"I'm sorry, but I'm not at full voice, fellow." Even talking to her mount created a throbbing in her skull.
The gelding whuffled.
While it seemed like it took forever, Anna was saddled and mounted beside Behlem before long.
"It would have been better had you been ready," the Prophet said mildly.
"I was not made aware of your desires, Lord Behlem," Anna countered. "But I am here."
Behlem snorted. Beyond and behind him, several horses back, Anna caught sight of Daffyd' s quickly suppressed smile. She hoped the player was laughing at Behlem and not at her.
Behlem nodded, and the entourage resumed, while behind them Alvar supervised the packing of the camp. Anna wondered if she should have pleaded illness. No-without visible signs, that would have been regarded as a womanly weakness, and she couldn't afford that.
After they had covered several deks in relative silence, Behlem looked toward Anna. "So we will see this evidence of destruction?"
"It's right ahead." Anna pointed toward the depression.
The Prophet stood in his stirrups as they rode closer to the ragged edge of the sinkhole.
"That? That hole? Or is it a muddy lake?"
Anna repressed a sigh.
From his mount on the other side of the Prophet, Hanfor said smoothly, "You can see where the road was sheared off up there. And the river has filled the pit, but you can see all the bodies."
He paused. "And smell them."
Anna tried to ignore the sour stench, faint as yet, but certainly the result of mud, water, death, and the unending heat of Defalk.
"There are quite a few bodies," Behiem finally admitted. "It is a pity that the road and the ford were destroyed."
Despite her headache, Anna wanted to throw sorcery at the spoiled brat. What did he expect?
Then she pursed her lips and looked at him, catching the half-smile. She understood. He was beginning the political effort to discredit her. She'd seen it before, at the university, where other professors who felt threatened always found little faults with what she had done, generally right after she'd accomplished the impossible.
"Once the ground settles," she said, forcing a smile, "we can rebuild the road and the ford."
"We'?" asked Behlem pointedly.
"Daffyd and I."
"Why not now?"
"Because I would have to do it again later," Anna said. "There are limits, you know?"
Behlem smiled. "I would have to take your word for that."
"Please do."
"All our forces are on the south side of the river," interjected Hanfor blandly. "So we will not need the ford anytime soon."
"I would hope not, overcaptain. I would hope not." The Prophet smiled. "Well... we have seen the sight of a most glorious victory, and we must push on to secure the border." He nodded sharply at Hanfor, then flicked the reins.
Anna followed his example, since she was clearly expected to ride close to Behiem, and be subjected to periodic indirect abuse.
If only she felt better.
They continued eastward, and the sinkhole vanished behind into the seemingly endless grasslands and scattered trees, the abandoned steads, and the clumps of dying trees that had once been woodlots.
In time, the knives and chisels driven by massive unseen sledges returned to pound through Anna's skull, but she forced her knees against the saddle, holding herself erect as she rode beside Behlem toward Mencha.
How long can I trust him? Not long at all.
Her cords were tight, and if she had to sing, she'd have nothing, no protection at all. She needed rest, and she couldn't afford to let down her guard at all.
She'd destroyed the Ebran forces, and she had no way to protect herself, except that Behlem didn't know that, and she couldn't let him know.
III
VERLUSTTRAUM.
95 VULT, EBRA.
The silvered waters shimmer and show a blonde woman on a palomino, the waters imparting the only light to the darkened room, casting a faint glow on the face hidden in the black cowl.
"Never...." murmurs the man in the dark cloak.
He gestures, and a chime rings-once, twice, three times. In a few moments a second cloaked figure enters. "Yes, Evult?"
"Yurelt, you are Songmaster now. Summon the master-singers, and the horns."
"As you wish, Evult." Slightly lifted shoulders accompany the acquiescence.
"We will bring down the storms and the ice upon Defalk! Upon those who accepted that wench of the mists."
"Now, Evult? Now... when we have lost.. . so much?" stutters Yurelt.
"Now! Once we have shattered her city, then your charge is to rebuild our forces. You must destroy the blonde sorceress." The deep-set eyes burn toward the younger man-burn so much that his face is bathed in light.
"Yes, Evult." Yurelt swallows.
