Darksong Rising (95 page)

Violence has been the sire of all the world’s values? Who had said that? Anna shook her head.

Another line she did not remember—only those she had sung seemed locked with their authors

inside her thoughts.

Her lips curled. If she were a character in one of Avery’s novels, her problems would be all over.

She’d defeated all the enemies outside of Defalk, and everyone would fall at her feet worshiping

her for her power and skill. She snorted. Life didn’t work that way, not even in strange worlds

where there was magic. There were always people intriguing, and others with problems, and not

enough money—or golds.

She glanced at the table—empty except for a few sheets of parchment she had saved in case she

needed to scrawl out any last-moment scrolls. She had no doubt that she’d be writing something

even before dinner.

103

The rain beat out of the north, mostly across the backs of the riders, but it was cold, almost like

liquid ice, and some dnbbled off of Anna’s battered brown felt hat and down her neck. The oiled-

leather jacket she had borrowed from Westfort—or been given by Kinor, who’d taken great

pleasure in the act—was beginning to soak up the rain despite its oiled surface. And Farinelli

was starting to whuff and toss his head.

You did have this idea about settling everything in Defalk before winter. Anna almost groaned.

No one will be expecting you in Arien, anyway.

Anna wiped the water—a combination of condensation from under the hat and water from the

rain—from her- forehead. She tried to make out where the road went as it curved eastward past a

hill covered with leafless trees. Supposedly, there was a town with stables and an inn ahead, but

still several deks south, and Cheor was at least another day away, maybe longer if the roads got

worse.

Riding beside her on her left, Jimbob was silent.

A taller figure and his mount loomed out of the rain, as Himar rode up beside the Regent. “The

scouts say it is less than three deks, and there are two stables. It will be crowded, but we can

manage."

“Good. How are the men coming?” Anna almost had to shout over the wind and the cold

slapping of the rain on everything.

The anns commander eased his mount closer to Anna. “They know they will find warm beds in

Synfal. That helps. I will pass the word about our stop. That will also help.” Himar turned his

mount back northward, and a glop of mud splattered against Anna’s boots and lower trousers.

Falar rode forward from somewhere behind Anna, and leaned toward her. “Are all your journeys

so eventful?”

“No. Some are more eventful,” Anna managed.

The redhead laughed. “Did the arms commander say that there was a dry roof ahead?”

“He did. About three deks ahead, It’ll be crowded, but it will get everyone out of the rain, and

most of the mounts, I hope.”

“Good. I must pass that on to my men.” Like Himar, he turned his mount back along the column.

“Have you ridden in worse?” Jimbob asked loudly.

“A few times as bad as this—in Dumar when we were chasing Lord Ehara. There weren’t any

friendly towns or inns there."

“You said we were going to Synfal, and then Arien.”

“1 haven’t decided whether you should go to Arien or stay in Synfal. Synfal is your keep, and the

people haven’t seen much of you since last spring."

“That is true. What do you think. Lady Anna?”

Anna paused. The question was the first time, she thought, that Jimbob had actually asked her

advice and seemed to mean it. “I’d like you to think about it first before I say anything. What I

have to do at Arien, I’m afraid, is like what I did at Westfort. Lord Tybel has poisoned his sister

and her sons to hand her lands over to their brother.”

“He doesn’t know you, does he?”

Tybel doesn’t want to, like a lot of the Thirty-three. “I don’t think so.”

“I have not spent much time in Synfal... perhaps I should seek Herstat’s thoughts on that.”

Another pause followed. “You do not require my answer now, do you, Lady Anna?”

“Heavens, no.”

A squall line of even more intense rain swept over the column, and Anna had to grab her hat to

keep it from being blown off her head. More of the cold rain poured down her neck.

Anna hoped it didn’t take them too long to get to the unnamed town.

104

The column of Defalkan riders rode northward from the
 
town of Cheor along the straight road

that bisected the flat fields south of Synfal itself. Anna peered through the foggy mist that had

replaced the cold rain of the day before, looking for the low wall of ancient yellow bricks that

would show that the keep was but a dek farther north. She had hoped that the mist would

dissipate by midday, but it was already early afternoon, and the fog still remained hugging the

ground, although, occasionally, she saw patches of blue overhead.

