The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (33 page)

Oh,
you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Having me in your district, under your
surveillance and removed from the king. Nicely tried, Amison. I’m not that
foolish.

Neither of the dukes partook of pudding
after the meal. Amison left the dinner as dessert was being served, citing an
early morning departure back to Yangerton. Vane felt devoid of energy but had
no such excuse available, so he passed more pleasantries with a handful of
other nobles and stayed until everyone else had left, to speak with Rexson
before returning to Oakdowns. Then Rexson made his way to Gracia’s antechamber,
where the queen paced the floor, slipperless but clad in her satin gown, her
hair still up. She flew to her husband when he entered, grabbed his shoulders.

“How is Vane? How did things go? I was a
wreck, such a wreck clear on the other side….”

“Things went as we were all expecting.”

Gracia bit her lip. “Not any better?”

“At least nothing went worse.”

After four long months, Rexson felt he
had a semblance of a stable marriage again. His and Gracia’s shared interest in
Vane, their common desire for his swift and peaceful integration into court,
and most importantly, their identical views of how to accomplish such an entry
had gone far to reestablish their relationship.

“What did he tell you? Is he shaken at
all?”

“A bit, but nothing serious. We knew
Amison would never be supportive. He proved outright contentious, but he’ll
know better than to antagonize the boy further.”

“He shouldn’t be putting himself through
this, Rexson.”

“Vane? I agree with you.”

“I wish we could prevent him….”

“You know as well as I that we can’t. The
title’s his, and he’s of age. We can’t legally interfere.”

“He’s doing this for us.”

“No matter what
his motive,” the king qualified, “our hands are tied. He’s been
free to appear at court since the age of fifteen had he so chosen. I could
refuse to install him on the council, but we’ve discussed this. If the boy’s to
openly claim his duchy, it’s safer for him if I support him to the full extent
I’m able. Our trust in him must be transparent.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said. “And he’s
safe for the moment, I’m aware of that as well. It’s this horrid council that’s
the trouble. When word breaks you’re seeking magicked…. And what of the girl?”
demanded Gracia. “What will become of her, once her attachment to him is known?
She’s no more magic to defend herself than I.”

“I gave Vane the crystals this afternoon.
August’s already taken hers.”

Gracia shook her head. “What are they
thinking?” she asked. “Rexson, what are they thinking?”

“They’re not. They’re head over heels for
one another, and they’ll marry as soon as they can. If the timing were
convenient, they’d likely be engaged by now.”

“How did we let this happen? How did we
let them…?”

The king led her to an armchair. “There’s
no preventing these things, Gracia. People live, they fall in love. Those two
in particular, their backgrounds have striking similarities. I don’t know Vane
would have the strength to be doing this without her.”

“And that would be an evil? He shouldn’t
be doing this. He shouldn’t risk himself for us. He should have gone on letting
people think him dead before some lunatic confuses him with his uncle and….”

“I know, Dear.” Rexson took her hand, but
that did little to calm her.

“He could go back to Traigland, even
still. He could take August with him, and they could live in the peace they deserve.
Rexson, you could convince him.”

“My Dear, you know he’s resolved on this.
It’s the one way he
is
like his
uncle: he’ll do what he deems best and damned be anyone who tries to stop him.
I swear up and down, I’d give anything to change his mind. His family’s damn
well sacrificed enough for my sake, and I know better than anyone what it’s
like to live with openly declared as well as veiled enemies at your back. I
lived that way close to four years.”

“With this council, he could live that
way until he dies a natural death, should he survive that long. Why doesn’t he
see that?”

“He sees it, Gracia. He’s just that much
braver than I ever was…. If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe the threat
will be nearly that prolonged: a few months, if we’re fortunate. Once most
people come to terms with the idea of a Magic Council, he’ll be as secure as he
could ever hope to be. I daresay he’ll be able to marry in a year or two.”

Gracia caught Rexson’s eye. “There is
one way to end this,” she insisted. “We
kill the monsters who began it all. Your word or mine to Gratton, that’s all it
takes. He has the connections. There’s simply no reason to let Vane get himself
killed over this council when we….”

“You’re talking about August’s sister in
addition to the others,” he reminded her. “August visits her regularly. Could
you look that girl in the eye and tell her you ordered Ursa’s death? Could you,
Gracia? She wouldn’t be grateful. She’s in love with Vane, and still she
wouldn’t thank us if she knew we were acting purely on his behalf. Vane himself
would never forgive us hurting August that way.”

