Shadowsinger: The Final Novel of The Spellsong Cycle Page 12

  “Lord Robero has scarce a score of companies to his name, and doubtless many are supporting the other sorceress in Neserea,” points out Elyzar.

  “Does your glass tell you so, sorcerer?” asks Fehern.

  “There are several Defalkan companies with the Sorceress of Defalk. The glass cannot show precisely how many, but there are more than two and less than a half-score.” Elyzar offers an apologetic shrug.

  “So…Lord Robero will hazard his lancers in Neserea, but not in Dumar? And he keeps most of them in Defalk? A fine lord and supporter he is!”

  Halyt coughs, then smiles broadly as Fehern looks to him.

  “You have something to say?” demands the Lord High Counselor.

  “This matter about the consort of the sorceress…it is a bit strange, do you not think? Why would a sorceress consort? None have in generations.”

  “She is a woman, Arms Commander,” suggests Elyzar. “And women…”

  “To a mere overcaptain?” asks Fehern. “You were the one who told me that Lady Secca has more lands to her own name than most lords in Defalk.”

  “It may be that he is not a mere overcaptain,” suggests Elyzar.

  “An emissary of the Matriarch?”

  “Ranuak has always needed lands more fertile than those she possesses,” the sorcerer points out. “Since the Spell-Fire Wars, if not before.”

  Halyt nods, still smiling jovially. “Since the SouthWomen are not under the command of the Matriarch…”

  “She can disavow anything they do,” Fehern concludes.

  “Did you also notice that she did not introduce the young woman—Richina?” asks Halyt. “Yet the young woman has too much of an air of confidence to be a mere lady-in-waiting or a maid. And never had the sorceresses of Defalk brought such with them on campaigns.”

  “It could be that she was tired from the ride and did not think to introduce her properly,” offers the broad-shouldered sorcerer.

  Fehern snorts. “I like this not. I have Sturinnese to the east, and a sorceress who appears with nearly nine companies, five of them SouthWomen, with an overcaptain from Ranuak, a mysterious young woman, and two groups of players. Did you notice that none of them bore wounds? Their gear was dusty, and their weapons used—but not recently.”

  “She bears no gifts, either,” muses Halyt.

  “She said that she had left Defalk not knowing she would come to your aid, lord,” Elyzar points out. “That was what she said.” There is the slightest emphasis on the word “said.”

  “Yes. That was what she said.” Fehern shakes his head. “I do not know which force to fear more—those against me or those who say they support me.”

  “You must look to your own interests and those of Dumar,” reflects Elyzar, “and see which enemy will harm you less or help you more.”

  “Or see if we can get both enemies to fight while we remain in the background,” suggests Halyt with another deep laugh.

  Fehern nods. “Both of you listen at table and think upon what you hear. Then, in the morning, we will talk.”

  24

  The second-floor master chambers in the villa offered to Secca were enormous, far larger than those of Lord Robero in Falcor, and three times the size of the master suite at her own hold of Loiseau. In addition to the chambers themselves, there was a long covered balcony more than five yards deep that extended thirty yards along the south side of the north wing of the villa and overlooked a courtyard garden that had seen far better years and care.

  Secca stepped from the balcony back into the slightly dusty sitting room, closing the glass-paned doors. Not for the first time, nor the last, she suspected, she wondered at the faded opulence that surrounded her.

  “Rather large,” said Alcaren dryly, “don’t you think?”

  “For a town this size that could not afford to rebuild itself completely in a generation…yes.” Secca shook her head. “The villa Fehern took is even larger. It looks that way from without.”

  “I am most certain it is.” Alcaren stepped toward her.

  “You aren’t thinking about villas.”

  “They do have the advantage of privacy.” Alcaren grinned.

  “Not until after we’ve bathed.”

  Alcaren grinned even more widely.

  “Separately,” Secca said firmly.

  Alcaren laughed, generously. “You do make your wishes known.”

  “And you, yours,” she replied, laughing as well, before stepping closer to him and putting her arms around his neck.

