79.

Anna waited until the group struggled through the 'Battle Hymn" spell again. "No ...it's too slow. The tempo has to be..." She sang the melody like a vocalise. "Da DAH da..."

Delvor shook his head slowly, limp brown hair flopping.

"Three separate melody lines at once, and one not exactly a melody line...playing such a spellsong is hard," offered Liende.

Anna repressed a sigh, not bothering to explain that the accompaniment was not three separate lines. That would have been polyphony, and what she'd written was scarcely that. "Hard makes better spells, unhappily," she finally said.

You have proven that, lady," admitted Liende. "We will work harder.''

"Thank you." The sorceress nodded. "I'll check back first thing in the morning."

She ignored the whispered "Tomorrow morning?" as she stepped out of the converted storeroom and onto the landing where Lejun and Rickel waited. Then she walked slowly back from the storeroom and down the narrow steps, half conscious of Rickel's boots on the steps above her.

Would her damming of the Falche really motivate Ehara to push out the Sturinnese? Or just force them to conquer Duniar? Or something else? What can you do? You just can't march into another county and turn their armies into ashes. And you can't wait until they've got enough ships and men and sorcerers to take over all of Defalk.

"Did Napoleon and Hitler think that way?" she murmured. But so many more people got killed when rulers and governments did nothing-like six million Jews and millions of others, a million or so Armenians, five million Cambodians, who knew how many Kurds, Bosnians, Africans...

Face it. No matter what you do, it will be wrong.

Shaking her head still, she entered the chambers Birfels had set aside for her and went straight to the writing desk beside the reflecting pool. Before she sharpened the quill, she poured a small goblet of wine and took one sip.

She sat and began to draft the scroll. Lord, she hated writing things. It took forever! After a good two gla.s.ses, and as the sun began to tower over western Sudbergs, she finally had something. She read over the phrases slowly.

...I encountered two companies of Dumaran lancers in putting down the rebellion, at Suhl. Another two companies opposed our efforts at Stromwer. One would hope that you, as a lord of a land, would recognize the authority of a ruler or regent to address rebellion without outside interference... yet you have responded to my inquiries with defiance and arrogance. . . and a demand for tribute.... In addition, it has come to our attention that over twoscore Sturinnese war vessels are anch.o.r.ed in Dumar.

These events lead to the almost inescapable conclusion that Dumar is attempting to meddle in Defalk. At worse, one could conclude that Dumar and Sturinn plan a war of conquest in Liedwahr. Such a war would be to the detriment of all, particularly of Dumar. To reinforce this point, without resorting to force of arms, I have stopped the flow of the Falche River. This gesture on the part of the Regency is offered in good faith short of war, and in response to your use of lancers in Defalk and the presence of a large foreign fleet in Dumar, the fleet of a land that has been unfriendly in the past to all Liedwahr.

We would urge you to reaffirm bonds of friendship with Defalk and to take the necessary steps to ensure that the only ships from Sturinn anch.o.r.ed in Dumaran waters are those few necessary for mutual trade. .

We also await the payment of those golds required for the rebuilding of Defalk necessitated by your actions.

The next part wouldn't do. She scratched out the line, and laboriously rewrote it, forcing herself to take care with quill and inkwell.

In time, she stood and went to the door, peering out. Fhurgen, Rickel, and Lejun were all there.

"Yes, Lady Anna?"

"Ah... could someone find Lord Jecks for me?"

Ehurgen looked at Rickel. Rickel looked at Lejun. Lejun shrugged and grinned.

"He was sparring with Lord Birfels earlier, but he may be in the library now," offered Fhurgen.

"I shall go," said Lejun.

"Thank you," Anna said quietly.

She went back to the smaller writing desk in the bed-chamber and began to read the latest scrolls.

Menares, Dythys, Himar, and Herstat somehow managed to get messengers to the right place.

The first message was another from Lady Gatrune, thanking Anna for trusting Herene with a position of responsibility. The second was fmm Anientta, disavowing her father's request to combine the administration and control of Arien and Flosslbend.

