The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (8 page)

Dorane
pursed his lips. “What about exile?” he asked. “Could exile be an option? Would
Rexson go for that?”

Arbora
let out a dry laugh. “He banished Kora Porteg for reinstating him, and you
expect him to banish you
for
terrorizing his sons? I’m telling you, you’ll be lucky if I can talk him into a
life sentence. He just might compromise as far as that, if it means the boys’
release. But to show greater mercy? He wants your blood, and thanks to you two,
I don’t think he’d grieve to spill mine alongside it.”

Dorane
said, “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. Arbora, I swear I didn’t. I want
that council more than anything. We need
that
council. The magic community’s in shambles. If we can get it, get it before
we’re forced to harm the boys, I’ll go to prison. I’ll go gladly.”

“Do
what you please,” said Ursa. She leaned back, crossing her ankles, lifting her
front chair legs to balance against the wall. “I ain’t bein’ locked up
willin’ly. I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

Arbora
fought to keep desperation out of her voice. “Ursa, we can’t get the council
sanctioned if you don’t agree to prison.”

“Then
I guess there’ll be no council.”

“Listen,”
said Dorane. He pulled on Ursa’s knee, and her chair settled back with a thud
on all four legs. “Listen, this has gone on long enough. Nothing good will come
from dragging it out further. You’re no sorcerer, Ursa. You will
do this, or I’ll take the boys myself.
I can transport as well as Bora does. I’ll return them to their father and
trust he’ll let me live out of gratitude.”

Ursa
smiled again, a conniving smile, and leaned forward, her face to her
co-conspirator’s. “No you won’t,” she said. “You won’t be gettin’ no council if
you do that. You would kill them boys for that council. You already killed
their guards, didn’t you? Wouldn’t let me do the dirty work, no sir.

“Hell,
you’d kill me if that would get you what you wanted, but I ain’t worried ‘bout
that. I know you could take me out the picture an’ deliver the boys after that,
an’ if Rexson hangs you, hope to earn your council by your hangin.’ Always
hopin,’ ain’t you? Only, that would leave your little one with no father, an’
you can’t do that either. Zate can visit you in prison. Can’t speak with you if
you’re dead, though.”

Arbora
was shaking. “Enough,” she said. “What kind of talk is that?”

“Dorane
can turn himself in. That ain’t got nothin’ to do with me, I said it already.
But me….”

“
I ain’t no martyr
,” said Arbora, in a
credible imitation. “We heard you the first time.”

“If
they wanna come after me, let ‘em. If they wanna kill me, they can try their
damnedest. I can’t stop ‘em tryin.’ I won’t be throwin’ my freedom away myself,
thank you.”

“Arbora,”
said Dorane, with a disgusted look at Ursa that made the younger woman tense
up, “talk to the king again. Find out if he’ll allow the council in exchange
for a life sentence in my case and his children’s safe return.”

“He’ll
never agree without Ursa thrown in.”

“For
me he might. He might take just me at this point, to get his sons back. It’s
got to be worth trying! It’s been over a month. The king must be as anxious as
we are. You said it yourself, we can’t keep the boys locked up forever. This
has to end.”

“Maybe
you’re right,” said Arbora. “Maybe, after this much time, the king will settle
for one of you.”

“Or
maybe,” Ursa chimed in, “he’ll tell you to go to the hell you believe in and
Dorane don’t.”

“Then,”
Arbora continued, ignoring the interruption, “with the boys in his protection,
he’ll be free to go after the other culprit as hard and fast as he desires.”

“Let
him try,” said Ursa.

“Don’t
be a fool,” Dorane urged. “Forget about the council if your welfare matters
more to you, you self-centered….” Ursa suddenly looked pained. “Listen to me,
you can save your life if Rexson agrees to this deal. Consider the council
something extra if that makes it easier. I’m not turning myself in without a
council.”

Ursa’s
composure returned to her; she forced it to as she told him, “I know you ain’t.
That’s why I ain’t worried. I can’t do nothin’ if you choose to free the
hostages, but those boys are stayin’ right where they are. Rexson won’t throw
in the council. He won’t compromise that much. If he ain’t caved yet, he ain’t
gonna cave.”

