The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (10 page)

With
yet another incantation, the sorcerer turned visible and plopped with a groan
next to the girl on Hune’s bale of hay. Vane rubbed his aching back. Valkin and
Neslan blinked heavily as they rose from their hands and knees and realized
where they were. They hugged each other; neither would let go. Vane smiled to
watch them, relieved that no matter what was happening at that mansion, the boys
were safe.

Then
Neslan turned his head and saw his youngest brother’s prone figure. He jumped
forward with a jerk, but Ursa’s sister put a hand on his shoulder. “Hune’s not
hurt,” she said. “He passed out, that’s all.”

Vane’s
complacency left as completely as Hune’s consciousness had, and as suddenly,
when he raised his eyes to the girl and saw the swollen, bruising lump above
her right eye and the mass of smeared blood that covered it. She saw him
watching her, and their gazes locked, and she raised the hand she was not using
to comfort Neslan to a lock of blond curls. Vane rose while the two older
princes made sure their brother wasn’t injured. The crown prince sighed in
relief, and hugged Neslan again; Vane watched the former hostages from the
corner of his eye as he asked Ursa’s sister, “Does it hurt much?”

She
touched her forehead gingerly. “Not really,” she said, but she grimaced. Vane
felt like a monster as he healed the cut, and even more so when she stumbled
back in fear, not knowing what he was doing, as he’d failed to warn her of the
spell and of its purpose. There was still some swelling, a bruise, and a fair
amount of dried blood, but at least the gash disappeared. Speechless, she
touched the lump again. A pathetic explanation tumbled from Vane’s mouth.

“I
thought you were your sister. I couldn’t let you hurt the boys. I thought you’d
try to. I didn’t know what you were doing.... I hope it doesn’t throb too much.”

The
poor girl looked at a loss as to what to make of him. “Who are you?” she asked
a second time.

“I’m
Vane. Valkin over there’s named for my father.”

“But
Valkin’s named after a duke, that’s what he told me. A noble. The only noble
family that had sorcerers was….”

Her
jaw dropped. She looked more confused, more pitiful, than ever. “Was Zalski’s,”
Vane admitted. “Zalski was my uncle. I don’t claim him.”

“I
understand,” she said, “I do. I hate my sister: well, my half-sister. We had
different mothers. That’s why Ursa has magic and I don’t. Her mother was
magicked, but she ran off when Ursa was three.”

Her
voice grew quiet, uncertain.

“Ursa
encouraged me to tend to the boys. Dorane too. I’m not sure why, because they
didn’t trust me. Maybe they wanted the boys to be at ease. I like to think
that’s the reason, but they didn’t trust me. That’s why Ursa kept the bear on
the lawn, even though it frightened Hune. I couldn’t help the boys escape with
the bear outside, because I, I don’t have magic,” she repeated, almost
whispering. Then she looked around. “I’ve never been to Podrar,” she said,
quieter still. “I don’t know what I’ll do now. I can’t go back to Ursa, not
after I turned on her. I guess I should thank you for taking me away from
there. You didn’t have to.”

“I
know the king,” said Vane. “He won’t turn you out with nowhere to go. He’ll
find a place for you somewhere, I’m sure he will. What’s your name?”

She
told him, glancing sadly down at her rent and dusty dress, grabbing her hair
again, “I can’t believe I’ll meet the queen looking like this.”

“It
makes no difference,” said Vane. August sighed.

“I’m
glad the boys are home, very glad. But I can’t help feeling….” Her voice died
away as she considered the person she spoke to was an utter stranger. Vane nodded
encouragement, and only then did she continue. “I have this feeling—it’s
like an awful tingle down my arm, a warm tingle—that I don’t belong in
Podrar. That I shouldn’t be in Podrar, and it’s a terrible mistake I made it
here at all. And now you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“No,”
he said, “I’ve felt that way before. Not exactly that way, but something close.
Back in Traigland.”

“You’ve
been to Traigland?”

“I
lived there the last four years. I’ve been studying magic.”

Vane
watched the girl piece together what he was telling her. Sorcery…. Traigland….
She let out a little gasp. “You don’t know Kora Porteg?”

It
was an exclamation of shock, not an accusation, and there was no defensive edge
to Vane’s response. “I do, actually, and I’m fond of her. She treats me like a
member of her family, but she wasn’t my teacher. I learned from her brother.”

