Modesitt, L.E. - Spellsong 1 - The Soprano Sorceress

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THE

SOPRANOSORCERESS

L.E.Modesitt,]r.

Forandtomysopranosorceress,

whomadethispossible.

Anymistakesaremine,

themusichers.

LIEDTRAUM

*******

WestoftheSandPass,Defalk

Adozenmusicianssitonstoolsundertheoblongwhitesilkawningheldin

placebyfoursturdypoles,eachpoleanchoredbyheavycordstoapairof

stakes.Thesilkfluttersslightlyinthealmoststillairthatcarriesthescentof

dustandhorses.

Thebrown‐and‐redmountainsthatloomintheeastabovethepassentrance

waverinthesummerheat,andsweatdripsdownthefacesofthemusicians.

Allwearfadedbluecottontunicsandtrousers,withbootsofamatchingblue

leather.Occasionally,oneblotsaforeheadorcheek,butnotoneofthe

musiciansspeaks.Darksweatstainsmarkthetunicsoftheheaviermen.The

threehornplayersexchangeglances,notquitethoseofworry,thenlook

towardthetwomenstandinginthemiddaysunbeyondthesilkawning.

Thebiggerman,wearingleathersandahand‐and‐a‐halfbladeinascabbard

wornacrosshisshoulders,putsahandonthesaddleofhiswarhorse.Agood

fiftypacestotheeastwaitasquadofmountedtrooperswearingthepurpleof

Defalk.Theirblacksabresaresheathedinscabbardsattheirwaists.Halfcarry

blackhornbowsandquivers,andhalfbearlongspear‐lanceswithidentical,

leaf‐shapedsteelblades.

ʺYouʹresurethesewallswillstandagainsteventheDarkMonks?ʺdrawlsthe

bulky,broad‐facedman.Hishoodedeyesgivehisfaceasleepy‐lookingcast.

ʺWhatIraisewillbestandingwhenyouandIarelonggone,LordBarjim,ʺ

affirmstheresonantbaritonevoiceoftheslenderandbaldingmaninblue

silks.

ʺThatʹllbealongtime,Brill,ʺlaughstheLordofDefalk.ʺYoulookthesameas

whenIwasJimbobʹsage.ʺ

ʺTheyʹllstandthatlongorlonger.ʺ

ʺAye,andtheyshouldforallthesilverIʹmpaying.ʺ

ʺItʹsfarlessthanbringinginmasonsfromNordwei.ʺ

ʺNotthatmuch.Notinthesetimes.ʺBarjimpauses,asifwaitingfora

response,thenfinallycontinues.ʹʹToobadyoucouldnʹtbringusrain.Need

thatworsethanthefort,exceptweneedboth,withthedarkonesonthe

move.ʺHelooksdownattheshorterlord.ʺIstilldonʹtseewhyyoucanʹt

bringrain.Itʹsnotasthoughyouʹveavoideddark‐song.Webothknowthat.ʺ

ʺThatʹstoodark,andIʹveexplainedwhybefore,ʺBrillanswerspatiently.

ʺYouhaveananswerforeverything,ʺpointsoutBarjim.ʺThatʹswhyyouʹrea

sorcerer.ʺ

ʺNo,ʺrespondsBrill.ʺThatʹswhyIʹvesurvivedasasorcerer.ʺ

ʺColdironismoresure.ʺ

ʺThatistrue,lord,ʺsaysBrill,histonelight,notquitemocking.ʺUnlessyou

considertheDarkMonks.ʺ

ʺSomeday.ʺBarjimshakeshishead.ʺIʹllleaveyoutoyourtask,master

sorcerer.Iʹllbebacktoinspectyourworklater,and,ofcourse,payyou.ʺ

ʺOfcourse,lord.ʺBrillbowsdeeply.

LordBarjimsnortsandturns,swingingupontohismount.As.herides

towardhistroopers,theystraightenintheiridenticalpurpledleathersaddles.

Oncethetrooperspasstheoutcroppingofdarkstoneonthesouthsideofthe

valley,theyturnduewest,backtowardMencha,awayfromtheSandPass

thatleadstoEbra.Whenthesoundofhoofsonthepavedhighwayechoes

backuphill,LordBrillletsasmilecrosshislips.Heglancestowardthe

representativepilesofstoneandbrick,thedrypowderedmortar,andthe

tubsofwater,thenstepsunderthesilksunshadeandwipeshisforehead.

