"Only in small amounts so far," Anna fudged.

Nelmor nodded. "And what of the new young Prophet of Music-our nearest threat?

Have you heard aught promising or less so?"

"He has fiftyscore Mansuuran lancers to add to his arms-men," Anna replied, "and a regent who is an officer sent by his grandsire. Right now, he has sent some of his grandsire's arms-men to Elioch, but none of his own armsmen."

"That bears watching, but it would be good if no other lancers near Elioch."

After a silence, Nelmor asked, "How do you find Tiersen and Ytrude?"

"They have not sent you scrolls?"

"Alas, I have not sent a messenger. How would they? They would not have imposed upon you, your grace, and even had they, I would just have received such."

"Ytrude seems to be settling in at Falcor," Anna observed. "She is shy, but she seems bright."

"Bright she has always been." Nelmor cleared his throat. "And what of Tiersen?""He seems thoughtful, but I have not had as much time to observe him."

"You are like my sister, Lady Anna. And yet you are not." Nelmor shrugged.

What that meant, Anna suspected, was that Gatrune was direct, and Nelmor thought Anna was, but that he was reluctant to admit anything, since he was a lord, and lords admitted nothing. At least, Defalkan lords of the old style didn't.

"You were most supportive to send Tiersen to Falcor," Anna began slowly, "but he will learn more about those who will be his peers in years to come, before he must make decisions about them and their families. He has also begun to learn other skills."

"It is said that you are instructing the fosterlings in another way in which to keep the accounts of their lands. Why would you find this necessary?" Nelmor's expression was that of a quizzical frown.

"I have already learned, Lord Nelmor, that not all those who keep the accounts of their lords are as honest as they profess. The accounts and figures Dythya is teaching them will allow them to check those accounts quickly. This will give them greater control-and they will have to spend less time on accounts." She smiled. "That way, Tiersen can devote more time to those matters you feel are most important without leaving his fate in the hands of others."

"And Lord Dannel has said that some who instruct them are lowborn," Nelmor added cautiously.

"I was not born into a lordly family of Defalk." In fact they'd have called your grandparents peasants, since they worked a farm in an Appalachian holler. "Nor was Arms Commander Hanfor. Nor Tirsik the stablemaster. Yet we all do certain things better than others. I felt that your son and daughter should learn about the uses and limits of blades from the best and how stables should be run from a good stablemaster. Sometimes, the best instructor is a lord, such as Lord Jecks here. Sometimes, they are not."

"Your words are wise, Regent, yet Lord Dannel is not pleased."

"Lord Dannel is not pleased, Lord Nelmor, because his son is not as quick-witted nor as skilled in arms as his sire. He is not pleased because his son refuses to learn and blames it upon his instructors." Anna forced another smile. "As Arms Commander Hanfor has told me," she fibbed, "it is a poor lancer who blames his blade or his mount."

Surprisingly, Nelmor laughed. "True. Has he not wit enough to find better mount or blade, or to use what he has, soon enough he will be dead." The laugh died away. "Yet Lord Dannel has suggested a match between Lord Birfels' eldest daughter and his youngest."

"That match is not suitable." Anna looked straight at Nelmor. "Your son, or the son of another lord, would be far better. That is, if those involved like each other." Based on her past meetings with the proud lord, that was as much as she dared suggest to Nelmor, and the not-quite-direct approach would give him the opportunity to consider such a match without the impression of pressure.

"Why should their likes matter?" asked Nelmor, his tone curious.

"I did not say 'love,' my lord Nelmor," Anna pointed out. "But I have observed the poisoning of one lord by a consort who was ill suited and the abuse andtreachery of another lord who refused to heed his consort. Defalk cannot afford that kind of scheming. I would prefer that matches have some acceptance by both parties." Her tone turned dry. "It is easier upon all the rest of us."

A smile crossed Jecks' face, and after a moment, Nelmor chuckled. "You appear so young that sometimes I forget that you have seen far more than that lovely face displays."

"You would not wish to have seen all she has seen," Jecks added ironically.

"I've seen but a fraction of it, and I have little wish to see more."

