Secca walked to the window, where she stared out into the cool and clear early morning, a day bidding to be warmer than those just previous. How long would the weather hold? Did she dare cross Ebra to Dolov? Did she dare not?
A dull thump filled the room, and both Richina and Secca turned.
On the desk where Secca had been studying the maps was a tarnished bronze cylinder. From it rose the odor of hot and oiled metal and the smell of parchment being heated.
“Who sent it?” asked Richina. “Lady Clayre?”
Secca pulled on the leather riding gloves that she had laid on the corner of the dressing table, then swiftly lifted the bronze tube off the maps, but not before a rectangular browned shape had darkened the parchment.
Quickly, the small sorceress pried open the copper tube, and extracted the parchment, and then a second sheet, sealed in blue, and a third—with its seal and blue ribbons slightly scorched. All three were browned from the heat, but not so much that she could not read the words of the unsealed one.
Dearest Secca—
I would not send these such were matters not most amiss. Clayre already has been required to use the flame sorcery against one rebellious holder in Neserea in order to support Annayal. Many of the Neserean holders have pledged to restore the Prophet of Music—yet without revealing their names…or who they would install as prophet.
There are two fleets from Sturrin. One has already landed lancers and armsmen in Dumar, east of Narial, and they are moving toward Dumaria. As you know, Narial itself lies prostrate from the massive wave we think the Sea-Priests created through sorcery…
Secca shook her head, recalling the anguished chord that had awakened her in the night. Why hadn’t she used the reflecting pool sooner to seek out the cause? Because she’d been so exhausted? It had only been a day later, and she had sent a message to Lord Robero. She moistened her lips, hoping her carelessness would not come back to plague her, not any more than it already had.
Lord High Counselor Clehar is raising all his armsmen and lancers. There is no way I can reach Dumar in time, and you and Clayre are already well away from Defalk. So Lord Robero has requested I remain in Falcor…
The second Sturinnese fleet appears to be sailing toward Elahwa. Lord Robero would suggest that you offer your assistance to the FreeWomen, once you have dealt with the last of the threat from Mynntar. He and I feel that Ebra cannot stand if Elahwa falls to the Sea-Priests…not unless all of us go eastward…With Sturinnese lancers landing in Dumar, and rebellion in Neserea…
The writing seemed to blur for Secca, but she knew the letters had not blurred. She looked blindly toward the closed window, as the dark wooden walls seemed to press in upon her.
“Lady! What is it?”
Rather than speak, Secca extended the message to Richina.
While Richina read the first, Secca unsealed the second, the one with her name on the outside, and with Robero’s seal.
Most honored Sorceress-Protector of the East,
The Assistant Sorceress of Defalk has informed me that a Sturinnese fleet is nearing the Free City of Elahwa. She has also informed me that you have removed the vast majority of the would-be usurper’s forces. Therefore, I would request that you ensure the loyalty of Dolov, as you see fit to do so, and with the support of the Lord High Counselor Hadrenn. I have enclosed a sealed scroll strongly suggesting that he offer you all support within his power.
Secca’s lips turned up in a faint smile. That wording read of Jolyn’s not-so-light hand. The half-smile vanished with the next words she read.
Upon completing that task, I would suggest that you offer your assistance to the FreeWomen of Elahwa, should they still be resisting the Sturinnese. If the city has fallen, it might be best to see what can be done to dislodge the Sea-Priests before they can reinforce their position…
In short, approaching winter or not, bad weather or not, she was headed eastward in an effort to stop matters which were already less than wonderful from turning into a complete disaster, if they had not already.
“I should have known. I should have used the glass more.” Secca shook her head. “Yet looking at the memories of reflections will not suffice.”
“What are you going to do?” asked the younger sorceress.
“Take Lord Robero’s scroll directly to Lord Hadrenn.”
“He will not be pleased.”
“I’m not sure Lord Hadrenn has ever been pleased.” Then, she reflected, in his position, she supposed she would not have been either. Hadrenn was a local lord who was not fitted for more, in a time when a greater man would have been welcome. Except all those who would have been greater had opposed Anna, and now Secca had to find a way to rescue a weak land with a weak lord. Without sorcery and without Stepan, it would have been impossible from the beginning.