  It was much, much later when she and Alcaren stood once more in the sitting room, bathed and in cleaner riding clothes, waiting by the rectangular table, a dark-stained expanse of distressed and battered oak with the scrying mirror set roughly in the middle. Secca’s lutar rested on one side of the mirror, Alcaren’s lumand on the other. Two maps were set before the chair that Secca had decided she would take.

  “Do you feel better?” Secca asked with a mischievous smile.

  “You know the answer to that. The question is whether you do.” His smile verged on a leer.

  Secca found herself flushing.

  “I’ll accept that reply,” her consort said, grinning widely.

  Even as she shook her head, Secca couldn’t help but smile.

  “Chief Player Palian,” announced Achar from the corridor.

  “Just have the players, the overcaptains, and Richina come in when they arrive, Achar. You don’t need to announce them all,” Secca called.

  “Yes, lady.”

  As she stepped into the room, Palian glanced at Secca, then at Alcaren, and smothered a smile. “Delvor will be along in a moment.”

  “How are the quarters for the players?” asked Secca, again trying not to flush.

  “Somewhat dusty, but far better than anything they expected. There are even provisions in the storerooms, enough for both players and lancers.”

  Secca wasn’t sure she liked what that implied, and a sideways glance at Alcaren, who raised his eyebrows, confirmed that he shared Secca’s concerns.

  Delcetta stepped inside the room, followed quickly by Wilten, then by Richina, who carried her uncased lutar with her.

  The six had barely settled into the spare wooden chairs set around the dark table when the door opened and closed a last time with Delvor’s arrival.

  “Are the quarters sufficient for the lancers?” Secca asked, looking first to Delcetta and then to Wilten.

  “We had to do some rearranging, and some will have makeshift pallets,” Wilten said, “but everyone will be warm and dry and fed.”

  “The Dumarans had already converted the one outbuilding to a barracks,” Delcetta added. “It’s drafty, but some of my lancers are crafters as well, and they’re working on that.”

  “I have not seen any servants or staff anywhere around,” Alcaren said. “Has anyone?”

  “None of us,” replied Palian.

  “Nor us,” added Delcetta.

  Wilten shook his head.

  “No staff…but provisions.” Secca stood. “We need to see how far we can trust these Dumarans.” She lifted the lutar from the table and began to tune it. After pulling on the copper-tipped leather gloves, she immediately offered a spellsong.

  “Show us now in great details and as you must…

  weapons set against us by Dumarans we might trust…”

  The glass silvered and then presented an image of only three men—Fehern, Halyt, and the man whom the glass had earlier shown to be a Sea-Priest—but no weapons.

  “The weapons are the men themselves,” murmured Alcaren.

  “Or their words,” suggested Secca.

  In the mirror image, Fehern snorted visibly at least once before Secca sang the release spell.

  She cleared her throat. “Captain Kuttyr said that the Sea-Priests had closed the passes to Defalk through sorcery. Let’s see if we can see which one.” She lifted the lutar again.

  “Show me now any pass that to Defalk would go

 
; that through spells the Sea-Priests closed so…

  if by rock, or dirt, or ice and snow…”

  The glass obediently displayed what appeared to be the results of an avalanche, clearly blocking a defile between two low mountains. Secca suspected the pass was the one to Stromwer, but confirming that could wait.

  She repeated the spell using “Neserea” in place of “Defalk,” but the glass came up silver-blank.

  “They haven’t closed the trade pass north yet. That’s probably because it’s narrow and impassable now.”

  “Or because they don’t know about it,” suggested Richina.

  “That I would not wager on. They know too much about Liedwahr.” The redheaded sorceress looked to Alcaren. “Would you see if you can show us the nearest Sturinnese?”

  “My songs may not be so well crafted as yours, my lady, but we will try.” He rose, then took the lumand, a smaller instrument than the lutars of Secca and Richina. Without the gloves used by Secca, he fingered the strings, checking the tuning, before singing in his strong high baritone voice.