August
shuddered. “Dorane talks about Zacry Porteg. He doesn’t like his essays much.”

“His
essays must be good, then,” said Vane.

August
almost smiled. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never read them. I’m not interested in
magic or politics, especially not after this month.”

Her
voice turned mousy again, with a touch of a funereal air. “When the boys
arrived, Ursa told me I couldn’t leave the mansion. She couldn’t have me
running off and letting the army know what she’d done. I never had to worry
about the bear before, but she said the bear would consider me an enemy now if
it saw me, and attack. Ursa could make it do that, you see. She could control
it, so I haven’t been outside in nearly five weeks except for my balcony. I
kept thinking, what if there’s a fire, and Ursa’s not around, and I can’t go
out for the bear but I can’t stay in for the flames, and the smoke…. But I,
well, that’s in the past now, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid to worry about
Podrar, about not belonging here. I never belonged in Carphead. I know I’ve
been talking an awful lot, I just…. I had nothing to do with the kidnapping,
nothing. I’ll swear it by whatever the king makes me.”

This
was a new worry, a profound one. August bit her lip. What if the king thought
her an accomplice?

“I
believe you,” said Vane. “I’m the last person in the world who would judge you
by your relatives.”

August
whispered, “Was Zalski really your uncle?”

Vane
felt it best not to answer the question. “The king will believe you too. At
least, he’ll believe
me
that Dorane
tried to kill you if he didn’t see it himself, and that pretty much exonerates
you, doesn’t it?”

Hune
began to stir on the bale of hay. He blinked wide, bleary eyes, and Valkin
patted him on the arm. “We’re home,” said the crown prince. “We’re home, don’t
worry about anything.”

“Neslan,”
said Hune. His voice was scratchy, like a croak from a young frog. “Where’s
Neslan? What did they do to him?”

Neslan
said, “I’m right here, and I haven’t got a scratch. It’s all over.”

Vane
told the youngest prince, “Your mother’s on her way. Take it easy, Hune.” Valkin
helped the boy sit up, and Hune smiled when he saw August.

“I’m
glad you’re here,” Hune said. “I would have missed you. You’re the only thing I
would have missed, besides Twit.” The boy breathed deeply, pulling in the mixed
odor of hay, horses, sweat, and just a hint of manure, the scent shared by all
the Palace stables that was one of his favorite smells in all the world. Hune
really was home. Nothing could make the moment better, he thought, except for
his parents to be with him, and as though his musings hurried her, Hune saw his
mother turn into sight from a bend in the cobblestone path out front. Flanked
by a troop of guards, she was running with feet stuffed in jeweled slippers,
holding her dress off the ground. Her sons took off to meet her, Hune unsteady
at the start but finding his strength and his balance.

Not
wanting to disturb the reunion, Vane transported back to Ursa’s mansion. He
appeared outside to take someone, probably Gratton, with him to the basement.

There
was no need. The entire rescue party, Zacry with them, was standing shoulder to
shoulder in a tight defensive circle, arms at the ready, waiting for him. Zacry’s
shirt had been singed, and everyone held tense expressions. Vane trotted over.
They did not break ranks.

“They
transported off when they lost the hostages,” said Gratton. “Lost heart. Took
Ursa with them.”

“One
of them could be here, listening,” Zacry warned Vane.

“I
know. The boys are at location A.”

“Then
we’ll go to location B,” said Zacry, “in case someone tags along.” Location B
was the spot in Snapperville where the king’s men had arrived that morning, an
hour away by foot. Vane nodded and took Bendelof and Hayden to the indicated
place. Zacry took the guardsman and the king. There was no one around to see
them appear, but they ducked off the road anyway, crouching in the weeds to
keep from view.

“They
got away?” said Vane. “All three of them?”

“It
doesn’t matter,” said the king. He looked and sounded, however, as though he
meant exactly the opposite. “It doesn’t matter. We have the boys. They aren’t
hurt?”

“They’re
perfect, Rexson. A little spooked, but they’re with Gracia now, with Gracia and
her guard, more importantly. I waited until the guard showed up.”

“Like
we’d discussed. Thank you, Vane. That role wasn’t supposed to fall to you, but
you kept your head.”

Zacry
took him by the arm. “You did your mother proud,” he said. Vane nodded his appreciation.
Zacry had known Laskenay: not like Kora knew her, but well enough to make the
remark meaningful.

