Modesitt, L.E - Spellsong 03 - Darksong Rising by Modesitt L.E

Author:Modesitt, L.E [Modesitt, L.E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780812566680
Google: mHL2lhqMzh0C
Amazon: 0812566688
Barnesnoble: 0812566688
Goodreads: 618244
Publisher: Tor
Published: 1999-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

With the muted screams that rose from the wall of fire less than half a dek away, that unseen string broke-and slammed into her.

Darkness rose around her on her hillside as the fires died on the slopes opposite her, and she could feel herself toppling forward under the backlash of overstressed harmonies that centered on her.

54

ESARIA, NESEREA

Nubara stands in the corner of the stone-floored room that had once been a workroom, as the thunder of the drums buffets him. Reflections glitter off the smooth finish of the drums, reflections showing the motions of the three drummers, and the timekeeping motions of the Prophet of Music who directs the three who sit on the high stools, a pair of mallets wielded by each.

The three drummers with their mallets watch Rabyn, and their motions follow his direction, yet each drum has a different voice, and the three separate voices combine in a thunder that seems to shiver the plaster-covered stone walls of the Palace of Music.

The Mansuuran officer squints, shakes his head, for a shimmering, and barely visible blue nimbus surrounds the blue-Clad Prophet of Music.

Craccck! A floor stone splits, and a wavering line rums for several yards around and through the solid paving stones of the workroom.

Rabyn does not even turn his head. "Heavier! Drum three! Faster, like I showed you! Don't make anyone wait!"

Sweat pours down the face of the drummers as they follow the tempo set by the Prophet who is no longer youth, but not yet man.

Sweat darkens the blue tunic worn by Rabyn, and his face glistens with perspiration. His eyes are hard.

55

The gray of morning seeped into the silk tent, then the brighter light of dawn itself. Anna slowly pried open her eyes. Jecks lay under a single blanket, snoring lightly, practically against the tent wall.

At his snoring, Anna found herself smiling-until she tried to raise her head.

While she didn't have the double images engendered by the use of Darksong, a flash of lightning with the impact of a sledge drove her back onto the rolled blanket that served as a pillow, and tears streamed from her eyes.

"Shit..." She murmured under her breath. They can murder thousands of women who just wanted to be free and not even get a headache, and you do the same thing to those who did it and you can't even sit up. And you even offered them terms, if they'd just let the women who survived rule themselves.

"Lady?" At her slightest word, Jecks rolled out of his blanket and stood by the cot.

"I'm here." Her voice was raw, hoarse.

The white-haired lord brought her the water bottle from the narrow camp table and held it to her lips, watching as she did.

"Today... you must rest," he said.

"...don't think I have much choice, do I?"

"You cannot use so much sorcery so often, my lady," Jecks said.

Tell me about it. "I can see that." But it wasn't the sorcery but the guilt...

the backlash... or something. "Why... why... wouldn't they accept terms... not as though.

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