Read The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle Online

Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.

The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle (69 page)

WEI, NORDWEI
T
he two women watch the mists clear, and the vision appears.
A blonde woman sits carefully upon a palomino and rides slowly down a wide street. Her right arm is heavily bound, but she smiles. Flowers and grains of rice rain upon her, as do cheers.
Behind her, a white-haired lord rides, his eyes shifting from her to the redheaded youth who rides beside him, but the lord’s eyes linger more upon the regent than upon his grandson.
“How?” whispers Gretslen, her eyes on the shimmering water. “How? She was helpless, and they carried her back. She could not have lifted a hand in her own defense, and Lord Jecks, and Nelmor, and even stem Birfels stood by her, and they all carried out her wishes when she could sing nothing, spell nothing. She is a stranger, and made no secret of it. She is a sorceress, and she did not hide it in a land that has killed sorceresses. She shivered the world, almost rent it in twain with her sorcery, and they hail her as a deliverer.”
“Because …” Ashtaar offers slowly, “because we have not seen enough good in the world and did not recognize it.”
“Good? She is nearly an absolute ruler, and you call her good?” questions the blonde. “She brought fire upon the Ostfels and drowned two cities in fire and floods, and that is good?”
“She raised harmony against disharmony, and the conflict rent the world. There is a difference.” The spymistress shrugs. “We thought she wanted power like Behlem, or that because she sought to help people she would be weak like
Barjim. She has already begun to bind together the lords by raising their younger children and providing them with more learning than Defalk has seen ever before. She has returned the rains to the fields, and she does not raise taxes or levies. She treats everyone fairly and does her best to destroy greed and evil. She raises the honest lords to power, and keeps her word. She is the Liedfuhr of the North, and she would not have the title. Do you have a better definition of a good ruler, Gretslen?”
The image in the shimmering waters vanishes.
“I can explain it to you well enough,” says Ashtaar wryly. “Explaining it to the Council may be more difficult.”
“They will not see her as good, but as a threat.”
“Goodness in another ruler, especially when successful, and backed with great power, is about as threatening a danger as they could imagine. Nor would I wish to be her.” Ashtaar forces a smile to hide the shiver that takes her.
The golden-haired Gretslen frowns.
Ashtaar smiles sadly. “You will learn, as has she.”
A
nna stood in the twilight on the east tower, looking out toward Mencha, toward Loiseau, away from the invisible webs that spun in and around Falcor, understanding once more Brill’s attachment, and wondering if she would ever be able to return there for more than a brief visit—at least in the ten years or so before Jimbob could rule in his own right.
She had Brill’s papers, and she could even decipher the crude codes and some of the spells and doubtless would learn more in the seasons and years ahead.
A yard or so away, a redheaded figure leaned against the
parapet and gazed through the cold mist toward the Fal River, already more than the trickle it had been just weeks earlier, but still dwarfed by the banks it had yet to refill.
The boy turned. “Lady Anna?”
“Yes, Jimbob?”
“Can I go down to the fire? With grandsire?” He grinned. “I am not from the mist worlds.”
“Go join your grandsire. I’ll be down in a while.”
“Will you be all right?”
“I just need time alone.”
“By your leave?”
“You have my leave.”
The redhead bowed. “I will have your cider ready. With all that funny spice in it And more nuts and cheese. Grandsire says you must eat more.”
“Go.”
“I hear and obey, honored Regent.” With a last grin, the youth turned, his steps hard on the damp stones.
Anna looked out through the gray and damp, through the rain that was slowly revitalizing Defalk. For the first time in her life, she had power, real power. For the first time in her life, she could direct at least some of her own destiny. And yet she could not, not without considering the destinies of others, not being who she still was.
She thought of Jecks and smiled, briefly. She even could have the local equivalent of Robert Mitchum or Sean Connery—and perhaps she would, in time. In time … if he would, and that was far from certain in a world, like any, where little indeed was certain, even for a woman of power.
For now … she shook her head slowly, thinking, letting the cool mist shroud her.
