Free Darksong Rising by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B
Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.
Nubara frowns.
“Of course. That way, he will know no one has abused her.” Rabyn’s laugh is cold. “I have not
touched either. No one has. She is not that attractive, but he does not know that. Besides, I could
turn her over to the lowest of the Westfels Foot, and he knows that. Or”—Rabyn smiles, and his
face appears almost serpentlike—“I could think of something.”
“Yet you will reward him if he builds these... these devices?”
“Even I know, Nubara, that a ruler must keep his promises.” A second laugh follows. “You
might notice how few I make, and how careful I am with my words.” Rabyn looks toward the
audience chamber. ‘The glass has come for me to appear concerned and caring for the welfare of
my people.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, honored Prophet.”
Rabyn does not look at the Mansuuran officer before stepping through the door that a servant has
opened for him.
Behind him, Nubara shivers, then follows.
10
Anna stepped out of the receiving room and nodded at the two guards, Lejun and Rickel. “I’m
going to observe the lessons.”
The two followed her as she turned into the small service hall. Three sets of boots echoed on the
stone floor of the narrow passage until Anna stopped at the back door of the large ball that
continued as the working classroom for the pages and fosterlings. Until you can figure out
something better… like everything else.
She eased open the narrow door and slipped behind the tapestry aims, simultaneously listening
and attempting to keep from sneezing in the narrow and dusty space.
"... Sturinn is not a land nation, such as Mansuur or Defalk. It is but a collection of large and
small isles set in the Western Sea. These isles are held together by great fleets, by a form of
Darksong magic, and by the largest numbers of armsmen in our world. The Maitre of Sturinn lost
more than forty great vessels and two hundred-score armsmen when the Regent unloosed the
Falche River. These were but as a handful of ships and men to the Maitre... yet the loss of the
same number of armsmen ruined Dumar and left it prostrate.”
Anna shook her head as the heavyset and gray-haired Menares droned on.
“Now…see this map. You can see how many deks lie between Mansuur and the nearest isles of
Sturinn. Those are the Ostisles, and five years ago they were free. Likewise, fifteen years ago,
Buerann was governed by the young lord Zuerien”
“Buerann?" asked a voice Anna did not recognize.
“The large island here, in the corner, north of Pelara.”
At least he’s using maps...Anna slipped out from behind the arras, as silently as she could.
The red-haired Lysara saw the sorceress, and the girl’s mouth formed an O. Anna smiled, and
put a finger to her own lips. Lysara quickly looked back toward the graying tutor.
“What matters it,” asked the sandy-haired Hoede, his tone verging on insolence. “how far lies
Sturinn? The Sturinnese cannot sail their ships to Defalk”
“Their ships...do not just affect Nordwei or Mansuur,” replied Menares. “Had the sorceress not
stopped them in Dumar, Stromwer would now belong to Sturinn, and all the trade that goes
through that road would either pay tribute to the Maitre or travel a far longer way to Ranuak, and
that would cost the lords of the south many golds...?"
“They're all Suhlmorrans anyway, mumbled Hoede. "Weak women... all of them.”
Anna tightened her lips, deciding that she could not wait much longer to deal with Hoede. But
here is not the place or time.
The blonde Cataryzna—the object of Skent’s affection— glanced toward the back of the hall,
then looked quickly back to Menares. Beside Cataryzna; Secca sat almost at the end of the table,
the redheaded and youngest of the fosterlings and pages, and very much the smallest.
Looking at Secca, Anna was reminded of
“Of course. That way, he will know no one has abused her.” Rabyn’s laugh is cold. “I have not
touched either. No one has. She is not that attractive, but he does not know that. Besides, I could
turn her over to the lowest of the Westfels Foot, and he knows that. Or”—Rabyn smiles, and his
face appears almost serpentlike—“I could think of something.”
“Yet you will reward him if he builds these... these devices?”
“Even I know, Nubara, that a ruler must keep his promises.” A second laugh follows. “You
might notice how few I make, and how careful I am with my words.” Rabyn looks toward the
audience chamber. ‘The glass has come for me to appear concerned and caring for the welfare of
my people.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, honored Prophet.”
Rabyn does not look at the Mansuuran officer before stepping through the door that a servant has
opened for him.
Behind him, Nubara shivers, then follows.
10
Anna stepped out of the receiving room and nodded at the two guards, Lejun and Rickel. “I’m
going to observe the lessons.”
The two followed her as she turned into the small service hall. Three sets of boots echoed on the
stone floor of the narrow passage until Anna stopped at the back door of the large ball that
continued as the working classroom for the pages and fosterlings. Until you can figure out
something better… like everything else.
She eased open the narrow door and slipped behind the tapestry aims, simultaneously listening
and attempting to keep from sneezing in the narrow and dusty space.
"... Sturinn is not a land nation, such as Mansuur or Defalk. It is but a collection of large and
small isles set in the Western Sea. These isles are held together by great fleets, by a form of
Darksong magic, and by the largest numbers of armsmen in our world. The Maitre of Sturinn lost
more than forty great vessels and two hundred-score armsmen when the Regent unloosed the
Falche River. These were but as a handful of ships and men to the Maitre... yet the loss of the
same number of armsmen ruined Dumar and left it prostrate.”
Anna shook her head as the heavyset and gray-haired Menares droned on.
“Now…see this map. You can see how many deks lie between Mansuur and the nearest isles of
Sturinn. Those are the Ostisles, and five years ago they were free. Likewise, fifteen years ago,
Buerann was governed by the young lord Zuerien”
“Buerann?" asked a voice Anna did not recognize.
“The large island here, in the corner, north of Pelara.”
At least he’s using maps...Anna slipped out from behind the arras, as silently as she could.
The red-haired Lysara saw the sorceress, and the girl’s mouth formed an O. Anna smiled, and
put a finger to her own lips. Lysara quickly looked back toward the graying tutor.
“What matters it,” asked the sandy-haired Hoede, his tone verging on insolence. “how far lies
Sturinn? The Sturinnese cannot sail their ships to Defalk”
“Their ships...do not just affect Nordwei or Mansuur,” replied Menares. “Had the sorceress not
stopped them in Dumar, Stromwer would now belong to Sturinn, and all the trade that goes
through that road would either pay tribute to the Maitre or travel a far longer way to Ranuak, and
that would cost the lords of the south many golds...?"
“They're all Suhlmorrans anyway, mumbled Hoede. "Weak women... all of them.”
Anna tightened her lips, deciding that she could not wait much longer to deal with Hoede. But
here is not the place or time.
The blonde Cataryzna—the object of Skent’s affection— glanced toward the back of the hall,
then looked quickly back to Menares. Beside Cataryzna; Secca sat almost at the end of the table,
the redheaded and youngest of the fosterlings and pages, and very much the smallest.
Looking at Secca, Anna was reminded of
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