Jecks smiled. "Yet, my lady."

"I think, you schemer, that you're saying I need to go to Fussen and meet the two young men."

"How else will you know them? How else will the Thirty-three feel at ease with your decision? You have not been to the west of Defalk, my lady."

"If I upheld the older male, no one would say anything. So..." -she dragged out the word-"that means that you think something's rotten in Fussen, or at least with Ustal, and you think my presence will rea.s.sure such stalwarts as Nelmor-"

"And Lord Jearle."

Anna looked and felt blank at the last name. She took another swallow of water and blotted a forehead that had become damp as the midmorning heat had begun to build in the receiving room.

"Lord of Denguic," Jecks explained.

The name was vaguely familiar, but probably only from the liedgeld lists. "We haven't heard much from him."

"He is the Lord of the Western Marches," Jecks explained. "He was supposed to defend the approach from Neserea."

"He didn't do much to stop Behlem."

Jecks nodded. "He sent a scroll claiming that he had lost tenscore men and would have lost all had he not surrendered. He relinquished the t.i.tle and the one- third exemption from liedgeld."

"Whom did he send it to?" Anna asked. "Behlem didn't march into Defalk until after Lord Barjim was killed at the Sand Pa.s.s."

"It was addressed to Barjim and was waiting at the liedburg for Lord Behlem.

Menares found it and brought it to me sometime back."

"No wonder he paid his liedgeld on time," Anna muttered. Barjim and his consort Alasia had risked everything and borrowed from the future to raise arms to fight off Ebra.

"Jearle saw no point in dying when he could not stop the Prophet's armsmen and lancers," Jecks said dryly.

"I don't think we'll restore his t.i.tle or his duties, and especially not his exemption from paying the liedgeld." Anna said.

"There has always been a Lord of the Western Marches." "There may be again,"

Anna conceded. But not anyone that slippery. She looked meaningfully at the pile of scrolls. "We have a few other matters to discuss."

"I feared such."

Anna wanted to laugh at the rueful tone of his voice. Instead, she nodded. "So do I, but remember, you thought my being Regent was a good idea.""My life was simpler before I thought so much..." Anna did laugh before she picked up the next scroll. She jotted down a quick note on the back of a used piece of parchment to talk to Menares about sending a scroll to Gatrune about the young chandler-and learning his name. At times, especially when she returned to Falcor from somewhere, she wondered if she would ever be able to juggle all the problems.

9.

ESARIA, NESEREA.

The workroom is large, light, and airy. Dark woods ranging from flat planks to narrow timbers are stacked against one of the inner walls. A woodworker's bench is set out from the other inner wall, and on a set of wooden shelves beside the bench are set planes, chisels, saws, clamps, wood knives, several jars with stoppers, clean rags, and other implements.

Three dark circular frames fill much of the open floor s.p.a.ce. Each is man-high, and a stocky but bent and gray-haired man carefully smooths a rib of the frame closest to the door. The door opens, revealing that the outside is guarded by two of the Prophet's Guards. The craftsman steps back from the frame on which he was working and straightens, waiting.

The Prophet Rabyn steps into the workroom, followed by an older Mansuuran officer who accompanies him. Rabyn pauses by the smooth and polished frame. His fingers caress the nearly black wood, before his eyes go to the gray-haired craftsman, who glances from the young Prophet to Nubara.

"You know what I want?" demands the youth.

"Yes, most honored Prophet I have studied the scrolls you gave me, and I will do as they show." The crafter gestures to the three frames. "These are to the requirements of the scrolls."

"There must be no imperfections. Do you understand?"

"There will be none, honored sire. None at all." The woodworker lowers his head.

"Good." Rabyn studies the second frame and then the third. With an abrupt nod, he turns and departs.

Nubara follows hurriedly. The door closes, and the two walk along the outer corridor back toward the columned audience chamber.

The Mansuuran officer glances from Rabyn back toward the guarded door. "How do you know he will do as you say?"

"He has a daughter, Nubara. Right now, she is in the south villa, with her mother."

"Her mother?" Nubara frowns.

"Of course. That way, he will know no one has abused her." Rabyn's laugh is cold. "I have not touched either. No one has. She is not that attractive, but he does not know that. Besides, I could turn her over to the lowest of the Westfels Foot, and he knows that. Or"-Rabyn smiles, and his face appears almost serpentlike-"I could think of something."

