Darksong Rising (78 page)

lancers around the cook-fires wore their tunics and wool jackets. The sorceress wore a jacket, but

it wasn’t fastened, and she wasn’t cold, despite the stiff breeze out of the north. Kinor and

Jimbob stepped toward her from the nearer cookfire, which served Anna and the officers.

“Have you eaten, Lady Anna?” asked Kinor.

“I ate a little while ago.” She’d had to force down the fatty mutton, and it had taken nearly half a

loaf of heavy bread, but she had imagined Jecks telling her to eat more, except the handsome

lord would just have looked at her and gotten the idea across without a single word.

“It’s greasy,” said Jimbob.

“Everything cooked in the field is probably greasy or charred or too hot or too cold,” suggested

Kinor.

Anna smiled faintly. “Not always, but often.” She looked at Fielmir. “Is Kinor right?”

‘The food here is better than in many camps,” answered the guard.

“But it’s less than wonderful,” Anna responded with a laugh. She found herself walking away

from the tent, realizing that Rickel followed and Lejun appeared from somewhere to join Rickel.

She shook her head, and turned back. You're nervous, that's all.

“How soon will we fight the Prophet?” asked Jimbob.

“We’ll have to be up early tomorrow. Very early.” Anna eased back toward her tent, stopping

close enough that the guards wouldn’t be following her every step. “Then we’ll see how things

look.”

“Have you seen anything in the mirror, Lady Anna?” Jimbob pressed.

“The Nesereans aren’t moving. Not yet, anyway” She offered a smile. “Tomorrow well see.”

Anna could see Hanfor walking from cookfire to cookfire, inspecting each, talking briefly to the

cooks or subofficers, and then moving on. She knew where Hanfor had to be headed, but the

deliberation with which he inspected each fire and talked with those there made his approach

seem almost as if it were happenstance and a part of some elaborate and long-established

procedure, just another routine. She appreciated the calming impact of his efforts, wishing she

felt as calm as the veteran looked.

As Hanfor left the nearest cookflre, Kinor nudged Jimbob, then took the younger redhead’s arm.

“Let’s see if there’s more”

Anna smiled as Kinor hurried Jimbob away, watching as Hanfor eased toward her tent.

“Lady Anna.” Hanfor bowed, then stepped up toward her.

Anna motioned for him to enter the tent. then stepped inside. She would have held the entry

panel for him, but Hanfor—like Jecks—just would have taken the panel from her to allow her to

enter first.

“Are we ready?” she asked.

“All your lancers stand prepared. Have you scried anything new?” His eyes went to the cased

mirror resting on the end of the camp cot. then back to Anna.

"Nothing’s changed.” Her mouth twisted. “Except that... pervert... is abusing some poor girl.... It

makes me want to attack now.”

“Do you think such is his scheme?" questioned the commander.

Anna shook her head. “That’s the way he is.”

“Poor Neserea..." Hanfor smiled sadly. “Never would I have thought myself better off serving

the ruler of Defalk.”

“Maybe things will change after tomorrow.”

“Not if the Liedfuhr would have his way.” Hanfor stopped, as if cutting off all thoughts about the

Liedfuhr. “I will lead the most skilled lancers to support you. The rest will remain two deks back

on the road. Himar will hold those.”

“What about Falar? Can his men be trusted?”

“He and half of them will be beside me, but I did not tell him the plan. I told him that we would

start early and’ that you had requested that he and the best half of his armsmen accompany you

and me."

“How did he take that?”

“He seemed pleased.”

“And Nelmor?”

“The same. I asked that he hold the north flank so that it not be turned.” Hanfor smiled. “He

would perish rather than let that so happen."

Anna returned the smile, but the expression faded. “I’d like Kinor with me—Jimbob should

accompany Himar.”

“Kinor has a head on his shoulder, and that would be best, if the chief player agrees. As for

young Jimbob, should aught happen..."

“If... the worst should happen, Himar needs to get the heir back to Falcor.”

“I will tell Himar—tomorrow.”

That also was probably best, Anna reflected.

“You know, Lady Anna, that many of the lords of Defalk will look askance at your attacking in

the night.” Hanfor laughed— one short bark.

“If we succeed,” Anna pointed out.

