The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (63 page)

“Your lands are the closest,” Jecks added as a
reminder
.

The Lady of Stromwer inclined her head.

Anna broke the dark red sealing wax and rolled open the scroll. Her eyes scanned the dark letters and the words quickly, and she nodded as she read, her lips quirked as she discovered that Jecks had indeed understood Ehara.

After she finished, she glanced at Wendella, Jecks, and then Hanfor. “Here’s what he says, the most important parts anyway.

“. . . Once I might have considered peace, but never can there be accord with a nation that turns the rivers of Liedwahr against her people. Never can there be harmony with a ruler who will not fight in honor and who usurps the very nature of the earth. . . .

“. . . I will put every woman in Dumar, every
woman in Liedwahr in adorning chains, before I will treat with you . . .

“We march on Dumar, and all the way through it.” Anna’s voice sounded tired, even to her.

“Narial is gone, and the lower sections of Dumaria are ruins,” said Jecks, a quizzical note in his voice. “You must defeat Ehara, but why would you proceed?”

Anna lifted the scroll and read aloud, “Never can there be harmony . . .”

“We still have nowhere near the forces Lord Ehara can muster,” observed Hanfor, his voice mild.

“I don’t intend to fight honorably,” snapped Anna. “I intend to win. I intend to gain the pledge of every armsman in Dumar or wipe out every one who will not be loyal to Defalk, and I intend to destroy every Sea-Priest left in Liedwahr.”

Wendella smiled tightly.

Jecks stepped back at the venom in Anna’s voice. The faintest of nods came from Hanfor.

“Are you surprised, Lord Jecks? I won’t live forever. You’ve told me that. Am I supposed to wait until Dumar is strong again and so that I can kill twice as many innocents? I tried reason and scrolls to get a meaningful agreement from Lord Ehara. That was refused—with scorn. Then I tried sorcery to avoid this senseless war, and what happened? More people died. Because they died, Lord Ehara has to kill me or die trying.”

Anna paused, finding she was breathing hard. “I’m tired of this sort of thing. Fine . . . we’re going to stop it all—if I possibly can. Sturinn can’t get reinforcements here fast enough, and by then I’ll hold Dumar—or be dead. One way or another, no one will have to worry.”

They think you’re crazy
.

Only Hanfor nodded, once more, and for that Anna was grateful. He seemed to understand. Jecks was having trouble in reconciling what he had seen with too many years of tradition—that was what Anna felt.

“I’m going to take a bath, and then we’ll eat. After that, we’ll discuss exactly how we’ll take Dumar.” Anna knew she was sounding imperious, hated herself for it, and hated herself for not saying anything.
But they all want it handled like I happen to be the tooth fairy, like there’s no cost to anything. . . .

“Yes, Regent.” Jecks bowed.

Hanfor bowed, half-smile upon his lips.

Wendella bowed. “Supper will be ready as you wish, Lady Anna. The guest quarters are ready, and there is water in the tub.”

“Thank you.” Anna turned and walked toward the study door.

T
hrap . . .
thrap
.

The sorceress readjusted her single, spell-cleaned gown and glanced at the closed door to the guest chamber. “Yes?”

“Lord Jecks for you,” announced Rickel.

“He can come in.”

The door eased open.

“Lady Anna.” The white-haired and muscular lord bowed, then smiled. His warm hazel eyes twinkled.

He can be devastating and charming
. “Lord Jecks.”
Until we start discussing the foibles of the Thirty-three and others of privilege . . . or dancing
.

From behind his back, Jecks lifted a circular object, not much more than two full handspans across. “This is a very small shield.” He smiled again.

Anna looked at the small circlet of bronze and iron.

“You said it had to be small, yet heavy enough to stop anything. And I could not use one with leather.”

Anna frowned, then nodded. Still, she tended to forget the limits of Clearsong and Darksong.

Jecks shrugged. “No shield I know can be light and effective.”

“All I can do is try,” answered Anna. “It was your idea.” She added quickly, “I wish I’d thought of it earlier.” She gestured toward one of the straight-backed chairs, then sat behind the small writing desk and opened the folder, searching for a blank sheet of paper.

After a time, she dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write, slowly, almost laboriously, to keep from smudging the local ink that took
forever
to dry.

