Darksong Rising (62 page)

start to pour.

“You will need that time. You cannot rush off to Denguic or Dubaria or Fussen," Jecks said

slowly. “Spend one day in Falcor. One day to set right what you can.”

“I’ll think about it,” Anna promised. One day didn’t sound like much, but a day here and a day

there, and pretty soon... There was already so much to worry about—whether Hanfor could

continue to elude Rabyn and keep the Nesereans from going farther into Defalk; whether

Hadrenn would be able to unite Ebra and whether he would keep his word; whether Skent would

work out as the custodian of Gatrune’s lands; whether Herene would be strong enough to reunite

Pamr and hold the lands; whether Jimbob would learn from all that was happening; how long the

Liedfuhr would honor his promise not to attack Defalk.

All that didn’t include the worries over the mistakes she had already made, mistakes someone

more experienced might have avoided.

She moistened her lips and looked at the road ahead once more. One day at a time... that’s all

you can do... one day at a time.

68

The clouds that had threatened rain during the entire ride from Pamr remained low and formless,

continuing to drizzle mist across Anna and the others as they rode through the late-afternoon

gloom. Ahead lay the imposing stone bridge that spanned the Falche just below where the Fal

and Chean Rivers joined. Beyond and to the south of the bridge lay the northern part of the city

of Falcor, on the higher part of the bluff. The liedburg lay across the bridge and even farther to

the south.

Anna’s eyes strayed to the north, past the wall on her right that was part of the wide causeway

leading to the eastern end of the bridge. Both causeway and bridge she had erected with sorcery

right before spring—and prostrated herself for nearly a week because she’d done it with a lutar

for accompaniment, rather than using players. Just three seasons ago? She shook her head. Only

a few weeks beyond half a year? It seemed far longer... more like years, years spent on

horseback trying to repel invaders and deal with men who wanted to make every woman back

into a slave. Or so it seemed, at times. Except so often, no one sees it but you. They see a Lord

Dannel as a protective father, or a Farsenn as an avenging son, or a Bertmynn as an ambitious

lord, or a Ustal as a proud young Lord...

“Regent?” Himar eased his mount around Jimbob’s and up beside Farinelli.

“Yes, Himar?” Anna focused on the overcaptain.

“You should know... the scouts reported that several arms-men were watching from the north

bank of the river. They wore dark leathers and no livery, but when the scouts crossed the bridge

and rode after them, they were gone.”

“Dark leathers. . . free-lance mercenaries?” Jecks frowned. “Why would such be here? The

Regent put out no call for lancers-of-opportunity.”

“Because they know I have to fight Rabyn and I pay well?” asked Anna. “That can’t be much of

a secret.”

“Mayhap. but to travel so far...” mused the white-haired lord. "They could not have come from

nearer than Nordwei, and mercenaries are less than welcome there.”

“Tomorrow will tell.” suggested Himar. “Mercenaries are not shy about asking for golds. If those

were mercenaries, they will be at the liedburg not much after dawn tomorrow, boasting of their

prowess with blade and lance.” He laughed. “They will ask for more gold each than a captain

receives, and claim they are worth even more.”

“Will any of them be any good?” Anna wondered if some might be skilled enough to hire to

replace those men lost in Ebra and in Pamr.

“We will see.” Himar shrugged. “It cannot hurt to listen and to look.”

Farinelli’s hoofs echoed on the hard stones of the bridge, and Anna looked over and down at the

sorcery-created gorge that held the Falche River. Even though it was well into fall. the river had

continued to rise over the summer, and now filled entirely the lowest level of the riverbed, more

water than she’d ever seen there. Maybe Defalk had once been a truly green land, the way Jecks

had said, and perhaps it would be once more.

As Anna rode down the western causeway into Falcor itself, she looked at the pedestal in the

roundabout just beyond the causeway, a marble-and-brick foundation that had lost the statue that

had once stood there long before she had come to Defalk.. The marble base had no inscription or

clue as to whose monument might have stood there. If whoever had it erected had even ruled

long enough to have had it completed.

Fifty yards in front of Anna, the standard-bearer turned his mount southward, and the smell of

roasted fowl drifted along the avenue that sloped downhill slightly and would lead them to the

liedburg. The streets seemed to have people on them, unlike in years previous; but those who

were out stepped clear from the paving stones as they saw the purple banner.

