sorceress and a Regent.”
Anna frowned. Does that mean what you think it does?
“He is only a chandler who would be a darksinger.”
“We—I—still have to do something about him.”
“You can’t do anything about it tonight," Jecks pointed out reasonably. “Tomorrow, you can
send a messenger to Lady Gatrune and have her people find out the man’s name and what they
know about him.”
That made sense, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Once again, it was looking like what she
could do wouldn’t solve the problem. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “And I’ll have to look for
Bertmynn and see what he’s doing... and those Mansuuran lancers…”
Tomorrow... will every tomorrow always be filled with more tasks than you started yesterday
with?
8
As the sunlight poured through the liedburg window, Anna struggled up into a sitting position in
the bed. Her eyes were gummy, and her head ached. Too much not very good wine last night. Not
a good idea, either, with more problems today.
As she took a slow deep breath and swung her feet to the side of the bed, the black-etched
rectangle on the wall—the visual representation of the last time she’d been able to see her daugh-
ter through her sorcery—strobed at her. She closed her eyes again and just sat on the edge of the
bed. You can kill, and create great bridges, and rule a country, but you can’t use sorcery to see
your daughter.
After a moment, she found herself correcting that thought You weren’t able to see her for a
while, but it’s been more than a season since you tried. Brill said it could be done across the gap
between the mist worlds and Erde infrequently—not never.
She padded to the bathchamber, where she washed up and then dressed in her remaining clean
green working trousers and shirt. After pulling on the brown-leather boots, she trudged to the
door and opened it. Blaz and Rickel were the guards.
“If you would... please... have someone bring me some breakfast.”
“Yes, Lady Anna,” Rickel answered.
‘Thank you.” She closed the door and went to the writing desk, rummaging around until she
found a sheet of parchment.
What do you say to a daughter a world away, a daughter growing up without you…She dipped
the quill carefully, and began to write.
“No…that’s not…" She scratched through the words, knowing she couldn’t afford to crumple
the parchment. She’d just have to use one sheet for drafting, and then recopy.
A second beginning wasn’t any better. Nor was a third, and she set the parchment aside at the
knock on the door.
“Dalila, Lady Anna, with your breakfast.”
“Come on in.” Anna stood as the brunette brought in the tray—on which were piled a wedge of
yellow cheese and fresh bread, a lopsided peach, and a large pitcher of water.
“We didn’t cook anything, lady. If you want more..." Dalila waited.
“This is fine.” Anna smiled. “How are the children?”
“Ruetha is doing well. I am letting her learn letters with the older bairns. I hope you do not
mind....”
“That’s fine. When she’s older, she can learn numbers from Dythya as well.”
“You would let her...?"
“Of course.” Anna wanted to frown. “Dythya doesn’t come from lordly blood. She got where she
is because she’s able. I want the same to be true for Ruetha and Anadra and all the young girls in
the liedburg.” And throughout Defalk—as much as possible.
“I would want that. Yet..." Dalila left the question unvoiced. “How long will that be possible?”
asked Anna. “So long as I’m Regent, and if I’m a good one, a long time after that.”
“You will be Regent for many years.”
“We’ll have to see.” Right now, it doesn’t look all that promising.
“You will.” Dalila bowed, turned, and slipped out the door.
Before eating, Anna did take the precaution
Anna frowned. Does that mean what you think it does?
“He is only a chandler who would be a darksinger.”
“We—I—still have to do something about him.”
“You can’t do anything about it tonight," Jecks pointed out reasonably. “Tomorrow, you can
send a messenger to Lady Gatrune and have her people find out the man’s name and what they
know about him.”
That made sense, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Once again, it was looking like what she
could do wouldn’t solve the problem. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “And I’ll have to look for
Bertmynn and see what he’s doing... and those Mansuuran lancers…”
Tomorrow... will every tomorrow always be filled with more tasks than you started yesterday
with?
8
As the sunlight poured through the liedburg window, Anna struggled up into a sitting position in
the bed. Her eyes were gummy, and her head ached. Too much not very good wine last night. Not
a good idea, either, with more problems today.
As she took a slow deep breath and swung her feet to the side of the bed, the black-etched
rectangle on the wall—the visual representation of the last time she’d been able to see her daugh-
ter through her sorcery—strobed at her. She closed her eyes again and just sat on the edge of the
bed. You can kill, and create great bridges, and rule a country, but you can’t use sorcery to see
your daughter.
After a moment, she found herself correcting that thought You weren’t able to see her for a
while, but it’s been more than a season since you tried. Brill said it could be done across the gap
between the mist worlds and Erde infrequently—not never.
She padded to the bathchamber, where she washed up and then dressed in her remaining clean
green working trousers and shirt. After pulling on the brown-leather boots, she trudged to the
door and opened it. Blaz and Rickel were the guards.
“If you would... please... have someone bring me some breakfast.”
“Yes, Lady Anna,” Rickel answered.
‘Thank you.” She closed the door and went to the writing desk, rummaging around until she
found a sheet of parchment.
What do you say to a daughter a world away, a daughter growing up without you…She dipped
the quill carefully, and began to write.
“No…that’s not…" She scratched through the words, knowing she couldn’t afford to crumple
the parchment. She’d just have to use one sheet for drafting, and then recopy.
A second beginning wasn’t any better. Nor was a third, and she set the parchment aside at the
knock on the door.
“Dalila, Lady Anna, with your breakfast.”
“Come on in.” Anna stood as the brunette brought in the tray—on which were piled a wedge of
yellow cheese and fresh bread, a lopsided peach, and a large pitcher of water.
“We didn’t cook anything, lady. If you want more..." Dalila waited.
“This is fine.” Anna smiled. “How are the children?”
“Ruetha is doing well. I am letting her learn letters with the older bairns. I hope you do not
mind....”
“That’s fine. When she’s older, she can learn numbers from Dythya as well.”
“You would let her...?"
“Of course.” Anna wanted to frown. “Dythya doesn’t come from lordly blood. She got where she
is because she’s able. I want the same to be true for Ruetha and Anadra and all the young girls in
the liedburg.” And throughout Defalk—as much as possible.
“I would want that. Yet..." Dalila left the question unvoiced. “How long will that be possible?”
asked Anna. “So long as I’m Regent, and if I’m a good one, a long time after that.”
“You will be Regent for many years.”
“We’ll have to see.” Right now, it doesn’t look all that promising.
“You will.” Dalila bowed, turned, and slipped out the door.
Before eating, Anna did take the precaution
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