The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (14 page)

Liende offered a smile in return, mostly of relief, Anna suspected. “May we go?”

“Of course. I’ll need to talk to you later, Liende, about some more spells.”

Anna still felt slightly lightheaded, but nothing like the way she’d felt after rebuilding the bridge. Then the reflecting pool had been much smaller, and accomplished with players, and she hadn’t done any Darksong lately.

She took her time going downstairs to the receiving hall, and the meal that someone—Skent?—had ensured was waiting for her. The bread and cheese and the water helped the lightheadedness, enough that she felt almost normal by the time Dythya arrived with the accounting charts and papers.

“Again, I must thank you, lady.” Dythya bowed, and added, with a twinkle in her gray eyes, “My father was surprised that he had raised a counselor to the Regent of Defalk.”

“So was Menares,” Anna said, wondering if Dythya’s father Herstat had to be faintly envious. “But you work as hard as he does, and I need you both.” Actually, Dythya worked harder, but that wasn’t something that needed to be said.

“Menares . . . he knows the intrigues. I know the accounts.” Dythya spread the brown sheets on the table.

Anna wished she had the equivalent of a finance minister or liedstadt accountant. Then, wasn’t that what Dythya had become? Anna still had to make the decisions on how to spend the funds—or how not to—and there was so much that she didn’t know.

Anna stood so that she could see the numbers on the charts Dythya had hung from the easels. She forced herself to go over each account slowly, comparing what she had budgeted against current expenditures line by line. Some discrepancies were obvious—such as coins budgeted for the weapons smith the liedstadt still hadn’t been able to find.

Then came the revenues. There was no change there. Those who hadn’t paid liedgeld the last time, including Lord Arkad of Cheor and Lady Anna of Loiseau, still hadn’t paid. Anna hadn’t done anything about arranging to have someone manage her lands. Quies and Albero were doubtless trustworthy, but neither had broader experience, and others would resent their being chosen. Gero had some experience as Brill’s assistant, but he was barely more than a boy. She took a deep breath. Perhaps Jecks could recommend someone.

The tax levies on the merchants of Falcor, more like a tithe, actually were revenues from Jimbob’s holdings. Until Jimbob was of age, Jecks and Anna had agreed that they would be handled as part of the liedstadt accounts, since the Regency was there solely to protect the youth’s
patrimony—and needed every possible gold to do so. Again, that was something else Anna wasn’t totally happy with, but it had been Jecks’ suggestion, and she had accepted it, at least until matters improved.

“What isn’t in these accounts?” Anna asked warily.

“How many players do you plan to have, Lady Anna?” asked Dythya.

“Players? I’d hoped for at least twelve.”

“At what you are paying, that will cost you over a hundred golds a year, and that does not count their food and clothing and any supplies you must provide.”

“Two hundred golds we hadn’t counted on,” Anna admitted.

“I have guessed that a weapons smith will cost fifty golds a year, and another hundred in materials,” Dythya added. “I did not guess that you would spend two hundred golds on blades.”

“Another two hundred,” Anna said wearily. “If we actually get them. We still haven’t heard from Ranuak.”

“You know about the five hundred for the Ranuan Exchange, and the thousand that must be paid after harvest.”

That was almost two thousand golds—and her reserve had been a thousand. Add to that around two thousand golds in liedgeld that had not been paid, and the government of Defalk—the liedstadt—was in big trouble. Unlike the United States, Anna reflected, with currency being solid metal coins, she didn’t have the option of printing more money.

She turned to Dythya. “I need two more lists. No, three. One should be a list of all the items we’ve spent coins on that we didn’t budget for. The second is a list of the liedgeld we don’t still have, and the third is a list of items where you think we
might
be able to spend less. You should talk to Lord Jecks, Arms Commander Hanfor, Tirsik, and anyone else who spends coins and might have ideas.” Anna paused. “They’ll all tell you spending less is impossible. You tell them that we won’t have the coins
by the end of the year, and if they make a decision now, then they get to suggest what would be best. Otherwise, I’ll have to choose.” Anna smiled. “Try to get across the idea that you’re looking out for their interests and giving them some advance word.”

“Advance word?” asked Dythya, then nodded.

Anna kept forgetting that some expressions didn’t translate.

