The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (45 page)

“I have to get Vane and August home. To
Vane’s aunt, just in case he…. Then I’m coming straight back, all right? Don’t
touch anything. Don’t do
anything
.”
Part of him feared Gratton might kill himself.

Zac returned to where August had Vane
cradled in her bloodstained arms; he put a consoling hand on her shoulder and
asked, “You all right?”

She spoke through her tears. “I’m not
hurt. Just my ankle.”

“The baby?”

“Everything feels fine, I don’t know how.
I did faint earlier.”

“When Bennie…?” August could only nod her
response. “Who did they come for? Her or you?”

“Me,” said August. “It was me. She tried
to stop them, to stall, to talk them out of….”

“Who were they, do you know?”

She turned her head the other way, so as
not to look, and pointed at the corpse next to Vane, the one with a bloody X
across the entirety of its chest. “That’s Carson Amison.”

A choking noise issued from Zacry’s
throat. “The
Duke of Yangerton
Carson
Amison?”

“He killed her himself.”

“All right,” said Zacry. “All right, take
it easy.” He helped August stand and then hoisted Vane, an arm around his
waist. “Let’s get you two away before someone shows up here.”

Zacry transported outside the master
suite at Oakdowns and helped August settle Vane in bed. After checking that
Vane still breathed and watching August ring a bell for a servant who could
fetch Teena, he transported to the Palace for Rexson. He found the king, as he
expected, pacing the library while a pale Gracia sprang up when Zacry entered.

The king said, “Francie Rafe sent for me after
you ran off. Intuitive, that girl is. She wasn’t happy when I told her to leave
with the others…. August summoned Vane? Is she all right?”

“She’s all right. Pregnant, Rexson, but
all right. At least there’s that, because Carson Amison’s killed Bennie.”

“He has not….”

“And he and Vane may well have killed
each other, though Vane’s holding on for now.”

“
Amison
?”

 
Come on,” Zacry urged.

The queen insisted, “You’re taking me to
Vane.”

“Gracia,” said the king, “I need you
here. Vane
needs you here. Limit the
political aspects of the damage, stall any scribes who might come seeking out a
story. However you must do it, see it done.”

“Of course,” stammered Gracia. “Of
course.”

The king and sorcerer were with Gratton,
who still knelt where Zacry had left him, in less than a minute. More from a
subdued and stunned hysteria than any sense of obedience, Gratton had followed
Zacry’s instructions and not touched a thing beyond sweeping Bendelof’s hair
from where it had fallen across her eyes, which he had closed. Rexson’s lip
trembled to look at his companion from years ago dead on her living room floor,
and Zacry clapped him on the shoulder. The gesture bolstered the king to take
in the entire scene; he jumped back in horror to set eyes on Amison.

“Vane
did that?”

“Vane took a dagger in the stomach for
August, is what Vane did
.
There were
three bowmen here….”

“I can see that,” said the king. He
paled. “Vane once said he was willing to die for her.”

“He sure as hell came close.”

“How did this…?” stammered Rexson.
                                                                    

“I haven’t the slightest idea. August
could say more, but we’re not
interrogating
her now. That’s beyond cruel.”

“We have to. I
have to. The Duke of Yangerton is dead in one of my captains’
houses, Zac. I need to know what I’m covering up.”

“What’s to cover up? He assaulted the
Duchess of Ingleton, and her husband killed him and his accomplices in defense
of her. Vane committed no crime, and Amison’s got no family to be sullied by
the story.”

“No family he can claim, you mean. At
least no children he claims. He does have sisters…. Look
at him! Where did the boy learn…?”

“I didn’t teach him
that!”

“Her necklace,”
muttered Gratton. He had been self-absorbed throughout the conversation, and
just then noticed the porcelain rose missing from Bennie’s neck. “What did they
do with her necklace? It’s not enough to kill her, they had to steal….”
                

“It’s here somewhere,”
said Rexson. He and Zacry started searching, and found the broken chain protruding
from beneath a chair. The charm was nearby. Rexson passed them to the widower.

Gratton shot, “I don’t
want it. Give it to your daughter.”

“It’s not for
you, Gratton. I gave that to Bendelof
Esper for good, not on loan, and by your leave I’d like her buried wearing it.”

Since the chain had snapped elsewhere than its
clasp, Gratton could do nothing more than drape it on Bennie’s neck, which he
attempted with hands shaking so badly the rose charm slid off twice. Gratton’s
self-control was weakening, while in the face of what Rexson had been fearing
for almost a year, the king’s resolve strengthened each moment.

