The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (2 page)

BOOK
I

CHAPTER
ONE

Kidnapped

Vane
Unsten, at age seventeen, was no ignorant boy. He not only could read and
write; he had a passion for history, and his mentor Zacry had taught him the
ways of magic. Both men were sorcerers, and after four years of study a fair
number of spells had become second nature to Vane, almost commonplace.
Ironically, Vane’s education was the cause of the stupid expression that had
come over him as he stood in Zacry Porteg’s study with his auburn hair in his
face and a letter in his hand. That letter was what had startled him; had he
not been able to decipher its contents, he would not have appeared so muddled
in his thoughts.

The
emergency’s unexpectedness intensified the haunted air that Vane’s eyes, deep brown
and too large for his face, customarily evoked. Some daunted-looking
individuals get swallowed up by their surroundings, but Vane was not one of
those people. First of all, he could not be called timid, though neither was he
particularly bold; that first impression of him being overwhelmed was a lie of
his physiognomy. Second, his apparent introversion was not one that pleaded,
“Don’t consider me. Pass me over, please; I would rather be ignored.” Quite in
contrast, the eyes Vane had never grown into drew attention when he was with
others (he was alone just now). They screamed in silence to be noted. The
strength of his voice, not as deep as some but resounding in tone, came as a
surprise when one first heard him talk. One rather expected him to squeak, like
a mouse.

“It
can’t be. It just can’t be.”

Vane
dropped into his mentor’s armchair. In the moonlight that filtered through the
window and by the lamp he had set on the desk, Vane stared at the parchment in
his hand. The letter was from the king of Herezoth, his home country, and quite
short.

Zacry,

I need you in Podrar.
At the Palace. Come discreetly, come quickly, and in the name of God, leave
your sister behind—she’d be conspicuous, far too conspicuous.

One of my guards will
be waiting for you at the servants’ entrance, on the west side. I hate to ask
this of you, but I have nowhere else to turn. Please, come in haste. Transport
if you can, but be discreet at all costs, even that of time—a rogue
faction of the magicked has my children, and will kill them if it learns I sent
for you.

Vane
respected the king. Loved the king. It had been Rexson Phinnean to bring Vane
to the small, quiet nation of Traigland in the first place, in order to learn
from Zacry. Vane’s parents had been a duke and duchess in Herezoth and faithful
to the royal family, even after Vane’s sorcerer uncle, his mother’s twin, executed
a coup d’état mere months after Vane was born. Valkin, Vane’s father, had died
in the initial scuffle for the Crystal Palace. Vane’s sorceress mother had met
her end in a later battle, the final battle to reinstate the legitimate
monarch, who still ruled, a father who had now lost his three sons and perhaps
young daughter with them. So Vane gathered from that letter.

Herezoth’s
ruler was an honest man, with a streak of selflessness that Vane personally
could confirm. “Selfless” was the word Vane thought, but “loyal,” perhaps,
would have been more accurate; Vane’s parents had lost their lives for Rexson’s
sake, and Rexson repaid them by watching over their orphan son. Admittedly,
“watching over” meant little more than sending clothes, books, and tutors, and
arranging for Vane to visit the Palace every third year when he had still been
living in Herezoth with the woman who had raised him, an innkeeper named Teena
whom the boy called his aunt. But then, Vane’s situation was delicate. Not only
was he a sorcerer, a dangerous thing to be at any time across the ocean; he was
also the dead dictator’s nephew. Vane’s visits to Rexson’s home had never been
publicized.

Rexson
could have involved himself to a greater degree in Vane’s upbringing, should
have done more to make Herezoth safer for those with magic powers: these were
Vane’s principal criticisms of the monarch, especially the last. The king had
never reached out to the empowered, a community that felt persecuted in general
and even personally by Rexson, for Rexson had torn down Zalski’s rule. Zalski
was Vane’s uncle, and he had proposed that the magicked not be persecuted. In
fact, he had thought sorcerers should rule the kingdom.