Abruptly, she looked up. “Lord Jecks . . . I think it would be a good idea for Alvar and Liende to join us for meals from now on—even if other lords are guesting us.”

Jecks nodded.

“Would you tell them and Lady Wendella while I work on this?” She smiled. “Please? I’m not trying to make you an errand boy. I should have thought of it sooner.”

“An errand such as this I would be more than happy to accomplish.” Another smile followed the words as he stood, stepping forward and laying the small shield on the corner of the writing desk. “If you should need this for your spell . . .”

“Thank you.”

As the door closed, Anna tried to concentrate on the words. For a moment, nothing came, and the fingers of her left hand touched the cool metal rim of the circular shield. The shield did not move as her fingers pressed on the metal. She lifted it, left-handed, surprised at the weight, and lowered it quickly.

“Heavy. . . .” No wonder shields weren’t exactly in vogue. She’d hate to have to carry one and a blade. She wondered how Rickel and Fhurgen managed with the bigger shields they used to protect her.

With a slow breath, she picked up the pen once more, adding a few more words to those on the paper.

A finch, or something, chirped outside the window.

Anna set aside the quill and studied the crude spell written on the brown paper.

“Against enchanted weapons be my shield save me from all arms those against me wield . . .”

Perhaps a variation on the flame spell. . . . She stood and took a deep breath, then extracted the lutar from its case and began to tune it. She strummed the flame song, humming the notes as she did and concentrating on the words.

The sorceress shook her head. Not even close, and the note values were stretched too far. She tried several other variations.

“If I untie . . .” She nodded, and jotted down the tune variation she had in mind, then played it on the lutar once more. That didn’t work, either. She went back to the paper and jotted down another variation, then lifted the lutar once more, using nonsense syllables to sing the patterns.

With a relieved smile as she realized that note values and words matched, she replaced the lutar in its case, and the case on the chest set against the outside wall. As she straightened, at the knock on the door, the sorceress looked up. “Yes?”

“Lord Jecks, my lady.”

Lately, Jecks had been using the “my lady” phrase. Did he want her to be his lady? Anna frowned. More important, did she want to be? “Come on in.”

Jecks was still smiling. “Your chief player was pleased. Alvar was worried. I took the liberty of informing Hanfor before Alvar.”

“Thank you. I should have thought of that.” Much as she was sometimes frustrated by various protocols and customs, Jecks was good at warning her, or, in this case, in simply avoiding the problem. “Hanfor didn’t object?”

“No. He said Alvar needed the experience if he were to command larger forces.”

Anna laughed. “In short, I should have done it sooner, but Hanfor’s too polite to insist.” She crossed the room to the writing desk where she glanced from the small shield to the brown paper before her. “I think I have something. We’ll have to see once we’re headed into Dumar.”

“You won’t enchant it now?” asked Jecks.

“Not until we leave Stromwer,” Anna said, looking down at the shield again. “I’m pretty sure a spell like this drains energy-from me.”

Jecks raised his eyebrows.

“That was what happened with the dam. That was part of the reason I was so tired, and it took so long for me to recover.”
That’s what you feel. . . .
“That’s what I feel, anyway.”

“If you feel that, my lady, then that is what must have been.”

“Right now,” Anna said, “I feel hungry. Shall we go?”

“I could eat,” Jecks admitted.

They left the guest chamber, and the guards fell in behind them. Anna wondered, yet again, if she’d ever get used to guards escorting her everywhere.

On the main level, the others were already waiting. Liende wore a dark green gown, slightly wrinkled and probably borrowed, and Alvar his uniform, brushed. Both bowed as Anna and Jecks approached the hall. Hanfor, who had been standing beside Alvar and talking to the captain, also offered Anna a bow.

“You requested my presence?” asked Liende, stepping up to Anna and bowing again.

“I should have requested it far sooner. I’m sorry. Some things I’m just not thinking about.”

A puzzled look crossed the chief player’s face.

“I need your thoughts, and your advice, but you can’t very well give it if you don’t see what I see,” Anna explained.
“Or if the only real time you see me is when we’re riding.”

Liende nodded. “You honor me.”

“Not enough,” Anna said quietly. “Not soon enough, either.” She raised her voice. “Let’s go in and eat.”

