The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (18 page)

“I’ll go with Zac and Rexson. I assume they’ll
attack if they find the cads?”

“You won’t be able to hold the king back, not
your magic and Zacry’s together. Kora, go home. Please go home.”

Kora shook her head. Bennie let out a heavy
sigh. “I’ll get you some blankets,” she said. “You can sleep on my floor.
There’s just space enough.”

* * *

After four hours of restless
sleep—Bennie’s rug provided little padding—Kora and the redhead met
up with the king’s party in Yangerton’s Central Plaza. Kora refused to feel
emotional walking some of Herezoth’s most famous streets. She devoted her
energy to avoiding the crowds, to not jostling exasperated mothers who ran
after their little urchins. A lurid sense of déjà vu overcame her senses, even
served to heighten them. She felt seventeen again in her invisibility, out on a
mission for the Crimson League.

The plaza had changed. The stone construction
that served as City Hall had shutters on its windows now, which made it look
decades newer. There were fewer foot-peddlers than in years past, and more rows
of wooden stands expanding in squares from the central bell tower. Gone were
the brooches and posters that displayed the letter Z framed in a triangle:
Zalski’s mark, the indication that a vendor had registered with the tax office.
Perhaps the most striking missing element was the scaffold. A four-story
housing complex, made of stone to match City Hall and the other buildings
nearby, reared in its stead.

Kora and Bennie found the men they sought in the
shadow of the lodging house. The sorceress picked out Gratton without much
trouble. He was the only ally she’d never met, and she suspected his bout of
drinking would have taken a visible toll. She was right.

Kora stifled a gasp and spun on her heel as a
middle-aged man tore past her with a burlap sack. Then she gaped at Hayden, who
had grown less waifish and held himself with much more confidence than at the
age of sixteen. Knowing the adolescent, she hardly recognized the man. The king
bore his forty years well, though his hair had thinned since the last time Kora
saw him and stress had dulled his eyes, drawn his mouth down at the corners.
Kora’s heart ached; she longed to rush at Hayden and embrace him, to sling an
arm around the king and make him smile, with her thumb and index finger if she
had to. Instead, she snuck up behind her brother and whispered, “It’s me. I’ll
follow you.”

Zacry jumped and, when the action drew eyes,
waved his arm as though to bat away an insect. “Damn mosquitoes,” he said, to
explain away his jerks. Hayden stared at him. “They’re everywhere. We don’t
have them in Triflag.”

“We don’t have this many in Podrar,” Hayden
conceded.

The king stood with pursed lips. He looked at
the sorcerer, his eyes narrowing by the second. He stared right through Kora,
and then, before she realized he had her figured out, he moved an arm and
pulled her forward with his magic. She stumbled toward him; he grabbed her
above the wrist. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I need to check something at City
Hall. Zac, come with me.”

Her brother in tow, Kora let the king guide her
through the maze of merchant stands. What else could she do? To transport would
carry Rexson with her. Kora didn’t fear to be alone with him, not for an
instant, but he wouldn’t appreciate the spectacle of her making him vanish in
front of a crowd, so it was up City Hall’s stone steps they went; Zacry and
Rexson were careful to keep Kora from the throngs. The king shared a
significant glance with the uniformed guard at the entrance, and then sneaked
into a dank and cobweb-strewn broom cupboard.

“Blast it,” said Kora, as she tripped on a mop
bucket. Zacry cast a sound barrier to shut out the noise she made, with the
unintended result of lighting the room with a sickly yellow glow. His sister
cancelled her invisibility.

“Hi,” Kora told the king, a sheepish grin across
her face. She could feel her forehead sweating beneath her bandana. “Don’t be
mad at Zac. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

Zacry said, “I should have realized you’d do
this. I shouldn’t have told you what….”

The king raised a silencing hand. He asked Kora,
“You do realize I could have you killed?”

“Like you’d kill me! What would you do, hang me?
You’d have to arrest me first. Why don’t you try it?”

“This isn’t a joke, Porteg.”

“Porteg?” Kora blinked. “Since when do you call
me Porteg? Since when do I risk my life for a joke?”

“So you understand what you’re doing?”

“I understand I can’t be seen by random people,
and not by the enemy. They’d bully you into forcing Traigland’s king to ship me
back here for trial. I understand these things,
Your Majesty.
”

“Hell, Kora!”

“So now it’s Kora again.”

“May I ask what you’ve done with my children?”

“They’re with my mother. And August and Zac’s
wife. Between the three of them, they can handle a brood of ten.”

“Nine,” the king corrected her. “My four and
your five.” Kora bit her lip, and Rexson turned to Zacry, horrified. “You’re a
father?”

“His daughter’s eight months,” Kora admitted.

“Shit,” said Zacry. He ran a hand down his face.
Rexson paled.

