Anna glanced back at the walls of Stromwer, reddish in the dawn light, rising out of dark red-and-gray cliffs. She stifled a yawn. For someone who wasn’t a morning person, the regent business was a tough gig. And getting tougher, no matter what Jecks thinks. Absently, she patted Farinelli, who almost pranced northward down the road.
“Riding in the morning is so much better,” burbled Birke from Anna’s left. “It’s cooler, and the air is cleaner. There’s less dust, and it’s quieter. . . .”
Unless you’re riding next to a cheerful morning person, Anna thought, yawning again. All the damned scrolls and paperwork had taken forever. She glanced at Jecks, almost as bright-eyed as Birke, and wanted to shake her head. On mornings such as these, she definitely missed coffee, but there didn’t seem to be any coffee in Liedwahr and no substitute closer than hot cider. Hot cider was no help, even when it was available, which it wasn’t in early summer in Stromwer.
She coughed gently. Something, some pollen, was irritating both nose and throat.
“. . . A morning hunt in the higher hills, that is good, too,” Birke continued.
“Unless you’re the deer,” Anna finally said dryly. Birke flushed.
“Don’t mind me, Birke.”
“You do not like hunting?”
“Let’s say that I know it’s necessary.” Anna forced a polite smile. “Just as some battles are necessary.”
Birke frowned.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said quietly. “Could we talk about something besides hunts and battles? I’m a little tired of killing.” You should be, with all you’ve done.
After a moment, Birke spoke again. “Did you know that you can see the Falche from the southwest guard tower at Abenfel? It hasn’t had that much water in years. If it keeps rising, even the oldest farm trenches to the north will be able to carry water to the fields.”
“You’re that close to the river?” Anna asked.
“Only a little more than a dek and a half. The keep has its own springs, and that means it didn’t have to be close enough to be flooded.”
“You must be higher, then?”
“A good two hundred yards. The upper part of the Chasm begins by the keep.”
“The Chasm?” Anna hadn’t heard about the Chasm, except in a brief mention during one of Menares’ geography lectures to the fosterlings and as a label on a map.
“That’s the deep canyon that carries the Falche into Dumar and the cataracts. My sire, he’s talked about the cataracts. I’ve never seen them. But the walls of the canyon, some places, they’re hundreds of yards tall, and there’s one place—it’s a ride of several glasses—where you can almost throw a stone . . . well, shoot an arrow anyway, from the cliffs on one side to the other. Another place, there’s this beach . . . the sand is so soft . . .”
Birke flushed.
“I can imagine what you might have been doing there,” Hanfor said with a gentle laugh.
“You thought of it, you veteran lecher,” Anna countered, to relieve Birke’s growing embarrassment.
“So I did.” Hanfor laughed good-naturedly. “It’s been a long spring.”
Several of the guards behind Anna laughed as well.
She shifted her weight, conscious that she was beginning to sweat again under the breastplate. She had to get used to the damned armor, she supposed, but would she? Really?
“One of the big pines fell into the river . . .” Birke continued.
“You’re not planning on going back to Falcor yet,” Jecks said in a low voice, easing his mount closer to Farinelli.
“Not yet. We couldn’t stay in Stromwer, and it won’t hurt to visit Birfels.”
“No, it will not.” Jecks smiled. “You worry about Ehara? Do you regret sending the scroll?”
“The scroll? No. I worry about the Sea-Priests. They’re using Dumar as a wedge. They won’t attack Mansuur or Nordwei. From what you’ve said, the harbor at Elawha in Ebra isn’t very good. So that leaves Ranuak or Dumar, and if I were a Sea-Priest, I’d certainly try Dumar first.”
“They have sought out Ehara,” conceded Jecks.
“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. . . .