Vane
said, “It’s too bad they got away.”

“Dorane
and company?” said Bendelof. “It’s better they did. The way things played out,
the other option was them bringing the battle outside and taking out two or
three of us before Zac followed them. They could’ve done that. Maybe they
thought we had more men than we did. Anyway, we lucked out. We faced all three
of them—Vane
faced all three by
his lonesome for a while, which was worst-case territory—and we came out
with the boys and no casualties to boot. I’d call that a success.”

“Listen,
Rexson,” Zacry said, “we’ll get them. I swore I wasn’t leaving before we make
them pay, and I meant it.”

“Right
now,” said Hayden, “your boys are waiting to greet you.”

“And
I doubt they’ll mind the dew and grass stains on your clothes,” Vane added. “If
the greeting they gave their mother’s anything to guess on, they might add to
them. Just to warn you.”

So
it was. The three brothers spared the queen the discourtesy of ruining a
perfectly good gown, but ran so hard at their father when he appeared outside
the stables that they knocked the wind clear out of him and brought him to his
knees.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Of Spies and Specters

August
sat before the king and queen on the bed in a Palace guest chamber. She had
cleaned her face, and the lump above her eye gleamed an impressive shade of
navy. Because Gracia would need some days to provide August new clothing, the
queen had loaned her one of her plainer gowns. The garment was not plain enough
to make August feel comfortable, and did not fit quite right. The sleeves were
too large, the waist hit too low by an inch, and August, when she had gazed at
herself in a mirror, came away with the distinct impression that she looked
like a girl playing dress-up in mommy’s clothes. The sight had destroyed her
self-assurance. She stumbled through an account of herself before the monarchs,
who stood and listened, the king having washed and put on fresh clothes as well,
though he wore no robe. The normality, the informality of his style of dress
surprised the girl.

August
explained her background. She pleaded innocent to her sister’s crimes. “My
mother was from Yangerton, but she died giving birth, and after that my father
couldn’t stand to look at me. He was from Carphead. Both Ursa’s parents were. I
share.... We’ve the same father, me and Ursa, but nothing more than that. He
sent me to my grandparents, his in-laws, and they raised me. I had to move to
Ursa’s when they died three years ago.”
 

The
king, whom Vane had pulled aside before he went to speak with August, assured
the girl she had nothing to fear from any of his family. Then August described
her plight as she understood it:

“The
thing is, I’m not sure what I should do now. Where I should go. I have no
family left in Yangerton, no family at all but Ursa.”

The
queen was a different woman, controlled and dignified, now her sons had been
restored to her. She told her husband, “She’ll have to stay, at least
temporarily. Dorane or Ursa might try to punish her. They’ll perceive what she
did this morning as betrayal. Bendelof would help her make a life in Yangerton,
but at the moment, I fear that would only endanger them both.”

“Of
course she can stay. She can stay as long as necessary, as long as she’d like.
We still need to tread lightly, though, Gracia. We’ve a spy yet to force in the
open.”

August’s
eyes grew round. “A spy? What do you mean, a spy?”

The
king said, “Dorane had knowledge about my family he didn’t get on his own.
Someone passed it to him, someone who works here. Our spy’s likely panicking
after the boys’ return, and panicked people do desperate things. Dorane’s
actions this morning furnish a prime example. He attacked you out of
desperation.

“Now,
whoever this spy is, I doubt he poses a physical danger. He’s hoping I never
realized there’s a traitor in my midst, and he won’t blow his cover committing
murder beneath my roof: unless, as I said before, he feels threatened. As for
his letting Dorane in the Palace, the walls are impregnable by magic, and I’ll
have all entrances guarded, at all times, by no fewer than five men. You’ll be
safe here, but you’ll want to watch what you say. To whom you speak. This spy
may attempt to earn your trust.”

A
little gasp escaped from August. Her bruise grew even more prominent as the
rest of her face grew pale. She said, “It couldn’t be Vane?”

“It
could not,” said the king, without blinking an eye.

“But
he attacked me, in the basement. He could have lied when he said he mistook me
for Ursa. He found the boys before the rest of you did, so maybe he knew where
they’d be. He’s a sorcerer, isn’t he? He could have cohorts in the Enchanted
Fist, and he encouraged me to talk at the stables. He tried to befriend me.”

“Vane
only returned to Herezoth this week,” said the king.