What had it all cost her? Her life on earth. Her son and daughter, for she was dead to them, and their lives went on. Every time she glanced at the black-etched rectangle on her chamber wall, she was reminded of that. And there was young Daffyd, who had given her the lutar, helped and trusted her. Brill, who had given her youth in body again. Innocent Jenny, killed by the dark ones to prevent her from
summoning another sorceress. Spirda, the young players, all the innocents swept away by the fires and floods she had unleashed. Even the guilty, like Delor and Behlem, had marked her, in anger for giving her no choice, and in regret that she had found no other way than the force she deplored—and continued to use.
The list was long … and she had the feeling it would get longer … no matter what she did, and how hard she tried. No matter what amends she tried to make, no matter how many years Brill’s spell sustained her.
Dropping her head in her hands, in the cool damp misting rain of early winter, Anna, destroyer of dissonance, savior of the land, Lady and Sorceress, Regent of Defalk, wept, silently, and in great shuddering sobs.
And the cold, soft rain fell. Cold and soft, like sorrow, the mists of Defalk shrouded the sobbing sorceress.
In time, she would go to the hearth below, her face clear, her voice clear.
Now … . with the silvered rain that had cost so dearly, she wept.
THE COREAN CHRONICLES
Legacies
Darknesses
Scepters
Alector’s Choice
THE SPELLSONG CYCLE
The Soprano Sorceress
The Spellsong War
Darksong Rising
The Shadow Sorceress
Shadowsinger
THE SAGA OF RECLUCE
The Magic of Recluce
The Towers of the Sunset
The Magic Engineer
The Order War
The Death of Chaos
Fall of Angels
The Chaos Balance
The White Order
Colors of Chaos
Magi’i of Cyador
Scion of Cyador
Wellspring of Chaos*
Ordermaster
GHOSTS OF COLUMBIA
Of Tangible Ghosts
The Ghost of the Revelator
Ghost of the White Nights
THE ECOLITAN MATTER
Empire & Ecolitan
(comprising
The Ecolitan Operation
and
The Ecologic Secession
)
Ecolitan Prime
(comprising
The Ecolitan Envoy
and
The Ecolitan Enigma
)
The Forever Hero
(comprising
Dawn for a Distant Earth, The Silent Warrior
and
In Endless Twilight
)
Timegod’s World
(comprising
Timediver’s Dawn
and
The Timegod
)
The Green Progression
The Parafaith War
The Ethos Effect
The Hammer of Darkness
Adiamante
Gravity Dreams
Octagonal Raven
Archform: Beauty
Flash
The Eternity Artifact*
*forthcoming from Tor Books
“Resplendent … fantasy with an inventive and expertly handled scenario, life-sized characters, and flawless plotting.”
—Kirkus Reviews
(Pointer Review)
“From the first page of this engrossing novel, you will find yourself unwilling to travel back to Earth, for fear that you might miss some of the action on Erde.”
—Tahoe World
, Tahoe City, California
“Fantasy fans who like political machinations with their magic will enjoy the layered plots.”
—Starlog
Following is
A Tantalizing Taste
of
Book Two of The Spellsong Cycle
1
WEI, NORDWEI
T
he heavy gong sounds, and the two women in the uniform of the Council turn and open the lacquered double doors, each bearing the ancient symbol of the Council of Wei. Each wears twin black-lacquered scabbards at her hips, and the scabbards contain the infamous short swords of the Nordan Guard.
Ashtaar moistens her lips and steps through the doors, then down the black carpet toward the dais.
The black-lacquered Council table is also ancient, and behind it sit seven figures. The woman in the center wears a silver-and-black seal on a heavy silver chain. Her dark eyes hold Ashtaar as the spymistress walks down the dark green carpet toward the space below the dais holding the table.
“The mist-world sorceress now holds Defalk. The Council has read your report, and would like to inquire further.”
“Yes, Ancient One.” Ashtaar bows.
“Please summarize the major events that led to the current state of affairs. Briefly.”
