Part 55 (1/2)

”I don't like going back to Falcor and leaving them to create more trouble,” Anna said quietly.

”Even with you, Lady Anna, we could not attack Dumar,” offered Hanfor.

”I understand that,” Anna said tiredly. ”What are we supposed to do? Wait until Ehara and his newfound allies attack us?”

”Have we any choice?''

Anna looked at the dusty red road where it entered the gorge, at the long shadows of morning. ”I don't know. I keep hoping.” As always, as ever, but things don't change that way. She took a deep breath. And you'd better think of something. . . some way to force the Sea-Priests, out of Dumar...

68.

Anna lay quietly in the dark, on a cot under the thin silk tent that she rated. Both tent and cot were im- provements on her first campaign, if she could call the battle of the Sand Pa.s.s and the subsequent flight from the Dark Monks of Ebra a campaign.

The silk overhead fluttered ever so slightly, and Anna opened her eyes, then closed them. Outside, leather creaked as one of her guards s.h.i.+fted his position.

Her arm still twinged at times, the one that had taken the crossbow bolt first, and it twinged now. She turned onto her side, carefully, so that she didn't tip the lightweight cot.

The silk of the tent sidewall fluttered.

She couldn't attack Durnar. Yet Dumar would attack Defalk. Or the Sea-Priests would. Or Bertmynn would use the aid of Sturinn to defeat Hadrenn, and then she'd face the Sea-Priests and their allies on two fronts, with the Liedfuhr on a third.

But she hadn't the resources for an attack, even with sorcery. How could she convince Ehara to throw out the Sea-Priests? What kind of show of force would it take?

You...thinking like a hawk... or a warmonger...

Finally, she sat up and pulled on her boots before she stepped out into the darkness.

”Lady?” whispered the guard, Kerhor, from his voice.

”I just needed some air, Kerhor.”

”Yes, lady.” Kerhor straightened and followed her the dozen steps she took to a low rise.

On the eastern horizon was the tiny red disc that was Darksong, while high over ahead was the bright white disc of Clearsong. Two moons, music magic... sometimes she felt it had to be a dream-until she got shot by an arrow or floored by the backlash of her own magic.

Anna missed the big bright moon of earth. She missed a lot, still. Elizabetta, not that much older than Birke, her little redhead who wasn't little, but all too far away, beyond even the scope of Anna's gla.s.ses and reflecting pools.

Was her daughter in love under a bright moon? How long would she really miss Anna? Did Anna want her to grieve too long? Would she even grieve, knowing Anna was alive, somewhere? Should she?

The sorceress and regent shook her head slowly, taking a last look at the red moon on the horizon, then the white disc near its zenith, before slipping back into her tent, hoping she could sleep. Praying that she could.

69.

There it is...” announced Birke, gesturing ahead as the van rode to the crest of the low hill.

Anna half stood in the stirrups to get a better view of Birke's home. Like Synfal and Stromwer, Abenfel clearly dated from a more warlike period. The tall gray walls were without embrasures, and the gate towers were twice the size of those at Falcor. Despite the height of the walls. they seemed almost squat from their thickness, and each of the four walls stretched nearly a dek.

”It be a big place,” murmured Rickel to Lejun-the two guards riding immediately behind Anna and Jecks.

”More than half the rooms are empty. They have been for years, I guess,” Birke said. ”We always had great fun steal-away-and-find. I once found a funny set of drums, all attached in a frame, and all different sizes.”

”What happened to them?”

”My sire burned them.” Birke shrugged. ”He said they were ancient magic that no decent folk should use.

I think there was a ballroom once on the third level. I saw it in the old drawings, but that was a long time ago, and now that s.p.a.ce is where the library is.”

Jecks nodded at that.

Anna managed not to frown. Brill hadn't been happy when she'd mentioned the use of multiple drums, but he'd never really explained, despite all her questions. And then he'd died before Anna could follow up. Jecks had clearly been unhappy with the ballroom at Synfal and had already told Herstat to do something about it-without telling Anna. Herstat had asked Anna-quietly. Anna had told him to go ahead. If it upset Jecks that much, it would certainly have upset others. What she still didn't understand was why they all went crazy about dancing. As if it were so immoral. Anna sighed quietly. She wouldn't change that. And drums? What kind of sorcery went with drums? The books she'd gotten from Brill had alluded to their use, but she'd never had the time to pore through them all, not with the struggle of reading a language that was a cross between Old English and German.

As Farinelli carried her steadily along the dusty gray clay road; she studied the approach to the keep instead. Abenfel stood on a low hill, the gates to the north. Directly to the east and the south were higher gra.s.sy hills. To the west, the ground sloped gently for more than a dek to a line of trees, which marked, from what Anna could see, a bluff, possibly overlooking the Falche. Because of the haze, she could not make out the far side of the river, but she gained the impression that even the upper part of the Great Chasm was considerable. Was it like the Grand Canyon, or narrower and deeper like the Black Canyon of the Gunnison?

Her eyes went back to Abenfel.

A permanent bridge, of later construction from the darker stone, spanned a dry moat almost a hundred yards wide and ten deep and led to the open gates, roughly three yards high, and bound with dark iron.

One of the riders with Birke unfurled a green-and-gray pennant.

Hanfor nodded and murmured something to one of the scouts, who unfurled the Regency banner. Without speaking, both standard bearers rode to the front of the column.

High thin clouds were turning orange and pink as the sun dropped behind the lower peaks to the west, leaving only the tips of the higher mountains to the south in light, and but briefly.

No one spoke as the column rode across the bridge and causeway.

Anna had barely reined up in the courtyard of Abenfel before Lord Birfels crossed the worn but still well set gray paving stones. Birfels' red hair was more than half white, and his ruddy complexion was blotched from too many years in the sun. ”Regent Anna.”

”Lord Birfels.” Anna swung out of the saddle.

”You dress and ride like a lancer, as slim as many, if more deadly.” The faded brown eyes held a hint of a smile, and Anna could see the similarity between Birfels and his offspring-both Birke and his older sister Lysara, who had replaced Birke as a fosterling at Falcor.

Anna shrugged. ”I've had to learn to ride, but a blade is beyond my skill”

”Not a dagger, I understand.”

Anna tried not to flush. She'd never live down the time she'd gutted a Neserean lancer who'd tried to ambush her in Falcor's stable. ”I was fortunate.”

Birfels waited as a slender and white-haired woman neared. Despite the silvery-white hair, her face and figure conveyed that she was a good decade younger than the lord.

”Lady Anna, this is Fylena, my consort.”

”Lady Anna,” Fylena smiled warmly. ”Birke has told us so much about you.”

”I am pleased to be here, Lady Fylena. I do hope Birke hasn't revealed too many of my weaknesses.”