The Shadow Sorceress (27 page)

The Exchange Mistress steps into the small study of the Matriarch. Alya motions to the chair on the other side of the flat table desk.

Dyleroy eases into it. “You had requested my presence?”

“I did.” The Matriarch smiles. “What do your seers and traders tell you about Elahwa?”

“That the warships of the Sea-Priests remain untouched. They have left the Gulf of Discord and sail along the north coast. Alcaren and the SouthWomen remain with the Sorceress-Protector.”

“Why the north coast?”

“Either to reinforce the lancers at Dolov…or, I fear, to reclaim them in order to attack us.”

“Because they were defeated at Elahwa? Because the Sorceress-Protector was victorious?” asks Alya, leaning back ever so slightly in the straight-backed chair.

“It was a costly victory, I fear,” replied the Exchange Mistress. “Even for us. We continue to lose trading vessels, and now…perhaps more.”

Alya nods. “The Sea-Priests failed to understand one small matter, the Harmonies be praised.”

An expression of puzzlement flits across the face of the older woman and vanishes. “There may be much…”

“The new Sorceress-Protector of the East was willing to share power and glory—and danger—with the younger sorceress. It
took two strong sorceresses.” Alya nods. “You are right. That is why they will attack us next.”

“Because we lack sorceresses such as Defalk?”

“Because we have not trained sorcerers and sorceresses for war.” Alya shakes her head. “The world is changing, and I fear what those changes will be. The Sea-Pigs destroyed Narial by combining Darksong and Clearsong to raise the oceans into a giant wave. The sorceress-protectors are wrenching metals from the earth and changing the weather. They are using sorcery to poison their enemies at a distance.”

Dyleroy attempts to block an expression of disgust and does not fully succeed. “The Ladies of the Shadows…?”

“Yes. They have been to see me twice. They seemed more concerned about Alcaren or the possibility that I might try battle sorcery if we are beleaguered. They would be even less pleased if they knew what I know.” Alya's lips twist. “I should say…when they know, for they will discover such soon enough.”

“Liedwahr…can we stand another Spell-Fire War?” asks the Exchange Mistress.

“I do not know. I only know that only sorcery will save us from the evils of the Sturinnese, and yet that sorcery may be almost as deadly as their thunder-drums and chains.” The Matriarch moistens her lips. “There is much evil yet locked behind the iron of the keep at Loiseau. The great sorceress showed restraint, and because most feared her power, she and her restraint were respected. None believe her successors have the power that she did. They do not, although they have more than most will believe. But there are more of them, and they have the knowledge she amassed. They will need to use it to preserve what they have created, and all of Erde and Liedwahr will suffer for it.”

“But…if no one stops the Sea-Priests…” Dyleroy says slowly.

“Then the suffering will be greater and last far longer. The Ladies of the Shadows do not wish to accept that. One told me that we would be saved if all Liedwahr rejected song-sorcery.” Alya pauses. “As if we could ever enforce such.”

Dyleroy offers a smile, partly of sympathy, and partly of condolence.

“As my mother said, we must trust in the Harmonies when it seems that it is most unwise.”

“What of Alcaren? Did you give him orders?” asks Dyleroy.

“To deal with the sorceresses?” Alya smiles. “No. If I had given him orders, or even suggestions, he would have rejected them. With him, too, I am trusting in the Harmonies.”

“That is a dangerous trust, with a sorceress watched by a sorcerer.”

“Not so dangerous as leaving her unwatched. And who knows? Sometimes, two in sorcery are less dangerous than one.”

Dyleroy nods, but barely.

Secca glanced around the cramped tent, which was crowded even with the cots folded up and set outside, what with two sorceresses, three overcaptains, an heir, and two chief players. The air was also close and slightly rancid, but she ignored that as she laid out the mirror and checked the tuning on the lutar.