Rickel and Blaz rode forward of Anna and more toward the edges of the street, their eyes

constantly moving, studying the scattered handfuls of people as the column continued southward.

“Hail the Regent!” called a tall man in innkeeper’s brown from the narrow front step of the

Golden Lutar.

“Best wishes to you, innkeeper!” Anna called back.

“Thank you, Regent and sorceress!”

“He’ll tell everyone who’ll listen that he talked to the Regent,” murmured Jecks.

“It can’t hurt, can it?” she asked.

“Not with those who will listen to him,” Jecks answered with a laugh.

Ahead, another two hundred yards past the inn, past the last of the more affluent three-storied

dwellings on the north side of the open ground that circled the liedburg, she could see the

liedburg, with wisps of smoke curling above the walls and through the gray and damp air.

The gates stood wide open, as they always had since she had become Regent, and the pair of

duty armsmen in Defalkan purpie raised their arms in a form of salute as Anna neared the gates.

She inclined her head in response as she and Jecks rode through the gate.

“...good to be back..." said Jimbob from behind them.

 
"...won’t be here more than a day or two... just enough to get supplies and give the mounts a

breather,” answered Kinor.

 
"...wouldn’t mind a clean tunic..."

There’s a lot you wouldn’t mind but you won’t have much time to appreciate it. Anna glanced

toward the side courtyard. Was Menares waiting for them? She frowned.

“If you have no need of me, lady,” Himar said, easing his mount closer to Anna, “I will be

setting the lancers and seeing what supplies we will be needing for the journey westward. You

still plan on the day after tomorrow?”

“It won’t be any earlier.” Anna nodded. ‘There’s too much for me to do, and I suppose the men

and their mounts could use the rest.”

“They could use more,” Himar reminded her.

“Talk to me tomorrow…if you really think it’s necessary, maybe we can add another day."

“Best I check on all the mounts, then.” The overcaptain urged his mount toward the rear

courtyard and the lancer barracks and stables.

The gray-bearded Menares was indeed standing ten yards ahead of Anna, against the inner wall

of the liedburg’s side courtyard, just outside the stable doors, clearly assuming that Anna would

unsaddle and groom Farinelli The gray wool cloak he wore could not conceal the fact that

Menares, while still remaining an impressively broad figure, had become considerably less

corpulent. Dark circles ringed the intent but seemingly colorless eyes that dominated his round

face.

Anna guided Farinelli to the stable door before dismounting, trying to leave space for the riders

in the column behind to pass on their way to the main barracks and stables. For a moment, as

always, Anna held to the saddle while her legs adjusted. Then she stepped out of the mist and

into the dryer dimness of the stable.

Menares followed Jecks and Anna and Farinelli into the stable.

“He looks good, lady,” offered Tirsik the stablemaster, stepping forward toward Anna, “except

I’d like the farrier to check his shoes.”

“If you would—” Anna stopped and sighed. “Let me know when you need me.” She’d have to

be there if Farinelli needed reshoeing.

“That I will, lady.” The stablemaster looked at Jecks. “And your mount, lord?”

“It would not hurt to check his shoes, though he is less... choosy about shoeing." Jecks grinned at

Anna.

She grinned back.

“Yours carries not the future of Defalk,” countered Tirsik. “Merely a high and most noble lord.”

“Were you my stablemaster, master Tirsik..." Jecks mock-threatened.

“You’d have my head, Lord Jecks, if I did not worry about the Lady Anna.” Tirsik bowed.

Jecks laughed. “You are a scoundrel.”

“Aye, and I’m too ancient to be other ‘n that.” Tirsik bowed to Lady Anna. “Beggin’ your

pardon, Regent.”

“You’re pardoned, Tirsik.”

Anna had her gear and the saddle off Farinelli and had begun to brush the gelding before she

noticed Menares standing beside Rickel at the end of the stall. “What is it, Menares?" Anna was

almost afraid to ask, but Menares wouldn’t have come out to the stable if he weren’t concerned.

She kept grooming Farinelli while she spoke.

“Lord Dannel, Lady Anna. He sent his son here to inquire when you would return. The young

man was most rude.”

“Hoede?"

“No. This be an older man.”

“An older son of Lord Dannel? Did he leave a scroll or anything?” Anna ducked and slipped to