“How much farther, Regent?” asked Falar, riding on the shoulder of the road and calling past

Himar, who rode on Anna’s left.

“Not more than two or three deks—a dek after we reach the old brick wall.”

“Less than half a dek to the wall,” predicted Jimbob. “The big ditches running from the one

beside the road are about eight hundred yards apart, and there are three small ones between them.

I think we passed the last big one before the wall and one of the little ones. It can’t be that much

farther."

Almost as he finished speaking, Anna could see one of the smaller ditches branching off the big

canal to the right of the road. She hid a grin as she asked, “Are all the ditches laid out like that,

Jimbob?”

“Only the ones in the flat here. Herstat made me draw a map of them when I was here last.”

“Why?” asked Falar, easing his mount closer to Jimbob’s.

“He said that I should know every rod and furl of my lands.” Jimbob shrugged. “He had me ride

much of the land and draw maps.

“These are your lands, as well... as Falcor, I mean?” Falar’s mouth opened.

"Well... I didn’t inherit them the way I will Elheld or Falcar,” Jimbob admitted. “Lord Arkad

didn’t have any heirs, and he tried to kill Lady Anna, and that meant that his lands were forfeit.

Lady Anna is Regent, and she said that they were mine, except they’re really not quite yet, not

until I’m older, and she and my grandsire and Herstat think I know enough.” Jimbob smiled and

inclined his head to Anna. “That’s about right, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I thought that one of the problems Lord Barjim had was that he didn’t have enough coins

to be an effective lord. I didn’t want Lord Jimbob to have that problem.”

Falar bowed to Anna, with an appraising look. “There is much I have not heard, and more I

should know.”

“Much more." suggested Himar, from where he had ridden in front of the three. “The Regent is

more than she seems.”

“There’s the wall,” Jimbob said. “The old one, I mean. Grandsire said it’s older than the time of

the Suhlmorrans.” He pointed ahead to his left where the yellow bricks of a two-yard-high wall

protruded above a low hedgerow that had been trimmed to allow the top of the wall to show.

“It won’t be long before we see Synfal,” Anna said.

For a time, none of the riders spoke.

“The banner to the fore!” announced Himar.

The lancer with the banner rode around Falar, Jimbob, and Anna and her guards to take station

ahead of Himar and the column of riders.

Its weathered yellow-brick walls looming out of the misting rain, sitting on the isolated hill that

had to have been the ruins of many earlier strongholds, Synfal looked, more than Anna recalled,

like a relic of Defalk’s even more violent past—old, scarred, and the site of who knew what

unspeakable cruelties. For Defalk, that’s saying a lot.

The crossed spears and crown on the purple banner were hardly visible to Anna, and she doubted

that few in the stronghold would see them. The gates stood wide, and what seemed to be half the

staff lined the courtyard of the keep and watched as Anna and Jimbob rode through the gates.

“Regent! Lord Jimbob!”

Anna glanced sideways, noting the flush rising in the young lord’s face. “Remember,” she said,

“praise is fleeting. People praised your father, and then Lord Behlem.”

Jimbob jerked in the saddle.

Falar gave Anna a searching look, but did not offer any words.

Anna raised an arm to acknowledge the greetings and whispered to Jimbob. “Go ahead. Show

them you appreciate their greeting. You are the Lord of Synfal. Just remember that greetings can

be fickle.”

Jimbob smiled and waved several times, looking around the courtyard as he did. Then he and

Anna rode slowly to the stables.

Bielttro, the young head ostler, stepped out from where he had stood by the stable doors.

Wearing what appeared to be the same dark brown trousers and leather vest as he had worn when

Anna had first met him. He bowed. “Regent.”

“Bielttro, how are your stables?”

“I have fixed the roof in the corner, and they are clean and dry.” Bielttro grinned. “You can see

for yourself, Regent Anna.”

“I will.” Anna smiled back, then dismounted and led Farinelli into the stable. Rickel and Fielmir

followed closely, leaving their mounts with the other guards.

“You have the big front stall, as before” Bielttro studied Farinelli. “He is thinner.”

“We’ve ridden a lot this fall, from Falcor to Synek, and back to Falcor, then to Denguic, and