Nelmor glanced sideways, almost abruptly, then back at the Regent. "Lady Anna...

there is one other matter. I would not trouble you... yet I must bring this up."

A trace of a smile flitted around Nelmor's face, at odds with the seriousness of his words.

"Yes?"

"I hope you do not mind, but Lord Klestayr had prevailed upon me...and requested most urgently that he be allowed to join us for dinner...." Nelmor broke off and offered a shrug.

"Just how urgently?" Anna kept a straight face and arched her eyebrows.

"Urgently enough that he rode in not too far in advance of you, his mounts lathered."

"The more at dinner the better, and I look forward to meeting Lord Klestayr under your most gracious hospitality." Anna almost wanted to gag at the syrup she'd put in her voice. "And I'm even more glad that we met before dinner."

"I appreciate your informing me before others at table, and for your many courtesies, Regent Anna, and for yours as well, Lord High Counselor." Nelmor remained seated.

Anna realized that she had to end the meeting, and stood. "You have always been most supportive, and we would not wish to have you surprised in any way." That's the last thing you need, especially with this touchy lord.

The Lord of Dubaria waited for Jecks to rise before standing and speaking, "If you would like some air before supper, you might wish to view the side garden.

It is Delyra's pride, and quite beautiful." Nelmor smiled.

"We look forward to seeing it." Is that the royal "we," or are you including Jecks? Anna didn't like the idea of the royal "we," but was beginning to understand its necessity.

Nelmor bowed again as the two left his private study.

As Anna and Jecks stepped through the double doors into the small garden, perhaps twenty yards on a side, graced by what appeared to be a boxwood hedge surrounding a small fountain, Anna glanced at Jecks, handsome in his royal blue tunic. "We need a postal service." Among a good many other things.

Behind them followed Blaz and Lejun, each with a hand upon his blade.

"What sort of service might that be?" asked Jecks. "You have few enough golds as it is."

Anna took a deep breath as she walked slowly toward the hedge. She had as many problems dealing with Defalk that came from her own a.s.sumptions. How wouldpeople communicate? Scrolls from the lords-but only if they had something to say. "I think I have an idea. When we get back to Falcor, I'll draft a long scroll with all sorts of news in it. Big stuff and little stuff..." She glanced at Jecks, and could see the blank expression crossing his face. "You saw that Nelmor didn't know about Hadrenn or about the freewomen or even about what his own children were doing in Falcor?"

"That is true"

"So I draft one scroll. Each fosterling copies, say, five. We figure out how many lancers it will take to travel to each lord."

"But that costs golds..."

"Bear with me, my dear lord Jecks. Anyone who wants to send a scroll, including fosterlings-a one-sheet scroll-pays a silver to send a message to father and mother." She smiled. "Or anyone else. Anyone except the lord who wants to send a return message also pays a silver."

She pulled at her earlobe. She'd always had little earlobes, and Brill's youth spell had done nothing to change that. "If I send out those scrolls two or three times a year... the lords will know more than they do now-and they'll hear some things the way I want them said. We might even get enough silvers to pay for it."

Jecks fingered his chin. "Some would not trust such."

"It doesn't matter. We tell the truth, and they'll hear it somewhere else. In time, they'll accept it. And some might also decide to send fosterlings to Falcor when they find out who else's offspring are there."

Jecks langhed. "For that alone they might!"

Anna enjoyed his laugh, and the moist and garden-fresh air in the early twilight, for the few moments before they faced the strain of yet another dinner with more skeptically inquisitive lords and consorts.

20.

ENCORA, RANUAK.

A lone at the table, the Matriarch stands and smiles as the dark-haired and thin-faced woman enters the small hall.

The newcomer wears a sea-blue tunic and trousers, the sole ornamentation being a gold pin on her collar. The fine gold wires of the pin represent two sheaves of grain, crossed. She bows, a movement barely more than perfunctory. "I am here at your request, Matriarch."

"It is good to see you, Abslim. I know it is early, and you must soon be on your way to preside over the opening of the Mercantile Exchange, but I appreciate your taking the time to come and see an old woman." The Matriarch stands, slowly, deliberately.