The queen blinked in surprise. “You meant
to say Ursa, did you not?”

“I said what I meant. Killing Ursa would
harm August. It was Vane who convinced August to speak with her sister in the
first place, who brought them together to some extent.”

“August told us months ago if her sister
had to die, she would understand.”

“What August meant was, she accepted we
had to detain Ursa and her cohorts, and if they somehow were killed in the
process, she wouldn’t grudge us. If we tried them openly and fairly for their
crimes and they received death sentences, that was justice taking its course,
and she could bear that. She was in no way referring to our cutting the woman
down in cold blood when she was already at our mercy and had received our
solemn word that she would live. My God! She’s repenting, to a great degree.”

“So spare her and kill the others. If
she’ll keep silent, if she’ll accept us postponing the council, perhaps
indefinitely, then kill Dorane and Arbora.”

“My understanding, from what August’s
told Vane and Vane’s passed on to me, is that Ursa’s enamored of Dorane
somehow. That was why she involved herself in the kidnapping to begin with. If
we killed him….”

“They’re in separate cities, Rexson. How
would she find out?”

“Prisoners transfer from prison to prison
constantly. Not those three, I’ve seen to that, but others do. If you don’t
imagine Ursa asks every individual who comes up from Yangerton for news of
Dorane…. My Dear, this council must happen. You know it must. To be honest, a
part of me knows it’s time for such a step, that the step should have been
taken centuries ago. The concept can and will succeed in our day, despite the
risks. I just wish Vane needn’t involve himself in the initial stages. God help
me, I do.”

Gracia squeezed her husband’s hand in
wordless sympathy.

CHAPTER THREE

Of Traigland and Tarts

The day after Vane joined court was
Tuesday, August’s day off. With her new crystal tucked beneath her dress,
Melly’s nurse set out to lunch with Bennie at one of their favorite taverns in
Crescenton, halfway between the Palace and Vane’s manor (where August was going
afterward). Vane had introduced the women in the fall, and they had developed a
sisterly repartee despite their fourteen-year disparity in age. The king’s old
companion fascinated August; Bennie spooked and impressed her telling stories
of the Crimson League, or from her time with the Enchanted Fist as Gretta
Yastly. By January, August was closer to Rexson’s spy than she had ever been to
Ursa, and had established a habit of going to her for advice.

The tavern was busy, perhaps two-thirds
full, but the women found a table near a window that looked to the street. They
had ordered tea and stew before August noticed the band on Bendelof’s finger.
She let out a little gasp. “Is that….?”

“Gratton and I eloped last night.”

August squealed in delight and took
Bennie in a hug. “Gracious! Good gracious, that’s wonderful! But what the
dickens are you doing here?”

“Getting married was spur-of-the-moment.
I wouldn’t stand you up because of that, and I’m thrilled to share the news, to
be honest.”

“I won’t tell Val a thing,” August
promised. “You should do that yourself. Oh, I hope things went well for him
yesterday. You should have seen him!”

“Was he nervous?”

“It didn’t show. Not beforehand, at
least.” August lowered her voice. “I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked me. I
wasn’t quite convinced where I stood before yesterday, but I am now, because
he’s so sure of himself. He has been since I’ve known him, I think. He just
didn’t realize it at first.”

August paused, then decided to continue.
“He knows who he wants to be. He sees what he needs to do to be that person,
and he’s doing it. He’s doing it, Hannah, and when I’m with him, I can’t think
of anything but how much I admire him, and except in rare moments I can’t feel
frightened. But when we’re apart, I’ve been here and there and all over the
place trying to think straight about him and me. All the uncertainty…. Heaven
knows how long that first period of turmoil will last. A month? Three years?
Heaven knows how long we’ll have to keep on being guarded, when we’ll be able
to finally think about marriage.”

Bennie, who still was not used to her
alias and almost started at being called Hannah, at the end of August’s rant
could not help but smile.

“You’re eighteen,” she said. “If you have
anything, it’s time. No need to rush things.”

“Back in the day,” said August, “how did
you handle not knowing what would happen? How and when it would all be over?”

Bennie rubbed her wrist—the wrist
she had nearly slashed all those years ago. “I didn’t handle the stress all
that well,” she admitted.

August insisted, “You handled it well enough.
You’re here, aren’t you? So how did you cope?”

