"I fear that by the time the players set up and tune, one group of Sturinnese will be upon us,"

Alcaren replied.

"Companies! Form up by squads!" Wilten and Delcena were not waiting. That was clear, and Secca had the feeling that, once more, everything was on the edge of reeling out of control.

Alcaren was singing a vocalise and walking toward where the players were quick-tuning.

"Bretnay! Now!" Palian snapped at the laggard violinist.

"Yes, chief player."

As the sounds of tuning died away, and the players began their warm-up tune, Secca looked to the east, where two companies of lancers had formed into an attack line, even though no Sturinnese were visible. To the south, halfway across the field, a company of SouthWomen had taken station.

A distant and dull rumbling began to rise, and Secca could feel the air tremble, or so it seemed.

Secca turned, looking at Richina, then to the north. With the rumbling came a too-familiar hissing scream as a blaze of fire whooshed out of the north and plunged toward the ground perhaps a dek to the south. A dull boom followed. Then the ground shook, and a column of smoke, mostly whitish, rose against the hazy sky.

Both Richina and Anandra had paled. Secca looked at the two.

"It was like someone was pushing at us," Richina said.

"Just hold on," Secca urged them, looking toward the players.

"We stand ready, Lord Alcaren," Palian called.

"On your mark," Alcaren called back.

"At my mark," ordered Palian, "the third building song. Mark!"

Standing on the low rise, the grass now somewhat muddy from the players' boots, both the first and second players began the spellsong. Secca almost joined in at the third bar, but shut her mouth as Alcaren's baritone filled the air.

"Clouds to form and winds to rise like a caldron in darkening skies..."

Secca found herself breathing faster, nervous for Alcaren, and yet visualizing the storm of all storms, and hoping that her consort was as well as he began the second stanza.

"Clouds to boil and storms to bubble..."

After Alcaren completed the last words of the spell, Secca looked to the east, where the pall of smoke was definitely thicker, as her nose insisted.

The skies darkened, particularly to the west, and the rushing of the wind rose swiftly into the roaring torrent that Secca disliked more each time she heard it. So strong was the wind that Secca found herself holding on to Songfire's stirrup strap. Valya yelled something, but, against the wind, Secca could hear nothing, even though the Rider heir was less than a handful of yards from her. Gusts of bitter-chill air blasted through the warmer springlike air, pulling and pushing at the sorceress. Amid the crashes of thunder, and the darkened skies, fine ice needles pelted Secca, flying across the open fields and meadows almost sideways.

The ice pellets vanished, and the air turned strangely still, and the sky was almost dark green as, to the west, two enormous black funnel clouds swirled, with the dark misty moisture of rain surrounding and trailing them. Faint yells and cries rose in the distance.

Then rain, not ice, swept back over Secca and the others, and she held herself against the comforting bulk of Songfire. The rain lashed at her with cold needles, so hard and thick that she could see nothing. The howling roar filled her ears, seemingly coming from both east and west.

After some fraction of a glass---Secca wasn't sure how long---the hard rain subsided into a lighter rain, and then stopped, leaving a foggy mist rising from the ground.

Secca looked around Songfire to the east, where she watched for several moments, perhaps longer, as the last funnel cloud slowly vanished. Then she turned.

Alcaren was sitting on the grass. His face was ashen, almost corpselike, and he was slowly eating some bread and sipping from a water bottle that Valya was holding while he ate the bread.

"He swooned," the Rider woman explained.

Alcaren looked up at Secca sheepishly. "I did finish the spell."

Secca wanted to protest that he shouldn't have done the spellsong, but, looking at him, she knew he'd been right. And so was she---they were being stretched to their limits.

Behind Alcaren were Richina and Anandra. The two youngest sorceresses also were eating, but did not look so pale as Alcaren.

Farther to the south were the players, frantically using cloths to dry instruments and strings.

Secca hoped that there had not been too much damage, but usually the players had more time to prepare and had a better idea of what to expect after the spellsong.

"Secca?" The contralto voice was that of Jolyn.

The redheaded sorceress half turned.

"That firebolt. Is that what they used on Denguic?" Jolyn stood by her mount, reins in hand, water from the sudden rain and ice storm oozing from her hair across her forehead.