“We’ve
demanded amnesty until now.”

“He
ain’t gonna cave. We stole his children, three of ‘em. He won’t be rewardin’
that behavior with no council. Arbora’s dead wrong, meanin’ her no disrespect.
He’ll offer to spare your life, I think. But no council, that’s out o’ the
question.”

“He’ll
do it for his sons.”

“If
he does I’m content to take my chances, fend for myself. But the fact is, he
won’t do it. Just wait, he’ll hold out ‘til you take the council off the table.
He ain’t gonna give you what you want more than anythin’ else in the world. He
ain’t gonna let you win.

“Or
he’ll trick you. He’ll say he’ll sanction the council, an’ never do it, an’ let
you grow old in a dingy cell while them boys of his grow up beneath his eye.
That
he just might do. It’d serve you
right, I say.”

Arbora
planted her feet on the rug and left her chair. Her blood was running cold. She
had feared Ursa would act this way, had known the woman would cause trouble,
but had not expected to find the scene so chilling. “We’re finished for now,”
Arbora said. “I’ll come back tomorrow, to see whether you’ve seen sense.” But
she knew Ursa would keep on.

Dorane
stood as well, with a longing glance at the books he had been eyeing earlier.
“Oh, take one,” Ursa muttered. “Take ‘em all. It don’t matter none.”

The
sorcerer grabbed two. Then he and Arbora transported to the dirt-packed trail placed
just off Ursa’s property; grass and weeds and dandelions grew high on either
side. “Is Ursa right about the king, do you reckon?” Dorane asked. “Would he
trick us?”

Arbora
gathered her wits. The light breeze blew away any sense of discomfort Ursa had
evoked in her. “I’ve never known him to go back on his word, but if anything
could bring him to that, out of spite, it’s precisely what you’ve done. He
won’t kill you, mind, if he swears beforehand he won’t….”

“I’m
not worried about that. I mean the council.”

Arbora
sighed. “I meet with him tomorrow evening. We’ll get him to sign a contract
before we hand over the boys, a contract we can give to the rest of the Fist.
They’ll hold him to his word. That’s the most we can do, and it should be
enough.”

Dorane
shifted his books to his other hand. He said, “I need to get back to the
mansion, just in case Rexson tries something drastic. Arbora, if this does work
out, can I trust you to make sure Drea and Zate have all they need? I can’t ask
Ursa. Rexson will hunt her down.”

“The
Fist will care for your family. There’s no doubt of that, but me, personally….
I’m not sure Rexson won’t imprison me as well. I’ll bequeath what I can to your
wife, but most of my wealth has already gone to the Fist. Most, not all: Drea
won’t starve or be turned out of her home, and Zate will be just fine. He has a
marvel of a mother to look after him.”

Dorane
rubbed his temple. “I’m a blasted wreck,” he said. “This whole thing, it’s
gotten out of control. I misread the king from the start and, well, I deserve
to be locked up. You had nothing to do with this.”

“I
turned accomplice when I decided to support you. I could have brought the
children back.” Arbora ran a hand through her tangled hair. “We can still get
the council, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Nothing
else matters,” Dorane agreed.

Dorane
once had told Arbora his enchantments were all he had to recommend him: thus
his attraction to the Enchanted Fist, the great emphasis he gave to magic in
his life. He resented having to conceal his only talent, the best part of
himself, and his spirits lifted some as Arbora said, “Just imagine! Fifteen
magicians to debate what’s best for the magicked and advise the king. Fifteen
or twenty magicians whose opinion he’ll respect: that’ll be the difference
between this council and the Fist. The king will be the one who brought these
people together. He won’t ignore them like he always has me. Oh, he listens to
what I have to say. He sits and listens, but what blasted good does that do if
he doesn’t hear a word? He’ll
hear
this
council, Dorane.”

Her
last words barely registered with the sorcerer. He was lost in his own
reflections again, lost and tired and aching. He felt sad, somehow, that he
wouldn’t be able to showcase his talents as part of the council. As long as the
council was founded, though, he could accept the king barring his involvement.
He could accept far worse than that. “I should get back to the mansion,” he
said a second time.

