62.

Anna patted Farinelli, then shifted her weight in the saddle and, with her left hand, reached up and re- adjusted her damp shirt off her sweaty back. Lord, she wanted a bath-as much to get rid of the itching from the fine red dust as anything. The damping effect of light rain of the night before had barely lasted until midmorning, and it had taken them that long to retrace their way back from the camp Jecks and Hanfor had established to the main road to Stromwer. By then, the sun, clear skies, heat, and hoofs had combined to raise the red dust once more.

She still wore the breastplate, and sweat collected under that, mixing with dust. The chest scar from the crossbow, though healed, itched even more than her arm. They'd ended up waiting another day more than she had hoped for, but that had brought the end to her double vision-most of the time. Sometimes, her vision would still split, almost as if to warn her that she skirted on the edge.

Great! You can use your spells to kill-if they're worded right-but you can't use them to persuade. Her lips tightened, and she forced herself to relax. "You can't change what is," she mumbled to herself. "You can't...."

A thought crossed her mind-and she wanted to laugh bitterly. Whatever G.o.d or deity had set up Erde had wanted to protect men's and women's souls from being manipulated, but hadn't seemed to care about their physical well-being. Just like the priests of the Inquisition, who had tortured people to preserve their souls.

She pushed that useless thought aside and studied the land. The fields beside the road were already knee- high with bean plants and cotton, Anna thought. Cotton, harvesting that would be a ch.o.r.e. Too bad she didn't know how a cotton gin was built, but she was a singer, not an engineer.

Ahead of the column, the dust of a pair of mounts filled the road that led south to Stromwer.

"Halt!" Hanfor's command echoed down the column as the two scouts reined up.

Rather, one scout reined up two mounts, and Anna saw the figure of the other scout, dead, slumped across his mount's neck. "Ser... they still got archers up there."

After Anna reined Farinelli in, she glanced from Jecks to the road before them. Ahead, perhaps five hundred yards ahead on the right, was the point where the northern part of the valley narrowed into the defile that led to Stromwer. The first set of the nets Anna had found in her scrying gla.s.s bulged from the escarpment, the lowest part of the boulder-filled hemp nearly fifty yards above the road.

With the halt of the column, three archers stood above the nets and lofted arrows toward the advancing column. Clearly, Anna's loyalty commands hadn't reached the armsmen on the heights, and neither had orders from Stromwer. Or orders to resist had.

Anna sighed and, dismounting, unstrapped the lutar. Then she walked forward in front of Hanfor and the others, almost as though they were not there. Mechanically, she tuned the instrument, then followed with a vocalise, then another. She cleared her throat, and did a last warmup before her fingers went back to the lutar.

"Archers high, archers strong, turn to flame with this song."

Her thoughts focused on just those she saw. Still, when her eyes cleared, she saw at least four flaming figures fall into the defile. She lowered the lutar and turned, walking back to Farinelli, her steps careful as she had to tread her way through renewed double images.

"You think like a warrior, lady," Jecks said quietly as Anna slowly replaced the lutar in its case.

"Me?"

''What spell did you choose?''

"Oh..." She understood. She had chosen the simplest spell to kill the archers-one that didn't cost armsmen, archers, or even arrows. Simple and direct-and b.l.o.o.d.y. What does that make me?

"You are a warrior regent." He answered her unspoken question. His head inclined toward where Hanfor surveyed the road and the gorge. 'Your arms commander knows that. So do your armsmen. That is why they follow you.

Anna fastened the lutar in place before taking the reins from Fhurgen. Then, she shook her head. They still needed to deal with the boulders and the nets. What were you thinking, woman?

She gestured toward Liende. 'We'll ride closer. That will make it easier.'' Then she remounted. As they started toward the gorge, Hanfor called out orders to the armsmen, and Rickel and Fhurgen moved up to flank Anna and Jecks.

This time, Anna reined up somewhere between one hundred and two hundred yards from the high-walled opening to the gorge.

Jecks studied the rocks above intently. "I see nothing."

"Nor I," added Hanfor.

"Players!" called Liende.

Anna took several swallows from her water bottle while the players ran through their warm-up, then dismounted and walked down the road until she stood several yards before the group.

"We stand ready, Lady Anna."

Anna cleared her throat, then nodded.

"The short flame song. On my mark. Mark!" Liende's voice echoed hoa.r.s.ely through the canyon. There was no hurry, not for the moment, and Anna tried to make the words easy, without strain.

"Nets break and fray, boulders to dust away..."

With a roar, the nets fragmented, and a cascade of reddish dust plummeted down the cliff, welling up in a cloud that drifted southward into the narrow confines of the defile.

"One down;" she murmured, turning back to the big gelding, where she took out the portable scrying gla.s.s and set it on the shoulder of the road. She unpacked the lutar again, checked the tuning.

Jecks dismounted and eased close to her, to a spot where he could see the mirror. Hanfor eased his mount closer.

Anna waited for them to stop, then sang the spell seeking dangers.

"Show from the south, danger to fear, all the threats to me bright and clear.

The mirror silvered, then split into images. Anna blinked. There were four-no, five-sets of nets with archers above them, and the circular oil-caidron fort.

''Six more limes?" She shook her head.

''They won't have any reinforcements," Jecks said.

''I don't have any, either," she answered. Lord six more sets of spells!With that, she packed up the mirror, and then the lutar, and walked past Farinelli to find Liende.

The chief player stood by her mount, packing her horn case.

"I may need some help," Anna said slowly. "There are six more sets of nets, and I'll probably have to use the mirror to find some of them."

"We are yours to command."

"1 know," Anna said tiredly. "This isn't what anyone signed up for. But there aren't that many players..."

''And there is but one sorceress to save Defalk,'' Liende finished. "You ask more of yourself than of us.