“A travel sorceress and a player summoned the lady Anna from the mist worlds. Both are dead now. The sorcerer Brill spirited her away and tutored her in the ways of both Darksong and Clearsong. The Dark Ones tried to kill her and failed. She supported Lord Barjim against the Ebrans at the Sand Pass. Barjim and Brill were killed, and she collapsed, but not before she destroyed two-thirds of the invaders. She somehow found her way south and recovered in Synope, in the lands of Lord Hryding. Lord Behlem
of Neserea then marched into Defalk and took Falcor, but not before Lord Jecks rescued the heir, his grandson Lord Jimbob. Lord Behlem offered his support to the sorceress, and she accepted it and went to Falcor. The Dark Ones gathered another army and marched toward Falcor. The sorceress used water magic and song to destroy the entire Ebran army and all the darksingers in Defalk. The Evult responded by flooding the Fal and destroying half of Falcor. Lord Behlem attempted to remove the lady Anna, and she used her sorcery to kill him and his consort and enlist the support of many of the Neserean troops in Falcor. Then she proclaimed a regency for young Jimbob. Shortly, almost at the dawn of winter, she marched a small force through the Ostfels and used her sorcery to destroy the Evult, the city of Vult, and most of Synek. She almost died, but the lords of Defalk, especially Lord Jecks, rallied behind her. So did the people. She has a reputation for being good and fair, and vindictively just.” Ashtaar bows once more.
“The rains now fall on Defalk, do they not?” asks the red-haired woman to the left of the Council leader.
“Yes. The sorceress removed the chains on the clouds when she destroyed the Evult.”
“Will the sorceress attempt to rule directly and put young Jimbob out of the way?” asks the dark-haired Council leader.
“That does not appear likely. She can have no children and has, in effect, adopted the boy.”
“And Lord Jecks has not objected?”
“He publicly supports the sorceress. As do the lords Birfels, Nelmor, Hryding, Geansor, Clethner, and the lady Gatrune, and the Rider of Heinene. There are doubtless others, and none of the thirty-three have raised voice or hand against her.”
“With her powers, I doubt any of sound mind would do so,” suggests the Council leader. “Are there any whispers of discontent?”
“Almost none that we have been able to track. She holds but one hostage, and that is Wendella, the consort of Lord
Dencer of Stromwer. Dencer is rumored to be less than happy.”
“No others?”
“None that we know or can scry.”
“What of Ebra?”
“The land has been flattened, mostly by the floods she unleashed down the river Elha, and Vult lies buried under the fire peak the Ebrans are calling Zauberinfeuer. Hadrenn has claimed the ruins of Synek. He is the one of the sons of an ancient lord, and several pretenders are struggling over Elawha. A lord named Bertmynn is raising armsmen in Dolov. He wishes to be lord of all Ebra.” Ashtaar waits.
“We have received a scroll from the Liedfuhr. He protests our interference in Defalk. He also informs us that young Rabyn is the Lord of Neserea and under his protection and regency. What beyond that do you know?” The dark-haired Council leader smiles faintly.
“He has dispatched fiftyscore lancers to Neserea. They were delayed by the snows in the Mittpass, but travel the south road through the Great Western Forest.”
“Spymistress of Nordwei … is it fair to say that a year ago we faced possible threats from the Prophet of Music and the Dark ones, and both have been destroyed?”
“Yes, Leader Tybra.”
“Is it also fair to say that you chose not to remove the soprano sorceress?” asks Tybra.
“I waited to see whether the Dark Ones and the Prophet were successful in their attempts. The Dark Ones failed in four attempts. The Prophet and his consort failed as well. We have been able to trace at least two attempts by Neserea.” Ashtaar inclines her head. “I thought it best not to turn the sorceress’s wrath against Nordwei.”
“So … now we have a strong and united Defalk on our southern borders, and this is your doing?”
“We have a united Defalk, ruled by a woman for the first time in recorded history, and a Defalk that will take a decade or longer to recover from the drought and depredations of the Dark Ones and the Nesereans.”
“That is what you say. For now … for now, we shall see. You may go, but do not hesitate to inform the Council should this sorceress take any action that could possibly affect Nordwei.”
“Yes, leader Tybra.” Ashtaar bows a last time, then turns. She does not wipe the dampness from her forehead.

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