Anna stepped around the table "You may stay at Falcor so long as you wish. At least while I'm regent,"

she added. "But that was not the message. Your father is sick. He's very sick"

For a moment, Secca stared at Anna, silently. After a moment, the girl's eyes misted. Then tears welled up and oozed down her cheeks, and she began to shiver.

"I'm sorry." Anna stepped forward and hugged the child. "I'm sorry, Secca."

"Poor Papa. . . poor Papa..." Secca kept repeating the words.

''Poor Papa"? Does she suspect what I suspect? Of her mother? Anna managed to keep from shaking her head. After a time of holding the redhead, she finally asked, "Do you want to go home?"

Secca shivered more violently, shaking her head against Anna's shirt and sash. "Papa. . . he said I should stay with you. I should stay even if times are bad. Will you let me stay?"

Anna wanted to shiver herself, fearing that Secca had confirmed her suspicions of Anientta. Instead, she just hugged Secca again. "You can stay as long as you want." At lean while I'm regent... or Lady of Loiseau. ''As long as you want...."

Anna finally sat down, drawing the still-sobbing child into her arms, wondering how she'd ended up with another little redhead.

After the scattering clouds and shifting light from the window had played across the wall for a time.

Secca gave a last sob, a cough, and blotted her eyes.

'You really won't send me back to Flossbend?"

"You can stay here so long as you wish. If I'm no longer regent, you may come to Loiseau with me...

that's if you want to."

"Can we play Vorkoffe soon? Tonight?" Secca asked.

"A short game." Anna conceded with a laugh. The game was similar to the box game Anna had played in college, where whoever got the most boxes completed won, but in Liedwahr the object was to distribute stones by twos, and the complexity made the outcome less certain.

"You must have a lot to do." Secca straightened. "And I want to play tonight." She looked straight at Anna, and her eyes watered again. "You are good. Papa said you were." She swallowed. "I'd better go."

After Secca had left, Anna took out the smooth brown paper that was so expensive in Liedwahr and the quill, and began to write the response to Lady Anientta, slowly and carefully, to avoid smudging the ink that seemed to take forever to dry. Once she finished, she reread the key parts in a low voice.

"...share your grief at the illness of one with whom you shared so much of your life...."

"We also regret deeply that a lord so able and supportive of Defalk and the Regency is unable to full fill his duties, and trust you will continue in his tradition...."

"In accordance with Lord Hryding's wishes, as expressed directly to me, and to Secca, she has asked and will remain in Falcor to complete her fostering and education...."

"In this time of grief and turmoil, Secca sends her love to her father, to you and to Jeron and Kurik..."

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. She rang the bell.

"Yes, Lady Anna." Skent peered in.

She lifted the scroll. "Skent, would you please make a copy of this, right now, and then return both to me?"

The page's eyes widened.

"Dythya says you're quite capable of copying and that you have a fine hand."

"Yes, Lady Anna." Skent crossed the room and took the scroll.

"Send Fridric in on your way out." The page inclined his head.

Fridric bowed as he entered. "Lady Anna,"

"I will have a scroll for you to return to the Lady Anientta. At this time, I an adhering to Lord Hryding's wishes that Secca remain in Falcor."

Fridric bowed.

"You and Stephen and Markan are also welcome here at any time," Anna added, deciding against being too explicit.

"Thank you, Lady Anna." Fridric stopped, then swallowed. "We serve Lord Hryding."

"Lord Hryding is a good lord," Anna answered, "and I know you will serve him well."

Fridric looked relieved.

"If you wouldn't mind waiting outside for the scroll."

"Oh, no" Lady Anna." The young armsman practically backed out of the receiving room.

After Skent returned with the two scrolls and she signed and sealed the original and sent Fridric off with it, Anna glanced at the sandgla.s.s on the wall stand, nearing the eighth gla.s.s of the day. Four o'clock, earth time, she converted mentally, and time to meet with Liende to go over the spell songs.

Her eyes pa.s.sed across the piles of paper, and she wanted to groan. Was she really doing anything? Or was it all an illusion?

Jecks was right. She had to think about efficiency. She hated the very word. It had been one of Avery's watchwords, and Sandy hadn't been much better.

Clearly, creating things almost from scratch-like the d.a.m.ned bridge over the Falche-took a lot of effort. But what about rearrangements? Would it take less effort to rebuild houses or shops? What if she started fixing up abandoned houses in Falcor? She shook her head. They couldn't be gifts. Gifts never worked, not with children, friends, or enemies. Was that it? Dwellings for artisans and craftspeople-in return for services to the liedstadt and to entice them back to Falcor?

She looked at the sandgla.s.s. Time for working out more of the spell arrangements with Liende. She stood and stretched, trying not to think about all the problems she still hadn't resolved, from roads to liedgeld, to dead and possibly dying lords, and hostile countries on almost every border of Defalk.

Followed by Blaz and Lejun, Anna hurried out of the receiving hail and across the courtyard to the players' quarters and the large room that had become Liende's rehearsal hail.

The strains of the building song, played by several violinos and the clarinet-like woodwind of Liende, seeped through the planks of the stained-pine door. Anna paused to listen, with her guards standing behind her.

One of the violinos was slightly off.

Abruptly, the woodwind quit "Enough." Liende's voice came through the door. "Delvor, you're not holding the pitch. You have to follow Kaseth. This sorceress is more forbearing than most, but if you do that when she's casting a spell, she's not going to be pleased. I won't be at all happy, because you're endangering the rest of us. You need to practice more. If you don't, I'll tell the regent you can't play well enough."