“So
you should. Keep an eye on those children.”

“I’ll
keep my eye on Ursa,” Dorane specified. He muttered a transport spell and
vanished from the road. Arbora shook her head, repeated what he had said
beneath his breath, and in a matter of seconds, she too was gone.

* * *

After
leaving the Palace post-strategizing, Bennie ducked into an alley to arrange a
brown wig.

When
Rexson’s spy had first come to Podrar with Arbora, the sorceress had helped her
get settled at an inn, with the result that the innkeeper knew his guest not as
Bendelof Esper but Gretta Yastly, a curious and bold brunette. Bennie had
created a life history for Gretta over the last month: from Yangerton, the
daughter of a tailor who managed a guild. Her older brother had joined the army
after Zalski’s coup.

Over
the last few days, Gretta, not Bennie, had become one of the inn’s least
popular clients, due to her habit of listening to conversations and asking
impertinent questions. Gretta, not Bennie, had sent an overcooked fish back
into the kitchen her first night at the establishment, and had earned the
cook’s respect for her gumption, since a trainee had prepared the meal and,
like Gretta, the cook judged it inedible. Gretta, not Bennie, now entered her
private room on the second floor to find someone waiting for her in a tiff.

“Arbora!”

“Where
have you been?” asked the sorceress. Bennie tried to ignore her hammering
heart, for the sake of Rexson’s sons.

“Looking
for some rooms for the Fist, like you told me. None of your suggestions panned
out, so I moved on to the Ingleton neighborhood.”

“Any
particular reason?”

“Two,
actually. Ingleton has no duke to interfere with us. It hasn’t had one in
fifteen years. The other, well….” Bennie had no trouble looking doubtful, as
though she debated whether to take Arbora in her confidence. “Zalski’s sister
married Ingleton’s last duke, no? You know what else she did? That traitorous
bitch killed my brother after she formed the Crimson League. I don’t imagine
she’d want a group like ours placed in her old stomping grounds, so I figured
I’d put us there.”

“Ingleton
should work just fine,” assured Arbora. The room had only one chair, and Bennie
offered it to the Enchanted Fist’s foundress.

“I
didn’t have much luck, not within your price range. We’ll need to spend more
money than you mentioned, or we’ll have to take a place less secure than we
probably should.”

“The
figure I gave you is what we can spare. Find a smaller cabin if you must.”

“I
might have to give up on Ingleton, then…. What’s the deal with Podrar, anyway?
Why do you want a place here?”

Bennie
determined herself not to break Arbora’s gaze, and the sorceress eventually
explained, “I have it on good authority the Fist will want people in Podrar,
and soon. The king will be founding a Magic Council. A secret one.”

Suspicion
overcame Bennie’s face. “How do you know that? Does the Fist have someone in
the Palace?”

“Of
course not. We’re no rogue organization. You know that, Gretta.”

Just
with some rogue members, Bennie thought. Blast it, that had been the perfect
opportunity to find out how Dorane had learned to get to the boys. She could
pry no further, could only say, “Next you’ll be saying the king told you
himself about his plans.”

“He
did, in fact. I first met Rexson Phinnean a decade ago, and I’ve sought his
support ever since.”

“That’s
not surprising, come to think of it…. Wait, does he wear robes? Brown ones? I
think I caught a glimpse of him in my ball last night: just a glimpse, gone in
a second. Didn’t know who he was, but now you’ve mentioned….”

“Gretta,
I’m happy to say you’ll know the king well. I want you on that council.”

Bennie
replied, “Wouldn’t Ursa be a better choice?”

“Ursa’s
an officer. I need her doing other work, and the king could make good use of
your ability.”

Well played. That was
quite well played, you miserable….

“How
do I join up?” Bennie asked.

“You’ll
need to get a post in the Palace first. Make your power known, but carefully,
and make sure the king hears of it. He’ll want to speak with you when he finds
out you’re magicked. Offer readings for him or for anyone he wishes to have
one.”