"You'll be fine," Alcaren promised. "The worst is over."

Secca managed to raise her eyebrows in inquiry. "You think so?"

"Belmar is dead," Alcaren said. "Richina used the glass to check. He deserved no better after all those he killed."

"That may be." Secca took a slow breath. Alcaren had been right. She was feeling steadier. Not that much, but clearly she was starting to get her strength back. "How soon will it be before I must do something like it once more? Or before some other sorcerer or sorceress learns what I have done and replicates it?"

"Who else would know?"

"What about the Sea-Priest sorcerer with Belmar?"

Alcaren did not quite meet her eyes, close as he was.

"How soon before I must do more, if we are to survive? And then more, as the Sea-Priests retaliate?"

Alcaren offered a shrug and a rueful expression.

"Or, the harmonies forbid, find some protective spell that takes more strength so that some sorcerer does not do the same to us?"

Both looked up as the door squeaked, and edged open, letting more grayish light into the cottage.

With the light came Richina, slipping inside, and closing the door, and shutting off the light. The younger sorceress tiptoed away from the door, awkwardly in her riding boots, and glanced toward the corner.

"She's awake," Alcaren confirmed. "You can come over."

"You frightened us, Lady Secca." Richina pulled over one of the stools and sat down facing the two.

"Again." Secca coughed.

Alcaren offered the mug once more. Secca took another swallow, then handed it back.

Richina glanced toward the warped table, still set against the wall where Alcaren had pushed it the, day before, and the scrying glass yet lying upon the uneven wood.

Alcaren lifted the mug, silently urging Seeca to drink yet more.

Secca took another sip, noting that Richina shifted her weight on the stool, although she had just seated herself.

The eyes of the younger sorceress drifted to her right, back toward the table again, before she looked straight at Secca. "Your sorcery. . . it was most effective, lady."

"It was effective at prostrating me as well," Secca said dryly, stifling another cough.

"But more effective on Belmar," Alcaren replied quickly. Secca looked directly at Richina.

"Something is fretting you."

"It is nothing. Nothing, lady."

"It is more than nothing. You've looked toward the scrying glass three times since you entered.

What is it?"

Richina looked to Alcaren. He nodded.

Stop babying me, Secca wanted to yell, but that would have just made her cough more.

"That Sturinnese fleet . . . it's left Defuhr Bay, and it's sailing northward, Lady Secca," Richina said.

"Northward?" Secca coughed twice before glancing at Alcaren.

"There is more, lady," Richina added apologetically. "The Sturinnese destroyed two port cities in northern Mansuur, and they are using sorcery to melt a channel through the Bitter Sea."

"Toward Esaria, I would wager," Secca croaked.

"That is a wager none of us would take," Alcaren replied.

"I cannot say that I am astounded," Secca finally said. "I had wondered, but it is clear that Belmar was a tool of the Sea-Priests. Perhaps an unwitting tool, but a tool." She took the mug from her consort and took another long swallow.

Richina offered a sound between a cough and a swallow.

"More bad news?' asked Secca dryly.

"I have tried to use the glass to find the Sea-Priest who was with Belmar . . ." Richina's voice trailed off.

"And?"

"The glass shows nothing."

Secca nodded, almost to herself.

"Lady?"

"I must think about that," replied the older sorceress, as she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, after realizing that she was getting chilled.

"I told you that you were getting better," Alcaren said. "The backlash from sorcery does not last that long."

"If one survives it to begin with," Secca replied, yawning.

"I should go." Richina stood and slid the stool back toward the table.

After Richina slipped out, Secca lay back. "Dissonance, I'm tired. One spell . . . one spell, and it's as bad as . . . well, almost as bad as fighting that Sturinnese fleet"

"I wonder why," mused Alcaren.

"I don't know, but it is." She held back another yawn.

Alcaren stiffened. "It could be the visualization. For the most effective sorcery, you have to visualize the results. Did you visualize what happened to Belmar?"

Secca frowned. "How could I not?" She shivered.

"It could be that creates the effect of Darksong," suggested her consort.

"Because I'm visualizing the effect on something living?" questioned Secca.

"I'm just suggesting. But . . . doesn't the idea fit? I looked over that spell you used against the crews of the Sturinnese ships. If you take the words by themselves, they're pure Clearsong. The effect back on you was more like Dark-song."