"Please... master player. I'll practice. I'll practice more," promised Delvor.

"You must practice better."

The regent suspected the wavering words belonged to Kaseth, who had been Lord Brill' s lead player.

Anna still wondered bow Liende had persuaded the older man to play under her.

The sorceress knocked on the plank door, then opened it, and stepped into the cool room, lit by only two candles in gla.s.s mantels. The flames of both candles wavered with the door's opening.

The three string players rose, Delvor scrambling rather than merely standing.

Anna looked at the youngster. "If Liende doesn't think you've improved enough in two weeks, you will leave. Do you understand?"

Delvor's lower lip trembled. "Yes, Lady Anna."

"Delvor... I may not look it, but I've practiced and trained for nearly thirty years." Anna kept her voice cool. "My oldest daughter was almost old enough to be your mother Music and sorcery aren't things you just play at." She gave a perfunctory smile. "If the rest of you wouldn't mind, I need a few moments with Liende."

The three string players bowed. Kaseth met her eyes briefly, and gave the faintest of nods, as did Palian.

Delvor's eyes were on the floor.

Once the door closed, guarded on the outside by Blaz and Lejun, Anna turned to the woodwind player. "I hope you didn't mind, but it's better that I'm the bad person. Then you can seem reasonable."

"I have told him" Liende shook her head. "The young, they do not understand."

"No, they don't," Anna agreed, thinking of all the students she'd taught over the years, and how few ever truly understood the difference between adequacy and perfection. In sorcery, or music spells, competency was barely enough, and a mistake could be dangerous or fatal. "If you think he isn't up to it, then send him away.

"He might practice now," the red-and-white-haired woman said with a short laugh.

"Or he might sulk and think we're unreasonable," Anna said dryly. She'd certainly seen that type before.

Liende waited.

"I'm going to need you for a building spell, the second one. How soon can you have that ready?"

The woodwind player frowned. 'We have just started, and it is different with only four players. A week, perhaps?"

"All right." Anna had hoped for a date earlier than that, but Liende seemed reasonable, and Anna hadn't yet learned whether the player was one who was too cautious, or too optimistic, or relatively accurate in judging timing. Another thing she needed to learn.

And... she'd promised Secca a game of Vorkoffe.

Was there ever time for what needed to be done?

13 ESARIA, NESEREA.

The brown-haired officer in the maroon uniform of a Lancer of Mansuur drops to one knee, and looks up to Rabyn. "Your grandsire, the Liedfuhr has pledged us to your service, Lord Rabyn."

"To my service, Overcaptain Relour?" asks the dark haired youth, leaning forward slightly, and almost indolently, in the gilt throne chair.

To the service of the Lord of Neserea, and the Protector of the Faith of the Eternal Melody," answers the overcaptain, standing and turning to his left to face Nubara. "And, of course, following the counsel of the hand of the regent, Counselor and Overcaptain Nubara."

"Of course," echoes Rabyn, smiling broadly. "You are indeed most welcome here in Esaria, and I am certain that Overcaptain Nubara will ensure that you and all of your men are quartered and fed. Then, we must talk, the three of us, about the Liedfuhr's wishes on how we are to defeat the evil sorceress of the east."

"That is one reason why I am here, my lord. We await your pleasure, and that of the hand of the regent."

Relour bows, but not deeply. "By your leave?"

"By our leave." Rabyn smiles again, leaning back in the gilt chair. "We are most glad to see you and your lancers, and we look forward to ensuring their use against our enemies."

Relour offers a last bead-bow before turning.

The doors to the winter receiving-chamber close behind the lancer commander, leaving Nubara and Rabyn alone.

"You may be lord and prophet in name, Lord Rabyn," Nubara says quietly as he edges up beside Rabyn, "but his lancers are a greater farce than any single one you have left in Neserea."

"Did you know that the Prophet's Guard has seventy-score armsmen?" asks Rabyn, his tone guileless as he turns and looks at Nubara, his eyes wide. "That's what Captain Gellinot told me yesterday. He is the cousin of the late captain.-Zealor, was it?"

"Zealor is his cousin. Or was, until the sorceress killed him," Nubara replies.

"Do you think he will make a good captain of the Guard?"

"He is loyal to the throne, and to you." Nubara's voice is smooth.

"Do you like him. Nubara?"

The Mansouran officer laughs, softly. "Lord Rabyn, I have liked men who would have killed me, and disliked those who have given their life for me. Liking does not matter. Trust does. If you cannot trust someone, you must control them. You can like them, but never count on liking when blades are drawn."

"You are wise." Rabyn c.o.c.ks his head to one side. "Should rulers like anyone?"

"You can like who you wish. Just don't confuse it with trust."

"Can we trust Overcaptain Relour?"

"He will do as he has been ordered by your grandsire. That you can count upon." Nubara shrugs.

"And what are his orders?"

"We know he has been ordered to protect you and the borders of Neserea."

"But not to support an attack on Defalk and the sorceress?"

"No." Nubara smiles widely, but only with his mouth. "Not until your forces are stronger. And that will not be; too long. Overcaptain Nitron reports that the Mittfels Foot is at full strength-"

"Why is he still an overcaptain?"

"Because he was the most senior officer who remained loyal to your father and to you. And he did bring back not only his levies, but the rest of your forces."

'Those who didn't desert," snaps Rabyn. "What about the Prophet's Lancers?"

"Reforming is slower there," admits Nubara. "Most of the senior officers remained in Defalk.

Overcaptain Relour might be persuaded to lend an officer or two.

Rabyn frowns, then nods. "If you would ask him..."