Anna frowned. She'd already denied Tybel's request, but those messages to both Anientta and Tybel probably had crossed with Anientta's to Anna. Sooner or later, she needed to visit Synope-or send Jecks or someone-to resolve that mess.

She picked up the third scroll and broke the seal.

Thrap!

"Lord Jecks, Lady Anna"

"Come on in."

They walked back to the conference table where Anna handed her rough-drafted message to the white- haired lord. "Would you read this?"

"I would he pleased. You have a fine hand, and a way with words."

"Thank you." Anna forced herself to accept the compliment, even while rejecting the idea.

After he finished, Jecks glanced up. "You are determined to use such sorcery?"

'Unless someone comes up with a better idea. Doing noting will only make things worse." Anna took the last sip of wine in the goblet and lifted the pitcher. It was empty, and she set it down. "Right now, we have young Hadrenn holding off Bertmynn and the Sturinnese and maybe the Liedfuhr in Ebra According to Menares, and who knows how he found out, both the Liedfuhr and the Sturinnese are funding Bertmynn. Things still aren't sorted out in Neserea, and we've at least got credit with the Ranuan Exchange for our people. Dumar' s the only problem. What happens a year from now when there are twice as many Sturinnese ships and armsmen in Dumar, when the Liedfuhr uses that as an excuse to take over- just for the duration-Neserea-"

"'For the duration'?" asked Jecks.

''Sorry. That's a sarcastic expression where I come from. It means he'll say his action is temporary because of the emergency conditions, but he never will leave. Neserea will become part of Mansuur, and then we'll have pmblems on two borders, with Bertmynn using coins from everyone to finish off Hadrenn in Ebra...."

"Matters might not turn so ill."

Anna raised her eyebrows and fixed Jecks with cold blue eyes.

Jecks' lips curled into a sardonic smile. "That is why I am glad you are regent, Lady Anna. You expect the worst of serpents and plan for it. Planning for the worst, season after season, is not to my liking."

"I take it you don't have a better idea?"

"I have those which are more pleasant." He laughed harshly, once. "Yet against what you say, my ideas are like mist, No, I fear you are right. I do not have to like your reason, but I must respect it."

Jecks, an optimist? Anna nodded. He'd have to have been, to have survived. And what does that say about you? She pushed that question away.

"I'll have this ready to go." She gestured to the message. "It needs to leave by messenger the moment the dam is completed."

"Why tell me such?"

"Because I'm liable to be exhausted or asleep or not thinking well, and you won't be." She forced a grin.

"As you say, Lady Anna."

"Am I wrong?" she demanded, her eyes meeting his warm hazel ones.

"I think not" He paused. "You are not as other women. You will not tell yourself that matters are other than they are. Defalk is fortunate in that, but I would not say that of you, lady."

"d.a.m.ned-cursed-to be a realist?"

He shrugged sadly.

"The message will be here, tied in green ribbon." Anna glanced at the empty goblet, then at the clouds through the narrow window, growing more golden by the moment: She could have used more wine.

Before long, being regent would turn her into a full-blown alcoholic.

"There's a banquet tonight," Jecks offered.

Anna groaned. "I'm supposed to be entertained, and entertaining?"

"I believe that is what Lady Fylena said."

"Then you don't get to leave before I do." Anna offered a smile.

"Your wish in that is my command."

''You are still most careful, Lord Jecks."

"With sorceresses, and regents, that is wise.' He kept a blank expression, but the hazel eyes twinkled, and Anna wished for a moment that she were neither regent nor sorceress.

80.

WEI, NORDWEI.

Ashtaar turns in her chair to view the harbor through the open window. In the late twilight, the sound of insects hums upward from the trees below the Council building. To the north, points of yellowed orange flicker into being as the larger lamps on the harbor piers are lit. The darkness undotted by lamps denotes the river Nord and Vereisen Bay beyond.

At the knock on the door, the spymistress turns; returning her thoughts to the room illuminated softly by the wall-hung bra.s.s luminaries. Behind the spotless crystal mantels, the lamp flames scarcely flicker, but they are bright enough that her dark hair glistens in their light. "Yes?"

