Part 33 (2/2)

Anna had almost begun to dismount. She stopped and looked at the white-haired lord. ”You know why. Because I can't hold Defalk... let alone hold Ebra. I've got so many dissonant lords at home that I'll spend years pacifying them after this. And I can't leave some idiot who's as bad as the Sea-Priests in charge of the eastern coast of Ebra. They've akeady visited Bertmynn, and this Ceorwyn certainly knows them. I let him take over without a free state in Elahwa, and there'll be a revolt here the moment I die-and that's pretty optimistic. Theremight be one long before that. Either way, and a season after that the Sturinnese will be pouring troops through Elahwa-if they wait that long.” Anna looked at Jecks. ”Is that what you want for your grandson?”

She could see Jimbob wince, even twenty yards away, and she realized she shouldn't have spoken so loudly.

”You would kill thirtyscore because their commander is a fool?”

”No,” Anna said softly, ”I will kill thirtyscore because they follow a commander who is a fool and because we can't afford to lose any more lancers to sort it out.” And because you 're tired of everyone else expecting to get their way and for you to be the reasonable one? Except using sorcery to try to kill thirtyscore lancers wasn't reasonable. Necessary, but not reasonable.

Jecks's eyes flicked away from meeting Anna's eyes directly. ”You are Regent, and, again, I thank the harmonies that I am not.” Abruptly, his eyes met hers again.

Anna could see the sadness in his hazel eyes, a sadness for which she had no real answer, except that she knew that compa.s.sion on her part now would be far more costly later-and that was no answer. Perhaps that was Jecks' weakness-that he could not do what needed to be done when there was the faintest chance that he might be wrong and many would die. And yours? That when you get cornered and pushed, you lash out? Without speaking, she dismounted.

”Again,” Jecks said, turning to Jimbob and Kinor, ”you will guard the Regent.

She is Defalk.”

”Yes, ser,” the two affirmed.

Anna wasn't certain she liked Jecks' tone in referring to her as Defalk, but she did not look back as she strode to the s.p.a.ce that the guards had opened facing the other hill and the burgundy-coated lancers of Dolov.

The lancers on the other-higher rise-made no movement, either to charge or retreat. Anna swallowed. Must you do this? She swallowed again. What choice do you have? You didn't ask for the moons of this forsaken world. You asked for limited allegiance and a place women could go and not be slaves.

The sorceress cleared her throat and took a last solid look at the line of doomed lancers less than half a dek from her. Idiots... male idiots... and you're a female idiot for not finding a way out.

”We stand ready, Regent,” Liende called.

”The flame song!” Anna forced coldness into the command. ”The flame song...

Mark!” Liende's voice was hard, the hardness of discipline forced over emotion, but the spell melody was solid.

The sorceress put her concentration on the image of flames falling across the three-deep lines of the burgundy-clad lancers-and especially on Ceorwyn-and on keeping her voice open and full.

Those of Ebra who will not be loyal to the Defalkan Regency, let them die, let them lie, struck by fire, struck by flame....

Once more, the chords of harmony s.h.i.+vered the sky, and the ground.As Anna watched lines of fire fall across the opposite hillside-and a single huge firebolt sear the center, she could sense a tension... something underlying the spell, almost like an overstrained and fraying string on a too-tightly strung harp or violin.

Because you know it's wrong--unharmonious... dissonant?

With the muted screams that rose from the wall of fire less than half a dek away, that unseen string broke-and slammed into her.

Darkness rose around her on her hillside as the fires died on the slopes opposite her, and she could feel herself toppling forward under the backlash of overstressed harmonies that centered on her.

54.

ESARIA, NESEREA.

Nubara stands in the corner of the stone-floored room that had once been a workroom, as the thunder of the drums buffets him. Reflections glitter off the smooth finish of the drums, reflections showing the motions of the three drummers, and the timekeeping motions of the Prophet of Music who directs the three who sit on the high stools, a pair of mallets wielded by each.

The three drummers with their mallets watch Rabyn, and their motions follow his direction, yet each drum has a different voice, and the three separate voices combine in a thunder that seems to s.h.i.+ver the plaster-covered stone walls of the Palace of Music.

The Mansuuran officer squints, shakes his head, for a s.h.i.+mmering, and barely visible blue nimbus surrounds the blue-Clad Prophet of Music.

Craccck! A floor stone splits, and a wavering line rums for several yards around and through the solid paving stones of the workroom.

Rabyn does not even turn his head. ”Heavier! Drum three! Faster, like I showed you! Don't make anyone wait!”

Sweat pours down the face of the drummers as they follow the tempo set by the Prophet who is no longer youth, but not yet man.

Sweat darkens the blue tunic worn by Rabyn, and his face glistens with perspiration. His eyes are hard.

55.

The gray of morning seeped into the silk tent, then the brighter light of dawn itself. Anna slowly pried open her eyes. Jecks lay under a single blanket, snoring lightly, practically against the tent wall.

At his snoring, Anna found herself smiling-until she tried to raise her head.

While she didn't have the double images engendered by the use of Darksong, a flash of lightning with the impact of a sledge drove her back onto the rolled blanket that served as a pillow, and tears streamed from her eyes.

”s.h.i.+t...” She murmured under her breath. They can murder thousands of women who just wanted to be free and not even get a headache, and you do the same thing to those who did it and you can't even sit up. And you even offered them terms, if they'd just let the women who survived rule themselves.

”Lady?” At her slightest word, Jecks rolled out of his blanket and stood by the cot.”I'm here.” Her voice was raw, hoa.r.s.e.

The white-haired lord brought her the water bottle from the narrow camp table and held it to her lips, watching as she did.

”Today... you must rest,” he said.

”...don't think I have much choice, do I?”

”You cannot use so much sorcery so often, my lady,” Jecks said.

Tell me about it. ”I can see that.” But it wasn't the sorcery but the guilt...

the backlash... or something. ”Why... why... wouldn't they accept terms... not as though... I was going to make anyone a slave...”

”You are a woman, and they have not seen your power.”

Anna took another long swallow of water.

”In time, they will understand,” Jecks insisted.

How much time and how many deaths? And will anything really have changed once you're gone?

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