What spells will you need?"

"The flame spell. For the archers and men that guard these rock nets. I don't like it, but if they haven't surrendered with all the time that has pa.s.sed, they won't." And I can't do it with the lutar. She shouldn't have tried the first spell.

Liende shook her head. "No sorcerer I know could sing it once and have it succeed without players."

"Thank you."

"We thank you."

Anna smiled faintly and turned, walking slowly back to Farinelli. Six more times? She squinted as she re- mounted.

''Why could she not cast a spell against all evils?'' asked Delvor as he packed away his violino.

Anna wished she could just sing a blanket spell that would protect them against everything, but she'd found nothing was that easy. After a moment, she answered. "First, because spells only work against a specific evil, and I have to be able to visualize-see in my mind-who or what that is. Second, the spell has to name the evil and provide a means to stop it. Third, it can't be too big a spell, or it would kill both you and me."

"Even so, without the first spells, we would have been buried in arrows and boulders," answered Jecks.

"All the armsmen from the keep could have gone up there and shot down."

He didn't mention that they'd still lost the one scout before Anna had called fire on the handful of guards who had been out of range of the loyalty spell of-Had it been a week before?

Anna glanced back along the column, to the wagon that carried the body, but it was lost in the dust.

"How many more?" She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until Jecks answered.

"None, if we are lucky. One cannot count on luck in warfare." He smiled' grimly. "You still wear the breastplate?''

''Yes. It itches." She blotted her forehead, then her neck, Her back itched as well, right between her shoulders where it was impossible to reach. She squirmed slightly.

"Better that than another arrow. Twice have you escaped death.

"I know. The third time might not be as fortunate."

Hanfor coughed. "Lady Anna?"

''Yes, Hanfor?"

"We must proceed. with care...."

"The next danger won't be until the next set of rocks. We'll have to go slowly. The mirror doesn't show detail that well."

"Then your guards-" Hanfor broke off.

"They'll ride before me," Anna conceded.

"With shields?''

"With shields.''

At times, she felt like a pampered poodle-guards, shields, warning gla.s.ses. She understood, but it didn't make her feel better.

"Long day," she murmured.

"Not so long as last week," Jecks answered.

Somehow, that didn't console her much, not when she recalled, the lines of fire and the dead archers . .

and the dead Ha.s.sett and Kaseth. She fumbled for the water bottle and had another drink as she rode slowly into the gorge that led to Stromwer .

63.

ESARIA, NESAREA.

Rabyn and a small blonde woman sit at the small white marble table in the corner of the Pavilion of the Prophet. Between them is a tray of candied nuts, honeyed dried figs, and glazed apple slices and a basket of lemon bread. Rabyn fills both goblets from the pitcher of dark wine. "This is from Ferantha. It is quite good." A boyish grin fills his face. "Nubara doesn't think I know the best wines come from the valley."

"They always talk about the wines of the south Mittfels." A delicate clinging tinkles through the pavilion as a gentle puff of a breeze off the Bitter Sea fluffs the young woman's fine blonde hair.

"Ferantha is where they make the wines they don't sell. The ones they keep for us and for the great houses," Rabyn continues. "Did you know that, Krienn?"

The young woman glances toward the harbor, where a ray of sun flashes through the mixed c.u.mulus clouds to strike and whiten the sail of a Norweian trader. Her dark brown eyes flick back to Rabyn, and she smiles quickly. "No, I didn't know that."

He lifts his goblet, as if to drink, but then sets it on the table, and instead, takes one of the honeyed figs. "I am young, but I listen, and I know much more than Nubara would ever guess. Or you." He follows his words with a wide-eyed smile.

"You are the Prophet," she answers with a smile, also nibbling on one of the figs. The fingers of her left hand lightly clasp the base of the goblet of wine she has not touched. "I imagine there is much you know."

"I learned most of it from my mother. She was... exceptional, you know. She made sure I knew every- thing." Rabyn smiles. "Everything." His fingers brush the candied nuts and then delicately extract one of the glazed apple slices.

"It is said she was remarkable." Krienn takes an apple slice and chews it quickly-after Rabyn has swallowed his.

The young prophet lifts his goblet and sips before speaking. " "She was. She didn't explain. She showed me.''

The blonde woman waits until Rabyn has taken several sips of the wine before taking the smallest sip of her own.

"And...someday, I will have revenge on that sorceress." The youth picks up one of the candied nuts, holds. it up to the late-afternoon light. "I have already persuaded Nubara to send a company of the Mansuuran lancers to Elioch, and to raise another company of Neserean lancers, armsmen under my cousin Bertl."

"Is he a good leader?" Krienn asks.

"Bertl? He's not as good as Relour. That's why I wanted Relour in Elioch. I threatened to behave badly, in public. And I whined a little, and asked why sending one company of lancers to give the sorceress something to think about was so bad." Rabyn smiles brightly, then pauses. "She is blonde, you know?

The sorceress, I mean."

"Ah... she is?" Krienn reaches almost absently for a nut, eats it quickly, then takes another sip of wine.

"She is." The dark-haired prophet nods, sets the nut he had not eaten on his green-and-cream napkin, and takes another small sip of wine, so small he barely wets his lips. "She is a demon from the mist worlds."

He smiles warmly. "But your eyes are brown, not blue. You are from Nesalia, and that is far from the mist worlds." He lifts the goblet and sips again. "You are small and pretty, not tall and angular."

"Thank you, Prophet of Music." Krienn tilts her head slightly. She takes another nut, distracted, and chews quietly. The tip of her tongue barely touches her upper lip, then vanishes.

"I would like you to see my collection of Ranuan silks,'' he offers.

"You do know a great deal more than your years," Krienn answers. "Ranuan silks? On your bed?"