Shadowsinger: The Final Novel of The Spellsong Cycle Read online

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  For Elizabeth and Drew

  Characters

  Secca Sorceress Protector of the East; Lady of Loiseau (Mencha); Lady of Flossbend (Synope)

  Robero Lord of Defalk, and Lord of Elheld, Falcor, and Synfal (Cheor)

  Alyssa Consort of Robero

  Dythya Counselor of Finance

  Jirsit Arms Commander of Defalk

  Lords of Defalk: The Thirty-Three

  Alseta Lady of Mossbach; consort is Barat; son is Lyendar

  Birke Lord of Abenfel; consort is Reylana; mother is Fylena

  Cataryzna Lady of Sudwei; consort is Skent; heir is Skansor

  Chelshay Lady of Wendel; consort is Nerylt, son of Clethner

  Clethner Lord of Nordland; heir is Lythner

  Dinfin Lady of Suhl; consort is Wasle, brother of Birke

  Dostal Lord of Aroch; consort is Ruetha

  Ebraak Lord of Nordfels; heir is Cassily

  Falar Warder of Uslyn, heir to Fussen; also consort to Herene, Lady of Pamr.

  Fustar Lord of Issl; sole heir is Kylar

  Gylaron Lord of Lerona; consort is Reylan; heir is Gylan; father of Reylana

  Herene Lady of Pamr; consort is Falar; heir is Kysar

  Kinor Lord of Westfort (Denguic) and Lord of the Western Marches; consort is Asaro

  Mietchel Lord of Morra, brother of Lady Wendella of Stromwer

  Selber Lord of Silberfels; heir is Helbar; sister is Belvera

  Tiersen Lord of Dubaria; consort is Lysara; eldest son and heir is Lystar

  Uslyn Lord heir of Fussen; father was Ustal, mother Yelean

  Vyasal Rider of Heinene

  Ytrude Lady of Mossbach, sister of Tiersen; consort is Cens

  Wendella Lady of Stromwer; heir is Condell

  Zybar Lord of Arien

  Sorcerers and Sorceresses

  Anandra Sorceress assistant to Clayre

  Clayre Sorceress of Defalk

  Jolyn Assistant Sorceress of Defalk

  Fosterlings, Apprentices, and Pages

  Jeagyn Fosterling/sorceress apprentice at Loiseau

  Kerisel Fosterling/sorceress apprentice at Loiseau

  Richina Apprentice sorceress to Secca; daughter of Dinfan

  Defalkan Armsmen

  Elfens Chief Archer, Loiseau

  Drysel Captain, Loiseau

  Quebar Captain, Loiseau

  Rickel Lord’s Guard-Captain, Falcor

  Wilten Overcaptain, Loiseau

  Defalkan Players

  Bretnay Violino, Loiseau

  Delvor Chief of Second Players, Loiseau

  Duralt Falk-horn, Loiseau

  Diltyr Chief Player for Clayre, Falcor

  Dossin Lutar, Loiseau

  Elset Woodwind, Loiseau

  Kylar Violino, Loiseau

  Nuel Violino, Loiseau

  Palian Chief Player, Loiseau

  Rowal Woodwind, Loiseau

  Yuarl Chief Player for Jolyn, Falcor

  Others Outside Defalk

  Alya Matriarch of Ranuak; consort is Aetlen

  Alcaren Sorceror; cousin to the Matriarch

  Ashtarr Leader, Council of Wei, Nordwei

  Ayselin Holder of Netzla, Neserea

  Belmar Holder of Worlan, Neserea

  Fehern Acting Lord High Counselor of Dumar; without consort

  Hadrenn Lord High Counselor of Ebra; Lord of Synek, Ebra; consort is Belvera; heir is Haddev; younger son is Verad.

  Hanford Lord High Counselor of Neserea; consort is Aerlya; eldest daughter and heiress is Annayal

  Kestrin Liedfuhr of Mansuur; brother of Aerlya

  Maitre of Sturinn Leader of Sturinn; master of the Sea-Priests

  Motolla Holder of Itzel, Neserea; heir is Chyalar

  Svenmar Holder of Nesalia, Neserea

  Veria Counselor, Freewomen of Elahwa

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 1
20

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  1

  Mansuus, Mansuur

  Heavy wet flakes drift past the windows of the Liedfuhr’s study, each window hung with maroon velvet drawn back to reveal an early-spring snow that has already dropped more than half a yard of whiteness on the city, and on the ice that still covers the River Toksul.

  The man who stands before the windows, looking out, wears a sky-blue tunic with a silver chain bearing the amulet-seal of the Liedfuhr of Mansuur around his neck and a mourning band of black and maroon upon his left arm. For a moment, his hard green eyes flick to the ice-and-snow-covered river that cuts through the city, if well below and beyond the hill on which the palace rests. Then, he turns, standing beside the polished wooden desk that has graced the study for three generations, and asks, “You think Neserea will fall before harvest?”

  “As matters now proceed, it is most likely,” replies the trim overcaptain in the maroon uniform of the Mansuuran Lancers. There are but a few streaks of raven black amid the silver-gray of the lancer’s short hair. His thin eyebrows are silvered as well, but the dark eyes are deep and intent. “Despite the efforts of the Sorceress of Defalk, Aerlya and Annayal hold but an area little more than a hundred deks around Esaria.”

  “If we dispatch the fifty companies of lancers from Unduval? Then what, Bassil?” Kestrin runs his right hand through short-cropped brown hair that is already half-gray, although he will not reach his full second score of years until the turn of the following spring.

  “Are you willing to risk all fifty companies? And to slaughter all those who do not support your sister and her daughter?”

  Kestrin tilts his head slightly as he studies Bassil. “If I must.”