Dythya was barely out of the receiving room before the door opened again.

“There is another messenger from Synope, my lady,” announced Giellum.

“Escort him in.” Anna had a feeling about the message and messenger, and seated herself in the official gilt chair on the dais.

The messenger was none other than hatchet-faced Calmut. He bowed and extended a scroll. “Regent Anna, a message from Synope.”

“I’m glad to see you in good health, Calmut.” Anna nodded to Giellum. Lejun stepped up beside Calmut as the younger, guard took the scroll and carried it to the regent.

The sorceress broke the seal and began to read, her eyes catching the important words and phrases. “Regent Anna, Lady and Sorceress, and Protector of Defalk . . .”

Anna pursed her lips—still the same sort of flowery opening that meant that the trouble presaged by Calmut’s arrival was bad indeed.

It is with the deepest regret that I must inform you that my lord and consort, Lord Hryding, has passed into the harmonies beyond Liedwahr. His last wish was that I again beseech you to honor his requests regarding Secca and the preservation of Flossbend and the lands of Synope. . . .

Until you have made a decision regarding his lands and holdings, I will continue to administer Flossbend and its lands as temporary custodian for
Jeron. In deepest admiration, I beg of you your support. Both Jeron and I stand ready to do your bidding and await your response.

The wax seal remained that of Lord Hryding, but the signature was somewhat different from the last scroll, reading, “Anientta, his consort and administrator for his heir, Jeron.”

While Anna couldn’t prove it, she doubted Hryding’s death was from natural causes. The whole business stank, and it created a real problem. She’d already set the precedent of letting consorts administer for children, and now she had a consort who could be a disaster, but with no way to prove it.

“I am indeed sorry to hear of your lord’s death,” Anna said to Calmut. “He was a good man and a good lord.”

“Yes, Lady Anna. Many regret his death.” Calmut’s voice was low, properly respectful, and Anna didn’t trust him in the slightest.

“Lejun, would you have one of the pages make sure that Calmut is fed and given a place to rest while we consider Lady Anientta’s request?” Anna smiled professionally. “And Giellum, would you have one of the pages summon Lord Jecks?”

Her smile faded once the three armsmen left and the door closed.

She read the scroll again, then set it down and finished the last of the bread and cheese, and drank almost another full goblet of water before Jecks arrived. She waited until he sat across the table.

“Lord Jecks . . . you may have guessed. Lord Hryding has died.” She shook her head. “I probably should have gone to Synope.”

“You could not have reached there on these roads before he died.” Jecks gave a sad smile. “You feel not all was as it was presented, lady?”

“Anientta’s a scheming bitch, from what I saw. Her
son Jeron is a living replica of Nero. Actually, both her sons are. Kurik’s not any better, and—”

Jecks’ brow furrowed.

“Sorry. Sometimes, when I get angry I use names from earth. Nero was a ruler whose mother schemed to get him to be emperor. In gratitude, he poisoned her.”

“You think highly of both of Hryding’s heirs, I see.”

“I thought highly of Lord Hryding, and Secca shows promise.” Anna shook her head. “There’s no way she’s ever going back to Flossbend.” Hryding had known—or at least suspected.

“Lady Anna, you cannot solve all problems. Even if you had gone to Flossbend, and you had reached there before Hryding died and saved him—then what would you have done? Could you prove he was poisoned? And if you did not kill Lady Anientta, what would have saved him the next time? If you did kill her, without proof, how many consorts would welcome you to their holdings? How would other lords feel?”

The room darkened as clouds outside covered the late-morning sun. Anna wondered if Falcor would get more rain. From the amount she had seen over the winter, she was beginning to appreciate just how much moisture the Evult’s sorcery had withheld from the land—and how long it might take to recover from the years of drought.

“That still gives me a problem. Anientta’s scheming against me. That’s what I feel, but I don’t have any real evidence of that, either.”

“Perhaps you should visit her.”

“That’s a possibility. But we need to visit Lord Arkad first.” Anna thought. If they followed the Synor River, they could go to Synope after Cheor, and then come back along the Chean. If she took the players, they could rebuild the ford at Sorprat, and perhaps repair a few stretches of highway or bridges.

She certainly wasn’t accomplishing the rebuilding of Defalk by sitting in the liedburg.