“I never would have asked….”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Zacry, I mean it. I….”

“I said drop it, all right?”

Rexson’s gray face turned stony. Kora nearly
rolled her eyes. “Don’t command His Royal Highness, Zac,” she warned. That
stopped the king cold; Kansten, long dead, had always referred to Rexson’s
brother as “His Royal Highness” in disrespect.

For a second, Kora thought the king would slap
her. He magicked a broom over instead, cracked the handle across his knee, and
flung the pieces aside.

“Is that out of your system now?” Kora asked.

Rexson demanded, “Who do you think you are,
coming back like this?”

“Stop,” said Kora. “Stop, all right? I don’t
care if you’re king. You’re being an ass.”

“I don’t care if you’re the Marked One. You have
no right disrupting my plans without my knowledge or consent.”

Kora replied, “Well now you know.”

“Have I consented?”

“I’m here to help you, Lanokas. To
help
, because that’s what friends do.”

The king started when she called him by his old
alias. “My God,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m turning into my brother. He never did
appreciate a thing that others….”

“No harm done,” said Kora. “But seeing I’m here
and all….”

Rexson said, “You can join us. If you want to,
that is. I wish you wouldn’t, but I’ll leave the choice to you, considering
it’s your neck.”

“I want to be clear, I’m not here as the Marked
One. I still don’t understand what that means, not fully, but I imagine you
could handle this without me if you had to. You’ve done just fine without me
all these years.” Kora sighed, and admitted, “All I know about my blasted ruby,
still, is that it came to me by the Giver’s intervention. That’s a rare thing,
but there’s no other explanation for that magic no human being was around to
work, and my father never told the legend of the Marked One without saying God
would send a hero in Herezoth’s darkest time. Well, that’s all done with.
Zalski’s dead.”

A curious look came over Rexson. He glanced at
her bandana. “Your ruby’s still there?”

“I don’t know why. If the Giver put it there, I
guess it’s up to him to take it off. I stopped trying years ago. A severing
charm from Zac and me together couldn’t do a thing, and to say the least, I’m
used to the stone by now. I guess I…. Why did I even bring this up?”

Rexson said, “You’re not here as the Marked One.”

“Oh, right. I’m here as a second sorcerer,
because you’ll need that magic. I’m here to help my brother.”

Zacry scowled. “I’m not twelve anymore.”

“You’re still just one person to cast spells.”

Her brother’s scowl stretched, but Kora smiled.
It felt like the old days, one of the better ones, when she would wake and feel
in every fiber of her being that nothing could go wrong, at least not
tragically so, before the sun sank. “Let’s get those bastards once and for
all,” she said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nasty Surprises

It was ten o’clock in the morning the day after
Rexson’s children had arrived in Traigland. Through his spectacles, Valkin
stared at a wooden rectangle set into a corridor in Zacry’s house. “What’s
that?” he asked.

“A door,” Kansten replied. She was nine, Kora’s
oldest. Tall and thin, she had freckles and straight brown hair that August had
twisted up for her.

Valkin said with a grin, “I can see that.”
Kansten was more fun, more adventurous than his brothers, and infinitely more
sarcastic. He was sorry he had to lie to her about his name, but his father had
told him to tell everyone he was called Tommy. The king had been serious about
that, very serious; the lines had popped up in his forehead that Valkin only
ever saw when Rexson spoke of telekinesis, so Valkin figured he should do as he
was told.

Kansten said, “It’s my uncle’s study. We can’t
go in there.”

“Why not?”

Kansten shrugged her shoulders. “We’re not
supposed to. The adults always tell me to leave that room alone.”

Valkin’s eyes began to sparkle. “Why? What’s in
there?” he asked. Kansten shrugged her shoulders again. “Don’t you want to find
out?” he pressed.

“It’s probably just books and stuff. Uncle Zac
reads a lot.”

“Let’s see.”

“Tommy….” Kansten said, but he ignored her and
pushed the door open. Kansten followed him inside and glanced around, glad to
see her suppositions had been right. “I told you,” she proclaimed.

The whitewashed walls were lined with cheap
shelves, shelves sturdy enough to hold books placed two rows deep. Some papers
and an inkwell were set on the chestnut desk. One tome lay open where it had
fallen from the desktop to an armchair; Valkin went to examine it and replaced
it on the desk.

“Wow!” he cried, almost pressing his nose
against the open book. “That’s a spellbook. Those are incantations!” He turned
the page and read for a moment. “Let’s try to cast one, just for fun. This
looks like a good one here: it’s an energy spell, to take tiredness away. At
least, that’s what the book says. Eh—
Energa
Crez
,” the prince stammered, trying to read the spell. Then he repeated it
with more confidence. “Nothing,” he said with a grin. He had known he was no
sorcerer.