"Bah. . . it is simple, so simple that brilliant Eladdrin could never have thought of it. First, she cannot be in more than one place, and we will ensure she must be in Falcor. Second, she must sleep. Third, without her, no armsmen of Liedwahr can stand against us. Fourth, we are not bound by honor. Do you understand?"
Yurelt nods. "Whatever it takes, I must send men from so many places and locations that she cannot sense them all-"
"Not yet. First, we must raise the fires of the earth, and the mighty storms. Then, after the devastation, you must move the eastern army to Synek, to make her worry about our forces.
Then..."
"Then," Yurelt agrees. "Then."
94.
When Behiem's vanguard had reached Loiseau, Anna had stabled Farinelli quickly and headed toward the hall. She laughed to herself as she climbed the dusty stone steps in the late-afternoon gloom. That was, one advantage with the big gelding. Few would bother him or try to move him.
The captains and overcaptains were gathered around Behlem in the back courtyard. She hadn't been invited and had decided against crashing.
Anna opened the door and glanced around the bedchamber. Surprisingly, almost everything was as she had left it, except for the heat and dust. The one exception was her green recital gown, and it lay upon the bed.
She crossed the chamber and peered into the robing room, noting the spare sets of riding gear.
She could use them.
As she crossed back into the main chamber, she heard steps through the open door.
"Lady Anna?" Hanfor peered inside. "Oh..."
"This is my room. Does the Prophet intend to dispossess me here?" As she spoke, Anna wished she hadn't been quite so sharp. Hanfor had been more than fair. "I'm sorry."
"Ah... . I think you are entitled to your own room." Hanfor stepped inside and shut the door.
"More than entitled. A sorceress of your statute certainly ranks with senior officers." The weathered face offered a tight smile. "I will note that this is yours. There are more than enough rooms for the Prophet and the overcaptains." He grinned. "One of the chores of the senior overcaptain is quarters-because senior officers listen to no one lower."
"Brill's suite is at the end of the corridor," she offered. "It would be appropriate for the Prophet."
"Most appropriate," Hanfor agreed. "Thank you."
Anna inclined her head. "Thank you."
Hanfor paused, then added, "Do not get too comfortable."
"You don't think I should stay here?" Anna asked. "I suppose I'm as much Brill's heir as anyone these days."
"The Prophet has already claimed the hall" Hanfor noted dryly. "He wishes it were in Falcor, instead of the liedburg. We will be leaving for Falcor tomorrow or the next day."
Anna frowned.
"The lady Cyndyth is there already. She has requested the Prophet's presence, and yours.
Since her sire is the Liedfuhr of Mansuur, Lord Behlem is most cautious."
"I take it Mansuur is powerful."
"Perhaps mightier than Nordwei." Hanfor nodded. "I must finish my survey and chamber assignments. My duty- to avoid further difficulties." He bowed again.
After Hanfor left, Anna walked around the room, too hot really, but she decided against trying her cooling spell yet. She still had the vestiges of a headache, and she needed to save her ability to spellcast, especially with Behiem-and possibly his consort-out to get her.
She slumped into the chair and looked at the blue-tinted windows.
There came another rap on the door.
"Yes?"
"It's Daffyd."
"Come in."
The player slumped into the room, pausing to close the heavy door.
Anna blotted her forehead, glancing at the empty pitcher on the table before her. She needed more water. She always needed water.
"They killed her," Daffyd said slowly, as he walked toward Anna.
"Killed who?" Will it never stop? "Sit down and tell me." Anna gestured to the other chair.
Her legs hurt.
"Jenny." Daffyd dropped into the heavy blue iron-framed chair.
The sorceress frowned, then lowered her voice. "Why would Behlem-"
"It happened weeks ago. No one knows who. It could have been the dark ones. There were two strange riders- that was what Lisbey told me. Some say they rode horses with brass on the harnesses."
"That doesn't sound like the dark ones." Anna rubbed her forehead.
"The Norweians use brass that way." The young player shook his head. "But why? Why Jenny?"
In the pit of her stomach, Anna knew. Jenny had proved she could summon a sorceress from the mist worlds, and someone wanted no more sorceresses that powerful.
Anna wanted to laugh, an urge almost hysterical. Were they after her? Who in this godforsaken world wasn't?
Lord! It never ended. Never.
"I'm sorry," she offered. "You liked her."