“You will succeed. No matter the cost, you will succeed."

That was what Anna was almost afraid of. She couldn’t afford too many more losses like those

she’d been taking. How about none? “Let’s hope it isn’t too costly this time."

“I would hope that also, but the lancers will be deployed so they can ride to us quickly, if they

are needed.” Hanfor fingered his beard. “We do as we must in these days.”

After Hanfor left, Anna glanced at the camp table where she had already set out the water bottle,

the late blackthorn apple, the bread, the wax-coated cheese, and the knife. Whether she wanted to

or not, she’d need to eat it all if she were to do sorcery even before dawn.

Then she moved the mirror off the cot and next to the side panel of the tent before sitting on the

cot and pulling off her boots. After a sigh, she leaned forward and blew out the candle. Then she

slowly stretched out on the cot and pulled the woolen blanket around her. She hoped she could

sleep.

87

 
Anna turned slowly on the narrow cot and her eyes opened into the darkness. Was it just after

she’d gone to bed? Or later? How many glasses? She could hear nothing but the rustling of

leaves beginning to fall to the grasp of the cold wind that presaged winter. Even that rustling died

away... and then returned... and died away.

She turned over, carefully, because the light cot wasn’t anchored that well, and a quick

movement could upset the cot and dump her and her single blanket right onto the dirt. She’d

discovered that before—several times. Then she closed her eyes and drifted once more into an

uneasy sleep, waking up in the darkness again. . . and again...

It was almost a relief when she heard steps and voices outside her tent.

“Lady Anna?” Kinor’s voice echoed through the darkness and into the Regent’s tent. “Lady

Anna? It is four glasses before dawn.”

Anna groaned in spite of herself. Her throat was dry, and her head was pounding from allergies

or asthma, and the memories of a dream she wasn’t sure she’d even had—a girl she’d been

unable to rescue from Rabyn, or someone like him.

“Regent?” Kinor’s voice expressed concern. “Are you all nght?”

“I’m fine. It’s the hour that isn’t... the glass, I meant.” She rolled into a sitting position. “I’ll be

out in a bit.”

“Ah... do you want me to check back?”

“You can if you want.” Anna smiled to herself, but even that effort left her feeling like her face

would slide right off her skull. Then, waking anytime much before dawn had always left her

feeling that way.

Her feet felt too large even for her well-worn riding boots, or maybe her hands were just numb,

but it felt like it took forever to pull on both boots. She had to fumble with the bread and cheese

she had set out the night before, almost cutting her fingers instead of the heavy wax on the

cheese. At that, she stopped, and took a long swallow of water from the bottle, then scraped the

striker together half a dozen times to light the candle.

In the dim candlelight, she cut the cheese and broke off a chunk of bread. The dry rye-like stuff

was already stale, but making softer dark bread wasn’t possible without molasses, and carrying

barrels of molasses wasn’t exactly the best use of wagons and horses in the kind of war she was

waging.

After she ate, she began the vocalises. She had to be partly warmed up before they were

anywhere close to Rabyn’s encampment.

“Heeee seees theeee..." She doubled over coughing, straightening up slowly. The stomachache

told her in no uncertain terms that the asthma was worse than normal. Stress... that always makes

it worse.

It was still pitch-dark when she stepped outside the tent into a darkness and a near silence broken

intermittently by shuffling boots, murmurs, and a very few hardy insects. The wind was colder

than the night before, but lighter, barely a breeze. All her guards were mustered and waiting,

from Rickel to the newest, Bersan.

So was Kinor. “Lady Anna?”

Who else? “Did you eat anything?” she asked Kinor.

“Ah. . . no.”

“There’s some bread and cheese left on the table. Finish it. I’ll need your eyes to be sharp.”

“Yes, Lady Anna.”

Anna thought she saw a guilty look as Kinor slipped into the tent, but in the dim light cast by the

torch held by Fielmir, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it had been hunger. She shook her head, realizing

that she had left both lutar and mirror in the tent. Morning is not your time of day, not this early

She ducked back into the tent, where Kinor was already finishing up the last wedge of the

cheese.

“I forgot the lutar and mirror. And the pouch there."

Kinor swallowed hastily. “I’ll take the mirror.”