“This is what we do,” said Rexson. “Zac will
unfreeze that last conspirator son of a bitch, and we’ll interrogate him
rather than question August about what
happened, because it just occurred to me that’s an option, and I won’t
inconvenience the girl barring a grave necessity to do so. Then we’ll freeze
him again until we can get soldiers here to arrest him for complicity in the
murder of Bendelof Esper. The scoundrel will be tried and hanged by week’s end.
But that’s later. For now, once he answers our questions we’ll go to Oakdowns,
all of us. Gratton, you’ll decide whether you prefer to stay at the Palace this
week or with Hayden Grissner, because you’re not returning here or lodging
anywhere alone, is that clear?”

Gratton
replied, “Unfreeze that bastard and you’ll be booking me, not him. There is no
way I’m not
killing him if I have to
rip him apart with my bare hands.”

“Then
I’ll interrogate him at the prison later. Oakdowns, Zac?”

“I
feel we should get Bennie off the floor first. And fetch Hayden, but I’ve never
seen his home. I can’t transport for him.”

“We’ll
send for him,” said the king. “And you’re right about Bennie, good Giver! We’ll
put her on the couch. Help me.”

Vane
was stable but still unconscious when they reached Oakdowns. His pulse had
strengthened somewhat, but no one dared pronounce him out of danger; his fate
would involve a waiting game, one with no magical expedient to make time pass.
August sat with him, as she refused to drop his hand, and Teena flew to and
fro, fetching towels and water. She kept wiping Vane’s face to keep him cool
and maybe bring some color to his cheeks.

August said in
greeting, “He stopped breathing for a good thirty seconds after Zac left. I was
pumping his chest. I probably broke ribs.”

“Did you call for a
doctor?” asked Rexson.
     

“I thought it better
to wait for Zac. I knew he’d return to check on him.”

Zacry came up and cast
another slew of healing spells. Rexson hugged a tear-soaked and bloodstained
August—she had not changed clothing, would not dare to leave Vane’s
side—and she said, “It’s all my fault. He warned me not to leave today,
he….”

The
king said, “We’ll not start this, do you hear? You are in no way responsible
for what’s happened. In any case, had it happened yesterday, or tomorrow, even
next week, things would have been much worse. Zacry would have been elsewhere.”

“He
kept mentioning a secret,” said August.

Rexson said,
“You mean Amison now, I suppose?”

August nodded. “Some
kind of secret he was sure Val knew, but I, I have no idea at all what that
could be. Val doesn’t know any secret of Amison’s. How could he? And if he did,
he would have told me. He
would
have
told me, wouldn’t he?”

The king considered
her question. “It might depend on what he learned.”

“He knew nothing,”
August insisted. “Not a thing. Where would he unearth something Amison would
kill over?”

Rexson had no need to
ask August painful questions. She found a therapeutic effect in explaining what
had occurred, and she began with the evening Val had taken her to Yangerton and
threatened Amison with magic. She admitted her pregnancy, and though Rexson
considered on one or two occasions ordering Gratton out, he decided it might
help the man grieve to learn exactly how and why Bennie had lost her life.

“She started talking,
and just kept talking to buy me time. I knew what she was doing when she told
them who she was. I knew how it all would end, but I was gagged. I couldn’t
stop either one of them.” August was sobbing on Rexson’s shoulder by the end of
her tale, still refusing to release her grip on Vane’s fingers.

“August,” the king
told her, “I need you to listen now.” The duchess wiped her face with a
frightened nod. “Vane’s not only killed someone, he’s done so using magic.
Sorcery. And the man he slew is one of the most renowned political minds of the
age. You realize what I’m saying? What this will appear to be?”

“It’ll look like he’s
his uncle. Your Majesty, that spell….”

“Do you know where he
learned it?”

“A book he found
sealed in one of the bedroom walls during renovation. It had been there at
least a century, he said, probably hidden by a worker when the manor was built.
Val’s mother could never have touched the thing, and Val, he wouldn’t touch it
himself at first. After we got married, he made himself study some of the
incantations, just in case. He never thought to use a single one. You know he’d
never…. It was for emergencies, a life or death moment when there was no
other….”

“An emergency like
today. I understand, August. I understand he was thinking he might die, and
that Amison could slip out the back while Zacry and Gratton took care of the
underlings. He was worried a free Amison meant an Amison who could come after
you and your child a second time. I understand what Vane’s intentions were.
Unfortunately, as you’ve already noted, the public at large will not. If Vane
thought the council protests disturbing…. You can’t stay here, not for the
present, neither one of you. I can’t buy you more than twenty-four hours until
notice spreads.”

