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Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.

The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (58 page)

BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
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Even if she were pregnant, Wendella and her attitude bothered Anna. “I’m inclined to believe that was in response to Lord Dencer’s trickery, but I will look into it. As for the banner, I am acting as regent for young Lord Jimbob, and the banner is the best we can do at the moment.” Anna didn’t miss the knowing glance that passed between Lysara and Cataryzna, but she turned to the redhead. “Why are you here?”
“I am the daughter of Lord Birfels of Abenfel.”
“You’re Birke’s sister?”
“Half sister,” Lysara corrected.
Anna wondered why Birke never mentioned his sister, or had the glances between the two pages been a warning to Skent not to mention Lysara? Things just kept getting more complicated. The sorceress stood. “I was reminded of your situation only this morning, and I cannot do everything at once, but I did wish to give you a greater degree of freedom.”
“What if we leave the hall?” asked Wendella. “What then?”
Anna frowned, then turned and sang softly, hoping she was not breaking the form too terribly:
“Wendella all too snide,
never go the walls outside,
unless I give you all my leave,
and my pardon you receive.”
The sorceress smiled. “You do not have my pardon or my leave.”
Wendella flushed. “You’re no better than either of those … men. You’re a singer. A darksinger.”
Again, Cataryzna and Lysara exchanged glances.
“Defalk cannot afford treachery on its southern borders,” answered Anna. “I tried to act in good faith, and you’ve attacked and accused me.” She shrugged. “And the spell will hold as long as you live. So it wouldn’t do much good to try to kill me, would it?”
Hatred poured from Wendella’s eyes, before she looked away from Anna.
After the group had left, Anna sat for a time in the chair, collecting herself, glad she had a few moments before Lady Essan arrived. She thought she could work with Lysara and Cataryzna, but she’d need to talk with them alone, and she had neither the time nor the knowledge she needed.
“Lady Essan.” Giellum made the announcement, while Skent brought in the tray with the goblets and the amber brandy.
“Thank you,” Anna murmured to the page. She wondered if Skent had thought up the brandy or Lady Essan. Lady Essan, probably.
Anna rose and walked toward the older woman, leading her toward the nearest two chairs by the ancient, if slightly battered, inlaid wooden table.
Anna poured some of the amber brandy into the other’s crystal goblet.
“My, and being served by a regent.” Essan took the goblet and sipped.
The sorceress refrained from wincing. “Acting regent,” she said mildly.
“Careful you are being, and that be good.”
“It wasn’t careful to take on Behlem.”
“What would you have of me?” asked Essan. “Not that you be needing much.”
“I said you would be as my mother, and, while I may not always be able to take your counsel, I value it.” Anna
waited, then added, “I would also like to ask if you would wish to return to your former quarters.”
“The tower steps, though I walk them seldom, are hard on my bones.”
Anna nodded.
“What else have ye on your mind?” Essan laughed, almost a cackle. “Even devoted daughters have ideas.”
Anna grinned briefly. “Some questions.”
“Ask, sorceress-regent. For what I know I will answer.”
“Lady Wendella?”
“A true wench, even more devious than her consort. A tongue like a viper. Rumor has it she poisoned her own sister, who was betrothed first to Dencer. Her sire was Lord Mietch. He held the lands north of Abenfel. His eldest, Mietchel, now holds them.” Essan took another long swallow of the brandy.
“Abenfel—why both Birke and Lysara?”
“Lord Birfels had two consorts. Lysara was by his first, and most beloved. After Lady Trien died, he consorted again for sons. Birke is his eldest, but a younger son—his name I forget—lives at Abenfel.”
“So Barjim needed both as insurance?”
“Insurance?”
“Surety.”
“Exactly.”
Anna paused for a swallow of water. “Did Lady Alasia manage the finances of Defalk—the coins—for Lord Barjim?”
“None other. Who else could he trust, besides Jecks? And Lord Jecks wanted no part of Falcor. What else?”