Afterhetakesalongsipfromthegobletontheportabletable,hisbrown‐

fleckedgreeneyesdroptothetwo‐partdrawingofthewalledfortification

fastenedwithleatherthongstothedraftingboard.Theright‐handsideofthe

drawingillustratesthefoundationoutline,theleft‐handsideafrontalviewas

ifseenfromatalloak,thoughBrillstandsinthemiddleofadepression

betweenthehills,emptyexceptforthesorcererandhisplayers,andtheheaps

ofstoneonthesouthside.Besidethedrawingarethespells,withtheproper

accentsmarked.ThesoftnessinBrillʹseyesvanishesashefacesthemusicians.

ʺTheground‐sortingtune,ʺheorders.ʺRunthroughitonce.ʺHeliftshisright

handandbeganthecount,markingthetimedeftly.ʺOne,two…ʺWithhis

nod,themusiciansbeginthesonoroustones,thebrasshornslowandurgent,

thewoodwindspantherlike,thestringswhisperinglikeshiftingsands.

ʺNo!Jaegal,youmustemphasizethedownbeatsmore,especiallythefirst.ʺ

Brillʹshandsstoptheplayers,andhiseyesflash.

Notoneofthemusicianslooksup,althoughoneofthehornplayersscowls,

hisfaceavertedfromBrill.Inthelastpartofthestringsection,ablack‐haired

youthtakesacleangrayclothandblotshisforeheadquicklybeforereplacing

theclothandrepositioninghisbow.

ʺAgain!ʺBrilldemands.

Asthemusiciansplay,thegroundbeyondthebricksandmortarandwater

appearstoshiver.

Thesorcerernods.ʺGood.Takeamoment.Somewater.Wipeyour

foreheads.ʺWithoutlookingatthesevenmenandthreewomen,heturnsthe

draftingboardsothathecandirectthemusicians,seethedrawingandthe

spell,andthegroundwherethefortistorise.

Brillwaits.Thesilkawningaboveripplesinthehintofabreeze,andtheonly

soundsaresoftandmutedasthemusiciansdrinkandblotforeheads,necks,

andfingers.

ʺPlaces,ʺthesorcererfinallyannounces.

Thetenplayersreseatthemselvesontheirstoolsandtakeuptheir

instruments.Thelasttoliftaninstrumentistheblack‐hairedyoungmanin

thebackwiththeviola.

ʺNow…one…two…ʺ

Brillʹsresonantbaritonewrapsaroundthenotesthemusiciansplay.

ʺ…cleavetheground,even,straight,andtrue,

Morecleanlythanthediggersdo.

Scourthestonesbothsmoothandflat…ʺ

Thesorcerersings;themusiciansplay;andasilverhazesettlesontothe

hilltopwherethesoilshifts,andthegroundparts.Theairstillscompletely,

andtheawninghangslimplyintheheat,andeventhescentsofparched

grass,dust,andhorsesseemtovanish.

Attheendofthesongspell,Brillʹshandslashesforsilence,andthesonghaze

vanishes.Thesilkawningflutters.

ʺYouhaveafewmoments,ʺthesorcerersays.Hetakesthespotlesswhite

clothfromhispocketandwipes,thenblots,hissteamingforehead,before

liftinghisiron‐tippedstaffandwalkingoutintothefullsunandtowardthe

setsoftrenchesthathadappearedonthehilltopafterthesong‐hazelifted.

Thesorcererwalksthetrenches,andthestafftapsthelinesofexposedstone,

stoneremeltedintothefoundationpattern.

Undertheawning,theplayersstretchandstand,exceptforthewoodwind

playerwhosebraidedwhite‐and‐redhairbetrayheragefarmorethanher

creamyskin.Hercoldeyesfollowthesorcereruntilhebeginshisreturn,

whenshelooksdownandtakesaquicksipfromherwaterbottle,then

moistensherlipsandherreed.

ʺThefoundationissolid.ʺBrillblotshisforeheadalasttimebeforefoldingthe

clothandslippingitbackintohispocket.ʺPlaces.ʺ

Withasoftshufflingthemusicianssquarethemselvesontheirstoolsandlift

theirinstrumentsinresponsetothesorcererʹshands.Theirnotesfollowhis

tempo,andhisvoice.

