By midmorning, Secca and Richina were riding northwest on the river road, well beyond the fork where the road to the coast had split off to head due east. The recent hoofprints in the damp clay of the coast road confirmed the earlier passage of the Sturinnese, and Secca’s use of the glass in the early morning had shown that the Sturinnese had completed loading all the lancers and mounts. The Sturinnese fleet was sailing southeast, doubtless to skirt the Shoals of Discord. Secca but hoped that she could deal with Dolov quickly, before the Sturinnese created another situation with which she might have to contend.
Richina turned slightly in the saddle of her mount and glanced back toward the rear of the column, her eyes seeking the black pennant that served as the standard for the lancers from Silberfels.
Secca caught the quick search, but refrained from saying anything, though she wanted to offer consolation. Instead, she reached for her water bottle and took a long swallow. Even in early winter, with the constant light but chill wind, riding was a thirsty business.
After they had ridden another dek, Richina eased her mount closer to Secca. “Was it just because he saw me do sorcery, lady?”
“I would think not,” the older sorceress replied, asking quietly, “What do you feel?”
“He used to find ways to talk to me, if briefly. He used to smile more at me. Now he smiles at me in the way he smiles at you.”
“He does seem a bit more removed,” Secca said.
Richina snorted. “He saw me sing two spells, and protect myself with a sabre, and I am different?”
“No. What he saw before was what he wished to see,” Secca suggested. “Then he saw you as you are.”
Richina glanced sideways at the red-headed sorceress, “Was that why you never consorted?” She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, lady. I should not have asked such.”
Secca smiled gently. “It is difficult for any sorceress to find a consort.”
“Because we are different?”
Because we have power, Secca wanted to answer. She did not, instead pausing before replying deliberately, “All folk differ, even those in the same family. Is that not true in your family?”
Richina tilted her head before replying. “I had never thought it otherwise, but…” Her words trailed off into the slight whistle of the cold breeze.
“The Lady Anna once said,” Secca said slowly, “that a lady in Defalk had to choose between being an accepted possession or being unaccepted and respected.”
“I don’t think it’s like that at all,” Richina replied.
“We are riding to Dolov. The father of the present lord could not accept the idea of the free city of Elahwa. He sacrificed himself and scores of lancers and armsmen to keep women from being respected.”
“But…my mother is a lady, and she is respected.”
Secca nodded politely.
“You’re saying she’s not accepted?”
“I did not say anything,” Secca pointed out, “except what Lady Anna said.”
“Do you think that was because Lady Anna was an outsider?”
“That she felt that way? Perhaps.” Secca wasn’t so sure about that. She wondered if Anna had been an outsider in the Mist Worlds as well. “I don’t see as we’ll ever know.”
“No, I suppose we won’t.”
Secca took out the water bottle again.
After another long silence, Richina spoke once more. “Alcaren is handsome, don’t you think, Lady Secca?”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Except Secca had noticed the Ranuan. She wouldn’t have called him handsome, but striking. He was exceptionally broad-shouldered, with penetrating gray-blue eyes, and fine brown hair, cut short, but lustrous, almost silky. He spoke little, except when addressed, and rode so gracefully that young Haddev looked gawky by comparison.
Secca still worried about the way the overcaptain watched her and Richina perform sorcery. Alcaren had not had the appearance of trying to memorize the spells or melody, nor had he pried or asked questions. He had not appeared anything but interested. He had not tried to ingratiate himself, nor to distance himself.
Secca shook her head. Not for the first time—nor the last, she suspected—she had to wonder just why Alcaren had wanted to accompany her. She wondered if she could find out while she still had time to decide what to do about the Ranuan—if indeed she would even have a choice. What seemed to be choices, she was discovering, were often illusions. Had she really had any choice about going first to Elahwa? Or pushing Richina into sorcery possibly dangerous to the young woman?
“Lady?”
“It is nothing. I was just thinking.”
Had it been any different for Anna? Secca wished now that she had asked more…and listened much more—much, much more.