Rexson
was wrong to ignore the magic problem, but he did the best he could. He had
suffered much to reclaim the throne as the only surviving member of the
Phinnean line. Vane’s heart broke to learn the king was suffering again, and
shame filled him to think how the pains came, as before, at the hands of people
with powers like Vane’s own.

Zacry
had already left home. He had probably gone to his sister, the sister
referenced in the king’s letter. She was older than her brother and had been a
major player in Rexson’s bid to retake power.

Vane
turned invisible with a whispered magic word. He forgot his lamp, leaving it
alight, and a second phrase transported him to Kora Cason’s family room. The
place was all aclutter: dolls, whittled toys, and wooden swords covered nearly
all the space that Kora’s mother’s loom left free. A shelf on the wall held a
small collection of books, most of them grammars for the children.

As
straight and strong of body as any man of twenty-six, Zacry was there with his dark
hair and gray-green eyes. His rugged face looked more severe than usual. His
brother-in-law Parker, red-faced from the fires of the smithy where he passed
his days working, had taken to pacing the floor, as much as that was possible
with all the mess. Only the house’s mistress looked pale, though the ruby that
had spent the last fifteen years fixed to her forehead provided even her a
splotch of scarlet. Her chestnut curls were pulled in a loose bun, and her skin
had a gray tinge. The baby’s dress she was stitching shook in her hand.

“I’m
going with you,” Kora told her brother.

Zacry
protested, “You have five children.”

She
shook the dress in his face. “You have an infant of your own! This is for your
daughter, not mine. Tressa wouldn’t fit in this.”

Parker
stopped his roaming to put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Zacry has to go. The
king sent for him.”

“And
specifically wants you to stay here,” said Zacry. Kora’s grayness deepened.

“I
don’t believe you. Where’s the letter? Why didn’t you bring it?”

“You
shouldn’t go,” said Parker. “You belong here, and I don’t say that for the
kids. It’s because of who you are, because the king had to banish you last time
just to save your life. After those papers printed your letter, the whole kingdom
knows about your ruby. They know you’re the Marked One.”

Kora
swore. “That ridiculous legend. I don’t care if it’s about me. I still say it’s
absurd. A hero to save Herezoth with a mark on his face…. I didn’t put the ruby
there, and if I did
save Herezoth, I
most certainly had help.”

Parker
told her, “If anyone over there caught the gem glinting, well, this time Rexson
would have to kill you. You know that, Kora. He wouldn’t have a choice, and you
wouldn’t be the only victim. If people saw that ruby, word would get around and
the king’s own sons would die. The magic folk would kill them. That’s what Zac
said. You want to be responsible for that?”

Kora
threw an empty glass against the wall, where it shattered dangerously close to
Vane’s head. He ducked to avoid it, but did not blame her. It must be hard to
live in exile, to see your brother going home when you yourself never could.
Kora had already spent fourteen years in Traigland, and she was young,
thirty-two or thirty-three. Traigland was far from horrible, but it was quaint.
Vane could not imagine spending a lifetime here.

“What
do they want?” she demanded. “The kidnappers, what do they want? Are they
blackmailing the royals?”

Zacry
said, “I haven’t a clue why they did this. I don’t know what makes Rexson think
I can help him, but it’s clear he does think that, so….”

“The
king needs us both,” Kora insisted. Not only her forehead, but also her eyes
looked red, gleaming with passion, with determination. With envy. “I know him.
He’s planning a rescue attempt, that’s why he wants you. Who knows how many are
in this faction that took his kids?”

Vane
cancelled his invisibility. The others jumped as he appeared in their midst.

“Rexson
will have me,” said the boy. “I came of age two years ago, and I want to go
with Zacry. Kora’s right, the king’ll need more than one sorcerer to get his
sons back, and the man’s done a lot for me. I have a debt to him…. I found his
letter,” Vane explained.

Kora’s
expression softened a bit, but she told him, “You aren’t going. Your mother
would kill me if I let you do this. Her first priority was always protecting
you.”

“It
seems to me,” noted Zacry, “that Laskenay’s first priority was helping Rexson.
She didn’t have to fight, you know. Knowing what her decision cost her, I’d say
what would pain her now would be you leaving your children without a mother
like she did, like she felt she had to. You don’t have to. Rexson didn’t send
for you.”