“Your Majesty, he
can’t be moved, not again. It’ll kill him. It’s a miracle he didn’t die the
first time. Can’t we hide that Val slew Yangerton? That he ever came to
Bennie’s?”

“I don’t recommend we
try that. The rest of the council, not to mention a number of guardsmen, saw
your husband rush from that meeting and take Gratton with him. And it’s well
known Vane and Amison were enemies, so when Amison turns up dead at Gratton’s
house….”

“We can move the
bodies,” August insisted, “create a false crime scene.”
 

“And if someone
learned we’d done that? No, August, it’s got to be the truth, the open truth. To
cover up Vane’s presence in that living room will only paint him guilty. Your
husband’s no murderer. That’s why I have to go to the papers, tonight. So I’m
telling you, I can bribe them to hold the story for twenty-four hours while I
investigate events, but beyond that….”

She repeated, “He
can’t be moved. He’ll die if he’s moved.”

Zacry said, “If he
can’t leave, I’ll stay as long as necessary. Extra security. I just need to
speak to Joslyn, and Kora, the Giver help me.”

How could Zacry tell
his sister that Bendelof Esper was dead? The thought made him feel sick, but he
looked August in the eyes. “My mother will help Joss with the kids. This is no
inconvenience to anyone, understand?”

“Thank you,” August
mouthed, and Zacry transported out.

Zacry found his sister
shredding lettuce and slicing tomatoes in her kitchen, while Kansten helped and
Ilana watched the other children. Kora needed nothing more than one glance at
her brother, at his red eyes and clenched jaw, to feel her heart rise in her
throat and order Kansten to go help her grandmother. She was well aware that
day was to be the Magic Council’s first session.

“Who?” was all she could ask when the
child disappeared.

“Bennie.” Kora’s hand slipped and
overturned her cutting board; produce flew across the table. “It’s Bennie. And
Vane might not make it through the night.”

“Oh good God!” She fell back against the
wall. “God, no, not him too! You’re taking me to him. I don’t care about people
seeing. Zacry Porteg, you’re….”

“I’ll come back for you,” he promised. “I
have to see Joss first. Ask Mother to spend the night at my place for a while,
all right?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Trial

It was close to ten p.m. when Vane came
to. The king had left Oakdowns hours before, to see to a quiet removal of the
bodies and to bribe the papers not to print anything about Amison’s death for
at least a day. Hayden and Kora sat holding hands near the door of the bedchamber.
Neither spoke, though they had not said a word to one another since he escorted
her out the Palace the day Zalski had died. Zacry, meanwhile, stood a few feet
off trying to console Gratton. Teena hovered around the bedside, and August
still clutched Vane’s fingers in hers as though his life depended on her not
letting go, when everyone heard him rustle.

Vane blinked a couple times, but then
winced, his eyes screwed shut. He turned his head toward August, and she told
him, “It’s me. It’s me, Val. We’re at home, so try to rest, all right?” He
squeezed her hand as he did manage to look at her, and she said, “Teena’s here,
and Zac and Kora, even Hayden. You gave us quite a scare…. No,” she said,
forcing him back as he tried to sit up, tried to verify her claim of visitors.
“Don’t exert yourself. You’re too weak. You lost loads of blood. You’ve been
unconscious all day and you need to rest, understand?” She looked to Teena.
“Water. He should drink some water, don’t you think?”

They had a glass prepared, and Teena and August
propped him up to drink something of it. When he had, and was trying to smile
at everyone though he lacked the strength for talking, Kora walked up with
tears of relief in her eyes. He recognized her and even rasped out her name.
“I’ll have to go soon,” she said. “I’ll have to go in maybe half an hour,
though Zac’ll stay. It’s close to one in Traigland, and I have to rise early,
with the children. I was waiting as long as I could, hoping you’d come around,
but I’m coming back tomorrow. You’d better listen to your aunt and wife in the
meantime and be here waiting for me, understand?”

Vane nodded weakly, too weakly for his
liking. All of him ached. Though not completely lucid, he was lucid enough to
ask, “Bennie?”

His most direct response was August
bursting into sobs. “Try to rest,” Kora told him. “You try to rest.”

Vane’s head was spinning from lack of
blood, so he did not resist when August helped him lie back down. His body was
in such shock the only thing it knew to do was sleep, and so he slept while
August stroked his hair. Kora left, then Hayden and Gratton together. Zacry
settled for the night in the corridor between the master suite and the manor
proper, leaving August and Teena with the invalid.

“Is he out of danger, do you think?”
August whispered.

“His coming to was good, and he
recognized people, which is better.”

“Is the baby safe?”