“I tried to focus on the reasons I got
involved in the first place. When I needed a reminder, people assured me we
were all in that hell together, and that however we got through it, we’d come
through arm in arm. And we did, some of us.

“Now, your situation’s a bit different,
isn’t it? The road might be easier the entire way than you’re expecting, but if
it isn’t, you know you and Vane are in this together the same as my old crew
back then, and you have some, well, some powerful friends on your side.” The
king and queen. Zacry Porteg. “Keep sight of that when you get frustrated. And
man alive, remember you have time. Patience is a virtue.”

August smirked. “This coming from a woman
who eloped last night.”

“At age thirty-two, Little Miss. I’m sure
you’ll be married long before then.”

“I don’t have a reason to complain, not
compared with what you suffered at my age. But I…. Oh, I do hope things went
well for him yesterday! March, you know, March will be horrendous.” That
blasted Magic Council. “If things are bad in January….”

“Hopefully there’ll be time for
improvement before March.”

“That’s the idea,” August agreed. “Who
can say if things will unfold that way? And after March, well…. I’ve been
starting to wonder, you know. How can I be a…?”

August almost said “duchess” in the
middle of a tavern! She stopped herself and, feeling self-conscious, lowered
her voice so that she whispered. “How can I be his wife? I’m not the kind of person
people like him marry. I’d be a disaster.”

“You’d have some things to learn,” Bennie
admitted. “But your employer could help you there, surely? It makes sense you’d
be thinking about that, as close as you and Vane are, but don’t let it scare
you away from him. Don’t let those little snags prevent you from being simply
and gloriously happy together, because I think you would be. I really do.”

“I don’t know about
simply
,” said August. “I don’t know that anything to do with him
could ever be simple. But I like to think we’d be happy, no matter what kinds
of messes I’d get us in around company, and I really don’t mind the thought of
waiting. I just wish I knew how long it’ll have to be, and maybe a bit of what
will happen in the meantime.”

“March will be here soon enough,” Bennie
told her. “Try to enjoy what time you have until then, because it won’t be
pleasant when it comes. Enjoy Kansten’s birthday this Saturday.”

“I can’t go,” said August. “I have to
work. I’ll have the baby. I don’t dare ask to take her with me, so I’d rather
just stay here.”

* * *

Vane was looking forward to his return to
Traigland at the end of the week, even more than he let on when he met August
in his garden that Tuesday afternoon. He had no time to rest besides those
brief two hours with her for the next four days. The procuring of decorations
and furniture at Oakdowns was far from completed, though his aunt and servants
were taking charge there. A number of rooms, extra rooms, were still not
furnished at all, which meant that after leaving in the morning to respond to
invitations from his fellow nobles, Vane returned after dark to look at fabric
swatches and fist-sized pieces of stained wood, or chips of marble and granite,
and then the paintings and sculptures that had been bought that day, until by
Thursday night he told Teena as she approached him with a basket of linens in
the parlor, one of the first rooms they had put in order, “I can’t deal with
this now. You take care of it, please God! I trust your judgment, and I don’t
care about the décor in the empty rooms, I…. Teena, I’ll be ever so grateful.”

Teena was a short, vibrant woman with a
spring to her step, a plumpness that seemed almost airy, and more gray than she
would have liked mixed with the scarlet hair she usually let flow loose. Around
servants, she and Vane used different names than the ones they had called each
other the boy’s entire life. He was Valkin and she Aida, but they were alone
just then. “I’ll handle this, don’t worry. You take care of those other things,
the things I can’t.”

Vane nodded his thanks. His head was
pounding; he had not slept well the past month, but the last week had been
worse than before, and he did not foresee he would rest much that night either.
He just couldn’t seem to shut his mind off. His thoughts ran in a cycle, from
whatever nobles with whom he had passed the day to a specific one he had not
seen, and how glad he was Carson Amison had left the city; to August, and how
horrified someone like Amison would be to think a man of Vane’s birth would
even consider marrying a commoner, and how guilty Vane himself felt for all the
stress he was putting August through, stress that would only worsen in the next
few months; to how much he hated that he could only see her once a week, at
Oakdowns; to his estate and how huge it was, how obnoxiously, annoyingly huge,
and how much he abhorred having servants; back to the other nobles and how
comfortable they were around their servants….

