Part 3 (1/2)
His words die away in the stiff wind that blows uphill to the palace and eastward across the bluff.
Ba.s.sil waits for what the Liedfuhr may command.
4.
Under gray clouds that appeared to be slowly lifting, Anna looked out over Falcor from the north tower, the one in which she had stayed when she had first come to the liedburg, the one where poor Garreth had sketched that sole image Anna had been able to send across the mists between Erde and earth for Elizabetta. Garreth- tortured by the prophet Behiem's consort Cyndyth, another innocent who had died just because she'd been close to Anna.
Anna shook her head. Now she couldn't use her skills even to see her youngest, much less send anything across the gulf between worlds. Her eyes traveled westward over the roofs of Falcor, seeing what appeared an endless stretch of gray and brown and white. The white was the already melting slush from the first snow seen in Defalk in nearly a decade.
Behind her, Giellum and Blaz stood at the top of the tower stairs. Giellum watched the stairs, Blaz the tower and the grounds.
Several plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys surrounding the liedburg, barely standing out against the morning mist that swathed the brown of the winter fields and that rose around the gray of the walls and roofs of Falcor. Half the city's structures were still vacant, Anna suspected, but she hoped that would change as Defalk recovered.
After a last look across the liedburg and Falcor, Anna turned and headed down the steps of the tower and then down to the main-level receiving room. The candle sconces and mantels on the left side of the hall had been cleaned, but not those on the right. That was some progress.
Menares was waiting for her outside the door. She nodded for him to follow her inside the receiving room.
”Have we had any response to all those scrolls we sent? Or from the Matriarchy about Barjim's debts?”
She slipped the purple regency sash over her green tunic and trousers, wis.h.i.+ng she'd thought more about color coordination earlier, but she was stuck with both colors for differing reasons. She even had a purple- and-gold vest that someone had made for her.
Menares shrugged his heavy sloping shoulders. ”Lady Aima... with the rains, and now the snow, the roads are muddy swamps. Messengers, wagons, all will be slow for the winter.”
How had people on earth dealt with muddy roads? Paved them, but asphalt and cement weren't exactly practical for Defalk. She frowned. Hadn't Brill used sorcery to create a brick road to the fort at the Sand Pa.s.s? And the ancient Romans had built stone roads that had lasted centuries.
Lord, she wished she knew more. ”Until when?”
”Spring planting, I would say. The roads might dry sooner. Then they might not. It has been many years since Defalk has had rainfall, Lady Anna.”
In short, no one was prepared for mud, and she hadn't even thought about what it would do to roads in poor, backward Defalk.
”Menares. . . go talk to Tirsik. See if he can give the messengers ideas on where and how to travel through this mess more quickly. Then let me know.”
Menares bowed and departed.
Anna hoped that Tirsik, the stablemaster, could help Menares out. She looked at the murky water in the pitcher, then sang her water spell, watching as the swirling subsided into a clear whirl, before filling her goblet and taking a long swallow.
The door creaked ajar.
”Arms Commander Hanfor,” announced the stocky and blond Cens, another page from the time of Barjim.
”Come on in,” Anna said.
Hanfor's weathered face carried a half ironic, half sour expression as he stepped into the receiving room.
”What problems now?” asked Anna.
”There's nothing new, lady.”
”You looked so disgusted.”
”I feel like a graybeard with that t.i.tle,” admitted Hanfor.
”You're more than an overcaptain, and you are the arms commander of Defalk,” she pointed out. ”Is there some other term of office you'd prefer?”
''The others are worse.”
”Then you're stuck being arms commander.” Anna gestured to the chair across the table from her and waited for Hanfor to seat himself. ”Menares told me the weather had slowed our scrolls and messengers.”
”Mud is hard on horses and men.” Hanfor added, ”Especially those who have not experienced it.”
”That's anyone from Defalk who's under twenty,” suggested Anna. ”What do you suggest?”
”There is little I can suggest. The rain the land needs. The roads.. . they could be better, but one cannot build roads in winter and rain.” The arms commander shrugged. ”Who would build them? You have given me coins to pay armsmen I do not have, and cannot find. Not enough. If we cannot find armsmen, where will we find those to build roads?”
”Or repair bridges or houses or. . .” Anna shook her head. ”Even if our message scrolls do get through, when will craftspeople or armsmen arrive? Next summer?”
”Not before spring for most.”
Anna paused, then asked, ”What did you want? I just hit you with my problems.”
”We still have no weapons smith.” Hanfor stroked his beard. ”Himar received a scroll from his brother who heard that the Ranuans have a s.h.i.+p loaded with blades that were destined for Elawha.”
”How much?”
”I do not know. A good blade fetches a gold, sometimes two.”
”We could spare a hundred golds, perhaps two hundred, but wouldn't we have to send a large guard?”
”We could send twenty or thirty golds, and arrange to take the blades in Sudwei.” Hanfor laughed. ”Now, after the destruction you rained upon Ebra, there cannot be that much of a market for blades there.”
Anna chuckled. ”Why not? Work out the details with Dythya and have her see me if she has a problem...
or a better way.”
”Thank you.”
Thank you,” she answered. ”If what Himar's brother heard is true, it would give us more time to find a weapons smith. If not, we haven't lost anything. Is there anything else?”
”Not at the moment.”
”But you're worried about those blades?” Anna smiled.
”Good weapons hard to come by. As hard as to find those who can use them.”
Especially in Defalk, thought Anna. ”We'll try to purchase what we can.”