Secca picked up the scroll, then glanced at Richina. “You need to practice the vocalises, the ones with the ‘eees,’ because you’re still swallowing your voice too much. I hope I won’t be long.”
“Yes, lady.”
Secca stepped from the guest chambers, and Mureyn, an older lancer, followed her down the corridor. Duryl, the other lancer, whom Secca did not know except by name, remained at the door.
The pair of guards standing outside Hadrenn’s study stiffened as Secca marched toward them.
“Lady Sorceress…” The taller guard began.
“Tell Lord Hadrenn that what I bring him will not wait long.”
The two exchanged glances, then the taller guard rapped on the door, and eased it open a fraction. “Sire…the Lady Secca. She says that it requires much haste.”
Apparently, Hadrenn said nothing, but only gestured, for the guard opened the study door, bowing to Secca as she stepped inside and closed the heavy oak door behind her.
Hadrenn did not stand from behind the ornate and ancient desk, its wood so darkened by age that it appeared almost black. The dark green velvet hangings framing the tall windows behind the desk were drawn so closely together that only a slit of light passed into the study, and the four branched candelabra on the corner of the desk dropped only a small pool of light across the ledger before the Lord High Counselor.
“I was reviewing the liedstadt accounts. There is little to spare. It was not the best of harvests, and the need to use the lancers has cost more than we had set aside. Then there are the death golds for those men you flamed…” Hadrenn gave a dramatic sigh.
“You will need to find more golds, I fear, Lord Hadrenn.” Secca extended the sealed scroll.
Hadrenn studied the blue wax of the seal and the blue ribbons, whose edges were browned by the heat of its sorcerous transmission. “How did you come by this? And why did you not present it sooner?” He scowled.
“It was sent by sorcery,” Secca stated. “In a bronze tube lined with special fabric. It appeared in my room moments ago.”
“You can send such? Why then do any use messengers?” Hadrenn shook his head.
Secca took a slow breath. “It takes a sorcerer or a sorceress. Sending one small tube will take all the sorcery she can muster for a day, perhaps two. Would you prefer the battle won? Or the road built?”
“For such as you do, we would do better with more sorceresses,” Hadrenn offered, not quite growling.
“Defalk has more sorceresses than ever it has had, and we have worked hard, but four could not send all the scrolls a ruler would need, and then we could do little else.”
“So…this scroll is most important?”
“I would judge so.”
“You know what it states?”
“Not the words, Lord Hadrenn, but I believe Lord Robero makes a request for your support against the Sturinnese and in securing eastern Ebra under your control.”
Hadrenn studied the scroll again, still not breaking the seal. “It has been scorched.”
“That happens when sent by sorcery, even within bronze. Some messages, if sent when a sorceress is too tired or sent too far, arrive as little more than cinders.”
“Sorcery…” After a brusque headshake, Hadrenn broke the seal and began to read, his lips mouthing the words. Finally, he looked up, his head outlined by the light from the windows, but his face in shadow.
“The Sturinnese are about to attack the Free City—or so your lord says,—and I am to offer all that I can in your support, excepting levies.” The Lord High Counselor lifted his hands. “I am recalled as to why I dread the visits of sorceresses. What choice have I? If I support you not, then I will have neither the backing of Defalk nor my lands. Yet…in supporting you, at the least I impoverish my folk and risk losing what it has taken long years to build.”
Secca could not find much sympathy for Hadrenn within herself, even as she spoke. “We of Defalk did not foment this, Lord Hadrenn. Nor does Lord Robero desire your lands.”
“Both I know. Both I understand. Yet…” The balding lord twisted the scroll in his hands, then glanced down at the desk before looking up at Secca. “Stepan and the lancers will accompany you until you need them not, and you may request aught that you need from Frengal and him.” A ghastly pale smile crossed the Lord High Counselor’s face. “Let us devoutly hope for the support of the Harmonies as well.”
“Thank you.” Secca understood how little Hadrenn wished to be where he sat. She doubted he understood how little she wished to be where she stood. “We will depart tomorrow, the weather permitting.”
“As you will, Sorceress-Protector. As you will.”
“As we must,” Secca replied, bowing slightly before she turned and left.