Darksong Rising (76 page)

“I’m sorry,” Anna said softly. “I know you were close, although you did not speak of it.”

“I do not fault you, but I am angry. Most angry. How did this occur?”

Anna looked straight into the cold eyes of the tall blond lord. “It occurred because a young man

in Pamr decided to use Dark-song to bend the will of the men of Pamr to his uses. He did not

wish to he ruled by any lord, but he especially objected to the rule of a lady.”

“Did you know this?”

“I suspected it, but when I came to Pamr, the chandler fled. I warned your sister, and I warned

her captain. They thought that I was too alarmed”

Nelmor snorted. “Regent... when you speak... when you warn, best all listen. That even I have

learned.” His eyes chilled and refixed on Anna. “You said that you had destroyed all the rebels.

Might I inquire as to how?”

“I used sorcery. I had all of them flogged to death with fire whips from the sky.” Anna kept her

voice cold as Nelmor’s eyes.

“All of them?”

“Every last man and boy in Pamr who followed the chandler. I also burned the chandlery to the

ground. Then I used sorcery to restore the holding—except for the furnishings. That would

require Darksong.”

“Some have called you soft upon the peasants or the trades-folk. That I have never seen.”

Nelmor shook his head. “Last summer, Lord Birfels sent me a scroll warning that you were fair,

but that you were vindictively just. He was most emphatic. I have begun to see why.” The tall

lord paused. “I cannot fault your actions. I had thought it would be so, but...I had to know.” A

grim smile followed. “I have no objections to Herene holding Pamr, nor to Ytrude warding

Sargol’s offspring." The smile softened. “Nor to my son’s affection for the lady Lysara. He says

that she bore a blade in her own defense. Be that so?”

“She used a blade for herself and to protect Lord Hryding’s heir, Secca. Secca’s just ten.” Anna

added, “So did Ytrude. Both Lysara and Ytrude did well. Ytrude was slightly wounded, and

refused to admit it. She just got a light slash on the arm, hut it didn’t stop her. She’s fine now.”

“You are changing Defalk, lady.” Nelmor laughed softly. humorously, before again looking

directly at Anna. “Tiersen worries about his love. Has he cause?”

“He has cause. I have done what I could. I think she will recover.”

“And her strength after?”

Anna knew where Nelmor was headed, hut her voice was level. “If she recovers, she’ll be as

healthy as Tiersen. He guarded her room until my guards could relieve him.” Anna smiled. ‘They

would make a good match.”

“With your blessing and that of Lord Birfels—and my son’s devotion—have I much choice?”

Nelmor’s smile was ironic.

Anna returned the expression. “Probably not, hut I doubt that either he or you could do better.”

Nelmor laughed, but the laugh faded quickly. “You know I have chased and harassed the

Nesereans?"

“I do.”

“We have slain perhaps twoscore. I would do more, but I dared not hazard my men too greatly”

“I understand,” Anna said. “Dubaria doesn’t have the riches of Synfal or Lerona.” She offered a

smile. “It has more courage than either.”

Nelmor flushed. “Now that you are here, I offer my forces to your service.”

“I accept them gratefully. We will try to defeat Rabyn with as few injuries as possible, and as

soon as practical.” With effectiveness and no honor...even if you haven’t quite worked out the

spell you need. “I was meeting with Arms Commander Hanfor and my chief player on that when

you arrived.”

Nelmor offered a smile, if a wintry one. “You knew of my concerns.”

“I know you and your sister were close. I’m sorry.”

“In these times... well.... one hopes, but hopes are not always answered.” Nehnor inclined his

head. “I will settle my men.”

“Then perhaps we can talk.” Anna said.

“I am at your command, lady. At your pleasure.”

“Thank you.” Anna forced a smile. “I need to find Hanfor and my chief player.”

Nelmor bowed a last time before leaving.

Anna did not have to look far. Even as she stepped out of the tent, Hanfor, Himar, and Liende

stepped from under the nearest tree and began to walk toward her. From a spot midway between

where the players continued to practice and the tree watched Kinor, Falar, and Jimbob. Anna

noted their presence, but did not look in their direction.

Once the de facto council had regrouped in the tent, Anna once again addressed Hanfor. “When

would you attack Rabyn?”