ʺ…replicatethebricksandstones.

Placethemintheirproperzones…

ʺSettheblocks,andsetthemsquare

setthemtotheirpatternthere…ʺ

Thehilltopshimmers,asdothebricksandstones,andtheheapsofmortar,

andthetubsofwatertremble.Dullcrackingswhisperthroughthehazefrom

thesouthsideofthevalley.

Whenthesilverhazelifts,Brillturnstowardthestructurethatloomsthere—

newlybuilt.Stone‐basedbrickwallsrisetheheightoffourtallmenand

stretchacrossthefloorofthevalley,almostjoiningthetwohills.Thedark

stoneoutcroppingtothesouthwestoftheforthasalmostvanished,two‐

thirdsofitsbulkslicedaway.

ʺBeholdLordBarjimʹsnewstrongholdagainsttheDarkMonksofEbra.ʺLord

Brillfrowns,thenwhirlstowardtheplayers.‐ʺSomeonewashumming.ʺBrillʹs

eyesscanthemusicians.ʺSomeonewashumming.Andlook!Lookatthat

gatewall!ʺHishandjabswestward.

Theleft‐handsideofthearchedgateiscrooked,outoftrue.

Thesorcererreachesforhisgobletanddrainsit,settingitonthesmalltable

withathud.ʺGero!ʺ

Athinyouthrunsfromthewagonandthetetheredhorsestothewest.ʺYes,

LordBrill.ʺ

ʺMorewater.ʺBrillgraspsthestaffandcarriesitashewalksacrossthe

trampledsun‐parchedgrassesandontothepavedroadthatresumesadozen

yardsfromthemagicallybuiltfortʹsgate,beyondthebrickedanddrymoat.

Hekeepstappingtheiron‐tippedstaffashecontinuesthroughtheopenbrick

archway,acrossthebrick‐pavedcourtyardtothelowbrick‐walledbuilding

thatstandsrooflessintheafternoonsun.Thestaffrapsagainstwalls,against

stoneandpavingstone,againstmortarandbrickforalongtimebeforehe

slowlywalksbackunderthewhitesilkawningthatscarcelyfluttersinthe

stillair.

ʺThegate,thankthepowersofsong,istheonlyflaw.ʺHisnowdark‐circled

eyessweepthemusicians.ʺIshouldstarveyouall.ʺHiseyeslighten.ʺRefresh

yourselves,andthen,thenwewillʺusethesymmetryspelltorepairthegate.ʺ

Brilllimps,eversoslightly,tothedraftingboard,wherehestudiesthespell,

andbeginstomurmurtohimself.Afteratime,hetakesamarkstickfromthe

walletonhisbeltandbeginstowriteoutarevisedsimilarityspellbelowthe

others.

Underthebacksectionoftheawning,theblack‐hairedyoungmanglances

nervouslytowardthewhite‐hairedviol‐inoplayerinthefrontrow,butthe

oldermansipsfromhiswaterbottlewithoutacknowledgingthescrutiny.

Withalastslashacrosstheyellowpaperonthedraftingboard,thesorcerer

turnsandstraightens.ʺPlaces.ʺBrilltakesadeepbreath.ʺSimilarityone,

please.Nohumming.Fasttempo.ʺHishandsbeginmarkingthetime,andhis

sharpnodcuesthemusiciansasthemusicrises.

ʺ…settrueandstraight

bothsidesofthegate…ʺ

Thistime,thespellisshort,andthesonghazelingersonlyoverthegatefor

whatseemstobeinstants.

Thesorcererslashesthemusictoahalt,staggers,beforetakinganotherdeep

breath,thenagulpofwaterfromthegobletonthesmalltable.Onlythen

doesheturnandwalkbacktowardthegate.Adozenpacesaresufficientto

confirmhishandiwork.Thegateisstraight,withnosignofdeformity.

Withaquicknodtohimself,hestudiesthegateforatime.Hisstepsare

strongerasheheadsbackthroughthehot,stillafternoontotheshadeofthe

awning.

Themusicianswait,silently.