August held a hand to her stomach; Teena
placed one on her shoulder. “If the shock of all of this was going to make you
miscarry, you would have by now, I’d think. But still, you really should rest
some. Try to feel calm.”

“I can try. I don’t think it’ll happen,
Teena.”

Teena nodded in sympathy. “Did I ever
tell you I lost a daughter?”

August let out a little gasp. “I had no
idea….”

“I didn’t miscarry, though I could have.
I was married to a man who beat me routinely, worse than ever when I told him I
was pregnant. Quint refused to think the child could be his. It was, of course.
Thanks be to the Giver, he left after that last beating. I never saw him again.
Never got word of him, either. I thought I’d lose the baby from the assault,
half-thought that might be best, but I carried her to term. She was beautiful,
August. I was terrified she’d look like him somehow, but no, she looked exactly
like my mother. She was jaundiced, though, and her health was poor. The local
doctor could do nothing, though he tried different salves. My Marcie was too
small for any kind of bleeding. That would have killed her outright. She only
made it to one month, bless her tiny heart, and I was devastated, but then
Laskenay showed up with her infant.”

“That part I do know,” August said.

“I had no business accepting her son. My
husband could have returned any day and thought the boy was my child. He could
have seen Vane’s mark, believed me proved unfaithful, and killed us both. I’m
sure he would have. Taking Laskenay’s sweet angel was the most selfish thing
I’ve ever done, but the Giver be praised, the boy never suffered for my choice.
Quint kept his distance. Vane grew up beneath my care, and the precautions I
took to protect him from his uncle, from my husband, distracted me from my
grief over losing my daughter.

“August, you haven’t lost your baby yet,
which is a miracle in itself. But if you should, I promise you life goes on,
and life is filled with miracles of all shapes and sizes. They don’t all come
wrapped in blankets or wail all night long.”

“It’s a miracle Val got to me in time. A
miracle he’s alive right now. I don’t know what I’d do without him, Teena.”

“Neither me,” said the older woman.

“Did you ever tell him about Quint and
Marcie?”

“I haven’t had the strength to confess
what danger I put him in. Please keep my confidence, August.”

“Of course I will, if you’d like me to.
If you want my opinion, though, you feel guilty where you shouldn’t. Val’s been
blessed his entire life to have you, and I’m glad you’re with me now, with the
both of us.”

Teena patted her nephew’s wife on the
arm. “Which settee would you like? East wall or west? I’m not leaving you alone
tonight, just in case. Why not take the east? It’s softer, you’ll sleep
better.”

“I doubt I’ll sleep at all. But I will
try.”

* * *

The next morning Vane was not as pale as
before, though he suffered severe vertigo when he so much as turned his head.
Wilhem and Walten had drawn him pictures, and Kansten, on hearing Vane was
sick, sent her mother with the plush puppy she always snuggled when she was feeling
bad herself. Kora could not help but smile when August propped it beside Vane
on his pillow.

“That’s a loan, mind you, not a gift.
Kansten was emphatic on the point.”

They held their breaths, every one of
them, when Teena brought in the
Podrar
Bugle
, but Rexson had succeeded in—literally—buying them
precious time. Though news of Amison’s death would break the next morning, Vane
already seemed stable enough to be moved without great danger. The hope was
that, by the end of the day, his vertigo would be less severe and transporting
to Traigland that much safer.

Once Zacry knew Oakdowns would be secure
for the day, if not necessarily through the night, he transported out to
question Amison’s only living accomplice, the one still frozen in Bendelof’s
living room. As he arrived at the murder scene with Rexson, who wore his robes
so the brute would know precisely with whom he was dealing, Zacry thought his
skin had never crawled so much. The bodies had been removed, including the only
one he cared about, but he could feel the deadened eyes looking up at him
still, could see that horrid crimson X carved on Amison, hear August’s pleas to
Vane not to leave her. Blood had pooled and spattered everywhere—across
the walls and furniture, on the white wooden door that led out back—blood
that by then had browned and congealed. Trying not to contemplate which puddles
came from Bennie, Zacry held a swordpoint to the statue’s chest, and Rexson
forced the man against the wall when the sorcerer restored his cognizance. Amison’s
accomplice, stout and full-bearded, stared at the two in shock.

“Who are you?” barked Zacry.

“Yangerton’s servants. We’re all….” The
man’s eyes darted around; he realized he was alone. “We’re all his servants.
Where…?”

Rexson demanded, “What secret was he
convinced Ingleton knew?”

“If it’s something he’d kill Ingleton’s
wife over it’s not something he’d tell us, is it?”

That confirmed August’s account of the
motive. “So she was the target?” the king demanded. “How long were you tailing
her before…?”

