Shadowsinger: Spellsong Cycle, Book 5
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In this sequel to The Shadow Sorceress, Secca, foster daughter of the Soprano Sorceress and now her successor as sorceress-protector of Defalk, must deal carefully with her willful master and wield her power to save his kingdom from the armies, fleets, and master sorcerers of the maitre of Sturinn.
Faced with seemingly insurmountable odds, she is forced to test her own powers over and over again while teaching her new husband and her inexperienced apprentice the skills they will need to aid her in creating spells powerful enough to shake the foundations of the world.
once,” Alcaren added, without turning his head. “Is everyone here…on the Silberwelle?” Secca almost hated to ask. “The second had to catch one of your players afore he went overboard, but she got him, and everyone else here is fine. Be glad tomorrow, to see how things are on the other ships. Need a calmer sea for the flags.” Denyst offered a wry smile. “Best you get some hardtack and some rest.” “In a moment,” Secca replied. “The air feels good, even with the spray.” “That it does.” A brusque
she is. Also, she is not your problem. Not now. The Sorceress of Defalk is. You should not be scrying what is happening in Dumar, but what the lady Clayre may be doing in Neserea.” “I have indeed been following the lady Clayre. She hides in that pile of ancient rock on the outskirts of Esaria, as if I could not see where she is. All the time Lord Nysl bows and scrapes, fearing her, yet fearing me more.” “He does her bidding,” says jerGlien, his voice mild. “Because she is a sorceress, and
they are a creation of dissonance.” “We should see them.” Secca stood and slipped on the copper-tipped gloves, then lifted the lutar, the sole instrument in evidence, and began the spellsong. “Show us now and with details still those hills just east of Hasjyl…” The glass silvered, then displayed the rough and rocky hillside that was but partly covered by winter-tan grass. To the right side of the image was a narrow road, and to the left the Envaryl River. “You see,” pointed out Halyt, “one
gray’s reins from Gorkon. “Thank you. It looks as though we will not fight today. Nor tomorrow, probably.” Gorkon smiled. “We can wait.” Secca wondered if they could…and how long. She climbed into the saddle, conscious once again that, unlike the long-legged Richina, she had to climb every time she mounted. Then she turned the gray and eased her mount back toward the road to wait for the approaching Lord High Counselor of Dumar. Alcaren and Richina remounted and followed her, then halted their
younger.” “A love triangle, you think? Ah…what a thought!” Halyt’s laugh rumbles forth uncontained. “Both of them are beauties, in different ways.” “No. I am missing something.” Fehern shakes his head, then looks at the sorcerer. “What think you, Elyzar? What does your glass show?” “The sorceress and the Ranuan are indeed consorted, and never have I seen the younger woman with them in such.” Elyzar’s eyes do not meet Fehern’s, not exactly. “So why is she here?” demands Fehern again. “Perhaps