ʺCulain—youhummedagain!ʺ

ʺNo,ser.No!ʺproteststhewhite‐hairedmanwhoclutchestheviolino.ʺIdid

not.ʺ

ʺIwillnothavelying,andIwillnothavecarelessnessjeopardizemeorthose

aroundyou!Onceisanaccident.Twiceisarrogantdisregard.ʺ

Brillʹseyesturnhardasjadeashismouthopensinsong,asCulainbacks

away,outfromunderthelightlyflutteringsilkawningandintopitiless

afternoonsun.

ʺOnceamanisnotalwaysaman,

lowerthandust,softerthan…ʺ

AsthesonghazerollsacrossCulain,shroudinghim,tearswellupintheeyes

oftheblack‐hairedyoungman.Thewoodwindplayerʹseyesremaincold,and

dry.

Annalookedintothemirror,tryingtoignorethefinelinesrunningfromher

eyes.ʺYoulooklikearaccoon.ʺ

Sheusedthetissuetoblothereyes.Ifonly…ifonly…Withadeepbreath,she

triedtopushtheoffendingviolaoutofhermind.Shehadgiventhefinal

examinationforherlastcourse,IntroductiontoMusic,andthesheetswere

evengraded.TheScantronhelpedalot,evenifshehatedmultiple‐guesstests,

buttherewasnowayshewasabouttogradeeightyessaytestsforanintro

course.

Theviola…Donʹtthinkabouttheviola,shetoldherself.ButitwasIreniaʹs

viola—aninstrumenttiedirrevocablytoherdaughter.Shetookadeepbreath

andblottedhereyesagain.

WhyhadsheacceptedthedeanʹsinvitationtosingattheFoundersʹDinner

formajordonors?Becauseitwasextramoney—onlyfiftydollars,butthe

ATMhadsaidherbalancewasdowntotwohundred,anditwasalmosttwo

weeksuntilthefirst.

Hereyesflickedtotheviola.Funerals…whowouldhavethoughtasimple

funeralwouldhavebeensoexpensive?Outsideofthesmallpolicypaidfor

yearsagobyherfather,therehadnʹtbeenanyinsurance,andthatjusthadnʹt

beenenough.Avery—theself‐styledperfecthusbandandtenor—hadalways

paidforthingslikeinsurance,andwhilesheʹdtakenoutinsuranceonherself

forthechildren,shehadnʹtthoughtaboutinsuranceonthem,evenifsheʹd

beenabletoaffordit.

Aquickglanceattheclocktoldherthatshehadlessthanahalfhourtopull

herselftogether.Sheblewhernose,thenlookedattheemptyglassonthe

dresser.No…onedrinkwasallshecouldtake.

First…makeuptorepairtheravagesofgrief—andage.Thetwoseemedtogo

together.ThecrookedandcheapQueenAnnestoolthatSandyhadrepaired

withmetalstrapsbeforetheyʹdbrokenofftherelationshipcracked,asit

alwaysdid,whenshesatdown.EverythingSandydidhadbeenalittlerough,

butheʹdbeentherewhenAveryhadnʹt…forawhile.Wasthecrackingofthe

strapslouder?Didthatmeanshewasheavier?

Makeup—concentrateononethingatatime.Whenshefinished,Anna

studiedherface.Sheusedatouchmoremascara,thenstood.Whatwouldshe

wear?Assherummagedinthecloset,shebeganthevocalises.Onceithad

takenonlyafewminutestowarmup,butthesedaysittooklonger,alot

longer.

ʺHolly‐lolly‐polly‐pop…ʺ

Good,herthroatwasclear,hercordsresilient.

Thegreenformalgownwasclean,andshehadnʹtwornitwherethepresident

hadseenit.Afterhangingitfromthetopofthefoldingclosetdoor,she

rummagedthroughtheplasticbagssheʹdneverunpackedorputinthe

drawersuntilshefoundthenewlonglinebra—shehatedanykindofbra,but

shecouldnʹtwearthegownwithoutit.Thencametheslip—tight,almosttoo

tight.Shesuckedinherstomachasshezippedit,thentwisteditaround,

checkinginthefull‐lengthmirror.Ofcourse,itwasnʹtstraight,andwhenshe

triedtostraightenit,thebratwisted.

Finally,withbothbraandformalslipinplace,shetookadeepbreath.