  “Show us now in full and open face

  those forces of Sturinn near this place…”

  The mirror displayed a scene of white tents in rows, set behind the dwellings of a small hamlet. The view could have been anywhere between Dumaria and Envaryl.

  Alcaren quickly sang the release couplet, frowning as he did. “A moment, if you will. We need…” His words drifted into silence as he glanced at the maps before Secca. Then he nodded and murmured some phrases to himself.

  Wilten looked to Delcetta, who did not return the Defalkan officer’s glance, and then to Palian, who watched Alcaren intently.

  Finally, Alcaren cleared his throat and sang.

  “Show us where upon a map of this land

  these forces of Sturinn now do stand…”

  A map appeared, one nearly identical to that Secca and Alcaren had been using on their journey from Stygia to Envaryl. On the mirror-map pulsed a single white star.

  Secca squinted, checking the star’s location against her own map and recollection, before speaking. “They’re about halfway between Dumaria and Envaryl.”

  “It’s almost two weeks since they left Dumaria,” mused Delcetta.

  Secca nodded to Alcaren to sing the release couplet, then waited for him to finish before speaking. “They’re taking their time.”

  “They wish you to hurry to them,” suggested Wilten.

  “Because they expect reinforcements from that fleet?” asked Richina.

  “That could be,” replied Alcaren. “Or they could be setting up some sort of sorcerous trap. Or they want to see what you and Fehern do.”

  “There are many possibilities,” Secca temporized, knowing that none of them were good. She glanced at Richina. “Would you do a map spell the way Alcaren did to see if you can locate the Sturinnese fleet?”

  “Yes, lady.”

  The map called up by Richina’s spell was faint, and extremely fuzzy, and only by leaning over almost on top of it could Secca see that it showed the Sturinnese ships northwest of Defuhr Bay—well northwest.

  “They should be farther south if they’re sailing to Dumar,” ventured Alcaren.

  Secca nodded, almost to herself, then glanced at the faces around the long dark oak table.

  “The Sturinnese here are trying to delay you. The fleet is going to Neserea,” Wilten suggested.

  “Why…?” began Richina, closing her mouth after the one word.

  “They may use sorcery to break the ice on the Bitter Sea,” Secca said. “It makes more sense that they support Belmar first. The Sturinnese here will prolong the war, hoping that in the end, they can trap us between two forces. The Sea-Priests plan to take Neserea before the snow in the Mittfels melts enough for us to go north.” She glanced at Richina. “You may release the spell.”

  Richina sang the release couplet, and the mirror blanked. Secca could feel the heat from the frame and the glass.

  “But…Lady Clayre?” asked Palian.

  “The ships heading toward Neserea and the glass both show she is hard-pressed. She is alone, with no other sorceresses, and she has fewer lancers. Belmar’s forces continue to grow, and with more support from Sturinn…” Secca shook her head. “We must warn her…and Lord Robero—but there is little else we can do.”

  “We could not reach her if we tried, could we?” asked Palian.

  Secca shook her head. “The distance from Envaryl to Esaria is greater than the journey from Mencha to Elahwa, and the roads are far poorer. There are no well-traveled passes, except for the trade pass, and that will be dangerous and late in melting. I would wager that the glass showed us that the longer way through Stromwer has been blocked by the sorcery of the Sea-Priests. Even if we could use sorcery to unblock the pass, to reach it we would have to face the Sturinnese here in Dumar first.” She motioned for Alcaren and Richina to reseat themselves at the ancient table with the elaborately carved pedestal legs.

  “Everywhere,” murmured Palian, “are the Sea-Priests.”

  “They’ve been planning this for a very long time,” Secca admitted. “The Maitre, whoever he is, has thought out his plans carefully.” She offered a ragged smile. “And we still must dine tonight with Lord Fehern and attempt to see which way blows that wind.” Her eyes went to the window and the gathering twilight beyond the balcony. “We will be leaving shortly.”

  “You will need an escort, lady,” Wilten replied.

  “One squad from Loiseau and one from the SouthWomen, you think?”

