The Shadow Sorceress by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

are in the south tower, with the other fosterlings.”
    Secca watched for a moment as Clayre led the sandy-haired apprentice down the corridor, then looked at the older and shorter lancer. “Dyvan, I’ll be unpacking until Lady Clayre returns.”
    â€œYes, lady.”
    Secca smiled, then turned and closed the door. She carriedthe saddlebags to the footchest, where she deposited them, before setting the lutar case on the bed, then unfastening the sabre scabbard and laying blade and sheath on the footchest as well.
    The chamber looked little different from what it had before harvest—or a score of years before—with the high bed, the small desk, the narrow window, and the attached bath chamber.
    Clayre had her permanent quarters farther north along the corridor, in the larger chambers that had once belonged to Lady Essan, who had died almost a score of years before. Robero, of course, had combined the three southeast corner chambers into a suite for himself and Alyssa.
    Secca had hung her riding jacket in the small armoire, washed up, after heating the cold water in the basin with the elemental spell, and was brushing her hair when there was a knock on the heavy door.
    â€œCome in.”
    Clayre stepped inside. “I am sorry. About the chamber. But the liedburg grows ever more crowded.”
    â€œYou aren’t the one who made the choice.” Secca shrugged. “I know I can’t grieve forever, but…” She paused. “If I don’t take the chamber, I’ll be seen as petty and foolish.”
    â€œHe was going to give it to Jolyn. We both protested.”
    â€œThank you.”
    There was another silence. “We do need to talk.” Clayre inclined her head toward the chamber beyond the door and across the hall—the one that held the reflecting pool created by Anna’s sorcery.
    â€œIt’s still shielded?” asked Secca.
    â€œYes. Whatever she did affected the stones themselves.” Clayre opened the heavy oak door and motioned.
    Marveling and wondering how much of what Anna had done would last well beyond her death, Secca followed Clayre out and across the corridor. Dyvan followed Secca, while Easlon remained at the door to Secca’s chamber. Clayre opened the door to the scrying chamber, and both sorceresses stepped inside. Behind them Dyvan gulped even before Clayre shut the oak door. Secca smiled. Lancers were not used to sorceresses vanishing from view in plain sight.
    â€œI added a spell to keep words from leaving the chamber.”
    â€œEars everywhere?” asked Secca.
    â€œMore than I’d like. Anna hated it. I think that was one reason she left Falcor.”
    â€œOne of many.” Secca’s voice was dry. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œYou know me too well.” Clayre laughed, mirthlessly. “Not only is Hanfor dead, but there’s been an attack by Mansuuran armsmen on a coastal town in Neserea. The local lord killed all the attackers, but he’s sent bodies and tunics and a few other proofs from Worlan to Esaria.”
    â€œAnd scrolls here?” asked Secca.
    â€œI assume they’re on the way.”
    â€œThis is your friend Belmar?”
    â€œNot my friend,” Clayre protested. “He never was. Good-looking through a glass, but never more than that, especially not now.”
    â€œIt seems rather convenient.”
    â€œAll too convenient, but Lord Robero won’t be willing to say that it’s suspicious. There’s no proof. If he says too much, then he’s viewed as wanting to take over Neserea, and Hanfor’s suspicious death is laid at his feet—or ours.”
    â€œThen, you haven’t told Robero? Or Jolyn?”
    Clayre shook her head. “I just found out last night, and I wanted to talk to you to see if you knew anything. Jolyn’s at Elheld. Robero has her rebuilding the stables. There’s no harp there.”
    â€œWhat did she tell him this