Read Online The Soprano Sorceress: The First Book of the Spellsong Cycle by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.
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took a deep breath, hoping that she could duplicate the feat, concentrated on the mental image of a blazing chandelier, and sang:
“Candle light, candles bright,
flame clear in my sight.”
The entire chandelier blazed into light, then subsided to a warm glow.
Brill wiped his forehead. “Ah … yes, I can see that … .”
“I seem to have this tendency to overdo things,” Anna said politely. Inside, she was half excited, half fearful, wondering how she was so successful at something she’d never done. She also tried to remember the tune Brill had hummed.
“Even the dark ones might be somewhat surprised,” the sorcerer observed as he lifted the crystal bell and rang it.
The white-haired server appeared and removed the plates and bread, then returned with two small slices of pastry.
“Recerot,” the sorcerer explained.
Anna picked it up with her fingers and took a small bite of the layered pastry soaked in honey, almost like baklava—but without the nuts. The honey tasted slightly off, but she finished it anyway, and followed it with several healthy swallows of water.
“The honey is a trace strong,” Brill said. “I think that’s because there is so little moisture.”
“I appreciated it all,” Anna said truthfully, realizing that she had been hungry indeed, and that she could have eaten more.
Brill rose, almost abruptly. “I would not presume to escort you to your chamber, Lady Anna, but I trust you will rest well.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, lord, and your willingness to assist a stranger.” She inclined her head.
“Tomorrow, perhaps, you would enjoy a ride around the hall’s grounds?”
“If you have a gentle horse,” Anna answered. “I’m out of practice.” Out of practice was definitely an understatement. Except for a few trail rides with Sandy and his daughters, she hadn’t been on a horse for more than twenty years. “I would enjoy learning more about Erde.”
“We will see what we can do.”
The ubiquitous Florenda was waiting at the salon door with a lamp, and Anna followed the slender woman back up to the guest chamber.
“Breakfast is served at the second morning bell, lady. I will knock on your chamber door at the first bell.” Florenda bowed deeply, even more deeply than before.
“Thank you, Florenda.” Anna offered the young woman a smile before closing and bolting the door.
The coverlet had been turned back, and both bedside lamps had been lit. The window hangings had been loosed and completely covered the perfect tinted blue glass panes. The small pile of crystal had been removed, and two clean and empty goblets and a pitcher of what appeared to be water stood on the window table.
Beside the lamp on the window side of the bed was a candle, like something out of an antique picture book, set in a metal holder that had a curved handle. Beside the candleholder was a metal device that looked like a combination between tongs and strange scissors.
Anna shook her head and felt the sheets—somewhat
coarse linen, but at least they weren’t wool. She hoped Lord Brill had spelled the bed for vermin, or whatever.
Of course, she couldn’t sleep in her green gown—or wear it every day, either. With a sigh that was half yawn, she stepped toward the robing room, then realized that she couldn’t see in the dark.
That was the reason for the candle. She stepped around the bed and picked up the scissor-tongs, and squeezed them. A spark leapt from them. Although she understood the striker, rather than fiddling with the device, Anna hummed the tune she and Brill had used to light the candles again. It seemed easier than fiddling with the striker. This time, she sang and concentrated on getting a normal name—and she did.
With a smile, she carried the candleholder into the robing room, and after pawing through half the left-hand closet wall, she found what appeared to be a thin cotton gown. Then in the dim candlelight, she kicked off her shoes and struggled out of
“Candle light, candles bright,
flame clear in my sight.”
The entire chandelier blazed into light, then subsided to a warm glow.
Brill wiped his forehead. “Ah … yes, I can see that … .”
“I seem to have this tendency to overdo things,” Anna said politely. Inside, she was half excited, half fearful, wondering how she was so successful at something she’d never done. She also tried to remember the tune Brill had hummed.
“Even the dark ones might be somewhat surprised,” the sorcerer observed as he lifted the crystal bell and rang it.
The white-haired server appeared and removed the plates and bread, then returned with two small slices of pastry.
“Recerot,” the sorcerer explained.
Anna picked it up with her fingers and took a small bite of the layered pastry soaked in honey, almost like baklava—but without the nuts. The honey tasted slightly off, but she finished it anyway, and followed it with several healthy swallows of water.
“The honey is a trace strong,” Brill said. “I think that’s because there is so little moisture.”
“I appreciated it all,” Anna said truthfully, realizing that she had been hungry indeed, and that she could have eaten more.
Brill rose, almost abruptly. “I would not presume to escort you to your chamber, Lady Anna, but I trust you will rest well.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, lord, and your willingness to assist a stranger.” She inclined her head.
“Tomorrow, perhaps, you would enjoy a ride around the hall’s grounds?”
“If you have a gentle horse,” Anna answered. “I’m out of practice.” Out of practice was definitely an understatement. Except for a few trail rides with Sandy and his daughters, she hadn’t been on a horse for more than twenty years. “I would enjoy learning more about Erde.”
“We will see what we can do.”
The ubiquitous Florenda was waiting at the salon door with a lamp, and Anna followed the slender woman back up to the guest chamber.
“Breakfast is served at the second morning bell, lady. I will knock on your chamber door at the first bell.” Florenda bowed deeply, even more deeply than before.
“Thank you, Florenda.” Anna offered the young woman a smile before closing and bolting the door.
The coverlet had been turned back, and both bedside lamps had been lit. The window hangings had been loosed and completely covered the perfect tinted blue glass panes. The small pile of crystal had been removed, and two clean and empty goblets and a pitcher of what appeared to be water stood on the window table.
Beside the lamp on the window side of the bed was a candle, like something out of an antique picture book, set in a metal holder that had a curved handle. Beside the candleholder was a metal device that looked like a combination between tongs and strange scissors.
Anna shook her head and felt the sheets—somewhat
coarse linen, but at least they weren’t wool. She hoped Lord Brill had spelled the bed for vermin, or whatever.
Of course, she couldn’t sleep in her green gown—or wear it every day, either. With a sigh that was half yawn, she stepped toward the robing room, then realized that she couldn’t see in the dark.
That was the reason for the candle. She stepped around the bed and picked up the scissor-tongs, and squeezed them. A spark leapt from them. Although she understood the striker, rather than fiddling with the device, Anna hummed the tune she and Brill had used to light the candles again. It seemed easier than fiddling with the striker. This time, she sang and concentrated on getting a normal name—and she did.
With a smile, she carried the candleholder into the robing room, and after pawing through half the left-hand closet wall, she found what appeared to be a thin cotton gown. Then in the dim candlelight, she kicked off her shoes and struggled out of
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