  Both Delcetta and Wilten nodded their approval.

  “And they will stand by Fehern’s villa waiting,” added the strawberry blonde overcaptain of the SouthWomen. “Captain Peraghn will command our squad.”

  “If you do not mind, Lady Secca,” Wilten said, “I would place the purple company’s second squad under Overcaptain Delcetta’s captain for the time they are standing by.”

  Secca managed not to drop her jaw in amazement. “That would be acceptable.” She paused. “If it is acceptable to Delcetta and her captains.”

  “Overcaptain Wilten and I have discussed it already,” Delcetta offered, inclining her head to Wilten.

  “We thought that it would make a certain…impression on the Dumarans.” Wilten displayed a faintly wry smile.

  “I don’t think any of us are exceedingly trusting of Lord Fehern and his forces,” Secca observed. “I would also ask that none of you mention either Richina’s or Alcaren’s abilities with sorcery. Richina is my assistant, and Alcaren an overcaptain who is skilled with weapons and as a lancer, and who was once the guard chief for the Matriarch.” Secca paused. “Even if Fehern is trustworthy, there is no doubt that some in his headquarters are not.”

  Both chief players shared a smile before Palian spoke. “The players will be ready to play or ride. They will sup early, and Overcaptain Wilten has agreed to have a messenger ready to ride to inform them if they are needed.”

  Secca nodded, then stood. “We will meet you below in a few moments.” She motioned to Richina. “A word, Richina.”

  “Yes, lady.”

  Once the door closed, Secca faced the younger sorceress. “What we do here could be most dangerous, and I am asking for your discretion, and for you to appear to be but a handmaiden of sorts. It will appear to others that you are barely important. I want you to know that this is not so, and that much of our success may rest on others not knowing the extent of your abilities. I am also asking this of Alcaren. Do you understand why?”

  Richina frowned. “You do not wish to appear powerful?”

  “I wish Fehern—and possibly the Sturinnese—to think I am the only one with power, and I trust that will give you and Alcaren the ability to act more freely when the time comes, as I fear it will.”

  “Yes, lady.” A wan smile appeared.

  “I am telling you this because whenever others are present, I will treat you as if you were a mere assistant, and I do not want yo
u to think you have fallen from favor because I have consorted with Alcaren.” Secca smiled. “I hope I will not have to require such of you for long, but I wanted you to understand.”

  “Thank you.” Richina inclined her head.

  “Go,” Secca said with a laugh. “I’d wager that Captain Kuttyr will be waiting for a glimpse of you.”

  “That is all he will get.” Richina laughed as well, before turning and opening the door.

  A faint smile played around Alcaren’s mouth as he and Secca waited for Richina to leave the chamber. After the door closed, he murmured, “That was wise.”

  “She’s still young. If I don’t tell her, and tell her directly, she’ll fret. She may, anyway, if this draws out.” Secca smiled at her consort. “You said once that you could play dinner music. Can you do so with the lumand?”

  Alcaren laughed. “That is easy enough. You want an excuse for me to bring the lumand?”

  “That, and I don’t want Fehern knowing that you are a sorcerer. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’ve spent most of my life keeping people from knowing that. I wasn’t terribly successful in Ranuak, but let us hope I can be more so here.”

  “I do not think they’ll be expecting you to be a sorcerer, and people do not see what they do not expect unless something calls it to their attention,” Secca replied. “We had best go.”

  Everyone was mounting, or already mounted, by the time Secca and Alcaren reached the side courtyard between the villa and the stables.

  The ride to the other villa through the deepening gloom was both short and silent, as Secca wrestled with her concerns and her thoughts about how best to handle Fehern…and her worries that she might be reading the man wrong.

  Captain Kuttyr was waiting outside the entry foyer of the villa serving as Fehern’s headquarters. “Greetings. Lord Fehern awaits you in the dining hall.” He bowed deeply as Secca dismounted and stepped toward him, flanked by Richina and Alcaren, and followed by the two chief players and the two overcaptains. As Richina passed, his smile widened.