141.

Encora, Ranuak In the shadows of the balcony, the Matriarch looks southward at the sun setting behind the low hills overlooking the harbor. Beside her stands Aetlen, one arm loosely around her waist.

"I feel happy for her and sorry for her," Alya muses.

"Lady Secca?" asks Aetlen.

"She will not see it yet, but she has no choice. She wrestles with a decision that is not a choice."

"She feels it within her heart, but would wish to deny it,"

suggests Aetlen. "As did you, once, as I recall. Within, you two are much alike."

"I suspect so. Except she has been forced to learn in blood and pain that good principles and feelings are far from enough to ensure peace and prosperity-or free actions for people."

"You feel sorry for her."

"Don't you?" asks the Matriarch. "Every joy she will know will be tinged with bitterness and loss. Every action taken will be chosen knowing the pain of those who will suffer."

After a time, Aetlen asks, "What of the Ladies of the Shadows?"

Alya shrugs. "I imagine that they will claim that either luck or the discipline of the Great Sorceress or the greed of the Sea-Priests, or some such, were all that prevented Liedwahr from being turned to molten rock by sorcery, and that what happened to Stura is a lesson about sorcery misused. Saying so, they will continue to oppose it here."

"You do not seem terribly upset." Aetlen grins.

"No. We can now send young men with a talent for sorcery, or even headstrong young women, to foster with Lady Secca and Lord Alcaren. She could scarce refuse such."

"Not now."

"She will be far more careful than any suspect," predicted the Matriarch.

"She will be far more ruthless in using the shadows," added Aetlen sadly. "Truly, she will have to be the shadowsinger for all Liedwahr, but she will not see that yet. All she sees is that Lord Robero must be replaced, and she questions whether it is right that she should."

"There is no one else."

They both nod, then watch as the sun slips behind the hills, and the harbor waters turn from silver into dull gray.

142.

Secca shifted her weight in Songfire's saddle, then leaned forward to see better the oblong stone by the shoulder of the road. The dekstone read: Falcor: 5 d.

Secca looked to Alcaren. "Not that much farther."

"There has been no word from Lord Robero."

"The glass showed him riding somewhere," Secca pointed out "He does not wish to meet with you. That is most clear." Alcaren laughed. "Nor would I, were I in his boots."

Secca nodded, then looked back over her shoulder. For the first time in the two days since they had ridden away from the glass lake that was Aroch, she could see clouds to the west, just a few white puffs, and in the light wind of mid-afternoon, she doubted that, even if the clouds darkened and promised rain, they would reach her force before they entered Falcor.

"Look!" Alcaren gestured.

Delcetta and Wilten rode back along the side of the stone-paved highway, then turned their mounts and flanked Secca and Alcaren.

"A company of lancers rides toward us, lady," announced Wilten. "They wear the blue-green of Defalk."

"After all that has happened," Delcetta added, "we would prefer to be ready."

"That might be best," Secca replied. "I doubt there will be trouble, but I will have the lutar ready as well." She suspected she would be good for about one spell, but that was one more than some of the players could take.

"I will bring up a full company to the vanguard." Delcetta smiled. "They should see the blue and crimson."

"I think they should," Secca agreed, returning the smile.

In less than a half-glass, after they had ridden over a gentle rise in the road, Secca could see the company of Defalkan lancers. They had stopped and were drawn up in formation, less than a dek ahead on the gray paving stones of the road.

"Column halt!" The order came from both Delcetta and Wilten, near simultaneously. "Ready arms!"

Secca let her fingers touch the strings of the lutar, checking its tuning once more, before watching as a single officer in the blue-green of Defalk rode forward, his, hands open, and extended to show that they were empty. He was accompanied by a single lancer bearing a white banner. He stopped his mount as he neared Wilten and Delcetta. The three talked for a moment, then all three followed the banner bearer along the shoulder of the road toward Secca.

As they neared, Secca recognized the gray-bearded Defalkan officer. "That's Jirsit."

"And?" asked Alcaren dryly.

"Oh . . . he's Lord Robero's arms commander. I've known him since I was a child. Anna always found him honest and solid."

"Let us see how honest and solid," suggested Alcaren. After reining up a good ten yards from Secca, Jirsit bowed. "Lady Secca, the lancers of Defalk welcome you to Falcor, and we stand ready and willing to do your bidding as Sorceress Protector."

"We have come to see Lord Robero," Secca replied evenly.