Valkin flipped another page. “You should try
this one. It’ll heal your skinned knee if it works. How’d you do that anyway?”

“I tripped on a root. In the yard. I was kicking
a ball around with my brothers.”

“Well, try it,” urged Valkin. Kansten backed
away. “Come on, try it,” he insisted. “You don’t have the mark, do you?”

“I don’t, and I don’t want to try a spell.”

“Why not? It’s not like it’ll do anything.”

“Listen, I don’t want to. I just don’t.”
Kansten’s mother would kill her.

Valkin crossed his arms. “Scaredy cat,” he
accused, and Kansten froze.

“I hate cats.”

“Then don’t act like one. What’s your problem?”

“You want to know? Really?” Kansten stormed to
the book. “I’ll do it. I’ll show you what’s my problem.” She took a deep breath
and read the spell,
Kura-la.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” Valkin
asked, his grin wider than ever. Kansten repeated the spell. Her bottom lip
began to tremble, and Valkin turned more serious.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

“No,” said Kansten. “No, you didn’t. Nothing
happened. I don’t get it.”

She sank to the floor, brushed away a tear.
Valkin joined her, asking, “You didn’t really think you’re a sorceress?”

“I should be,” she said. “My Mom told me she’s
one, and Uncle Zac does magic too. He brought you here, didn’t he? I don’t have
the mark, but they don’t either. I never tried to cast something before, but I
thought….”

“It can skip a person, magic. Just because some
relatives….”

Kansten began to weep. “How come my power’s
blocked? I should have magic. Even Vane does magic.”

Valkin blinked. “You know Vane?”

Kansten tried not to choke on her words. “He
lives here,” she said. “In this house. How do you
know Vane?”

Valkin blushed. “He visits my family from time
to time. Well, he used to. He’s a friend of my parents. Stays with us at the
Palace.”

Kansten wiped her face. “The Palace?”

“In Podrar,” Valkin stammered. “My dad’s a, a
kind of butler there. My mother, she’s one of the queen’s maids.”

“One of them? How many does she have?”

“Three,” said the prince, grateful to say
something truthful, however trivial.

“I see,” said Kansten. “Look, do you mind if I,
if I want to be alone for a bit? Not to be mean….”

“Sure,” said Valkin. “Sure, all right.” He
wasn’t offended, as the poor girl still was crying. If anything he felt
relieved to get away, to escape his gaffe of mentioning the Palace.

When he had gone, Kansten wiped her face on her
sleeve and tore back to the desk. She clambered up on her uncle’s armchair and
looked down at the spellbook. She tried three more times, fighting panic, to
heal her scraped knee. When that didn’t work, she flipped backward three pages
so quickly that one of them ripped. Two, three, four times she read out the
spell Tommy first had discovered, the one to make you strong, to give you energy.
She felt no stronger than usual, only sad and angry, even tired and weak. She
sobbed harder than ever.

But
Mom’s a sorceress. She told me she is. She said people might talk about it,
because they know about her. She can do magic, so why not me? Why?

Kansten didn’t bother to wipe her face again.
Her tears were coming too fast and thick. She huddled against the wall to sob
into her knees, careful not to mess up the pretty twists August had put in her
hair.

Just then, Joslyn noticed from the
hallway that the door to Zacry’s office was ajar. She walked over to investigate
and found Kansten crying in the corner. The woman’s sharp, dark eyes moved from
the weeping child to the spellbook on the desk, and widened in alarm. She flew
to her niece, kneeling to examine her.

“Kansten, are you hurt? What happened?”

Kansten spoke with a hiccough. “Nothing
happened,” she proclaimed.

“You haven’t cast any spells from your uncle’s
book?”

“No, I tried. Nothing happened. I’m not a
sorceress.”

Grateful that no magic had gone awry to maim the
girl, and beginning to understand why Kansten was upset, Joslyn settled more
comfortably on the floor and put an arm around her.

“Would you like to be a sorceress?”

“I never asked myself that. I always just
thought I was. I’ve been waiting and waiting for my fifteenth birthday because
that’s when….” Another hiccough. “That’s when Mom was gonna let me cast my
first spell.”

“Your mother never said there’s a chance you
might not be able?”

“She did. She did say that. I just never thought
it might be true.”

“I see,” said Joslyn. She still held one arm
around Kansten, and she gave the girl a loving squeeze. A motherly squeeze. “Not
having magic has clearly upset you. Can I ask why?”

“Because it’s not fair. It’s just not fair. Mom
can do magic, and Uncle Zac does.”

“But you’re not your mother or your Uncle Zac.
You’re your own person, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you even if I
could. You wouldn’t be Kansten then.”

“I’d be
better.”

