Read Online The Shadow Sorceress by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page B

years—Anna had been her mother, the one Secca looked to, talked to, and had wanted to please. And Anna was gone, gone far earlier than she had to have died. Because…? Because she had spent too much of her life and energy to ensure Defalk was strong, too much energy teaching the sorceresses who were to succeed her?
    It was strange, too, in a way, because the older three were all so different—Jolyn, blonde, almost what Anna had called a contralto; the brown-haired Clayre with her middle voice, in some ways the closest to Anna’s, if without the power the older sorceress had always projected; and Secca, the redhead with the voice that had turned all too many glasses into crystal powdered almost like fine sand.
    For another moment, Secca stood at the top of the grand staircase. Then, halfway down the wide stone steps, as she caught sight of the score of lancers in green—one company of the fivethat had comprised Anna’s personal armsmen—Secca found her face stiffening into a mask of grave composure.
    Wilten, overcaptain of the Loiseau armsmen, met her at the base of the stairs. He bowed. “They’re lined up for leagues, it seems, Lady Secca. Some have been waiting outside the gates since a good two glasses before dawn.”
    Secca nodded. “Thank you. I suppose we should open the doors and let them pay their last respects. Are your men ready?”
    â€œYes, lady.”
    From the rear lower corridor, Richina appeared, as if she had been waiting, as she doubtless had, slipping up to follow Secca wordlessly. Like Secca, the younger sorceress wore green and black. Behind her were Kerisel and Jeagyn, without vests, but with black scarves.
    The red-haired sorceress walked toward the front entry doors, her steps curving away from the open coffin and the glistening bronze catafalque. Behind her followed the three younger women.
    At the entry hall doors, Secca looked out into the morning—a morning seemingly like many other fall mornings, with scattered clouds and blue skies. She’d almost wished for something dramatic, like a storm, or even heavy clouds.
    Her eyes focused on the open gates of Loiseau. Beyond them, the line of men and women, most of them older—gray-haired, silver-haired, or bald—stretched along the dusty stone road, back down the hill, winding almost back to the yellow-and-red-leaved orchards, in the direction of Mencha itself. Some of them had to have come from other towns, because there were more in the long line than could have ever lived in Mencha.
    Secca turned to Wilten, who had also followed her. “Let them in.”
    â€œYes, Lady Secca.”
    Secca nodded at Richina. “Stay at my shoulder.”
    â€œYes, lady.”
    Secca reached out and squeezed Richina’s hand. “Thank you.”
    The sandy-haired young woman flushed, then lowered her eyes.
    Secca’s eyes went to the two students. “You two may stand just behind Richina.”
    Both inclined their heads silently.
    The four walked back toward the coffin, turning before the catafalque and waiting. A half-score of Loiseau lancers eased up behind and beside her before the first of the mourners stepped into the entry hall.
    As the men and women, but mostly women, filed past, Secca smiled politely and nodded—and listened.
    â€œCan’t believe…like as she’s gone.”
    â€œâ€¦looks like she’s sleeping…”
    â€œâ€¦so thin, like a child…”
    â€œThe redheaded one there, say she was like her own daughter…sorceress, too.”
    â€œâ€¦hope she’s as strong and good…”
    So did Secca.
    â€œâ€¦never be anyone like her again…”
    Secca smiled briefly at those words, knowing all too well their understatement. All too many past lords of the Thirty-three and some of those still holding lands hoped fervently that there would never be another like Anna.
    â€œSeems…a shame…all she did