"He is not in Falcor, Lady Secca. When he received word of your victory and your message that you were returning to discuss the future of Defalk with him, he ordered us to oppose you. This morning, we formed up and rode out, and then sent a message to Lord Robero that since you had defeated the Sturinnese, we were bound to you as the Sorceress Protector." Jirsit laughed ironically. "In less than a glass, he had gathered his personal guard and left Falcor. He was riding toward Elheld."

Secca nodded slowly. "We will enter Falcor, but we will only spend a day or so allowing the lancers and players some rest. Then we must go to Elheld."

"We know, Lady Secca. We ask to be placed under your command and to accompany you there." Jirsit's eyes held the hint of a smile. "We will abide by your decisions. Every officer and every lancer has so agreed."

Will it be this simple? Secca doubted that, since nothing in the past year had turned out as it first seemed-except her foreboding feeling about the Sturinnese.

143.

Mansuus, Mansuur The two men stand on the balcony outside the Liedfuhr's private study, looking out over the city and at the River Toksul in the quiet of twilight.

The younger and taller Liedfuhr glances sideways at Bassil. "So I must plead to the Sorceress Protector now?"

"I think not, sire. She will entertain a simple request, courteously sent, and accompanied with several thousand golds as a token of your esteem and gratitude for ridding Liedwahr of the scourge of the Sea-Priests. You could even suggest that because she used her own resources on behalf of Liedwahr you are sending the golds to her personally as the merest token of recompense."

Kestrin laughs. "Such words reek worse than steer manure."

"She knows that, and you know that, but she will accept them, and she will entertain your request."

"The woman could destroy all we have in a season, and you think she will entertain such a request?"

"Yes; sire. It is simple. First, she will have to become Lady of Defalk. She may protest, and rail, for she is clearly not one to enjoy dealing with scheming lords and ladies, but there is no one else. She is young enough to bear heirs, and against that too, she may rail, but she is a woman who will do what needs to be done. Only sorcery will rebuild Neserea and western Defalk, and the only sorcerers and sorceresses are of Defalk. Neserea will become part of Defalk. That means that Dumar will not.

"Not now," snorts Kestrin.

"There is already word in Dumar that the Sorceress Protector had suggested your niece and her consort as the Lord and Lady High Counselors of Dumar. The Sorceress Protector will have her hands filled to overflowing in consolidating her power in Defalk and in rebuilding Neserea. You merely congratulate her on her wise decision in naming your niece and young Eryhal and promise another installment of golds in a year, once Mansuur has recovered from its own losses."

"She might accede there, at that," muses the Liedfuhr.

"Later, when she feels more secure, you request that she train a sorceress for the defense of Mansuur. She can say yes or no, but I would wager that she will accede if you are gracious enough."

"Perhaps. Perhaps." The Liedfuhr's lips twist into an ironic smile.

"Given what might have happened, we have lost little," suggests the older man.

"Is that not the usual refrain, Bassil? That matters could have been so much worse?"

"Always, sire. Always."

Kestrin laughs once more.

144.

Secca rode the last dek toward Elheld, northward from the town of Elhi, which lay several deks to the south of the hold, a town that had been little more than a hamlet until the time of Robero's great-grandsire. Her lutar was already tuned and held ready while she guided Songfire left- handed. As she neared the ancestral hold of Lord Robero, Secca glanced at the ancient gates to Elheld-open, as they had always been---but deserted. Even at midday, Under a warm spring sun and a cloudless sky, the reddish granite stones held a silver shade. But then, everything that Secca saw still held silver tinges, and always would, she suspected. The gates were not to a keep or liedburg proper, but set on each side of the lane and in the low walls that surrounded Elheld at a distance of well over a dek. Elheld was a sprawling stone mansion, not a true keep, and never had been high-walled in the fashion of Loiseau or Falcor.

The vanguard preceding Secca and Alcaren contained a company of lancers from Loiseau and one of SouthWomen. Jolyn and Anandra had remained in Falcor, and Jirsit had been persuaded to leave half of the surviving companies--five companies-of the Lancers of Defalk in Falcor under his assistant, Elber. Jirsit himself had insisted on accompanying Secca. So the column that stretched out behind her ran almost a dek back toward the town of Elhi and the Fal River.

Past the open gates, the lane leading up to the main dwelling was empty-except for a single lancer officer, mounted on a roan stallion. The officer wore the bright blue tunic of Lord Robero's personal guard.

The column halted while Delcetta and Jirsit rode forward to talk to the officer, then all three rode back toward Secca.

Alcaren left his sabre unsheathed, his eyes on the approaching officer. Secca continued to hold the lutar ready.

