Spellsong - The Soprano Sorceress - Spellsong - The Soprano Sorceress Part 77
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Spellsong - The Soprano Sorceress Part 77

Ugar's fingers fly across the fretboard of the mandolin, yet each note resounds individually, without slurring. He finishes with three gentle chords that draw all the notes he has played together in both a resolution and a promise.

"You play well, dearest," offers the Matriarch. "Then, I have known that for years. You would make a great player, or even a sorcerer.

"I would rather not pay those prices." Ulgar slips the mandolin into its case, and places the case in the cabinet on his side of the large bed. "Most do not live that long, and those that do seldom sleep-not well, anyway."

The Matriarch sets aside the scroll she has been reading and rubs her forehead. While her face is as round as ever, the somberness of her eyes removes any cherubic impression. "The prices of such power are high. I feel for the soprano sorceress."

"Why did you send her that demand for payment, then?" Ulgar sits on the left side of the bed, pulls off a silken slipper and massages his right foot.

"The debt must be paid, one way or another. She must know all her debts. Otherwise, how can she address them? Debts off-key the harmonies more if they are hidden or ignored, and if she chooses to ignore them, then her harmonies will turn dissonant."

"You are sometimes cruel, dear," Ulgar reflects.

"No...I would be cruel if I did not let her know the debt existed. If she does not pay, the exchange will stop selling grain in Sudwei, and then more will suffer." She rubs her forehead again. "She can postpone paying, if she will acknowledge it, without too great a consequence, but if she tries to repudiate it, she and her people will suffer- the debt is that of Defalk, not of Barjim."

"That seems harsh. She seems to be acting in good faith. She did not have to uphold young Jimbob's claim." Ulgar lays his vest on the chair and begins to unbutton his wide-sleeved silk shirt.

"The harmonies do not care about faith or belief. You know that. That is something that neither the Evult nor Behlem have understood. Any use of sorcery creates dissonance, and, in time requires greater dissonance for harmonic resolution." The Matriarch takes the scroll from the coverlet and lays it on the table.

"I am for harmonic resolution," Ulgar offers with a smile.

"Then snuff the lamp."

110 In the gray predawn light, the only time Anna was likely to have time to herself, she strummed the lutar, cast the looking spell, and studied the mirror-the third mirror since she'd come to Falcor. She was seeing why sorcerers used water pools, but she'd never had time to set one up.

Elizabetta lay reading on the bed. A large white square sat on the foot of the bed, propped up by the stuffed white tiger that had come off the love seat in Anna's bedroom in Ames.

Even through the faint heat waves that rippled across the mirror, Anna could make out the word Mom! on the envelope. She swallowed and blanked the image immediately, noting that the wood frame of the mirror was literally steaming.

The sorceress sat down at the table. What could she adapt? The spell she had used to send her messages? She began to write, slowly, striking out words and substituting.

The sun had cleared the horizon by the time she took out the lutar and began to play. She ran through the chords twice, then spoke the words. She stopped and changed a phrase, and tried again.

''Better.''

Finally, she was ready to try. She cleared her throat and sang.

"Bring my daughter's letter from her land; deliver it safely to my hand, as she knows that I love her. . .

As she struck the last chord, the entire room seemed to rock with a second unseen, unheard chord that shivered the sky outside.

Clinnnk!

Anna threw up her arms as the wall mirror shattered and sprayed glass across the room, staggering back, feeling- knowing that she was the only one affected, as if that chord were almost a magic harmonic directed at her.

She did not make the bed before she went down.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

What was the noise? Between the pounding in her head and the thumping somewhere in the room, Anna had trouble figuring out the sound, and when she opened her eyes they burned.

Thump!

"Lady Anna! Lady Anna!"

Slowly she rolled over onto her knees, then levered, her way up the footboard of the bed until she stood tottering.

"Lady Anna!"

"Just...a moment" she croaked.

"Lady Anna! Lady Anna!"

She finally recognized Daffyd's voice. Ignoring the throbbing in her skull, she forced her voice louder. "I'm all right. Just a moment."

A look down showed cuts and dried blood across her forearms below the three-quarter-length sleeves of her riding shirt. Glass shards from the wall mirror lay across the polished floor, and the outline of the mirror was literally burned into the stones of the wall. Only ashes-on the floor-remained of the frame and glass.

When she opened the door, Daffyd gaped. So did the guards behind him. Did she look that awful?

"I could feel something...something...terrible," he stuttered.

"A little sorcery backlash..." she said. "It was more than I planned. I need to get cleaned up- again."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'll be fine. Send up some breakfast, and tell Menares and Lord Jecks that I will be delayed."

She closed the door and walked slowly-very slowly- toward the bathroom, but she stopped as she saw the white oblong on the bed.

Elizabetta's letter? Had it gotten through? She picked it up. The edges of the envelope were almost brown, as though they had been scorched, but the letter was there. The letter was there.

Her fingers trembled as she opened it and began to read, forcing her eyes, burning as they did, to pick out the words.

Mom- Everyone would say I'm crazy to try this, but they didn't see your envelopes arrive.

They don't know, and they don't know you.

I had already showed the first coins to Mr. Asteni, and he said the gold one was solid gold, but he'd never heard of Neserea, and he wanted to know if that was some new African country. I didn't tell him....

Mario's nice about it, and he's fine. I don't know why you can see me but not him because he's doing great. He worries that I'm crazy. I'm not, am I? I mean, writing letters to answer letters that appear by magic is strange, but it isn't crazy. And I knew you wouldn't just go off, no matter what Dad said about your going off the deep end.

I guess it must be hard, magic or not, to send these. I couldn't read part of the second letter, because it was sort of charred. Are you sure you didn't get burned when that wizard pulled you where you are?

