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came." Gylun remained on his knees, but looked up at Anna.
"Why did you let him poison Anientta?" Anna asked bluntly.
"Lord Beltyr... he sent me to the fields... me..."
"For now... Gylun...your job is to work-if you would not mind," Anna asked the
redhead, "to put Flossbend back in order, back in a state appropriate for the
lady Secca. Falar will get you started."
"I would like to be of service to Lady Secca," answered Falar with his roguish
smile. "And I will do my best."
"She's too young for you," Anna said with a laugh, "you smiling devil. You can
start things, but I'd like you to come with me. But don't worry. I always
reward loyalty and skill." Who else can you leave? You'll have to talk to
Himar about that, You still need Falar under your thumb. What about Lejun and
one of the captains?
"That she does," murmured Liende, standing at the top of the stairs.
Falar bowed.
"Have you got the players settled?" the sorceress asked the chief player.
"We are settled. Will you need more playing?"
"Not that I know." Anna paused. "Thank you. I know it's been hard on you. . .
and on them."
"They will all remember these days, lady and Regent, and few players can say
such. Few indeed."
Few indeed... but how will they remember them? Anna smiled sadly in yet
another twilight She walked slowly along the wall, looking down as her boots
kicked a
Vorkoffe stone that skittered along the floor tiles. A tile Secca might have
used on a day past, a more innocent time. Had those times been better? Or
merely more cruelly innocent?
The sorceress turned and looked westward. Another sunset... the clouds almost
bloodred. Her lips curled into an ironic smile as she watched the red sky
fade.
110
MANSUUS, MANSUUR
"Sire...sire..." Bassil stands barely a yard inside the carved door to the
Liedfuhr's private study. Outside the windows, rain patters against the
shutters, and a cool dampness seeps into the room.
"What? Bassil...." There is a long pause. "Don't tell me. You have even worse
news from Esaria or Defalk?" Konsstin stands up from behind the desk.
"Worse? I.... ah. . . perhaps you should read it. . . I mean, them, yourself
sire." Bassil extends a scroll, still sealed in wax and bound in purple
ribbon.
A second follows, sealed with severe blue wax and wrapped with a strip of dark
blue felt.
"You have not opened them?"
"They were addressed to you, and brought by the same courier from Neserea.
There are two scrolls. One from the sorceress-Regent and one from one Hanfor,
Lord
High Counselor of Neserea."
"Two scrolls... both filled with trouble." Konsstin snorts. "As if I had no
other difficulties." His eyes fix on the dark-haired officer. "Why did I ever
listen to you? Why?"
Bassil swallows.
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"Why? Answer me!"
The officer squares his shoulders, then meets the Liedfuhr's blistering
scrutiny. "Because I have given my best judgment, whether it later proved
wrong or not. Because I have never lied to you, and because that is greater
loyalty than flattery." The lancer officer swallows, and the sweat pours down
his brow and cheeks.
Abruptly, the Liedfuhr nods. "And you have the nerve to tell me so." He sighs.
"Best we read these." He breaks the purple wax seal and unrolls the scroll.
Bassil watches.
The Liedfuhr's frown deepens as he reads. Silently, he finishes the first
scroll, then breaks the seal on the second, a much shorter length of
parchment.
Near the end of the scroll, suddenly, he laughs, and shakes his head. 'Things
could be worse... far worse."
"Sire?" blurts Bassil.
"She has appointed a professional armsman as Lord High Counselor of Neserea,
and she has gone back to Falcor-or somewhere. She has also suggested that I
support the new regime in Neserea, and rather politely suggested that she'll
forgive my sending lancers into Defalk, but that she'll do the same to them
again if I send any there or into Neserca." Konsstin pursed his lips. "She'll
probably live longer than I will, and that means Kestrin will have to deal
with her for a time as well."
"But the second one?" prompts Bassil.
"Oh... that is from the armsman. He was quite short, if most circumspect. He
just said that Neserea regarded Mansuur as its friend, and Defalk as its
protector, and hoped that I would understand why it must be so." The Liedfuhr
drops both scrolls on the shimmering polished wood of his table-desk. After a
moment, he begins to pace back and forth. "What to do... what to do...?"
Bassil holds his tongue, waiting.
Konsstin straightens, nods to himself. "It might work. It will work."
The lancer officer leans forward, as if encouraging the Liedfuhr to explain.
"Aerlya. . . she's sixteen," Konsstin says. "If he has no consort, and I'd
wager he does not. Is he not the one who was her arms commander?"
"Who?"
"This Hanfor."
"She had an arms commander of that name. That was what your envoys reported."
"Aerlya... she needs a consort, and what would be better than the new Lord
High
Counselor of Neserea?"
"Sire?"
"Bassil. . . if you are going to say something trite about Aerlya being too
sweet. . . that's the point. The envoys-I remember their report-they said this
Hanfor was honorable. If he's survived in Defalk and if he survives in
Neserea,
he'll be most intelligent as well-his scroll shows that. If the sorceress
trusts him, he'll be a good man. A bit hard, perhaps, but good, and he will
not treat women badly. Not after what the sorceress has done, he couldn't have
survived.
And...he'll know treachery. What an honorable man is most influenced by is by
honest respect and, in a woman, sweetness. Aerlya is strong, but she's not a
schemer. Not too much, anyway." Konsstin laughs. "And this Hanfor, he will
have to balance between us, and Aerlya, she has seen enough scheming to
respect honor."
"She may not love him." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]