Anna plugged through her list of questions. At least there was someone who knew where some of the skeletons lay.
When Essan left, Anna sent Skent for Daffyd. Her head was beginning to pound again. More water and nearly half a loaf of dark bread helped, but Skent rapped on the door even before she finished.
“The player Daffyd.”
She rose from the conference table and swallowed the last mouthful of bread.
“Lady Anna.”
“Sit down.” She motioned him to the table. “I haven’t forgotten you. You’re in charge of the regent’s players. We’ll work out some suitable payment for you, and you can have your own quarters in the hall proper—something not too grand, but nothing dingy, either.”
“Even your old quarters, Lady Anna—”
“Fine. Take them. Later, we’ll see.” She paused. “I’m sorry if I hurry. Every day seems like this, and I get edgy by the end of the day. I have a special job I want you to start on.”
“Me?” The young player’s eyebrows rose.
“I want you to develop and train a group of players, not less than eight, and no more than fifteen. But I want horns—lots of brass, and the kind that carry. No more than two other string players besides you. The players have to be young—and strong. I don’t care if they’re men or women, but they have to have a clear, strong tone in their instruments, and they have to be in good physical condition. They’ll have to travel, as soon as you have them trained, but I’d prefer you not tell them when, only that travel is expected.”
Anna waited.
“For that … you must pay … .”
“I’ll pay. Just start work on it tomorrow. As soon as you have enough to practice, let me know, and I’ll come up with the arrangements you need to learn—the spell tunes.” Anna paused. “This isn’t something I invented for you to do, Daffyd. It’s important. Very important. It’s so important that I can’t tell you more yet. It’s so important you can’t tell people it’s important. You can tell them I’m busy, that we don’t talk much, or whatever, but not that you’re doing something important.
“And it must be done quickly. I want a group that can begin rehearsing in a week. No more than two weeks at the outside. Do you understand?”
The dark-haired player swallowed. “Ah … yes … Lady Anna.”
Anna smiled. “Good.”
The smile dropped away after Daffyd left, as she thought of the next meeting with Hanfor, Alvar, and Himar as they tried to figure out the best way to structure the permanent force of armsmen for the regency.
A
nna scuffed her boot across the mold-covered floor and looked at the square-faced man in brown. Her nose wrinkled at the smell from the storeroom, a combination of rot, damp mold, and manure.
“Jussa, this has to be cleaned before we put any more grain in here.”
“Never been cleaned before, Lady Anna. My da, he never cleaned it.”
“And most of the grain at the bottom spoiled, I’d bet. Except that you never went to the bottom except in hard times, and no one complained.”
That got a blank stare at the ground.
Anna walked out of the granary area and back into the courtyard, shaking her head. “Why do I have to be the expert on everything? Why don’t people see that clean rooms and clean grain bins make a difference?”
Behind her, she could sense the wiry Alvar and the stockier Himar exchanging glances, the kind that said, “Here she goes again.”
She turned. “I want the granary clean before our grain goes in.” She paused, thinking of moisture. “I don’t know if it will work, but talk to Tirsik. See if he thinks that a layer of clean straw at the bottom would help. If he does, tell Jussa to do it.”
“Yes, Lady Anna.”
Anna turned, headed for the main smithy, when the horns sounded, announcing someone’s arrival, presumably someone important, a lord probably. She sighed and began to walk toward the portcullis area.
Behind her, Alvar and Himar shrugged and followed.
She reached the north side of the courtyard as the first horsemen rode in, an armsman bearing a blue banner with a gold bear, and a white-haired man bearing a huge sword in a shoulder harness.
“You do me honor, Lady Anna!” shouted Jecks.
The rest of the guard behind him reined up.
“I’m glad you came,” the sorceress said quietly. “I have been inspecting granaries. I’d like to wash up while you stable your mounts. Then you could join us for something to eat.”