The first day of travel—two days after the battle north of Elahwa—had been short, less than five glasses, rather than the eight to ten that Secca's lancers had averaged on their way from Synek to Elahwa. Part of that had been the late start, and part the cold wind and the intermittent flakes of snow blown out of the high gray clouds. And part had been the mixed nature of those following her. She had to wonder about the effectiveness of her force—with Melcar and the Ebrans, her own lancers under Wilten, Haddev and the company of Silberfels lancers, and now Alcaren and two companies of SouthWomen. Again, she missed Stepan's quiet way of ensuring all worked together, although Melcar seemed to be following Stepan's example.

Secca knew she was pressing her luck, but she certainly couldn't leave ten or fifteen companies of Sturinnese lancers, possibly with a Sea-Priest and thunder-drums, behind her. Even if she dared, where would she go? Back to Loiseau and through the Sand Pass in winter—just to turn around or head somewhere else when Robero found she had returned? She refrained from shaking her head.

Instead, she looked at those around her, meeting each set of eyes in turn. “I'm going to try to see where the Sturinnese lancers are. All the scouts can tell us is that their tracks are headed to the northeast.”

Without more explanation, she began the spell.

The silvered glass showed a campsite, much like the one outside the tent, except it was on a long flat rise overlooking the Eastern Ocean. Smoke rose from cookfires, and the darkness of the smoke indicated something was being cooked—most likely livestock taken from peasants and holders who would complain to either Hadrenn or Robero before all was done.

“They are on the coast road,” Melcar said. “Not on the river road.”

“Is the coast road a better road?” asked Secca.

“In winter, it is less likely to receive snow, and it is warmer,” Melcar said. “But once you are more than a day north of the river junction, it heads in almost the opposite direction from Dolov.”

Secca released the spell and tried a second one, one targeted at the lancers from Dolov. When the mists cleared, the glass showed the exact same image.

“They've joined up,” Wilten said. “They must have arranged this before.”

Secca frowned, then released the spell. She noted that Alcaren was also frowning. Palian looked at Secca intently, but said nothing.

“Let me try to see where the Sturinnese ships are.”

The third image showed a formation of vessels under full sail.
Although it was difficult to tell, the ships displayed in the glass seemed to be sailing northward. Secca liked that even less. Were the Sturinnese going to land more lancers and thunder-drums to fight her? Using the weather of winter to their advantage?

The fourth scrying spell was for the harbor at Elahwa. From what the glass showed, there were no Sturinnese vessels beyond the harbor.

Secca released the spell and lowered the lutar. Her head was aching, and daystars had begun to flash before her eyes.

“You look worried, lady,” offered Richina.

“I should be happy for the FreeWomen, but I have to worry about what the Sea-Priests have in mind for those ships.”

“Perhaps they go to meet with the other Sturinnese forces,” suggested Haddev, a faint smile indicating satisfaction at determining the reason for such action.

The slightest hint of a furrow crossed Alcaren's brow, but the Ranuan overcaptain said nothing.

“They may be, but I can't do any more scrying right now. I'm not sure it would tell us anything more,” Secca said.

“Perhaps they will reclaim the lancers fleeing us and then sail to Dumar to reinforce their lancers there,” suggested Wilten.

“We'll have to wait and see.” Secca blinked. “I just wanted you all to see what I did so that everyone saw the same thing.” That was important, she felt, with all the different overcaptains and forces. “Think about it, and we'll talk later, after the evening meal.”

All those in the tent just stood there, shifting their weight from one booted foot to another, or not moving at all. Secca squinted, trying to read expressions that blurred with the daystars and holes in her vision.

“The Lady Secca needs a moment of rest,” Richina said politely but firmly.

As the small crowd filed out, Secca suspected she needed far more than rest.

The wind blew out of the northwest, a cold and steady flow of air that chilled the riders and their mounts. Secca's ever more motley force rode northward, remaining yet on the river road. By the next day, she would have to choose whether to head eastward after the Sturinnese or continue northward to Dolov.

She shook her head. That was no choice at all.

As Secca had been taking time to talk to each of the overcaptains, for the moment she rode beside Haddev, with Richina and Palian following directly behind.