"You requested my presence, honored Ashtaar?" Gretslen bows as she steps inside and closes the dark- stained wooden door behind her. The lamplight turns her blonde hair into a faint cloud in the dim room.

"I did." The darker woman gestures to the chair before her desk. "You have reported that the sorceress now holds all of Defalk?"

Gretslen brushes a lock of short blonde hair off her forehead. "She has subdued all the rebels without de- stroying their keeps or all heirs, except in the case of Synfal. That she turned over to the heir to Defalk itself, Lard Jimbob."

"She did not raze Stromwer?"

Ashtaar purses her lips, and her fingers slip around the black agate oval, blacker even than her hair. "She has the loyalty of all Defalk, and yet she neither presses into Dumar nor returns to Falcor."

"She guests with Lord Birfels of Abenfel. She and her forces are his invited guests," Gretslen confirms.

"And the Sea-Priests remain in Dumar? Can you determine why?"

"No, honored Ashtaar, save that their Sea-Marshal spends much time with Lord Ehara, who does not seem overly pleased."

"Would you be pleased?" Ashtaar laughs..' 'He has the Liedfuhr to the west, the sorceress to the north, and the Sturinnese fleet in his harbor. He has been providing aid to the rebel lords of Defalk. and the sorceress knows that. Would you be in his seat?" Gretslen shakes her head.

"The worst is yet to come," predicts the spymistress.

"Ehara is trapped between the Sturinnese, who will do anything to gain a foothold in Liedwahr and to destroy a powerful female ruler, and the sorceress. She will destroy them-and much of Liedwahr-if she must in order to keep the gilded chains of Sturinn from enslaving the women of Dumar and Defalk."

Ashtaar offers a cruel smile. "She does not know that, but she will."

"And what of us?" asks Gretslen.

"We are worse, dear seer. We told her about the chains, and we will let her use her full powers, come what may." Ashtaar' s fingers tighten around the black agate before she forces them to relax.

81.

Anna glanced to her right at the mist rising out of the gorge and above the trees and brush that blocked her direct view of the canyon and the river. Her eyes went to the damp clay of the trail that led to the narrows where she would try to create her dam. In the leather folder behind her saddle were her drawings, based on everything she could remember, and the elabbrate three-stanza spell. Elaborate strophic, h.o.m.ophonic spell...

She hoped she wouldn't need it, and that she could concentrate, on the drawing and the concept of the dam, but the words and melody notations were there if necessary. She felt tired, and she hadn't even done any spellcasting. Then, most of the fatigue was probably from mental conflict. She didn't like what she was planning, but she had to do something, besides waiting, and anything else she or Jecks or anyone else had thought up was worse-except doing nothing. And within a short time, that would result in even more dire consequences.

The lutar that accompanied her everywhere away from whatever keep she inhabited was also fastened behind the saddle. Jecks rode silently to her right, drawn into himself, and probably fighting the same internal conflicts. Anna snorted. He was probably wondering how they'd ended up saddled with a temperamental sorceress who didn't want a return to the good old days. Women thinking? Openly questioning men? Or running holdings? What had Erde come to?

As she pursed her lips, moistening them, she leaned forward and patted Farinelli, getting the faintest of whuffs from the gelding. Ahead of her rode Rickel and Fhurgen, and behind Anna, Hanfor and Lord Birfels. After the veteran and the lord rode Lejun and then the regent's players, followed by the Purple Company.

The players were silent, even Delvor, the struggling violinist, and Duralt, the c.o.c.ky falk-hom player who was too often full of himself. Anna missed Daffyd. For all of his puppy-dog hurt looks, for all that his misconstrued spell had dragged Anna to Defalk, he'd been a good player and leader and had stood up for what he believed in-and for Anna-and he'd died at Vult doing it.

"Lady Anna...?" Birke's voice almost broke-the problems of adolescent growth-as he edged his mount nearer to hers.

She turned her head, eastward, left, and let the rising sun warm her full face. "Yes, Birke."

"What... what will happen...after..."

"After the sorcery?" That is a d.a.m.ned good question. "There will be a dam, and a large lake behind it.

When the water reaches the spillway-that's a lower place in the dam-it will flow over the dam, and then the river will continue."