The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

player, and I would certainly not take askance if you remained friendly with him. Do keep in mind that, like all players, he has a tendency to … react … rather than consider the effects of his efforts.”
    Anna cut another slice of melon and chewed slowly, trying to gather her thoughts together.
    Brill cut himself a wedge of melon larger than Anna’s and popped it into his mouth with relish.
    “It’s often hard to consider the future when you are struggling with the present,” Anna temporized.
    “If you don’t, you often have no future.”
    “If you don’t eat today,” countered Anna, “you may not live long enough to worry about a future.” Even on Erde, it appeared, there were the elitists who preached about preparing for tomorrow while conveniently forgetting that too many people had trouble getting through today. Elitists like Avery, who used his money on vacation homes while insisting that she share in the children’s college tuition costs, while preaching that she hadn’t saved enough after she’d followed him everywhere and given up her chances at tenure to try to let him have his big chance.
    “If I were to allow people to use seed grain for flour, we’d all have starved,” Brill said coolly.
    Anna swallowed her retort, realizing that she couldn’t afford to make the sorcerer angry, just like she couldn’t afford to make her department chair angry, her thesis advisor angry, Avery angry … . Instead, she took a last slice of melon and chewed it slowly, looking out the window into the still-empty courtyard.
    “It can be a hard choice,” she finally said.
    “Hard indeed, and I am often called cruel for it.” Brill
refilled his goblet with the amber wine. “All prudent lords are in this time of trouble.”
    The white-haired server removed the melons, leaving the plates, then used a crude spatula to lever a brown-covered slab of meat onto Anna’s plate. Next came a whitish green heap of something. Finally, she set a steaming loaf of the brown bread in the center of the table.
    Brill nodded at the server, who departed as silently as she had slipped into the salon.
    Anna looked at the brown sauce that covered the hefty slice of meat. The sauce reminded her of all the mystery meats she hadn’t eaten when she’d been studying in England. She tried to sniff the meat without being too obvious.
    “It’s not the best beef,” the sorcerer admitted, “but the sauce is good. Only the tougher animals have been able to weather the drought.”
    “How long has the drought continued?” asked Anna, using the knife to slice a sliver of beef.
    “This is the fourth year.” Brill cut a large chunk of meat and eased the entire portion into his mouth.
    Anna repressed a shudder, although she’d seen Mario do the same thing all too often. She chewed her small slice—tough despite a marinated sauce that was sweet and acidic simultaneously. If what the sorcerer was putting in front of her happened to be good food, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what the common folk ate.
    “Because of the dark ones?”
    “It appears that way. Ebra is getting good rains, and the Ebrans are selling melons and grains to the Ranuans and the Norweians. Before they took over, the weather was spotty there.” The sorcerer cut another slice off his slab of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, wiping his fingers on the necessarily large napkin, then breaking off a chunk of bread. After that he took and ate another enormous chunk of meat.
    “Why are they doing it?” asked Anna, not quite sure what she was asking. “What do you think?” She followed Brill’s example and took a corner of the bread. A mouthful
convinced her that it was far better than the meat.
    “Does what I think matter? I wish I knew. Oh, I can summon images that show what they do, and that’s clear enough. They spell-move the Whispering Sands south and west, uncovering once fertile ground, and covering the groves and grasslands of Ranuak.” Brill