"Yet you will reward him if he builds these... these devices?""Even I know, Nubara, that a ruler must keep his promises." A second laugh follows. "You might notice how few I make, and how careful I am with my words."

Rabyn looks toward the audience chamber. 'The gla.s.s has come for me to appear concerned and caring for the welfare of my people." He lifts his eyebrows. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, honored Prophet."

Rabyn does not look at the Mansuuran officer before stepping through the door that a servant has opened for him.

Behind him, Nubara shivers, then follows.

10.

Anna stepped out of the receiving room and nodded at the two guards, Lejun and Rickel. "I'm going to observe the lessons."

The two followed her as she turned into the small service hall. Three sets of boots echoed on the stone floor of the narrow pa.s.sage until Anna stopped at the back door of the large ball that continued as the working cla.s.sroom for the pages and fosterlings. Until you can figure out something better... like everything else.

She eased open the narrow door and slipped behind the tapestry aims, simultaneously listening and attempting to keep from sneezing in the narrow and dusty s.p.a.ce.

"... Sturinn is not a land nation, such as Mansuur or Defalk. It is but a collection of large and small isles set in the Western Sea. These isles are held together by great fleets, by a form of Darksong magic, and by the largest numbers of armsmen in our world. The Maitre of Sturinn lost more than forty great vessels and two hundred-score armsmen when the Regent unloosed the Falche River. These were but as a handful of ships and men to the Maitre... yet the loss of the same number of armsmen ruined Dumar and left it prostrate."

Anna shook her head as the heavyset and gray-haired Menares droned on.

"Now...see this map. You can see how many deks lie between Mansuur and the nearest isles of Sturinn. Those are the Ostisles, and five years ago they were free. Likewise, fifteen years ago, Buerann was governed by the young lord Zuerien"

"Buerann?" asked a voice Anna did not recognize.

"The large island here, in the corner, north of Pelara."

At least he's using maps...Anna slipped out from behind the arras, as silently as she could.

The red-haired Lysara saw the sorceress, and the girl's mouth formed an O. Anna smiled, and put a finger to her own lips. Lysara quickly looked back toward the graying tutor.

"What matters it," asked the sandy-haired Hoede, his tone verging on insolence.

"how far lies Sturinn? The Sturinnese cannot sail their ships to Defalk"

"Their ships...do not just affect Nordwei or Mansuur," replied Menares. "Had the sorceress not stopped them in Dumar, Stromwer would now belong to Sturinn, and all the trade that goes through that road would either pay tribute to the Maitreor travel a far longer way to Ranuak, and that would cost the lords of the south many golds...?"

"They're all Suhlmorrans anyway, mumbled Hoede. "Weak women... all of them."

Anna tightened her lips, deciding that she could not wait much longer to deal with Hoede. But here is not the place or time.

The blonde Cataryzna-the object of Skent's affection- glanced toward the back of the hall, then looked quickly back to Menares. Beside Cataryzna; Secca sat almost at the end of the table, the redheaded and youngest of the fosterlings and pages, and very much the smallest.

Looking at Secca, Anna was reminded of several things. She had yet to resolve the rather mysterious nature of the death of Lord Hryding, the little redhead's father. The red-haired child, an echo of her own redheads, prompted her resolve to rewrite the letter to Elizabetta-or write a cover note-and just try to send the envelope without looking at her daughter, and ask Elizabetta to write a letter in return-and leave it someplace where it would be undisturbed and somewhere that Anna could visualize-like under the stairwell at Avery's lake house.

"Oh... Lady Anna... " Menares looked up from the map on the easel.

"I'll only be a moment." Anna studied the fosterlings and pages slowly, her eyes resting on each in turn before she finally spoke. "There are neither Suhlmorrans nor northern lords in Defalk, not if you wish to have your children remain under the banner of Defalk, and not that of Sturinn or Mansuur or Neserea." Her eyes fixed on Hoede, but the stocky blond refused to meet her eyes.

"There's another reason why ships are important," Anna said after another pause.

"It costs less to carry grains and cargoes for long distances by ship. That is why Nordwei is powerful and how the Ranuans manage to get so much gold for their Exchange."