"And Esaria, and Elioch, and Fussen," Secca replied, absently blotting away the water she belatedly realized was dripping from her own hair.

Jolyn nodded slowly. "Then we must do what we must, and I will sing with both heart and voice."

That was as much of an apology-or a re-consideration as Secca would get from Jolyn, and it was enough. "Thank you."

Jolyn glanced sadly across the fields, then looked up at the sound of a rider against the silence.

Secca looked to the west and watched as Wilten rode toward her. The overcaptain swallowed once, then again. Like Alcaren, he was pale.

Secca wanted to ask him what the problem was, but she had a good idea, from the yells she had heard just before the funnel cloud had swept across the long field to the west of her force.

Instead, she waited.

"The Sturinnese . . . mayhap five companies, they were charging the green company and overcaptain Delcetta's second . . . when the storm struck them . . ."

"How many did we lose?" asked Secca quietly.

"A score and a half, lady, and there are five who will survive but will not soon fight."

Secca nodded slowly. "I am sorry." It's your fault. You should have checked the glass more often. But everything was a trade-off. If she checked too often and became exhausted, she wouldn't have the strength left to use the sorcery she needed. Alcaren was physically stronger than she was, but the strain of carrying the wards for nearly two weeks had worn on him as well.

"There are none of Sturinn surviving. Not near here." Wilten swallowed convulsively. "I would not have any ride west. The grass is pink, and . . ."

Secca waited again.

"We will have to ride north for a time, Lady Secca. The winds snapped the trees across the road, as if they were kindling. The rain did douse the fire, and so there are steam and smoke, but few flames. If we ride north for a dek or two, we can head eastward once more, or so the scouts say."

"We need to travel eastward some. Perhaps we can find shelter before dark."

"That would be good, Lady Secca."

"Thank you, Wilten."

Secca watched as the overcaptain turned his mount toward the intact companies still stationed on to the east. Then she looked toward Alcaren, and the others. "We need to ride and find shelter.

There will be more attacks." Of that, she had no doubts.

130.

Secca looked at the damp logs half-burning, half-steaming in the open hearth of the cottage. The intermittent flames cast shifting shadows on the plastered walls of the main room, walls that had not been whitewashed in years. The plank floors were gritty with years of sand ground into the wood.

Outside a drizzle, not quite a rain, drifted across the dwellings of the small town of Frowlet. It had been almost dark when Secca's force had ridden into the quiet lanes. Someone had clearly warned everyone, because the town was empty, but there were coals in the hearths, unshuttered windows, and fresh tracks in the damp clay of the road. Secca felt guilty for driving out the local people, but if she did not succeed in defeating the Maitre, she had no doubts that the folk around Aroch would suffer far more.

Secca cleared her throat and looked around the crowded room. From a small group of five or six people two seasons earlier, her unofficial council had grown to more than a half-score, with all the sorceresses, overcaptains, lords, and chief players--- plus Lysara and Valya. With thirteen people in the common room, it was far too close and cramped for Secca's taste, yet she did not feel right in asking any of them to leave. Everyone stood, most with their backs to the hearth, facing Secca, because the square table in the corner could have held but five or six, and because only a single bench and two stools had been left in the cottage.

"According to the scrying glass and to the scouts sent out by Lord Kinor, Lord Tiersen, and by Wilten and Delcetta," Secca began, "the Maitre's main force could reach Aroch by midday tomorrow. The Sturinnese have repaired the breaches in the walls and have scouts and picket lines around the town and keep. They have close to twenty companies at Aroch. There are only a few scouts to the north, but the two bridges across the gorge are already heavily guarded."

"Do you think they will attack us tomorrow?" asked Tiersen. "Or are they still too far from Aroch?"

"Tomorrow would seem most unlikely," Alcaren replied. "They do have fifteen or twenty companies at Aroch, but only a few sorcerers and but one drum cart. They would have to ride twenty deks or more and they would only outnumber us by less than two to one. Their drum carts would slow them as well if they took their sorcerers. The Maitre's force has dose to fifty companies and several sorcerers, but they would have to reach Aroch, then immediately ride north for almost twenty deks, again with the drum carts."