Secca's mouth opened, then closed.

"When you spellsing, you know that you're affecting something that is living," Alcaren went on.

"Did you not tell me that the lady Anna did a great deal of Darksong when she first came to Liedwahr, but that the backlash did not affect her for seasons, if not longer."

Secca nodded. "I never thought about that. She was only affected by what one would call true Darksong, because she was not raised in Liedwahr and had no idea . . ."

"I wonder if that was why Belmar was so effective," mused Alcaren.

"Lady Anna said we were stronger than we thought . . ." Secca let her words trail off. "Strong? I feel like a baby. Or an old woman."

"You'll be fine by tomorrow," Alcaren promised.

"I'm tired. I'm tired of always using force and more force. I'm tired of having to use sorcery to destroy ships and those upon them. I'm tired of shadow sorcery."

"What would you do?" asked Alcaren slowly. "Raise the oceans like the. Sea-Priests did? Level entire cities the way Lady Anna did?"

"I'd like to lay a spell on the Sea-Priests. They're the ones causing all the problems for Liedwahr. I can't. That's Darksong, any way you sing it."

"But they raised two great waves against Encora, and that was Clearsong," he countered. "We just need to find a way to use a great mass of something that isn't living and never lived against them. That would be harmonic justice, wouldn't it?" He laughed.

Secca frowned. "From what Richina said, I have to wonder if the Sea-Priests aren't using spells to protect themselves from spells from us."

"They didn't protect Belmar," he pointed out.

"No, and that is most troubling. Most troubling." She tried to stifle yet another yawn, hoping that Alcaren was right and that she would be stronger by the morrow.

"Everything is that way. Troubling, that is."

"We need to . . ." Secca let her words drift to a halt. She smiled . . . for a moment Alcaren studied her for a time. "You have an idea, do you not?'

"I do. But it may not be a good idea." Secca yawned. "I'm too tired to know."

"You can tell me," he suggested.

She yawned again and shook her head. "I need to sleep and think about it. Then, we can talk about it."

"Promise?" he asked.

"I promise," she affirmed, yawning again and trying not to, trying to fix that one idea in her mind. "But . . . have to sleep."

She could feel her eyes closing even with her last words.

59.

Secca had awakened with a headache-the kind that came after too much sorcery and too little food---and had quickly washed in chill water, changing into her only other set of riding clothes, and then seated herself at the warped table that Alcaren had returned more to the center of the small cottage. She ate four hard and crumbly biscuits, a small section of a dried apple-all that was left--- and two wedges of drying yellow cheese, all helped down with cold water, before she finally looked up at Alcaren and Richina.

"You need to concentrate on the mechanics of the spell, not on the impact, he suggested.

"You told me that last night, and I remember." She took another swallow of water.

"Even when ill, there is little you forget," he said with a smile.

Richina nodded and offered a knowing smile.

"Do you have any maps of the great Western Sea?" asked Secca, between mouthfuls of the last of the dry biscuits.

"Why would I have . . .?" Alcaren shook his head. "Not here. All those I might lay hands upon are in Encora. I brought the maps I had of Liedwahr." He grinned. "You know, my lady, how fond I am of sea voyages."

Secca laughed. "I scarce can stay afloat in water myself. You know how I fretted about swimming the mounts ashore in Ranuak. I was most glad we did not have to."

"I am glad you did not have to, either." Alcaren lifted his eyebrows, as if he still had a question, but did not wish to ask it.

"Can you sketch a rough map?" asked Secca, ignoring the unspoken question.

"Very rough." He laughed.

"If you would . . . please?" Secca opened her eyes wider in a mock-pleading look, and then began to laugh again. "I cannot do that. I cannot counterfeit helplessness or mock innocence. I would never be a traditional lady."

"I like the way you are."

"Not many have."

"I'm not of the many, as you may have noticed, my lady." Alcaren grinned. "I have better taste."

"You are most rare, my dear." Secca stood and walked to the corner, where she rummaged through the lutar case. She extracted several sheets of brown paper and a sheet of parchment.

Returning to the table, she laid the parchment to the side, then looked at Alcaren. "While you sketch out your map, I need to draft a message."

"A message?"

"You'll see." She pointed to the paper. "There's some paper for your map."

"As you command, my lady." Alcaren grinned.

She snorted and picked up the grease marker.