ʺHolly‐lolly‐polly‐pop…ʺShecouldbreathe,anditwasnʹtasthoughsheʹdbe

doingMimiorButterfly.Itwasjustfivesongsfortheuniversityʹsbig

donors—theFoundersʹDinner.

Shetookdownthegownandslippeditoutoftheplastic,beforebeginning

thestruggle.Thesedays,everythingwasastruggle,especiallyzippinga

formalgownwithouthelp.HereyesstrayedtowardthepictureontheQueen

Annedresser—thefourofthem,oneofthefewwithjustthechildrenandher.

MostoftheoldfamilypictureshadAveryinthem.Heʹdbeeninsistingthathe

wasAntonioorTonythirtyyears,butAnnahadknownhimwhenheʹdbeen

AveryMarshall—longbeforeheʹdbecomeAntonioMarsali.Thegreat

AntonioMarsali,kingofthecomprimarios,whoʹdneverpaidacenttoward

anyofthechildrenʹseducation—exceptforIrenia.

Theyalllookedsoyoung—Irenia,Mario,andElizabetta,evenAnnaherself—

standinginfrontofthelilacsatthelakehouse.Now,itwasAveryʹsvacation

home.Howcouldshehavebeensostupid?

Shoes—thegreenoneswereinthecorner,shethought,andtheywere.Her

eyeswentbacktothepicture,totheblond‐hairedyoungman.Marioalways

jokedthathewasʺnorthernItalianʺoraʺWASPItalian,ʺprobablyjustto

irritatehisfather.MarsalihadbeenAveryʹsgreat‐grandmotherʹsmaiden

name,andshewastheonlyItalianinthefamily,butAvery—thegreat

Antonio—hadinsistedthatanItaliannamewasamustforanoperasinger,

especiallyahighbaritone.Thenheʹdbecomeatenor.

AfterMariohadlefttogobacktoHouston,thecondohadseemedsoempty,

buthecalled,likeadutifulson,everyfewdays.ʺʹAnnablewhernoseand

lookedawayfromthepicture.Thinkaboutsinging.Thinkaboutsinging.

Jewelry?Somethingornateenoughnottogetlost,butsimple.Thesilver

necklacedidnʹtlookright.

Thegold‐linknecklacelookedgood,butwherehadsheputtheearrings?

Theywerewheresheʹdleftthem,nexttothetelephone.

Shesquaredhershoulders.ʺIcandothis.ʺSheliftedtheliptickandtouched

upherupperlip.ʺIcandothis.ʺ

Especiallysincethepresidentwastheonlysupportershehadleftnowthat

Dieshrhadbecomechairofthemusicdepartment.

Shecouldsingforthemajor‐donordinner,andDieshrwouldsitbythe

presidentandsaysicky‐sweetthings—likeʺAnnaʹssogoodwithyoung

voices.ʺOrʺShedoesverywellwithoutadoctorate.ʺ

Asifsheʹdhadanychoice—

Shewenttothewindow.Cloudy,butitwasnʹtraining,notyet.Shepickedup

thegreenleatherpurseandhurrieddownstairs.Herraincoat,notexactly

fashion‐coordinatedwiththegown,wasfoldedacrossthebanister.

Afterslippingiton,sheglancedattheclock—five‐forty—checkedforher

keys,thenlockedthedoorandsteppedoutunderthetownhouseʹspseudo‐

Georgianportico.Thecrampedtownhousecondowasdefinitelynotwhatshe

wouldhaveideallychosen,butagingjuniormusicfacultymemberslived

wherethebargainswere,inthiscase,theColonialMansions.

Arollofthunderwasfollowedbyaspatteringofrainonthesidewalk,anda

gustofwindthatwhippedthelongskirtofthegreenformalaroundher

calves.

Herhandwenttoherhair.Theumbrellawasinthecar.

Thelineofrainstruckthefarsideoftheparkinglotandgustedacrosstoward

her.

ʺDamn!ʺShewasgoingtobelate—orwet…orboth,andshewasbeingpaid

tolookgoodaswellassing.ʺDamn!Iʹdjustliketorunaway…anywhere.

Anywhere,ʺsherepeatedgrimly.ʺAnywhere!ʺ

Asshereachedforherkeytoletherselfbackintothecondo,theworld

swirledaroundher.

