Part 43 (1/2)
The words were cramped to that melody, but she hoped it wouldn't matter too much.
The mirror remained blank, then swirled into a featureless silver, and finally showed an image not of Lerona, but of a mountain hold.
”That be Stromwer.” Jecks said.
Anna frowned. Had her spell failed? Or did Lerona truly pose no dangers? With a sigh, she set aside the lutar and went to the spell folder on the table. With the grease marker, she drafted another version of the spell.
Once she had it in mind, she lifted the lutar and offared it.
”Show me bright and show me clear, threats from Gylaron for us to fear...”
The silver swirling repeated, this time remaining featureless.
A snap filled the silence, and I4anfor locked down disgustedly at the broken marker in his hand.
Anna shook her head.
”Maybe there's something going on with Dencer.” She distrusted Dencer more than she had Gylamn, or Sargol, even if she couldn't have explained precisely why.
Seeks shrugged.
”We still haven't seen Gylaron's keep.” she said disgustedly. Sometimes, even saying was dissonantly imprecise. Sometimes? What about most of the time? You're exaggerating. Still, she'd overkilled bandits, gotten images she hadn't really wanted, killed singing dark monks instead of armsmen, and nearly killed herself a half-dozen times.
She'd just have to use a direct minor spell. She strummed the lutar and readjusted the peg for the top string. Then she cleared her throat. She really needed something to drink.
Hanfor held up a hand. ”A moment, Lady Anna?”
”When you're ready.” Anna couldn't help grinning as the Arms Commander used his belt knife to sharpen the grease marker he used for sketching. Setting down the lutar, she took a sip of the wine from the pitcher on the table, although she really wanted water.
Then she walked to the window and pulled the shutters wide. The fresh air, warm as it was, helped. The fresh earth over the ma.s.s graves reminded her of wounds... or scars. Would it always be like that?
Hanfor coughed. ”Lady Anna.'
”Oh.” She turned and crossed the stone floor to reclaim the lutar.
”Show me now, bright and fair, Gylaron's keep as it stands there...”
Gylaron's liedburg rose out of the town of Lerona itself, on a small hillock to the north of the center of the town.
The walls were low, no more than five to six yards high, and the gates were wide open.
”No defenses,” murmured Jecks.
Hanfor shook his head. ”Some form of treachery?”
Anna released the spell and set aside the lutar. ”1 don't think so. The mirror showed us Sargol's treachery. I just didn't understand what it meant. Three different spells, and we get nothing. That means that Gylaron isn't trying anything.”
”Or there is a greater wizard?” asked Jecks.
Anna took a deep breath and went back to the table and spell folder. After a time, she scrawled out another variation of the mirror spell.
Again, she faced the mirror and sang.
”Spells and wizards show me. bright those who aid Gylaron's fight.”
What filled the antique mirror was a silvery mist, seemingly mixing with a faint steam from the mirror frame. Hurriedly, Anna released the spell. Then she took a hefty swallow of the red wine, followed by another. She sank onto the hard chair, glancing around for something to eat. There was only the pitcher of wine and three pewter goblets.
”Satisfied?” she asked, still holding the goblet, debating whether she should have more wine so early in the day.
Jecks looked down at the sharpness of her voice.
Anna felt both ashamed of her pettiness and angry. Don't they understand this is work ? Why would they?
No one on earth understood that an hour and a half recital was work No one understood the energy it took to teach lessons hour after hour. Why would things be different on Erde?
If she destroyed something. . . that was work. She forced her jaw to unclench and sipped some wine- very slowly, very deliberately.
”Would you like something to eat?” Jecks asked, walking toward the door ”Yes, please.”
Jecks slipped out of the room.
Anna sat quietly, drawn into herself, knowing her blood sugar was nonexistent, knowing that she'd regret anything she said, waiting.
Hanfor sat on one of the chests against the stone wall, sketching something, a rough map, perhaps.
Shortly, the door opened again.
”Mayhap, this will help, lady.'' Jecks set the basket with the still warm loaf of dark bread on the table before her.
”Thank you.” She forced a smile, then broke off the end and slowly began to eat.
No one said a word until Anna had eaten for a time. One shutter creaked and swung partly across the window with a brief gust of warm air.
”Gylaron has not paid liedgeld. .. yet he makes no plans,” mused Jecks.
”That be not quite so,” suggested Hanfor. ”The gla.s.s shows that any plans he makes present no danger.
We must still approach Lerona with care.”
Anna nodded, chewing on another chunk of the moist and dark bread, before speaking. ”We need to see what Dencer plans.”
”Especially after your gla.s.s has shown Stromwer,” agreed Hanfor.
After she had finished most of the loaf, Anna stood and lifted the lutar.
”Lord Dencer, show me then and now, what he does 'gainst me and how, show the scenes both far and near and show us what one should fear.”
Four scenes appeared, two side by side on the top of the mirror, the other two below. In the top right-hand vision, Dencer stood in his private study, his angular frame looking down upon a younger officer in the crimson uniform of a lancer of Dumar. In the top Ieft side was an image of a group of men digging a large pit. Sharpened stakes were stacked at the side of the excavation.
The third image held no people, just a view of a small circular fort containing a large iron caldron. Below one side of the caldron was a circular stone basin from which ran a polished stone trough. The trough ended in a circular opening in the wall of the small fortress overlooking a narrow gorge.