“Oh.
Oh, I see. If he wasn’t here, he couldn’t have known the boys’ schedules.”

“Precisely.”

“Right,”
said August. She felt like a fool. “Well, Your Majesty, I’m glad it isn’t him.”

Queen
Gracia told her, “You should take Vane in your confidence. It’ll do you good to
have a friend your age while you’re with us.”

“August,”
said the king, “allow me to be blunt. I don’t want you to imagine I would hold
you against your will. You’re free to come and go, free to go anywhere you
choose, and that includes Yangerton. I’ll provide what you need to make the
journey and make a home. But at present, I suggest you pass some time here, at
least until the Enchanted Fist no longer poses you a threat. You don’t have
magic, you told me?” August shook her head. “Then you’d be hard pressed to
defend yourself against Arbora and her stooges.”

“We’re
glad to have you,” Queen Gracia told her, “ever so glad. Words can’t express
how I…. The boys told me, all three, how you cared for them. How they didn’t
feel scared when you were with them. Hune said that last.”

“Hune’s
a darling,” said August. “They all are. They’re very brave. I’m glad no one
hurt them today!”

The
king’s face grew grave. “As am I. I never intended a battle like that, least of
all near the children. I endangered you as well, August.”

“I’d
say my sister and Dorane endangered the lot of us: meaning no disrespect, Your
Majesty, in contradicting you. You were right to come after the boys. They’re
your boys, and they had no business being where they were. And you, you’re in
the right now to go after my sister. Not that my thoughts matter in a situation
like this, but if you do go after her, if you have to kill her even, I can’t
say I’d hold it against you. I certainly wouldn’t help her.”

The
queen assured her, “We know you wouldn’t.”

August
lowered her head. “I’m sorry for what she’s put you through, Your Highness,
Your Majesty.”

Queen
Gracia, smoothing her gown beneath her, joined August on the bed and took her
hand. “You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

The
king shook his head. He mused, “I wish that people like Ursa Hincken would
consider their families before they act. I watched Zalski’s ambition destroy
his sister, utterly destroy her. I watched her son come to terms with the
family legacy only with great struggle. Dorane has a wife and son who’ll suffer
public scorn if his crimes are known. And now you stand here, or sit, just as
much your sister’s victim as my sons, offering apologies for the woman. It’s
not to be believed.”

August
told him, “I don’t hold myself responsible for Ursa, Your Majesty. I just
thought that, well,
someone
owes you
an apology.”

“I
need no apology from the guiltless. I need none from the guilty, come to that.
The noose can apologize for them quite aptly. That responsibility does not
belong to you, am I clear?”

“Yes,
Your Majesty.”

The
queen returned to her husband’s side and asked the girl, “Have you made a
decision? Will you stay here?”

“I
think it’s best if I do. As you, I mean, as Your Highness has been so kind to
take me in….”

Queen
Gracia smiled, an unexaggerated, genuine smile that rendered her words
unnecessary. “I’m delighted, my dear, and I’ll have you know this is no heroic
act on my part. The boys will be overjoyed, simply overjoyed, to have you spend
some time with us, and I wish them nothing more right now than peace to enjoy
such simple pleasures.

“In
fact, if you’ll pardon the discourtesy, I should like to return to them. If you
require anything, August, anything at all, you will inform me?”

“Yes,
Your Highness.”

August
rose to her feet and gave an awkward curtsy. The queen inclined her head and
swept from the room.

“August,”
said the king, when the two found themselves alone, “if I may ask, would you
have any idea where Arbora and Dorane took your sister?”

“I
don’t. I honestly don’t, if not to one of their houses, and that would be
foolish at this point, wouldn’t it? Their homes are the first place you’d look
for them. And I, I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I’m awfully sorry, but I’m not
comfortable speculating. I don’t support the kidnappers, but the boys are safe
now, and I don’t know if I could live with myself if I helped to kill my
sister. She
is
my sister, in spite of
everything, and that counts for something, surely it must? I understand that
actions have their consequences, that Ursa deserves punishment, but please,
don’t ask me to send her to the hangman!”

The
king considered her request. Lines of guilt tinged his tense expression. “I
won’t ask that of you.”

“Thank
you. Oh, thank you, Your Majesty!”

“Forget
I asked you anything. Rest for the moment, no? You’ve had a horrid day.”