  “You must. You must also avoid facing the sorcerer Lord Belmar. He is strong enough to dispatch all your lancers with his spells.”

  “Unless we can catch him in a snowstorm or the rain.” Kestrin laughs.

  “You risk much if you send your lancers into Neserea,” cautions the older man.

  “I risk more if I do not.”

  “Your seers report that the Sea-Priests are readying a fleet to sail from the Ostisles,” reports Bassil.

  “They are doubtless sailing eastward, but not to Mansuur.”

  Bassil raises his eyebrows, but does not speak.

  Outside the private study of the Liedfuhr, the wind moans. The snowflakes are smaller, and falling faster, and the light dims as the clouds overhead darken, as if winter is returning to Mansuus.

  “This Secca—Lord Robero’s new Sorceress Protector of the East—she has destroyed all the Sturinnese vessels that had threatened Liedwahr. Do you think that the Maitre of Sturinn will decide to invade us while he has forces in Dumar that are threatened by the sorceress?”

  “She remains in Encora for the moment.” Bassil pauses. “Yet it is most likely that she will travel to Dumar and use her sorcery against the Sea-Priests there before the Maitre can reinforce them. That will not be easy for her. The Maitre can use the sea to land more sorcerers and lancers, but it will be weeks, if not longer, before the snows melt enough for Lord Robero to send reinforcements to Lady Secca.”

  “He will not send them even then,” predicts Kestrin. “He fears Belmar as much as the Sturinnese. Lady Secca has been successful without further aid. Lady Clayre is slowly losing in Neserea, as you have pointed out, and Aerlya and Annayal may have to flee before long.”

  “Where?”

  Kestrin sighs. “Perhaps to Nordwei.”

  “It is yet winter there.”

  “And you question that I should send lancers into Neserea?”

  “I cannot see how you could do otherwise—when you can. They cannot cross the snows of the Mittpass yet.” Bassil shakes his head. “If you do not dispatch them, once the snows melt, Belmar will take all of Neserea by midsummer. But…if he is as bright as he seems, he will turn to face your lancers, in order to destroy them.”

  “They must not face him. Their task is to destroy those who rebelled against Aerlya.” Kestrin’s voice is hard. “If he turns, then the Sorceress of Defalk may be able to strengthen Aerlya’s hold on the north and east.”

  “That is possible,” Bassil concedes, his voice neutral.

  “Not likely, but possible,” Kestrin replies with a grim laugh. “Better that than we do nothing. The lady Secca may yet retake Dumar from the Sturinnese, but this Belmar is their tool, and even she will be hard-pressed if Neserea falls and the Sturinnese reinforcements land in Narial.”

  “Because she will be caught between him and the Sturinnese?”

  The Liedfuhr nods slowly. “Because we will then face the Sea-Priests alone.”

  Outside the study, in the growing darkness, the moaning of the returning winter wind rises with the night.

  2

  The late-morning sunlight poured over the two-story structure that held the Matriarch’s guest quarters, but the wide second-story windows that faced west were still in shadow. The air in the main chamber was hot and still, foreshadowing summer in Encora, although by the turn of the seasons, spring had even yet to arrive.

  Rather than using the small working desk that faced away from the leftmost of the three windows, Secca had seated herself at the circular golden oak conference table, her back to the windows. Alcaren sat on the opposite side of the table, leaving four chairs vacant. The tiled hearth on the south wall held several logs set on a pair of heavy iron andirons, but it had been weeks since Secca had needed a fire.

  The petite and redheaded sorceress looked at the rose that lay on top of the papers before her on the conference table—a perfect white rose, appearing so delicate that the slightest breeze would rip off the petals. But like so much in Liedwahr, the rose was not what it seemed, for the petals were of white bronze and the stem of a greenish iron—and it had been Alcaren’s love gift to her, one she had never expected.

  Her amber eyes went from the rose to Alcaren—narrow-waisted and broad-shouldered, almost too short for his breadth to be handsome, yet not stocky, with short-cut brown hair and gray-blue eyes. He wore the pale blue Ranuan uniform and the collar insignia of an overcaptain. As he felt Secca’s eyes upon him, he looked up from the map he had been studying and smiled warmly.

  In spite of herself, Secca flushed.

  “I do the same thing,” he said with a slight laugh, adding, “when you look at me.”

  She shook her head. “It is hard to get used to.”

  “I know. No one ever looked at me that way.”

  Secca wondered about that, and yet, she didn’t. Alcaren was barely a head taller than she was, and he was striking, but not necessarily handsome. He was a largely untrained sorcerer in a land that feared sorcery, and a strong man in a land ruled by women. “We still need a consorting ceremony,” she said slowly.

  “You sound dubious, my lady. Am I that much of a burden to bear?”

  At the mock-woeful tone of his voice and the twinkle in his eyes, Secca laughed. “You are no burden. Far from that! Still, it is strange.”

  Alcaren waited, his smile encouraging her to speak.

  “It is strange, and it is not. After these years, I had not thought to find love.”

  “Though I have not traveled as you have, my lady,” he replied gently, “neither had I.”

  “I h
ad thought, were I ever to be consorted, it would be in Falcor, or Flossbend, or even Loiseau…not in a strange land.”

  “We could wait,” he suggested. “I would not wish to rush you into such.”

  Secca shook her head. “Lady Anna waited even to acknowledge her love for Lord Jecks, and I fear she lost years of happiness because she delayed.” A sad smile crossed Secca’s lips as she thought of the woman who had been more than a mentor, more than a teacher—a mother as well, in fact, if not in name. Secca doubted that she would ever recall Anna without love, emptiness, and a sense of regret that she had not told Anna how much the older woman had meant to her.