Mencha,Defalk

Theblack‐hairedyoungmanbouncesinthesaddlealasttimeashereinsup

thehorseinfrontofthethick‐walledcottage.Thedark‐oiledwoodenshutters

areclosedagainstthemiddayheat,andnoteventhechickensareoutinthe

hotstillair.Dustliesheavyontheplanksofthesmallporchshadedbythe

overhangingeaves,andtheoiledoakdoorisshutastightlyasthewindowsʹ

Afterwipingthemuddysweatcreatedbyroaddustoffhisforehead,he

strugglesdownfromthehorseandtiesthemareattheheavystonehitching

postattheendoftheporchunderthesingleoakintheyard.Thenheeases

theviolacasefromtheoversizedsaddlebag.

ʺWell,Daffyd,whereʹdyebegettingahorse?ʺaskstheslenderbrunettefrom

thehalf‐opendoor.Herhairispulledbackandboundhighenoughonthe

backofherheadtoliftitclearofherneck.Shewearsasleevelesshomespun

brownshirtthatreachesmid‐thighoverloosegraytrousersthatstopatmid‐

calf.Herfeetarebare.

ʺItwasDaʹs.ʺDaffydlookstothehalf‐opendoor.

ʺHegiveittoye?Afinegiftthatʹdbe.ʺ

ʺHebedead,Jenny.LordBrillkilledhim.ʺDaffydtakesthetwostepsontothe

porch,thenstopsseveralpacesshortofher,thecanvasandwoodencasein

hisrighthand.

Thebrunettestepsbacktowardthedoor.ʺWhatbeyeherefor?ʺ

ʺYouoweme,Jenny,ʺDaffydsays.ʺYoubeowingmemorethanyoucanever

pay.HowmanytimeshaveIplayedforyou,justthewayyouwanted,to

sendorsummonfolksallthewaytoNordweiorElioch?ʺ

ʺIʹvebeenmorethannicetoyou,Daffyd.ʺ

Daffydflushes,thenadds,ʺAye,andIʹvebeennicetoyou,notchargingyou

forthemusic.ʺ

ʺIfLordBrillbeafteryou…ʺ

ʺHeʹsnotafterme.ʺDaffydwaits.

ʺThenwhyareyouhere?ʺ

Theyoungmanwipeshisforehead.ʺYoucouldinvitemeinwhereitʹscooler.

Youʹvenocompany.ʺHiseyestraversethedustontheporchplanks,

unmarkedexceptbyhisboots..

Jennytightensherlipsandlookstowardtheemptylane,thenjerksherhead

towardthedoor.

ʺJenny,seeingasitʹsme,noonewouldbesayinganything.ʺ

ʺComein,then,seeingasthereʹsnostoppingyou.ʺShestandsbackfromthe

door.

Daffydcrossestheporchandstepsinside,closingtheheavydoorwithhisleft

hand.Themainroomisempty,butafaintscentofonionswaftsfromthe

kitchenareatotheleftrearofthecottage.Whilethecottageiscoolerthanthe

late‐morningheatoutside,Daffydwipeshisforeheadwiththebackofhisleft

hand,hisrightstillclutchingtheoldbrowncanvasviolacase.

ʺWell,finetalkingDaffyd,whatdoyouwant?ʺThebrunettelookstothe

closedheavydoor,andthenatthemirroronthecottagewall.ʺIcanʹtbring

yourdabackfromthedarkshadows.LordBrillhimselfcouldnʹtdothat.I

couldsendyoutoFarway.ThatʹsasfarasIcando.ʺ

ʺThatwonʹtbringbackDa.ʺ

ʺNothingwillbringbackyerda.NotevenMeringuaycoulddothat.Iʹmarote

travel‐sorceress—goodenoughtoholdahouse—butnotmore.Youtoldme

thatyourself.ʹMemberthat?ʺ

Daffydpullshislipstogether,thenspeaks.ʺHehummed—justafewnotes.

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摘要：

THESOPRANO SORCERESSL. E. Modesitt, ]r.For and to my soprano sorceress, who made this possible.Any mistakes are mine, the music hers.ILIEDTRAUM* * * * * * *1West of the Sand Pass, DefalkA dozen musicians sit on stools under the oblong white silk awning held in place by four sturdy poles, each pole a...

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Modesitt, L.E. - Spellsong 1 - The Soprano Sorceress

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