August
sank into her curtsy with jerky, ungraceful motions, and the king left. She
reclined on the mattress when he had gone, amazed at its softness, and shut her
eyes, wondering: What would she have done, if the king had insisted she help
hunt Ursa? Whom would she have betrayed, her blood, by speaking, or her kingdom
by keeping silent? How dreadful, how simply dreadful, to make that choice!

But he didn’t make me
choose. Thank the Giver, he didn’t make me. He withdrew the question, and I
don’t think he’ll ask again. I’m sure he won’t. He seemed to understand. He had
a brother himself, didn’t he? The brother who should have been king. Little
Hune’s named after him, or after Rexson’s father. They had the same name. Maybe
he’s named after both.

He’s my favorite, I
think. They’re all dolls, but Hune’s my favorite.

* * *

While
August consulted with the king and queen, Bendelof was walking Podrar’s streets
with Gratton, who insisted she have an escort when she expressed a desire to
see the city. Before her return to the capital as Rexson’s spy, she had not
ambled down its roads in fourteen years.

Those
roads were still wider than Yangerton’s, and less crowded, excepting three or
four major market streets that Bendelof avoided. The buildings were not tall,
but they looked cleaner, and in better condition, than she remembered. There
were more of them than in years past.

Podrar
had a homey atmosphere. Where Yangerton delighted in its urbanity, its
grunginess, its hustle and throngs, Podrar attempted to maintain the better
aspects of village life. The people were calmer than in Yangerton, and kinder,
if arrogant. Life was slower paced. Instead of finding a guild’s clothing shop,
for instance, with numerous weavers and seamstresses working as a unit and
training apprentices, you were far more likely to run across a cloth merchant
on the street corner who would haggle with you, but not too forcefully, before
you took your purchase to a tailor who almost certainly worked alone, likely
out of a small, cluttered workshop that was really a room of his house. He
would welcome you like a long-lost relative, with a shade of curiosity as to
where in the dickens you had been up to now.

“So
why exactly is it you’re leaving Yangerton?” Gratton asked, pulling Bennie from
her mental comparisons.

“Arbora
and Dorane saw my face through the window. They’ll know Gretta Yastly was
Rexson’s plant. That might not seem like much, but I’m sure they’ve studied
Rexson’s history, the both of them. Back during the Crimson League my name was
on wanted posters, so I’m a known associate of his: known to that pair, you can
believe it. Who would Rexson turn to when his boys disappeared? People he could
trust. And who could he trust, needing secrecy? The old crew. I’m the old crew.
They saw me, they’ll suspect I’m Bendelof Esper, and if they or someone else in
the Fist decides to come after me, Yangerton’s where they’ll trace me, so I’d
rather just go somewhere else. It’s all the same, really. I never married. I
have no real ties to anywhere. I have friends in Yangerton, but I’ve left
friends before.”

“Where
are you thinking of going?”

“Fontferry,
maybe. Up north. I liked Fontferry.”

Gratton
shook his head. “You can’t be anonymous in a blasted tiny village.”

“There’ll
be work in Fontferry, I know that for sure. A woman who works with me just went
up there to visit her grandma, and she said….”

“There’s
work here too. In Podrar. If you’re looking to lose yourself in the masses and
Yangerton’s not an option, well.…”

“Maybe,”
said Bendelof.

“Blast
it! Who do you know in Fontferry, woman? You have Hayden here, the Peasant-Duke
himself. He’s not a bad sort. And you have me. Rexson’s told me about you, and
I think your story’s fascinating. After everything you did for that man, to
never have asked a thing of him in return, not even a bronze piece…. He told
me, too, that you took it on yourself to go to Traigland with Kora Porteg, to
make things easier for her. Listen, I’d help you get settled here, which means
you’d have an easier time of it in Podrar than in Fontferry. Fontferry! Blast
Fontferry, it’s time you did something for yourself. For God’s sake, let
someone help you for once. You don’t need to go traipsing off among complete
strangers.”

Bennie
drew in a sharp breath. Then she began to tremble. She had been lost in her own
thoughts, and then Gratton’s words; she had not realized her feet, even after
so many years, were guiding her all the while down the route in Podrar most
familiar to them, the route that led to the lot of a vanished cabin in one of
the city’s poorer zones. A woman Bendelof grew up with, a fellow member of the
Crimson League, had dubbed the cabin “the Landfill.” The League had used it as
a hideout.