“Three weeks. Maybe four.”

“And she never caught on?” said Zacry.

“No one would have. We knew what we were
doing,” claimed the assailant. Zacry moved his sword up to the man’s Adam’s
apple.

“Have you a plant at Oakdowns?” he
demanded. The man issued a denial. “Have you? I’m not jesting.”

“By the time Yangerton thought to try
that, Ingleton’d made all hires. He hired staff back in December.”

“That’s true, Zac,” said the king.
“Gracia suggested relatives of proven servants at the Palace. He hired no one
else.”

Zacry lowered his sword and asked the
conspirator, “What the hell was Amison thinking, do you know?”

“That he had nothing to lose. Bring down
Ingleton and flee, or watch Ingleton destroy him with the information he’d
gathered: those were his choices. At least, that’s what Amison said.”

“And you?”

“Me? I was thinking one less sorcerer to
screw up the kingdom, the better.” The man smirked. “Where’d the duchess go, is
she alive? And Ingleton, eh, where’s he? We didn’t kill the son of a bitch?”
Zacry swung the hilt of his sword so hard into the conspirator’s face the
gloating man’s nose cracked, and he doubled over, hand above his mouth. Zacry
forced him back aright; blood was already matting the servant’s beard.

“You will not insult that man or his
mother in front of me.”

The servant nodded in a panic that only
grew more intense when Zacry muttered unfamiliar words, some kind of spell. The
sorcerer, though, did nothing more than heal him.

“My guard is on its way,” said Rexson.
“Do you know what woman your master killed yesterday?”

Confusion replaced the panic.
“Yesterday?”

“It was yesterday,” the king repeated.
“Do you know who she was?”

“She told us, didn’t she? Bendelof
Esper.”

“Indeed,” said the king. “The wife of one
of my guard’s captains.”

Panic returned to the assailant’s face.
“A captain? He’s just a common soldier. She wasn’t married to….”

“Oh, but she was. Amison would have done
better not to ignore the man of the house…. Neither Ingleton nor his wife are
dead, I’ll have you know, and the duchess told my captain exactly how his wife
was killed. If you’d prefer I not give my soldiers direct orders to hand you
over to him before your trial and subsequent hanging, you’ll explain how this
came about, and you’ll give me your version of yesterday’s events.”

They had followed August once, four weeks
ago: not long after Vane’s run-in with Amison outside the theater, if August’s
information had been correct. When she went to Bendelof’s that day, they kept
the house under surveillance to see whether she returned, and noticed August
came most Tuesdays, while Gratton was never home then. Those weeks she failed
to appear, she sent a servant with an excuse from Oakdowns.

When the Magic Council’s first session
was scheduled for a Tuesday, which meant Ingleton would be occupied, Amison set
his ambush. August had come a bit later than usual, but came nonetheless. As
for the home invasion, the man’s account dovetailed nicely with August’s,
though his was more precise. Rexson’s guard arrived as the servant finished his
tale; when they had carted him off, Zacry asked the king, “Can we try him
without August’s testimony? You can’t subject her to testifying, to the threats
and the jeers and the…. She’ll miscarry for sure, from the strain. She’s been
through enough.”

“We can and will try the bastard without
involving her, and in open court. We just heard his confession. I’ll testify to
that myself.”

“So will I, but we coerced him, Rexson.
She might have to give a corresponding description, and if so….”

“He’ll confess before the judge, don’t
you worry. He knows if he doesn’t he’ll have to deal with Gratton, and the
Giver help us all, I’ll let Gratton at him in a heartbeat if the judge lets him
go. No one’s party to Bennie’s death without repercussions, not while I hold
power. If there’s one woman in Herezoth you bloody well don’t mess with,
it’s….”

Rexson’s voice started
shaking, so he stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” said
Zacry. “Each time I do I want to kill that man myself.”

* * *

Hayden stopped by Oakdowns that
afternoon, and Zacry returned with him to his house to check on Gratton. The
Peasant-Duke lived in a comfortable-looking cabin that overlooked the Podra River;
when they arrived, Hayden’s wife told them Bennie’s husband had gone out.

Hayden assured Zacry, “I know where he’s
gone.” He led the way five blocks north to a tavern, one of the few in Podrar
that served no food at all beyond hard, dry rye loaves. The place smelled like
stale whiskey and sick, and was nearly empty because the hour still was early.
Gratton, unshaved and dull-eyed, sat at a corner table with one depleted beer
glass and a second he had hardly touched. He looked to have changed his mind
about the drink, because a woman in a grubby apron brought him two servings of
liquor as Zacry and Hayden made their way over.