Seeing the confusion on both Tiersen's and Hoede's faces, Anna added. "Some of you wonder what golds have to do with power. How do we get the weapons for armsmen? We have to buy iron and pay a weapons smith to forge them. What do you pay armsmen with? If the Regency has to use levies for more than a few weeks, they must be paid. and even if they aren't, their food costs money. Coins," she added. It was still hard to recall that not all English terms translated into Defalkan German/Old English.

Tiersen, Skent, and Kinor nodded. Horde continued to look blankly at Menares, as if he didn't even want to acknowledge the Regent's presence.

"You may continue, Menares." Anna nodded at the older tutor before slipping out the main door, Rickel before her and Lejun behind her.

Why are the young men such knuckleheads? Does all that swordplay and honor nonsense knock every bit of the ability to think out of their skulls? That couldn't be it. Jecks was reputed as one of the best blades of Defatk, and the white-haired lord could certainly think.

As she slipped back into the receiving room, she slowed, and said to the duty page-Cens-"Find Lord Jecks for me, if you would."

Cens bowed and scurried off. Anna picked up yet another scroll, another pet.i.tion from the rivermen for a reduction in their permit taxes. How can you say "no" in another and different way?Before she had finished, there was a rap on the door.

"Yes, lady?" Jecks bowed deeply as he entered the receiving room.

"How would you suggest we get rid of that idiot Hoede? Or will that cause another great uproar among the distinguished northern lords?"

Jecks' face blanked at the bite in the phrase "distinguished northern lords,"

but he replied smoothly, "Ah... his sire might be somewhat displeased... but you are the Regent."

"Can't we just tell the good lord Dannel that Hoede is better fitted for direct instruction on his father's lands? Or that he seems to have more ability with weapons than with a quill? Or something like that?"

"He has little ability with a blade," Jecks pointed out. "Even Lysara, slight as she is, would kill him, although they have never sparred." He paused. "Well you might talk to Lady Essan. She has seen much about consorts and joinings."

Thinking about Lady Essan, the white-haired widow who remained in the liedburg, brought a smile to Anna's lips. Essan had ridden to battle, although the lords of the Thirty-three would scarcely have wanted to admit that a woman and consort of the Lord of Defalk-even two generations back-had done so.

Anna nodded. She'd had all the fosterlings tutored with weapons, but she and Jecks had decided that in the beginning, the young women would only practice with other women or with the armsmen or officers designated as instructors. Anna had informed all the lords of daughters that she was requiring that the young women understood arms in the unlikely event that they were required to defend their lands in the absence of their consorts. Then she'd told Jecks to make sure that the girls got as tough a course of training as they could handle.

Some, like Cataryzna, whose father had been crippled in battle years before, understood immediately. Others, like the shy Ytrude, had had to be coaxed through everything in the beginning.

"Well," Anna reflected, "I will talk to Lady Essan, but Hoede still has more ability with a blade than a quill or a book."

"Best you tell his sire that, then, since it is the truth. And since you think so poorly of northern lords."

"Oh, my dear lord Jecks, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the situation. Lord Birfels' consort Fylena wants Lysara consorted out immediately, and that knothead Hoede is the only one available..."

"What about Tiersen?"

"Even that would be better, but I have no idea whether the two would even talk to each other. Or whether Nelmor would consider it." Anna wondered why she hadn't thought of Tiersen. Is it because you've disliked Nelmor's att.i.tude toward women and the Regency?

"Nelmor needs a consort for Tiersen. That is true-save he would set his lance on Geansor's daughter."

"Cataryzna? She's off-limits."

Jecks' eyes twinkled. "I know that. You have plans for young Skent. Perhaps you should bring him with you to Fussen.""That's not a bad idea. What about Jimbob?"

"He should remain here."

"You don't want his name tied up in the succession mess?"

Jecks shrugged. "Is there reason for him to be so immersed?"

"No," Anna admitted.

"When would you leave for Fussen, my lady?"

"How about the day after tomorrow? This isn't going to go away, and it will only get worse if we don't do something." Anna sighed. "Do you think we should take a few more days and visit Lord Nelmor?"

"That could not hurt." Jecks flashed the warm smile that crept into Anna's heart.

Why do you lash out at him? He's always stood by you. "You are coming, you know, High Lord Advisor?"