“As you wish, Lady Anna,” offered the white-haired and tanned lord.
The sorceress nodded and left.
Washing not only got the grime off her hands, but the grit from her eyes, grit carried on the hot wind that had swirled through the courtyard. She swept out of the room she seldom saw except early in the morning and late in the evening, and headed back down to the middle hall.
Jecks, Hanfor, and Menares were seated at the sides of the table in the hall when Anna entered. All stood.
“Please sit.” She took the end chair, the one Behlem had used, hoping that it wasn’t a dangerous tradition.
“Since when do lords or … regents … inspect granaries?” Despite his travel-worn blues, Jecks still reminded Anna of a white-haired Robert Mitchum, and she’d always had a crush on Mitchum.
Careful
, she warned herself.
“When they’re trying to get a handle on what needs to be done, and there’s little experienced staff left.” Anna broke off a chunk of the heavy dark bread she liked. These days her bread was fresh, at least. “You might help there.”
“Me, inspect granaries?”
Anna laughed. “No, know or lend people who could.”
Jecks looked at Anna. “Your message said you had defeated Lord Behlem and were acting as regent. Regent for whom? Has that changed? What will you do?”
Anna met the deep eyes. “I had thought to turn Defalk over to you as regent for Jimbob. You’re the only one worthy of holding it.”
Hanfor swallowed hard.
“You cannot do that, Lady Anna. Nor could I accept,” answered Jecks slowly. “As I suspect you already know. But I appreciate the kindness of the offer and the thought behind it.”
“Why not?”
“Then Ysel, acting as regent for young Rabyn, will persuade Konsstin to send his armies here. Or the Norweians will propose a partition …” Jecks shrugged. “Or many other things I cannot foresee.”
“What should I do, Lord Jecks?” Anna asked, still holding a chunk of bread in her hand.
“Defalk must have a leader who is respected and powerful.” The white-haired warrior laughed. “I flatter myself that I might be respected, but I lack the power to impress any of those on our borders. Only you can claim that. So you must proclaim yourself regent. Or lord.”
Anna frowned. “I have a better idea.” She smiled.
“Oh?”
“You and the other lords request me to act as regent until Jimbob reaches the appropriate age.”
“Some of us in the north had already discussed that,” admitted Jecks.
“And you remain as my advisor. At least, for a time.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Lady Anna.”
Anna hoped so.
“She does,” admitted Hanfor, his eyes momentarily as gray as his hair.
“Very hard,” added Menares.
Anna surveyed the three, each in turn. “I have power, of sorts, and knowledge of a different sort. I am a woman, and whether I like it or not, I would have to fight too many
people to rule outright. As I have already told Hanfor, I can have no heirs. So there’s no point in claiming the title of lord. It’s better that I prepare the way for someone who has a blood claim. Even that won’t be easy. It can be done, if you will help.”
“How could I not help, when you propose restoring my grandson?” Jecks paused. “Do you wish his immediate return to Falcor?”
“Not immediately. I would like to stabilize things a bit more. In no more than a few seasons, I hope we’ll have everything in place.” Anna lifted her goblet.
“There is another matter,” Menares coughed, then handed a rolled scroll to Anna.
The sorceress set down her goblet.
“It arrived by messenger this morning. I do not know how the witches of the south knew.” The heavyset counselor shook his head.
Jecks raised his eyebrows.
The sorceress unrolled the parchment and began to read. After the flowery opening, she read aloud.
“‘While we applaud the restoration of the lineage of Defalk under the new regency, we would note that the time for harvest is past and that Defalk now owes the Bank of Ranuak two thousand golds … .’” She paused. “There’s more, but it’s all rhetoric, calling for acting in good faith and suggesting adverse and unnamed consequences if we don’t.”
“They could be great,” suggested Jecks.
Anna still wasn’t as clear on relative coinage values as she should have been. She was a singer, not an economist. “How much do we have in the chests?” she asked Hanfor.
