Shadowsinger by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

“We needs must prepare for the onslaught here.”
    â€œHow…with more quick skirmishes that kill Sturinnese, but scarcely stop them? Or do you have a score of sorcerers or thirtyscore companies of lancers coming to our aid from somewhere?” Fehern laughs hollowly. “Not a word, and not a single lancer from that old woman of Defalk. All these years we have sent tribute and fealty, and what do we receive in our time of trouble? Not a thing. A sad thing it is when the best ruler of Defalk was a woman and but a regent. She was more a man than the men of Defalk.”
    â€œAll the mountains are too deep with snow…” murmurs the overcaptain.
    â€œNow…but were they that deep when the Sturinnese landed in Narial? When aid would have truly helped?”
    Neither officer speaks for a time.
    Fehern looks hard at the sorcerer. “Your glass has no answers as to why the Sturinnese tarry. Do you, Elyzar?”
    â€œThey wait for something, lord. It could be that they think that waiting will gain them more than attacking.”
    â€œWe have supplies, more than enough. What we do not have is sorcerers who can do battle work and lancers adequate to stop the white tide. You know that.” Fehern glares at Elyzar. “So must they.”
    â€œThey must know something.” Halyt laughs heartily. “Otherwise, we would see them on the river road.”
    â€œThey must. But what?” Fehern turns from the sorcerer, cocking his head slightly. “What could it possibly be?”
    Elyzar offers an enigmatic smile, but does not reply.

9
    The cold and clear skies that had graced Secca’s consorting had departed, and for the two days afterward gray clouds and misty rain had blanketed Encora, not that Secca or Alcaren had paid much attention to the weather for the first day or so.
    A stolen pair of days of bliss were all Secca dared take, and Alcaren had but nodded knowingly that morning as she made ready to visit the Matriarch once more. Now, she rode through the light and cold rain, with Alcaren beside her, back northward along the avenue to the Matriarch’s compact palace. Behind them rode a company of Defalkan lancers, and before them a squad of SouthWomen in their crimson-trimmed blue jackets.
    â€œI will not accompany you inside her receiving room,” Alcaren said. “Neither your people, nor Lord Robero, nor the Ladies of the Shadows would wish to see me as exerting greater influence.”
    â€œThat would be best,” Secca admitted, relieved that she had not been the one to have to make that statement, and pleased that Alcaren had both seen the problem and made the offer not to accompany her. “The Matriarch will still know I listen to you.”
    â€œShe listens to her consort, and all know that. In Ranuak, consorts are meant to be heard in private.”
    â€œThat is also true in Defalk, save that the consorts heard in private, until the Lady Anna changed matters, were all women.”
    â€œSome lords would not be loath to see that custom return?”
    â€œThere are doubtless some, but more in Neserea than in Defalk, and that is why so many rally behind Belmar.”
    â€œYou worry about what will happen there almost more than what awaits us in Dumar.”
    â€œI do.” Secca couldn’t have explained the dread she felt when considering Neserea, almost as if that land posed a greater danger than Dumar, yet nothing she knew would support that. “I cannot say why, but I do.”
    â€œI cannot see that, my lady, but I would not go against your senses for that.” Alcaren paused. “I would ask that you consider why you may feel that way. In that fashion, we will not be so surprised as might otherwise be the case.”
    â€œI don’t think it’s Belmar…” Secca shook her head. “I’ll have to think.” She could still recall Anna’s words about trusting her feelings. If only she could put words