A tight smile precedes Abslim's reply. "With such compliments, Matriarch, I fear the words that will follow."

"Nonsense. The harmonies will protect you. They have pro tected us all." The round-faced Matriarch absently smooths back her gray hair, then straightens her own faded blue tunic before reseating herself at the table and gesturing to the chair across from her."Your wish?" asks Abslim.

"When I visited the Exchange earlier this year, you expressed a certain concern that Defalk might not make good on the debts of the previous lord of Falcor."

The Matriarch pauses, then adds when she perceives that Abslim is not ready to respond. "At least, that was what I perceived."

"The Exchange was concerned about the unrest in Defalk." Abslim's words are tight.

"All Defalk now acknowledges the Regent. I would a.s.sume that this would greatly rea.s.sure the Exchange."

"There remains the matter of over a thousand golds."

"And were those golds repaid?"

Abslim forces a shrug. "That would be up to the traders."

"I think not." The Matriarch's contralto voice is both rich and commanding.

"Once the golds are received, you will ensure that Defalk and its lords and merchants receive the treatment accorded our friends and most valued customers."

"That will be after harvest, Matriarch. At least six weeks."

The gray-haired woman laughs. "The sorceress' messenger and guards arrived here last night. With eleven hundred golds. I persuaded them to wait until I spoke to you."

Abslim remains silent "The traders who support the South-Women will not be pleased."

"Have I been right in judging the sorceress and Regent of Defalk, Abslim? Or has the Exchange been right?"

"The Exchange will defer to the Matriarch."

"No." The word is cold, yet menacingly melodic. "You will grant those terms, of your own accord, with no word about deference to the Matriarch. You will treat Lord Bertmynn as you have treated the sorceress in the past." A gentle, but cold, smile suffuses the round face. "Is that clear, Mistress of the Exchange?"

"There will be muttering, Matriarch... and unhappiness."

"You will ensure that there is none." The Matriarch rises.

Abslim rises as well, her face pale. "As you command. As you command, and may the harmonies protect us all."

"I trust the harmonies, Abslim, even when they appear in dissonance. Best you do as well."

The Matriarch remains standing until well after the Mistress of the Exchange has left the small hall.

21.

The afternoon sun beat down on Anna's back as Farinelli carried her eastward, back toward Falcor. While Anna's floppy hat blocked much of the sun, she could feel the lower part of her neck beginning to burn.Beyond the wooden rail fence on the north side of the road, men with scythes were cutting the golden wheat, and behind the reapers, women were bundling the grain and loading it onto flat wagons. Puffs of dust rose from Farinelli's hoofs, but the light road dust settled quickly in the still and warm air. Anna readjusted her hat and glanced over her shoulder, past Lejun and Blaz toward Skent and Liende, riding side by side. Behind them rode the rest of the players, led by Palian and Yuarl. The column of lancers following the players stretched back past the wheat field and past the woodlot that lay farther west along the road. Farther back, dust was rising high enough that the lancers in the rear were breathing and eating dust.

Anna turned her attention back to the lord riding easily on her right "A far better harvest than in many years." Jecks gestured toward the field and the workers.

"Is that true on your lands?" Anna asked.

"I would hope so, but I have not seen such, nor heard." Jecks smiled. "Being Lord High Counselor keeps one away from those lands."

"I'm keeping you from your duties? Is that what you're telling me?" Anna parried lightly.

"My duties are with my Regent." Jecks' voice took on a deep and ponderous tone.

"Oh... such devotion to duty..." Anna grinned broadly, but tried to keep from laughing. She failed and laughed gently.

"I would hear you laugh more," the handsome lord said.

You wish you could... but why aren't you? It's a beautifid day, and there's nothing else you can do until you return to Falcor-except worry. "I should...

sometimes it's hard to put things aside."

"The careworn Regent.. ." Jecks chuckled. "She should care for herself, as well as her subjects."

"Look!" Anna pointed to the hawk that was diving into the corner of the field.

"The reapers have disturbed a rodent."