Wendella stood by the long and dark table that appeared almost as ancient as the aged wooden paneling that covered the stone walls. She gestured to the place at the head. “Regent and sorceress.”

“Thank you.” Anna gestured to the table. “Please sit.”

There were only the six at table—Anna, Wendella, Jecks, Hanfor, Liende, and Alvar. The swarthy Alvar looked down at his plate, as if asking how he had ended up with the arms commander and the local nobility.

“Because you need to be here,” Anna said sweetly to the uncomfortable captain.

“As my lady wishes.”

“Enjoy the food,” Anna suggested.

“We can all do that,” Jecks said dryly, “especially after all the riding.”

“I had Waerya prepare something special,” Wendella said. “An apple-spiced lamb.”

The serving girl carried in a large platter. While Anna had feared seeing a whole lamb splayed across the traylike serving dish, the dish contained more than a dozen cylinders of rolled meat covered with a thick brown sauce.

“The lamb is wrapped around the stuffing,” Wendella added, “and the sauce is a family specialty—from the days of Suhlmorra.” A faint smile crossed her lips as she glanced at Jecks.

“I don’t mind food from Suhlmorra,” he rumbled, “just those who still want to bring back another realm.”

“Even my dear brother would be too wise to attempt that,” Wendella answered. “Mietchel will always be loyal to the Lord of Falcor, or any Regency that supports that lord.”

Since the serving platter was tendered to Anna, she stabbed one of the lamb rolls and transferred it to her
plate, then a second, and a third. The serving girl’s brown eyes flickered from Anna to the platter and back to Anna.

“Thank you,” the sorceress murmured to the girl.

“Your brother would be wise to remain so,” Jecks suggested to Wendella, before stabbing a smothered lamb roll.

“And what if Defalk is ruled by a lady? Say, if Jimbob has only daughters?” asked Anna.

“That would distress him, were he to live so long,” answered Wendella.

“How does he feel about lady holders in the Thirty-three?” Anna pursued, almost idly, breaking off a chunk of dark bread. In a way, being Wendella’s guest was almost liberating. The Lady of Stromwer didn’t like Anna, and yet had to be loyal. So Anna could be more forthright.

“I had thought that there were few. Am I not the only woman holding lands in Defalk? Besides Lady Gatrune,” Wendella added quickly.

“Lady Anientta holds the lands for her heirs,” Jecks answered for Anna. “And Lady Anna holds Falcor for Jimbob.”

“Lady Herene is acting as guardian for Dinfan at Suhl,” Anna added.

“You named the daughter as heir?” Wendella asked.

“She is the oldest,” Anna answered after swallowing a mouthful of the lamb, dry despite the spices and gummy sauce-gravy. Her own stuffed pork chops or apple crown roast were far better, but whether she could have done so well over an open kitchen fire was another question.

“And,” murmured Hanfor, “Lady Anna holds Loiseau and Mencha in her own right.”

Wendella laughed softly. “That is almost a fifth of the Thirty-three, and in but a year. No marvel that my late lord feared you, Lady Anna. Or that the Sea-Priests would give a kingdom for your death.”

“You know that from what source?” Jecks held a chunk of bread, suspended in a large hand, as his eyes fixed on Wendella.

“None, save my own feelings.” Wendella offered a nervous laugh. “Yet I’d wager that feeling against all others.”

“So would I,” added Liende quietly in the momentary silence.

Alvar swallowed loudly enough to punctuate the chief player’s words.

“That will change,” Anna said. “The business about women, that is.”

“It changes already,” Jecks pointed out.

“True enough,” Anna interposed quickly. “But that’s enough about it.” Her eyes went to Wendella. “Lady Wendella, could you tell us, or me, since I know too little about Defalk, where you grew up and how you came to Stromwer?”

After a moment, Wendella began. “I am the youngest child, and the third daughter, of Lord Mietch. The oldest was Mietchel, and he now holds Morra. My eldest sister—that was Haerl—she was consorted to Arkad, but she died with child, and so did the child.”

“Was she his second consort?” asked Anna.

“His third.” Wendella paused. “When I was young, Morra was a happy place, with the rose trees always in bloom against the garden walls. My sire said the walls dated back to the days when Suhlmorra was great, when Defalk was a poor land but a sliver of its present demesne. . . .”

Anna leaned back slightly in the chair and listened as Wendella detailed her background.