“…have you always visited Silberfels often?” she asked the heir to Synek, offering a smile that was less than she felt.

“I was fostered there for a year when I was thirteen, as was Verad three years ago when he was fourteen. We rode back together this time.” Haddev laughed. “That was how we came to have two companies of lancers. My uncle did not feel one company was enough in these troubled times, and sent his own.”

Secca nodded. So…one company of Ebran lancers, unmentioned by Hadrenn, and perhaps more, remained at Synek. That did not bother her so much as Hadrenn's insistence that he could raise but ten or twelve companies. She wondered what else the Lord of Synek had concealed. She also wondered how much would change with Stepan's death. “What do you think of Silberfels?”

“It is a holding. The keep is much older than father's, you know, and the main section is built into the mountain. There are tunnels under the keep, from the old mines. Uncle Selber stores
provisions there now. One is a cistern, with always fresh water. It would be hard to take, I would think.”

Secca smiled and nodded again, trying to encourage Haddev to keep talking.

“The older rooms are dark. That is because they were built to stand off the Corians and the Suhlmorrans.”

“I've heard it said that your mother's and your uncle's line predates both by many generations,” Secca suggested.

“It could well be, lady,” Haddev replied. “The tunnels are very old and very deep. The back parts were walled off generations back.”

“What is your uncle like? Lady Anna exchanged scrolls with him, but I never have, nor have I ever met him.”

“He is built more like Verad than me. He is slender, and his hair is thick and silvered. He rides well, and has made a practice of mastering all arms. He even can use a morning star.” Haddev shook his head admiringly.

“Has he instructed you in such?” asked Secca.

“Not the morning star, but in all other weapons. My sire said that would be best for both of us, for he doubted we would learn from him.”

“Often children have difficulty learning from their parents, or so I am told. That is one reason for fostering. Did you enjoy the time at Silberfels?”

“At times. It was lonely at first. Uncle Selber is a man of great skills and few words…”

When Haddev finally eased his mount back toward his company, Secca could not help but notice that while he smiled at Richina, and inclined his head, he did not pause to share a word with the younger sorceress. A smile faintly sad crossed Secca's face.

Shortly, a broader and shorter officer in pale blue rode up from the rear of the column. “You requested my presence, Lady Secca?” asked Alcaren.

“I did,” Secca acknowledged. “I have had little time to talk to you. I do not know you, overcaptain, yet you volunteered to accompany us. Just why did you suggest that you accompany
and aid us?” asked the red-haired sorceress, trying to ignore the chill of the wind. “You made the suggestion to the counselor.”

“There were two reasons. I wished to fight against the Sea-Priests, and I did not wish to return to Encora and to be a guard captain,” Alcaren replied. “That is almost imprisonment. One is restrained by the needs of those one must guard.”

“I had not thought of it in that way,” mused Secca. “That is most interesting. Do you come from a family of lancers?”

“Me? Hardly. My mother is a trader, as are many in Encora, and my father is an artisan.”

“Your mother trades in what?”

“Anything she can, but mostly in furs and dyestuffs, sometimes raw cotton and cloths from all over Erde.”

“You did not wish to be a trader?”

“She had hoped I would be, but I was not suited for it.”

The reserve in the Ranuan's words suggested a story there, but she did not think it wise to pursue that immediately. “What kind of artisan is your father?”

“A sculptor, in the main.”

“So how did you become a lancer?”

“How does one become anything?” countered the Ranuan easily. “I had a skill with blades, and perhaps because it upset my mother, and because I was unruly and contrary, I pursued it. They did not encourage it, and it was some time before I was allowed to follow that road.” He shrugged. “And here I am, far from Encora.”

“Just like that?” Secca raised her eyebrows.

Alcaren laughed, a warm and self-deprecating sound. “It took much longer. The Matriarch finally allowed me to become a guard captain in her household. Most of those in Encora who knew my family were less than pleased at such a waste of talent.”

Secca wanted to laugh at the dryness of the overcaptain's tone. Instead, she said, “What changed the Matriarch's mind?”