“You have a certain . . . look, Lady Anna,” Jecks said
warily. “The same one you had when you decided to cross the Ostfels and take on the Evult by yourself.”

“That may be.” Anna smiled brightly. “You suggest I do nothing except confirm Lady Anientta as regent for her son for the time being?”

“You might suggest that, as in all other cases, you will visit her and discuss her administration periodically.” Jecks’ forehead crinkled. “I will tell a few other lords that you are not allowing consorts who hold their lords’ lands to do so without some oversight.”

“That should make them happy.”

“Less unhappy,” suggested Jecks.

Anna lifted the bell. “First, I have an unpleasant duty.”

“Secca?”

Anna nodded as the door opened.

“Resor, would you find the young lady Secca for me? I need to talk to her.”

Resor nodded, and the door closed.

Anna turned back to Jecks. “While we wait, I have another question.”

“Yes, Lady Anna?” A glint of a smile appeared on both Jecks’ lips and in his eyes.

“I find I am the Lady of Loiseau, and I owe liedgeld. As you might have guessed, I have no one to manage the lands, and I haven’t the faintest idea of who I could trust to do a good job.”

“You need a steward.”

“That’s pretty clear,” she admitted. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Hmmm” Jecks frowned. “You should send a messenger to the tenants, at least. Suggest that they only owe half what they paid last year because of the troubles. See what coins you get. I also do not think that anyone would find it remiss if you excused Loiseau from last harvest’s liedgeld because the previous lord had died in defending Defalk and because the succession had not been established.” The white-haired warrior gave a crooked smile.
“You may have to do that for Lord Vlassa’s heirs in Fussen before it’s all over. In both cases, do it quietly.”

Anna understood that part. What Jecks said made sense, but she didn’t like it. She sighed.

“You do not like not-paying your debts—even those you owe yourself.”

“No. I don’t see an alternative right now. I didn’t even know I was the Lady of Loiseau. . . . I mean, I sort of knew, but I didn’t understand that accepting the lands meant I owed liedgeld. I’m not exactly from Defalk, you know.”

“No one would ever question you on that, Lady Anna.”

Again, Anna could feel the sparks smoldering between them. What was she going to do?

This time, she was saved by Secca’s arrival.

“You sent for me, Lady Anna?” Secca bowed as she stepped into the receiving room. Her eyes were dark and sunken.

“She did,” said Jecks softly, rising. “If you would excuse me, ladies?”

Anna nodded, appreciating Jecks’. tact. She stood and stepped around the table, waiting for the receiving room door to close.

“Secca? I’ve had another message from your mother. . . .”

“Papa’s dead! I knew it. . . . I saw Calmut, and I knew it.”

“Yes,” Anna said quietly.

As the girl sobbed, Anna held her—for a long time.

Once Secca left, Anna requested more to eat. She was worried and emotionally drained. Between the financial worries, her concerns about her attraction to Jecks, and Lord Hryding’s death and Secca’s grief, she was exhausted—and lightheaded once more.

When she finished with the cold slabs of meat, the bread and hard yellow cheese, she stood. She had to walk
around, somewhere, somehow, just so she could digest everything she’d stuffed inside herself.

Followed by Lejun and Blaz, Anna walked down the lower corridor and into the main hall, where her fosterlings and pages sat at the long table, young men at the right end, and young women at the left. Her eyes traversed the familiar faces—Skent, Barat, Cens, Hoede, Jimbob, then Cataryzna, a subdued and blotchy-faced Secca, Lysara, and Ytrude. The two new faces were those of Alseta, Liende’s strawberry-blonde daughter, and Kinor, Liende’s son and a wiry redhead taller than most of the others, except for Skent and Ytrude.

Several sets of eyes went to her, but Menares was facing the map on the easel and continued to lecture.

“Dumaria is divided into two areas, the higher meadowlands and farms, and the lower and drier grasslands. Dumaria itself is situated almost on that point where these two regions meet and where the Envar River joins the Falche. . . .” Menares’ pointer went to a spot on the brown map where two blue lines joined.

“Lady Anna.” Menares turned from the map, lowering his pointer.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your lesson.” Anna wasn’t so sure she was sorry. “Please go ahead.”

Menares coughed, then shifted his feet.