Teena put a motherly arm around him. “I’m
proud of you, kiddo. I’ll get the manor in shape, so don’t waste your energy
worrying about that. I’ll have tea brought in as well, in a bit.”

“I don’t want….”

“It helped you sleep as a toddler, and
it’ll help you sleep now. It always does me. Anything else I can help you with
while I’m here, you let me know, all right? You just let me know.”

“Thanks, Aunt Teena. I will.”

She propped up her nephew’s chin. “You
can still walk away, Vane. You don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want
to.”

“
Want
and
should
don’t always coincide.”

Teena could tell he preferred to be
alone, though he was fighting the desire to ask her to leave. “To do what you
feel you should is one thing. To run yourself ragged is another. I hate to see
you this drained, this distracted.”

Vane thought of August. “It’s not all bad
distractions, at least.”

“I know, Dear. That August’s a gem. But
don’t forget to take care of yourself in all this, do you hear? Enjoy our visit
to Traigland tomorrow. I’m excited to go, and I want you to relax while we’re
there.”

“I’ll try,” Vane assured her. She tousled
his hair like she had done since he could crawl and let him have some time to
himself. When she had gone, he walked over to the one piece of décor in his
oversized manor he did care about: a portrait of his parents he had found
wrapped in a sheet in the attic. He was amazed Zalski had not destroyed the
thing, as no portrait of his grandparents, or great-grandparents, or anyone
else had been tucked away anywhere.

The portrait looked to have been made not
long after the previous duke and duchess had been married. They had stood
before the hearth in this very room, Laskenay in a gown with long, flowing
sleeves, probably to hide the sorcerer’s mark on her forearm, Vane had
realized. At least his was behind his shoulder, more easily hidden. Like Rexson
had always claimed, Laskenay’s son did look remarkably like his father. His
large, dark eyes, his shapely nose, even the cut of his chin and cheekbones,
Vane inherited that all from Valkin Heathdon.

Vane still had not grown used to the idea
that every noble he had met in the last few days had been among his parents’
social circle. He wondered what the couple had thought of them: whether
Laskenay had found dinners as tedious as Vane did; whether his father, like
Vane himself, had felt nauseated when his hosts insulted servants to their
faces. One thing Vane knew, Laskenay’s secret had been well guarded before
Zalski’s coup and her subsequent flight. She and her husband had been spared
the awkward silences and painful questions that had become the norm for their
son. They had never endured the whispers that ceased when Vane entered a room
and started up when he turned his back. The men mostly limited themselves to
queries or strange looks, all direct; it was their wives and daughters who
gossiped. Vane knew what they were saying even out of earshot.

“Do you think he does magic when he’s
alone?”

“Could he do something unintentional if
he’s not careful, do you think? Is he safe to have here?”

“I’ll tell my brother to be especially
kind, for his mother’s sake. I loved her, that I did. She was a sorceress, but
decent. We’d never have known if not for…. Well,
he
was her twin.”

“The lad seems decent enough. But so did
his uncle, I remember, at one point. Oh, I have chills just to think…. Who’ll
the boy end up like, him? Or her?”

“My husband said the king trusts him.
Even had a hand in raising him. That means nothing, of course. Zalski and
Rexson’s brother were like brothers themselves.”

Vane despised their pity and their
unease, their presumption in assuming they knew the slightest thing about him;
and that evening, the whispers had been more pronounced than usual. The Duke of
Podrar had hosted a dinner party in Vane’s honor, allowing the new duke to meet
the extended families of the nobility in a setting less formal than the Palace
could provide. Mason Greller agreed with Rexson that the sooner Vane grew
acquainted with his peers—the more time between initial introductions and
the announcement of the council—the better. Though Vane appreciated
Greller’s aid in the task, the process itself was less than pleasant.

At least the evening had held one
pleasant surprise. Vane had been disconcerted on Monday to walk into Rexson’s
office and discover that, besides Hayden, he was the only man present much under
the age of forty. Most had been older than Rexson. These men, of course, had
children and grandchildren much closer to Vane’s age, and the young men, at
least, seemed to take all the idiosyncrasies concerning Vane in stride.
Greller’s youngest son, who was twenty-two and soon to marry, even apologized
for the behavior of his mother and sisters (and the other whispering women) by
making light of it. “There’s nothing else happening at the moment, is the
trouble. Give them a week or two. An engagement will be announced, and you’ll
be old news. Sorcery holds nothing to a wedding gala.”