From where she sat on one side of the conference table in her guest quarters, Secca glanced out the window. Thin streams of cold water oozed down the panes. The rain that had already fallen on the lane and boulevard beyond shimmered silver in the gray midmorning light. Secca had the feeling that rain fell all the time in Elahwa in the winter, and that she would be most tired of the chill, dampness, and gray skies by the time she could depart, if she could determine how best to get her forces safely to Dumar.
Richina followed Secca’s glance. “It rains much here. Do you think it does also in Encora?”
“It is on the Southern Ocean, and I would guess so.” Secca looked back down at the scrying glass set in the middle of the table. “Were we to go to Ranuak first, what could we do against the Sturinnese?” she asked, musingly. She had some ideas, more than a few, but was interested in what Richina thought.
“Did Overcaptain Alcaren suggest…?”
“He had many suggestions.”
Richina flushed and looked down.
“Not those kinds of suggestions.” Secca laughed. “Is that all that is on your mind?”
“He watches you, more than he would need, even were he a spy, and he is handsome.”
“Striking, rather than handsome. And no, he was most reserved, and anything but forward.”
Richina did not look at Secca.
“He is a very private man, Richina. It is most difficult to draw him out, and even more difficult when others are around. I was trying to find out more about Encora and about what the Matriarch is like.”
“He speaks well,” replied the younger sorceress.
“But seldom about himself or about Ranuak, and Ranuak is the key to what we may be able to do and how we could get to Dumar. The counselor has no ships that will carry us so far as Dumar—only the fleets of Nordwei or the traders’ ships of Ranuak could, and we cannot contact or use those of Wei, and those of the Matriarch are bottled inside the harbor of Encora or warded off by the Sturinnese blockade.” Secca offered a polite smile. “The Sturinnese ships yet remain off Encora, and from where they patrol, they could intercept any ship that left from here and attempted to land on the coast of Dumar.”
“Cannot you discover some sorcery to allow us to travel? You have studied much.”
“Those ships are too far from the shore for song-sorcery to carry to them,” Secca said. “Yet, unless we can get past those ships, Dumar will fall. Even if we do reach Dumar, until we destroy the ships, they will be back…and back.”
“The Sea-Priests raised waves through song. Could we not do the same?” asked Richina.
“They had the drums.” Secca tilted her head. “Perhaps…” She shook her head. “I do not think that waves raised from the shore have the same effect upon the deeper waters. Otherwise, why would sailors head to sea when storms threaten?”
“Storms…? Is there a kind of storm that would threaten a ship? More than any other kind?”
“I would have to ask,” mused Secca.
“The overcaptain would know.” Richina grinned.
“I am most certain he would.”
“He must have made you most angry, lady.”
“Angry?” Secca shook her head, all too conscious of her attempted deception—and self-deception. “I think not.”
“You act…”
Secca smiled. “As you felt with Haddev?” She raised her eyebrows, wishing not to dwell too much on Alcaren. “He was handsome as well.”
“He did not care enough.”
“He may have cared more than you think,” Secca said. “He saw you, and he did not hurt you, and he did not lead you on. He was bright enough to realize that, beautiful as you are, you would be unhappy in Synek, and, in time, so would he. He will make a better lord than his sire, I think.”
“I would suppose so.”
“Richina…would you have been happy in that shabby hold? In a land where a woman must still request all through her consort?”
“I…” The sandy-haired sorceress shook her head. “Why does it have to be so?”
Secca did not have an answer, either for herself or for Richina. Did Alcaren watch her merely for his own ends? Or for the Matriarch? Did he seek to understand her better to manipulate her for some unknown end? Yet…so far…he had refrained almost scrupulously from suggesting anything. Was that because her actions accorded with what he wanted? Or because he did care for her? Or because he actually did not wish to push her? Or some of both? Or neither?
Finally, Secca stood and walked to the window. She would not speak of Alcaren, not to Richina, not after his declaration of what she must do.
And yet…did she have any choice?
She took a deep breath. Perhaps tomorrow she would talk to Alcaren again. Perhaps tomorrow.