The tall lancer officer reined up well back from Secca, and bowed in the saddle. '"Lady Secca, I am Overcaptain Bryn, commanding Lord Robero's personal lancers."

"Yes, Overcaptain?" Secca's voice was impersonal.

"Might I speak with you, Lady Secca?" asked Bryn.

"You may speak here, Overcaptain Bryn, where my consort and all may hear. About this, I would have no secrets."

"So it has always been said about you, lady." Bryn inclined his head. "Very well. Our problem is most simple. We are pledged to Lord Robero. Lord Robero has not carried out his duties and has exceeded his authority in trying to take your demesne from you. He has, if I may be perfectly blunt, also exceeded his intelligence. Nonetheless, we are pledged to him. You have the power to destroy us all, possibly without losing a single lancer. We neither wish to break our pledge, nor to die needlessly."

"I can see your problem." Secca nodded slowly. "Yet, here is mine. Lord Robero ordered me to allow the Sturinnese to depart after they had destroyed all of northern Neserea and too many keeps and towns in Defalk He feared losing his power and position more than he feared his people losing their lives and their freedoms." She paused. "I cannot release you from your pledge. Only Lord Robero can do that. Nor can I fail to do my duty to Defalk and its people. All I can offer you is that whatever happens between Lord Robero and me will occur between us---as woman to man, man to woman." Her smile was cold. "Surely, Lord Robero does not need his lancers to protect him against one small woman." Her silver-pupiled amber eyes fixed on the over-captain.

As if for the first time, Bryn saw her eyes. He swallowed. "Yes . . . or no, Overcaptain? Does your pledge mean attacking one small woman who has done right by Defalk in order to defend a man who has done wrong? Does it mean losing all your lancers to defend a man who has already broken his pledge to his people?"

Bryn looked away. "If we do not attack . . . what will you do?"

"Leave you free to tender your pledge to Lady Alyssa, to protect her and her children. They may hold Elheld here, but no more than Elheld."

Bryn slowly nodded. "We will not interfere. Should you prevail, as you will, we will protect the Lady Alyssa. Our men are drawn up in formation to the west of the hold house."

"Overcaptain Delcetta and her first company will accompany you to ensure that naught occurs, if you do not mind, while I meet with Lord Robero."

Jirsit cleared his throat. "Lady Secca . . . we would also accompany the SouthWomen. All five companies."

"I would appreciate that, Arms Commander." Secca turned in the saddle. "Richina! Palian?"

The younger blonde sorceress rode forward. "Yes, Lady Secca?"

Palian followed.

"You and the players will follow Arms Commander Jirsit and set up by the hold house. There are several companies of Lord Robero's personal guards drawn up there in formation. If Overcaptain Bryn and his men make one move to leave or attack, you will use the flame spell and destroy them all."

"Yes, Lady Secca." Richina looked coldly, imperiously, at the older overcaptain.

"Your players stand ready, Lady Secca," added Palian, her voice colder than Secca's or Richina's.

Secca could see a hint of silver in Richina's eyes as well. Will that mark all of us who were at Aroch and survived? Forever?

Bryn looked away from Richina and Palian.

"Unlike some, Overcaptain, I keep my word," Secca said. "So does Richina, and she is almost as powerful as I am."

She looked to Alcaren and Wilten. "We need to meet with Lord Robero."

"Lady . . . you must not step into the dwelling," Wilten said. "Not until we have secured it."

Secca did not argue. "Go ahead. Except . . . tell everyone that if even one of your lancers is harmed, I will use sorcery against every man in Elheld. Everyone."

"That I will be pleased to announce. We will disarm them all."

Secca eased Songfire to the side of the lane. As most of the column of lancers and players rode northward and up the long gentle slope, Secca and Alcaren watched.

"Do you think any will try to trouble you?" asked Alcaren.

"I would think not," Secca replied, "but I trust no one here who is not pledged to me." And it is sad that it must be that way.

Less than half a glass passed before Captain Peraghn of the SouthWomen rode back down the lane and reported. "Elheld is yours, lady."

"Was there any trouble?"

Peraghn shook her head. "Some faces were sad. I think all expected this."

That, too, was sad, Secca reflected as she urged Songfire up the lane. Anna had hoped and worked for a stable lineage to rule Defalk, but Robero had proved, in the end, unequal to the task. You would have to be the one to tell him.

As she neared the hold itself, Secca studied the ranked guards in blue to the west---and the Defalkan lancers arrayed between them and the entrance to the mansion itself, and then the players set up just beyond the entrance and the mounting blocks. She doubted that ever had EIheld seen so many lancers at once, and never so many from such different sources.