“About four thousand golds—it took almost three thousand to pay the Neserean armsmen.”
“Do you know how this debt was incurred?” Anna glanced first at Menares.
“It is said that Lord Barjim had to borrow funds in order to move his small force to the Sand Pass.”
“He did. I did not know it was that much,” admitted Jecks.
“Do we have to pay?” Anna asked bluntly.
“If you do not,” opined Jecks, “then you, or your lords will not be able to buy Ranuan grain.”
Anna thought about the lords Hryding, Dencer, and Geansor, and about the deserted condition of Falcor, and about the ravished harvests along the Fal and Chean rivers. “Does anyone know what the debts supposedly owed by Defalk are?” She dragged out something from her conversation from Behlem and added, “And how much is due and owed in liedgeld or other fees?”
“The liedgeld is due at the start of winter, roughly five weeks from now,” said Jecks. “It differs from lord to lord.”
Anna managed a wedge of cheese, some of the meat, and a sip of water before pursuing the liedgeld. “How many lords are liable?”
“Why … all of them.”
Anna repressed a sigh. “I’m a stranger, remember, Lord Jecks. I do not know how many lords there are in Defalk. I have met perhaps ten or fifteen, but are there twenty-five or a hundred?”
“Thirty-three. There have always been thirty-three.”
“Do you have any idea how much the average—”
“Herstat handles my coins. I do not know.”
“Is Herstat dependable and honest?”
“Extremely.”
“Does he have an assistant?”
“Of course.” Jecks looked warily at Anna.
“Is he honest?”
“It is his eldest daughter, and she is most honest.”
“Good. I would like the use of her services, since Alasia handled the liedstadt accounts, and there seems to be no one left. Would that trouble you too much, Lord Jecks?”
“No.” Jecks offered a wary and wry smile. “Will I have any of my lands and people left when you are done?”
“I only need those you can spare.” Anna offered what she hoped was a demure smile.
Hanfor put a hand to his mouth to cover a smile.
Menares kept his face blank.
Anna picked up her goblet and drank before returning her gaze to Lord Jecks. “If you do not mind, Lord Jecks, my first task for you as my advisor is for you—and Herstat’s daughter—to develop a budget—”
“Budget?”
“Sorry. I want to know what Defalk owes and what people owe us. I want an estimate of what the next year will cost, you know, running the liedburg, paying armsmen, repaying loans, debts, and what other revenues we might receive.”
“I am not a sorcerer, lady.”
“No. But you know what it costs you, and with your knowledge, I am sure you and the young woman can put it all on paper.” Anna looked at them. “Surely, you don’t expect me to make decisions when I don’t know what they cost?”
“Costs—you … That sounds like a merchant’s approach,” offered Hanfor.
“Menares?” Anna asked. “Isn’t Nordwei the most powerful land in this part of Liedwahr?”
“Why … certainly now, although Ebra …”
“Don’t you think the Norweians know to the last copper what their ships and armsmen cost?”
“Absolutely,” said Jecks. “All laugh at them.” Was his smile more like Sean Connery’s? Anna wondered absently. She forced her thoughts back to coins.
“Of course,” pointed out Menares.
“Gentlemen,” offered Anna. “Doesn’t that say something?” She smiled. “I certainly wouldn’t want to have Hanfor recruit armsmen and have them leave about the time Ebra or someone attacks because we could not pay them. Or have lords decide to pledge allegiance to Ranuak because I was forced to raise the liedgeld or lean on them for heavy use of levies. All of you know more about the details,
I am sure, but how can I support you if I have no idea where the money comes from and when?”
The three exchanged glances.
“Next … does anyone know how much grain we can expect from Lord Barjim’s holdings—I mean, young Lord Jimbob’s?”
The afternoon was going to be long, Anna reflected, as she studied their faces. Every afternoon would be, for a time. She had too much to learn, far too much.
BOOK: The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle
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