“She said little to me except that she had decided the Harmonies had a use for me.”

“She didn't give you any idea what that use might be?”

“Not until she sent me to Elahwa.”

Again, with the dryness in Alcaren's voice, Secca wanted to smile. She did not. “Tell me about Encora, if you would.”

Alcaren pursed his lips for a moment. “There is much to tell…and little.”

“Start with the much,” suggested the sorceress.

Alcaren laughed, this time gently. “It is a city based on a harbor that is wide and deep enough for many trading ships, yet easily defended against the Sturinnese.”

“How can it be both?”

“The harbor is like a basin that is all the same depth, no less than seven yards, no more than ten, but there are rocky shoals farther to sea, except for the main channel, and that is less than a half-dek wide. Seaward of the shoals, the water is shallow, no more than three or four yards in depth, often far less, for another eight to ten deks out toward the Southern Ocean.” Alcaren shrugged. “A narrow channel is more easily defended.”

“The harbor at Elahwa is similar, is it not?”

“Both have long stretches of shallow water…it is true.”

Secca nodded, wondering if that might be why the Sea-Priests had been unable to call massive waves against those ports. “How did you go from being a guard captain of the Matriarch to an overcaptain of SouthWomen?”

Alcaren laughed easily. “I had wanted to be a lancer, but the Matriarch preferred me as a guard—until there were no others to be sent to the aid of the FreeWomen except the SouthWomen, and she would not send them anywhere beyond Ranuak under their own overcaptain. They have accepted me as necessary, for they dislike the Sturinnese more than any.”

“They always have, from what I have learned. Isn't that true?”

“Very true. They dislike any men who would force women to submit to their will.” Alcaren smiled. “I always give orders to their captains.”

After a moment, Secca said, “Tell me about the Matriarch. I know almost nothing.”

“Her given name is Alya. She has a consort. That is Aetlen, and they have two daughters. Her mother was the Matriarch, and she had two daughters as well.”

“What does she look like?”

“She was blonde as a younger woman, and her hair is silver and blonde these days. Unlike her mother, she is most slender, and her voice is higher, more like yours. She is most firm in a courteous but unyielding fashion.” Alcaren glanced at the road ahead.

Thinking of all the rivalries in holdings in Defalk, Secca asked, “What happened to the Matriarch's younger sister?”

“The Matriarch is the younger sister,” Alcaren replied with an amused smile. “You met her older sister. That was Counselor Veria.”

Secca blinked.

“The story is well-known in Ranuak,” the Ranuan overcaptain continued. “When the FreeWomen revolted against the Lord Bertmynn, Veria joined the SouthWomen against the Matriarch's wishes and went to Elahwa to fight. She almost died, but was saved when the great sorceress defeated Bertmynn and forced Lord Hadrenn to accept Elahwa as a Free City. Veria has been in Elahwa ever since, and is most respected.”

Secca noted the reference to Anna as the great sorceress, but continued, “And Counselor Veria did not insist you return to Elahwa?”

“I doubt she would have given her sister the pleasure,” Alcaren said dryly.

For all his ironic tone, and seeming straightforwardness, Secca had to wonder. “What does the Matriarch gain by having you accompany me?”

“Your good will, I would judge, and any knowledge of you I may choose to provide her.”

“You seem…you are most polite when you speak of the Matriarch,” Secca observed.

“She deserves my respect,” Alcaren replied.

“How did you get to be one of her guard chiefs?”

“She respects my abilities, and she told me she refused to allow me the luxury of self-pity.” Alcaren offered a laugh that contained equal parts of humor, amusement, and irony.

“And you respect her abilities?”

“How could I not? She is a most effective Matriarch.”

“She must be,” Secca said. “You are here.”

“Of course.” Alcaren could not quite conceal the frown that he tried to smile away.

Again, Secca wondered exactly why Alcaren had volunteered to aid her forces, beyond what he had said. She definitely needed to know more, but she needed to think before she inquired too deeply.

She also worried that she wanted to like the man, without knowing almost anything about him.