76.

Spacious as the captain's cabin had seemed, it was cramped with eight people crowded into it.

Cramped . . .and close. Secca, Alcaren, Richina, and Denyst sat around the table, with Palian, Delvor, Delcetta, and Wilten standing behind them. The sole light came through the green-tinted glass of the twin portholes and the prism-like skylenses set in the overhead, leaving the cabin dimly lit, even if far brighter than twilight.

On the circular table were maps---those Alcaren had found and those charts belonging to the Silberwelle.

Secca listened closely as Denyst continued to explain.

". . . making near-on twelve deks per glass now, but we've had favoring winds, and they won't hold as they have. Leastwise, can't count on such.. even if we could, be another three days afore we sighted the Ostisles, a bit less than a week after that before we'd see the fringe isles east of Stura."

"In a few days, even if the winds don't hold, we may be able to help there, as we have before,"

Secca pointed out.

"I'd rather the winds held," Alcaren said with a laugh. "So that we can, save the sorcery for other matters."

"So would I." Denyst responded.

Richina nodded.

Secca looked from the maps to Alcaren and then to Denyst. "All the isles of Sturinn together are not that much larger than Defalk, and the isle of Stura is but half the size of Defalk. Yet they have built many fleets of fivescore vessels and lost hundreds of scores of lancers---with hundreds of scores remaining."

"True enough," the captain agreed.

"Most of the lancer rankers do not come from Sturinn," Alcaren said. "They are from Pelara or the Ostisles. If they survive and are promoted through the ranks to become officers, after a number of years, they can take a stipend and live in great comfort in their homeland. The officers who survive live almost like lords."

"So many do that?" asked Richina. "Enough that thousands upon thousands die willingly year upon year?"

"Stipended lancers and armsmen are free men, anywhere in the Sturinnese lands and isles, no matter from where they came," Alcaren pointed out "Even crafters and artisans are little better than slaves unless they are from the home isles of Sturinn."

And all women are slaves. Secca kept the thought to herself, instead asking, "Can we avoid the Ostisles and make straight for Stura?"

"We can try," Denyst replied. "If they do not send fleets after us. The Ostisles lie low against the ocean and have many reefs around them. That will work for us. That is less true of the isles of Sturinn." Denyst glanced toward Secca. "Stura is a port city, but Inylt, where they say the palace of the Maitre stands, lies upland and inland."

"We will do what we can," Secca replied, trying to choose her words with great care. "I would rather do all possible by sorcery than try to land lancers in such an inhospitable place." She smiled grimly.

"No offense to you, Lady Secca," observed Wilten, "but we would rather not land there, if other means are possible."

"If . . . if the sorcery works as we hope," Secca said slowly, "then we still must return to Liedwahr and Neserea to defeat the forces of the Maitre that remain. No matter what we do to the isles of Sturinn, those forces will never surrender."

"Never have, and never will," added Denyst succinctly.

'Do you know what accompaniment you will use?" inquired Palian.

Secca had been planning to tell the chief player, but merely answered, "You had best keep them well practiced with the first building song. We may need that if the Sturinnese send warships after us. And for the spell against Stura . . .they will need to practice the fifth building spell. I know that they do not use it as much . . ." Secca could not recall when it had been last used, although Anna had insisted on the players knowing and practicing it.

"In a week, they will know it as well as the others," Palian promised. "That they will."

"And the second players as well," Delvor added.

"We still might need the flame spell," Secca said. "And in another day, we will need to reset the ward spells."

Palian raised her eyebrows.

"Richina will take over the wards," Secca explained. Both players nodded.

"I had wondered, but did not wish to ask . . ." ventured the gray-haired Palian.

"We are upon the sea, and that makes spellsinging from a distance less effective," Alcaren said.

"We will see, but we think that for a few days, Richina will be able to hold the wards if she does little else."

"I can do it," Richina said, her chin stiffening almost imperceptibly.

"You will. You have done everything else needed," Alcaren said warmly.

Secca wished she had been so quick, but she was still tired and not thinking so well as she should be.

Palian and Delvor both smiled briefly.

"Is there aught else that I should know?" asked Secca, taking in each face around and behind the table. After a long moment of silence, she concluded with a smile, "Then we will meet tomorrow."

The overcaptains slipped out of the cabin first, followed by Delvor.

Palian stopped and leaned toward Secca. "They will play them well, and even if the deck throws them from side to side."

Secca smiled warmly at the older woman, murmuring, "I've always been able-to count on you, even back when I wasn't the best pupil with the lutar or the violino."

"You have learned, my lady, and for that we are all grateful." With a smile and a nod, Palian turned and eased out through the door-like hatch.

Denyst nodded brusquely. "Don't know what you plan, but don't go easy on the Sea-Pigs."

"I don't plan to. We have but one chance."

