Part 20 (1/2)
”How much farther is that?” Anna had no concept of bow range. She knew Alvar had brought a half-score of archers and considered himself lucky to have so many in his command. Good archers seemed to be rare. Not so rare as sorcerers, but rarer than any other kind of armsmen.
”By the waste ditch there.” The spot where he pointed lay another thirty yards ahead on the road.
A faint odor wafted toward Anna on the light breeze out of the north. ”How about stopping right here?”
She reined up.
Jecks grinned, but said nothing.
”Column halt!” Alvar reinforced the command with a raised blade.
As Alvar rode back to ensure some form of order, Anna, lutar held ready, ran through a vocalise, while idly looking toward Synfal. The entrance to the keep was by a gate partway up the hillside, perhaps five yards above the flat of the plain.
Alvar rode back and reined up as Anna finished the second vocalise.
”That hill's not natural.”
Jecks frowned.
Anne didn't know that much geology, but she did know that it was highly unlikely that one isolated fifty- foot-high hill would rise out of bottomland as fiat as a lake. Had some earlier lord built the mound? Or had a series of holds resulted in the hill? Did it matter?
The walls of the keep, unlike the outer and untended walls, were over eight yards high and clearly in good repair, although Anna suspected that the yellow bricks were more susceptible to sorcery or to the cannon she didn't have than stone would have been. The twin gates, doubtless with a portcullis behind, were of heavy oak, iron-bound, and closed.
”You must request entrance, lady,” Jecks said softly.
”He won't grant it.”
”Still...”
Anna understood and turned to Alvar. ”Do you have someone you can send closer?”
Alvar gestured to the standard bearer, and the young armsrnan eased his mount up beside the four. ”What would you have him say?”
Anna cleared her throat. ”His lords.h.i.+p Jimbob, the regent Anna, arid the lord Jecks ... here to see Lord Arkad of Cheor.” She looked at Jecks. ”What else?”
”You request hospitality on his honor.”
Anna nodded. ”His lords.h.i.+p Jimbob, the regent Anna and the lord Jecks. . . here to see Lord Arkad of Cheor. We request his hospitality, on his honor.”
The armsman repeated the phrase, then eased his mount forward and past the waste ditch, halting on the gently rising road about fifty yards from the closed gates. He raised his voice and declaimed Anna's words.
For a time, there was silence.
Then a voice replied, words spoken too faintly to be heard.
Anna eased Farinelli forward, but halted short of the wooden planks that served as a bridge over the waste ditch, steeling herself against the pungency that rose from the dark liquid that oozed toward a pond to the right.
The armsman repeated his message.
”How do we know you're who you say?” demanded a round-jowled man in purple from a parapet over the gates.
”You know the banner. Who are you to deny the regent?” snapped Alvar.
”The servant of Lord Arkad.”
”A nameless servant, and you would deny two lords and the regent?” responded Alvar.
Anna nodded.
The round-jowled figure drew himself up. ”I am Fauren, head seneachal and counselor.”
Anna could see that she needed Arkad and his scribe or counselor in hearing distance before she could cast a spell. She also had another problem, and that was that Liende and her players, farther back in the column, didn't know enough of the spellsongs Anna used to be useful. That meant spells had to be supported only with the lutar, and that meant Anna couldn't afford to waste any.
Still, there was no sense in delaying. Fauren-two syllables-the same as the word ”armsman.” Anna rode forward another few yards.
Jecks accompanied her, but waved Jimbob to stay back. ”Enough,” he suggested to Anna.
She glanced toward the walls rising above them, then cleared her throat. She strummed the chords, then sang.
”Fauren right, Fauren wrong.
Obey this regent's song.
Open all gates strong...
”Faithful and obedient be, to Anna and the Regency!”
Silence followed the song. A silence Anna welcomed with the faint throbbing that had invaded her skull with the spell-and another double image of the hold before her. She slowly extended her free hand to the water bottle and fumbled it open, drinking slowly.
Beside Anna, Jecks s.h.i.+fted his weight on the dark stal lion. The broad-shouldered and black-haired Fhurgen urged his mount forward and before her, as if to act as a human s.h.i.+eld. Farinelli sidestepped two steps.
Then a creaking followed, and the dark gates swung open. The iron portcuflis lifted.
”Do we ride in?” asked Jimbob, who had slipped forward and reined up behind his grandsire.
”No,” said Jecks. ”Lord Arkad must come to us. Especially after this.” He looked to Anna. ”Can you offer another spell?”
”If I have to,” she answered, again lifting her water bottle one-handedly.
”Have to'?” Jimbob' s freckled face reflected puzzlement.
Anna ignored the expression and drank once more, then replaced the bottle. Jecks bent over and extracted the travel biscuits from the bag tied on the left saddle ring, offering her one. She took it and began to eat, trying to swallbw all the dry cmmbs. Then she took another swallow of water.
Her headache was mild, and the double vision had faded, but she'd need both the energy and the water.
Behind them, horses milled, and the low buzz of conversation sounded like the beehive in Papaw' s back field.
Shortly, Fauren limped out and stood in the shadow of the open gates. ”My master bids you enter.”
”Return with your master, Fauren, and have him bid us welcome and enter On his honor,” snapped Jecks, the first time Anna could recall hearing anger in the white-haired lord's voice.