Modesitt, L.E - Spellsong 05 - Shadowsinger by Modesitt L.E

Author:Modesitt, L.E [Modesitt, L.E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781429913867
Published: 2001-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

71

In the bright and cloudless midmorning, Secca stood before the small tent at the base of a rise that rose to a low crest a mere fifty yards shoreward of the stone piers of Narial—a rise created and scoured down to bare clay by the sorcerous wave of the Sea-Priests seasons earlier. Dwellings and structures remained standing through the upper reaches of Narial, those on the hillsides, but except for the stone bridge spanning the Falche, virtually no structure around the harbor itself had survived. Near the harbor itself, and just seaward of Secca’s tent, were only two crude long buildings, each less than fifty yards in length and but a story high. Built of scavenged bricks and stone, they stood at the base of the one long pier that still had a clear channel to the sea beyond. Both were empty, but from the debris inside, one had served as quarters for some of the Sturinnese, and the other as a warehouse.

Secca had insisted on having her tent erected in the shade beside the more landward of the two, leaving the buildings to the players and lancers. After two days in Narial, although the scrying glass showed no Ranuan ships in the harbor at Encora and a flotilla of ten somewhere at sea, Secca had begun to worry even more about what she could do if the Matriarch had not been able to send ships. The continual tiredness from the drain of the warding spell helped not at all, even if Alcaren had sung it.

Regularly, she continued to scan the harbor and the waters beyond to the south, although she knew that looking would do nothing to make the ships appear or to allay her worries.

“They will be here,” Alcaren said, appearing from behind the uneven brick wall of the warehouse. “They would not have ten ships upon the sea together were they not headed to aid us.”

Secca jumped at his words, but Gorkon did not. Clearly, the lancer had seen Secca’s consort coming, even if Secca had not. Are you fretting so much you cannot even see or hear what is near? “We cannot wait long, not if we are to do what we must before it is too late.” She paused. “Did you have any luck in finding better maps?”

Alcaren held up a small rolled scroll, darkened with age. “I found a section of one, in the papers left to the widow of a merchant captain. She was pleased to let me have it for a silver. It shows Stura, as the main isle and the port there were perhaps a generation or more ago.”

“They can’t be the same now.”

“The buildings may change, but not the land,” he pointed out. “Stura is by far the largest and wealthiest of the isles. That’s from where the Maitre rules. Would you like to see?” He unrolled the short scroll before she could respond.

In spite of herself, Secca had to admire the cartography, and the artistry along the borders as she looked at the partial map.

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