Kora
spoke with a clenched jaw. “You have an infant daughter,” she reminded him a
second time.

“I
haven’t forgotten that! I’m not the one exiled under penalty of death, and
look, the king
did
send for me. I
can’t well ignore him. That would be callous. You’re not suggesting I ignore
the man?”

“Have
you talked to your wife about this?”

“I
spoke with Joslyn before I came here. She’s not happy, obviously, but she sees
the clear obligation I…. I’m worried about her, Kora. She’s not been having an
easy time of it, with the baby. It’s her first, so naturally she’s scared, and
now I’m leaving. Will you help her? Let her know she can turn to you, if she
needs anything?”

Kora
took a deep breath, to gain some measure of control. She folded her brother in
her arms. “Of course Joslyn can come to me. She can come to me in the dead of
night if she needs to, or to Mother. You just worry about yourself and those
poor boys.”

Zacry
pulled away from her. His eyes grew hard, his face rigid. His hand balled into
a fist. “They’re younger than I was,” he said. “Every one of them is. The
oldest is.”

“I
know,” said Kora. “I know they are.”

“Whoever
those monsters are, they’ll pay. I’ll make them pay. No one uses children as
pawns.”

Kora
bit her lip. “Watch yourself, Zacry. Don’t make this personal.”

Vane
said, “It is personal, for all of us. We know Rexson, and he doesn’t deserve
this, let alone his kids.” He caught Kora’s eye. “I know his kids, and I’m
going back to help them.”

Kora
grabbed Vane’s hands. “I wish you wouldn’t,” she said. “I really wish you
wouldn’t. But I won’t try to stop you. For one, I’m not your mother, I know
that all too well. Forgive my forbidding you earlier. It’s not my place to
forbid you anything. I was no older than you are now when I joined the Crimson
League, and much greener. Much too green.”

The
Crimson League was what the organized resistance movement against Zalski had
named itself.

“Vane’s
ready,” Zacry asserted. “He’s ready to return where he belongs. I’d tell him in
no uncertain terms if I thought otherwise. He’s growing restless here.”

Kora
still had her fingers wrapped in those of Laskenay’s son. “He is,” she agreed.
“I mentioned that to him last week, and we talked the situation over. Discussed
him maybe getting on a boat sometime next year.” She pleaded with the boy,
“Just promise me you’ll follow Zacry’s instructions. And the king’s.”

Vane
promised. He said, “I won’t forget those stories about my mother. I feel like
I’ve gotten to know her through you. When my aunt gave me her letter, it was
hard to imagine she’d been a decent person. It was hard to imagine her at all.
All I could think was that man had been my uncle.”

Vane’s
voice fell away. Kora kissed him on the cheek, holding back tears. Parker put
an arm around her waist, a well-toned arm thanks to his work, to remind her
that he, at least, was going nowhere. The gesture bolstered her. “When are you
leaving?” she asked her brother.

“Tonight.
We’ll transport. I can make the distance to the coast.”

“To
Herezoth’s coast?” said Parker.

Traigland
was an island, and a good two thousand miles from Herezoth across the straight
sea. The journey by boat, however, would have taken at least a month, as the
crags and cliffs of an unfortunately placed marine mountain chain meant the
water route had to cut far from any kind of direct path.

“Godspeed,”
Kora told the men.

* * *

After
visiting his sister, Zacry returned home. He found Joslyn in the long, narrow,
and unexpectedly clean kitchen. She had straightened up and swept in his
absence, he suspected out of nerves, to give her hands something to do. He told
her that Vane would travel with him, and neither her coffee-tinted face nor her
deep, dark eyes, both typical of Traigland natives, revealed any emotion. She
had expected Vane would join his teacher, one way or another, as soon as Zacry
had shown her the king’s letter. In fact, she had made them both sandwiches of
salted beef and fresh rye bread to take with them for a midnight snack, so they
would waste no time heading off. “No use dallying,” she said.