires than Erde has ever dreamed of—or should." Anna

glanced toward the west “Do you have any questions? We need to be leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Leaving. There are no forces left in Ebra, except yours. You have my support, and, once you

proclaim the free state of Elahwa for the freewomen, you’ll have some support from the