"Good. Need to check topside."

Then the captain was gone, leaving Secca, Alcaren, and Richina.

"You need some more rest, Richina," Secca said. "Are your quarters . . .?"

"They're small, but the bed is good, and it is good to be with Palian." Richina smiles.

"Sometimes, she even tells me stories about when you were young."

Secca winced. "There are such stories, I am sure."

"She said that you sang a spell that lit a fire when you were but nine. Is that so?"

The redheaded sorceress laughed. "It is. I'd memorized part of a spell Lady Anna had used. Lady Anna made me promise not to sing another one until she taught me much more."

"It's good to know you weren't perfect."

"I never was."

"But everyone thinks you are."

Secca just shook her head as Richnia stood. Alcaren closed the hatch door after Richina left, then turned to the table, where he began to re-roll the maps that had been spread there.

Secca looked down at the map of Stura for a moment, before Alcaren lifted it and began to roil it.

"You hide much," Alcaren said slowly, after replacing the maps in their cases. He sat back down at the table, waiting for Secca to sit.

Secca remained standing.

"Do you not wish to let them know what you plan?" he asked.

"I have not hidden that we will use terrible spells." Secca shook her head sadly. "It is just that they cannot understand how terrible." She looked across the table at her consort. "Had you not read them, would you know?"

"No," Alcaren admitted. "You fear that some would make the voyage more difficult did they know?"

"I think not, but I would worry that some of the players would not play so well did they know.

You recall how Bretnay is, and Rowal would not speak for days after the worst of the storm spells."

Alcaren nodded slowly. "You know which spell, then. Perhaps, you should let me study it, if it must be done. I should know the words and melody as well as you."

Secca eased around the table to the covered bin by the oversize bunk. From there she took a leather folder, opening it and taking out what Anna had called a manila envelope. On the outside was written "Armageddon" in Anna's graceful but angular hand. The sheet Secca wanted was the second one, and she eased it out, then replaced the envelope in the leather folder before handing the single sheet to Alcaren.

He read slowly, swallowing. "You showed me this one before. Why this one?"

"Because of your map," she explained. "The north of the isle is like the Ring of Fire, and the mountains overlook both Inylt and the port city of Stura itself."

Alcaren frowned, as if he did not understand, but did not wish to say so.

"The lady Anna told me, long years ago, that it is easier to use what is than to create all the elements of a spell from nothing. The sea is there, but it cannot reach beyond the towns and cities on the coast, no matter how mighty the spell."

"Whereas this . . ."

"It might reach most of the isle and all the places where those who might seek revenge live and work," Secca finished.

"It is a terrible spell," he murmured.

"It is." Secca sighed. "It is also pure Clearsong."

"But terrible," he repeated.

"Will anything less suffice?" she asked meeting his gray-blue eyes with her amber orbs.

After a moment, he shook his head.

77.

Wei, Nordwei Because the day is gray, the shutters and hangings in Ashtaar's study and receiving room are drawn back. Outside, dark clouds hang over the city, and occasional fat flakes of spring snow drift past the ancient glass of the windowpanes. Inside, the Council Leader sits behind her ebony table desk, the hand in her lap holding a freshly laundered green cloth, the other resting on the polished surface of the table, her fingers less than a span from the polished dark agate oval.

The seer Escadra settles herself into the chair across from Ashtaar.

"What have you to tell me?" asks the older woman.

Escadra clears her throat before she begins. "We still cannot scry the sorceress directly. The glasses show that a half-score of Ranuan ships are bearing and escorting the Sorceress Protector of Defalk westward. They could be traveling toward the Ostisles or the isles of Sturinn, but that is far from certain."

"Not to Neserea?" questions Ashtaar.

"The ships have been sailing due west for days, Leader Ashtaar," Escadra states. "They have been under full sail, and they should have long passed the point where they would turn northward, were they headed to Neserea."

"If they change their course, I am to know at once."

The seer nods.

"What of the Sturinnese in Neserea?"

"The force which left Dumar is nearing the Sturinnese armsmen who have been attacking the Liedfuhr's lancers. Another group, mostly of Sea-Priest sorcerers, is riding northward. They look to be headed somewhere to the west of Esaria. They also are difficult to scry."

"They ride to Worlan, where they will meet the Sturinnese fleet to take Esaria." Ashtaar covers her mouth with the green cloth and coughs, but only once.

"That may be, Leader. The Sturinnese ships have been slowed because the ice in the Bitter Sea is breaking early."

"How far are they from Esaria?"

"We believe within a score of deks, but that was before they were caught in the floes moving."

"Have any been damaged by the ice?"

"Two, so far as we can see. They have used much sorcery, though."

"Good. Best they be tired." Ashtaar gives a hard smile, which vanishes as quickly as it had appeared. "And our fleet?"