"We will have to use the scrying glass more often as we near Aroch," Secca added. "We can expect more attacks like the one yesterday once all the Maitre's forces are settled in Aroch."

"Why will they gather all together?" asked Tiersen.

"For the same reason that we are," Secca replied. "To protect against sorcery from a distance. If we are together, one or two sorceresses can handle the wards, and the rest of us can use sorcery against them. If we split up, then most of the sorceresses will have to spend their efforts protecting against sorcery.

Both Wilten and Delcetta nodded knowingly.

"That means that they sent out that young sorcerer to die," Jolyn said. "They had to know he could not have defeated us."

"His attack cost us near-on a company and a half," Delcetta pointed out.

"They want to exhaust us," Secca said. "They almost did at the battle for Elahwa. It was close.

Richina and I could hardly stand. Their last charge came from all sides. I didn't see the lancers from the rear. If they had had another ten companies, they would have taken us. Once they are ready, they will send as many attacks as they can mount, and as close together as possible.

"Should we just back away, and let them hold Aroch?" asked Jolyn.

Secca frowned. "I think not. I could not tell you why, but that feels most wrong."

"It would certainly strengthen those in Defalk who urge that we treat with the Sea-Priests," said Kinor. "It would also leave Dumar and Neserea open to mischief, either from Mansuur or even from Nordwei.

"Not immediately," Secca pointed out. "They will wait some weeks, but if we do not show Defalk as strong and able, all will scramble to treat with the Maitre-or to take any lands they think they might hold."

"Defalk is not strong and able," pointed out Lysara, from the corner by the hearth. "Its sorceresses are. Defalk cannot afford to have you seen as unable or unwilling to deal with the Maitre, not if we wish to avoid unending battles in the years to come."

Secca feared that Lysara was all too close to the truth. Even if they did prevail, unless they could utterly destroy the Sturinnese, they would be fighting skirmishes and visiting every lord in Dumar, Neserea, and Defalk for years and years to come just to keep order. It was certain Lord Robero could not. "That may be, but we need to work on the spells as well." Secca looked to Palian. "Did the players have a chance to practice the sixth building song?"

"We practiced for almost a glass tonight. We will practice in the morning before we ride."

"And the first building song?"

"They know that one well, and we ran through it but once."

"We will try that first when the time comes," Secca said. "If they can shield against it, then we will use the sixth building spell."

"You have not used that spell before, Lady Secca?" asked Palian, the faintest trace of a smile betraying that she already knew the answer and wanted Secca to elaborate.

"No. It is more terrible than any you have seen or heard," Secca paused, then looked at Wilten, Delcetta, and then at Tiersen and Kinor. "We will need spades and mattocks. These spells will have to be sung where the spellsingers and players can immediately take shelter behind berms and walls of earth."

"From deks away?" asked Wilten.

"Yes. From deks away."

Wilten looked down. Delcetta did not. Tiersen shifted his weight from foot to foot. Kinor nodded slowly.

"We will use the glass in the morning before we ride out, and let you all know what we have seen." Secca forced a smile. "Until then."

She watched as the others began to file out, then gestured to Jolyn. "Once they leave, we will need to practice, using blank syllables."

"Ah . . . in a few moments?"

"Are you well?"

Jolyn smiled uncomfortably. "I hope to be. It is not the best time of my season."

Secca nodded. "A little later? A half-glass from now?"

"That would be better."

The older blonde sorceress slipped out of the cottage, and Secca turned to the two younger sorceresses and Valya. "You may remain here, if you wish, so long as you are quiet.

"Thank you . . . if it truly would not bother you, lady?" asked Valya.

"If you are quiet," Secca replied with a smile, "you may enjoy the fire."

Richina and Anandra grinned, and Richina began to drag the bench in front of the hearth.

Secca walked over to Alcaren, who had commandeered one of the stools and sat facing a fire that had mostly stopped hissing, his lumand held loosely in one hand, a single sheet of paper in the other.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Tired," he admitted. "But better than yesterday." He smiled at her. "You know that sorcery is also like exercise?"

"Exercise?" Secca frowned.

"When we first did the wards, and the Sea-Priests sent sorcery against us, neither of us could do much more than hold those wards. Now . . ."