“Tomorrow at dawn would be best, save we have too many arms leaders who have but arrived.”

“The morning after?” questioned Liende.

“If the sorceress feels she will be ready.” Hanfor looked toward Anna. “Regent Anna?”

“I guess I’d better be ready.” Tomorrow will be another long day.

84

Anna sat on the stool in her tent and dipped the quill into the inkstand on the too-small camp

table. Despite the coolness of the morning, a droplet of perspiration fell onto her brown drafting

paper, leaving an irregular circle and blurring the first two letters of the word “turn” into a black

blot. She looked at the words on the paper once more.

Turn to fire, turn to flame

all Nesereans who revere Rabyn’s name,

turn to ashes, turn to dust,

all those in blue...

Now... how was she going to end that spell? She put the quill in its holder and concentrated.

After a time, she picked it up and wrote.

turn to ashes, turn to dust,

those in blue Defalk can’t trust...

She winced as she reread the words. Besides the poor language, she didn’t like the idea of a spell

where a country was the one “trusting.” You have a very long morning ahead of you. Even after

she got the words of the spell completed, she’d have to use the lutar to check to see if the words

and the note values matched. Sometimes, the sung words didn’t work out the way she thought

they would.

A dark slash went through the last line, and Anna set the quill down once more, trying to think of

another way to word what she needed.

“Lord Nelmor to see you, Lady Anna,” Kinor announced. The young man seemed to be taking

over as a sort of chamberlain in the field, for which Anna was grateful.

Anna rose from the paper-strewn table and stepped to the front of the small tent, gesturing

toward the tall blond lord. “Please come in.” She remained standing, since the only places to sit

were on her cot and the stool.

Nelmor bent to enter, then straightened, his head almost touching the silk roof paneL He glanced

around the spare tent. “You travel light, Regent, especially for a woman.”

Anna forced herself to smile. “Everything I don’t bring allows more supplies or faster travel."

“Arms Commander Himar said that you would have to tell me how long before we might see

battle," Nelmor ventured.

“The Nesereans have dug in on the hills. Did Hanfor tell you that?”

“He did.”

Anna gestured toward the papers stacked not quite haphazardly across the camp table. “I’ve been

working on the necessary spells. Once they’re done, we’ll attack. Rabyn’s not about to move."

“The Prophet has far greater numbers of lancers.”

“That’s true,” Anna admitted.

“Also... if your spells defeat the Liedfuhr’s lancers as well as the Prophet’s, will the Liedfubr’s

honor not require him to attack Defalk?”

Anna smiled wryly. Nelmor had figured out quickly enough another part of her dilemma. If she

were going to destroy the Nesereans, and if her spells worked, she’d also need something to stop

the Mansuurans—and a fallback spell for them if her ways of halting them without killing them

failed. “That could be a problem. I’m working on that, also. It seems like everything I try to do to

make Defalk secure upsets someone.”

“A weak neighbor invites conquest. A strong one creates fear. Rulers who see a weak neighbor

becoming strong will try to stop that.”

“I’m already being criticized by many of the Thirty-three for spending too much time and too

many golds on foreign adventures.”

“All northern lords, no doubt. They have not watched two armies from the west pour through the

Mittfels.” Nelmor snorted. “They have not seen the Evult destroy all the lords of Ebra and then

start to do the same in Defalk.”

“Lord Ehara also sent lancers into the south, and then refused to admit he had,” Anna added.

“Much good it did him.” Nelmor’s laugh was mirthless. Anna let the silence draw out, then

asked, “Would you consider accepting the title and duties of the Lord of the Western Marches?”

She smiled. “And the one-third reduction in liedgeld that accompanies it?”

“The Lord of Westfort and Denguic has traditionally been the Lord of the Western Marches.”

Nelmor’s tone was cautious.

“That may have been true, but Lord Jearle has made no effort to defend those marches. He

avoided Lord Behlem’s forces and Rabyn’s,” the sorceress stated.

“He could not attack twentyscore Neserean lancers—or more,” Nelmor said.

“I believe the Lord of Dubaria had more to lose, and yet he made an effort,” Anna pointed out

with a smile. "And be didn’t have the title of Lord of the Western Marches. Or the high walls and

the golds from fertile lands.”