“You don’t need magic to be a better you. Kindness
doesn’t require magic. It only calls for an open heart.” Joslyn guided Kansten’s
hand and placed it on the upper left quadrant of the girl’s chest. “That’s
where true magic lies, and that’s power you do
have. The human heart can accomplish things no spell ever could.
No spell can make you feel loved and protected. No incantation can recreate the
wonder and the awe I knew the first time Viola laid her little head on my
shoulder and fell asleep. These spellbooks here can’t cause that fuzzy feeling
you talked about the first time you made your sister laugh.

“I don’t have magic, you know, and I feel quite
blessed. This might not help you feel better right now, but I can tell you,
cross my heart, that having magic wouldn’t make me any happier. Kansten, I
promise you won’t miss out on any of the truly important things because you can’t
cast spells. Why, you’d never cast a spell before today, right? Today you
didn’t either, that’s all. Just one more day like any other. And tomorrow you
won’t, and that’s fine too.”

“I guess so,” said Kansten. She still looked
upset, but she had stopped crying, and Joslyn could tell that the girl would
accept her lack of sorcery in time.

Perhaps
I
can
be a
teacher, be a mother. Perhaps I can learn.

Kansten’s face had turned red, Joslyn thought
from all the crying, until she said, “I’m sorry I came in here. I know I’m not
supposed to. Tommy wanted to see the room.”

“It’s all right,” said Joslyn.

“Please don’t tell my parents.”

“I won’t,” consented Joslyn. “But you should.
You really should talk to your mother about this. She’ll help you feel better
about it.”

“Mom’s gone,” said Kansten. “That’s why Grams
brought us over today.”

Joslyn’s deep eyes looked troubled. “Gone?”

“Father said she’s ill. Nothing serious, but
they thought she should go to the coast for a bit, to keep us healthy and take
in the salty air.”

Kora’s
gone to Herezoth.

Joslyn was torn between relief that Zacry would
have more help, and horror at the idea of what Kora in particular was risking
going back.

They’ll
be all right, the both of them. They’ve been through worse than this, haven’t
they?

“When your mother gets back,” said Joslyn, her
voice distant, “you should tell her what happened. Especially if you’re still
upset about it.”

“I might,” said Kansten. “I feel a bit better
already, talking to you. For now, I think, I should go find Tommy. I frightened
him a bit.”

Joslyn said, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.
Go play. Be the Kansten we all love so much.” The girl gave her aunt a hug
before marching to the door, determined not to let her disappointment keep her
down—or at least to try.

* * *

August had slept in Vane’s room that first night
in Traigland, or rather, tried to sleep. The sorcerer kept things tidy, except
for some books spread out on the rug and some half-whittled figures the girl
assumed he was making for Kora’s sons. August tossed the stray wooden scraps
he’d left lying about through the window for him.

Vane’s furniture looked secondhand, and August
resisted the temptation to root through his drawers and cabinets, though she
longed to discover more about him. In some ways he seemed just like her, and in
others an utter mystery of a human being. How well did Vane know the king?
Extremely, she imagined, if they had spent a month together on a ship. If Vane
had come to Traigland at age thirteen, where had he lived before that? What
talents did he have, and what work did he do? He couldn’t stay with Zacry
forever. When he left this place, would he remain in Triflag or go back to
Herezoth? Would he take up his place at court? Continue to use magic?

She wished he could have seen her off from the
Palace, and refused to think he’d forgotten or not bothered. She accepted
without deliberation that Zacry had come for her sooner than expected, and that
Vane had shown up later, not knowing she was gone. She contemplated no other
explanation, but still she tossed all night.

For Ursa’s sister, the morning passed without
event. Ilana Porteg brought her grandchildren over, and August spent the early
hours watching Melly, Viola, and Tressa, Kora’s youngest, who were all in good
moods and miraculously fell asleep for naps around eleven, Melly in August’s
arms. Kansten, chipper and energetic when August fixed her hair, had low
spirits after lunch. August asked what she wanted to do, and she responded
without real interest. “We could go for a walk in the woods, I guess. To get
out of the house.”

So August, Kansten, and the princes headed off
to the woodlands that bordered Zacry’s property, leaving Kora’s younger
children to draw models of a tree house their father had promised to build
them. The afternoon was cloudy, and a slow, steady breeze disheveled the twists
of hair August had pinned to Kansten’s head. The girl hardly noticed. She
dragged her feet and kept a few paces back from Rexson’s boys, who climbed low
trunks, dueled with sticks, and searched for toads. Hune chided Valkin for
poking a great fat one he found hiding in some leaves.

“You’ll hurt him,” said Hune.

“He’s just a great blob,” said Valkin. “I want
to see if he’ll jump.”

“He
is
funny-looking,”
Hune admitted.