Anna had to stop reading because she couldn't see... but at least Elizabetta knew. At least, she knew.

After closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she picked up the letter again.

I got permission to take off the fall semester without losing my scholarship-I told them I'd come back if it made a difference, but the dean was understanding, for once, and I'm working at the Homestead until Christmas. Dad and Paulina are back in New York, and it's nice to have the space, but I MISS YOU!!!!

Anna swallowed, and sniffled, and blotted her eyes with her sleeve, and noted the dried blood flakes that rubbed onto her sleeve. She'd take care of them in a minute.

I don't know if this letter will reach you, and if it does, if I can send another. So I wanted you to know that I love you, and that, even if we did argue sometimes, that wasn't because I didn't love you. It was because I was trying to be me, and you're a hard act to follow. Irenia and I talked about it, a lot, and you're the kind of person who draws up tight inside when you're hurt.

You don't bleed or gush. You get formal and professional. Dad never understood that, and I think Sandy did, but he couldn't understand why. Iren.ia and I understood, but sometimes it was still hard, and I'm sorry that I sometimes didn't make more of an effort. It's hard to say everything in a letter, and especially when you're not a letter-writer, but this is the only way I'll get to say it. You were there when it counted, and you cared, and I even remember when I got the chicken pox, and you left the audition in San Francisco that you might have won to come home because Dad said he had to open at the Met.

There are a lot of other memories, good ones, and I'll always hold on to them.

Anna didn't realize she was sobbing until one of her tears dropped on the I love you-always scrawled above her daughter's signature.

In the end, she sat on the bed clutching the letter, and letting herself cry, knowing, as only her guts could tell her, that the black-etched rectangle in the wall stones signified the closure of all her portals to the mist worlds.

111.

Even by midday, when she forced herself to march into receiving room where Daffyd, and lunch, waited, Anna felt like she'd been run over by Farinelli. She looked worse than she felt, with several scratches across her left temple, and more than a few across her hands and arms. None of the cuts were deep, but several hurt, if not as much as her aching head, and heart.

"You look better, Lady Anna," offered Daffyd as he stood.

"I look like shit. And I feel worse."

Daffyd' s mouth opened, then closed.

"That's all right." The sorceress pointed to the table. "Sit down. We need to eat. I do, anyway.

My blood sugar's so low it wouldn't register."

Daffyd looked blank at the reference, but she didn't bother to explain. She sat at the back side of the conference table, where she could see both doors, and immediately broke off a chunk of the dark bread. As she did, a head peered inside. Anna motioned. "Resor, bring in whatever we have besides the bread. I hope we have something else. Lots of it."

"Beef and onions and peppers," said the page, setting the platter midway between Anna and the player.

The sorceress nodded and finished her bread before serving herself. Were regents supposed to be served? Not this one.

After several mouthfuls, she swallowed and cleared her throat. "How are you coming with the players?"

"I have seven, lady, and soon... You did say you would pay..."

"Fine. You need silvers?"

"A silver a week for each." The young player nodded.

"And two for you?" Anna grinned.

Daffyd tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'll get them to you later today or in the morning." Anna stuffed more of the meat into her mouth. She was hungry, and then some, but that was clearly the result of sorcery. After eating for a time, and letting Daffyd eat, she resumed. "I hope to have the songs ready for you in the next day or so. Then we can practice, and I hope you'll be able to rehearse them a lot when I can't."

"Me?"

"Why not? What am I paying you for?" She asked deadpan.

"Lady...oh...you jest."

"Not entirely. Once you know a song, you ought to be able to get it put together. I won't have that sort of time, not the way Lord Brill did." Anna snorted. "I don't have enough time to get organized, let alone do anything." She took a deep breath. "You'd better go. I need to work on spells before I get interrupted again."

Daffyd nodded and rose.

"Daffyd, I'm not displeased or upset. I am busy and frazzled."

"Yes, lady."

She wasn't sure he understood, but then, men always expected women to understand. It was different when they had to, even as young men.

As Daffyd left, the sorceress called, "Resor! Someone?" Skent peered in. "Yes, lady?"

"Can you cart off the platters and plates?" Skent started to gather them up.

"How is Cataryzna?" Anna asked playfully.

The dark-haired page blushed. "Fine, lady. She is appreciative, but she would like the freedom to return home."

"I know. Matters aren't that simple, though, as I keep discovering."

"Wendella-she hates you, and she tells everyone how awful you are."

"Am I?"

"No, lady. Even Drenchescha thinks you are fair. She told Wendella she was lucky to keep her head. She wouldn't have been near so charitable. That shut her up for a time."

That would change, Anna knew, and probably before she had a solution.

"Thank you, Skent. I'll think about it." That she could promise.

As the door closed, Anna pulled the paper and ink stand before her and began to jot down song ideas-she had to come up with something quickly so that Daffyd could get his players practicing.

She had managed only a few ideas when there was a gentle thump on the door and Birke peered in. "Lady Anna, Lord Jecks is here with Dythya."

"Have them come in." She set aside the spells and stood. Who was Dythya?

"Dythya, this is the lady Anna," offered Jecks. Anna could not help but note that his blue tunic was stained. "She is Herstat's daughter..."

Dythya was older than Anna had anticipated, in her mid-thirties, dark-haired, with a touch of gray, and solid but not overweight. Her gray eyes were appraising as she bowed. "Lady Anna, I am at your service."

"I hope so. Did Jecks tell you about my needs?"

"He said you had no one to do the accounts for the liedburg."

"Or the liedstadt. I also want to set up a budgeting system, where we can estimate what future revenues and expenditures may be."

"How-"