The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) (9 page)

“The
king? You want me to weasel my way into his confidence? How exactly do I do
that, Arbora? Offer him a reading, you say. Like that’s the easiest thing in
the world to.... What’s the man like?”

“Feign
humility. He’ll eat that act up. Harp on the fact you’ve no active magic, none
at all. Don’t talk openly about being a seer, not around other servants, but arrange
for someone to come across you cleaning your crystal ball. Pretend you didn’t
mean to be discovered.”

“And
if I don’t want to do this?” Bennie demanded. “I’m not too keen to go near that
tyrant. Rexson was chums with that bitch of a sorceress who slew my brother.”

“This
is not about Laskenay Heathdon,” said Arbora.

“The
bitch,” Bennie repeated for good measure. The insult made her stomach churn.

“Nor
is it about Rexson, Gretta. It’s about that council and the Fist having
influence there. The king will know nothing about you when you meet him. He
certainly won’t know you’re one of mine, so don’t let that out. Whatever you
do, don’t let that out, understand? He’d never willingly put a member of the
Fist on his new council.”

“And
why’s that, if I may ask?”

“It’s
none of your blasted business! Listen, I’ll need you in the Palace as soon as
you can get hired there. Go tomorrow to see what’s available. I’m speaking with
Rexson tomorrow evening, and it’s likely he’ll start arranging his council soon
after, even the next day.”

Meeting with the king
tomorrow? We’ll see about that.

“What
if I refuse to do this?” Bennie said again. “What if the idea of sweeping
floors, or making beds, or cooking meals for the servants doesn’t appeal to
me?”

“Don’t
be contrary. I know you’ll do this,” said Arbora. She softened her tone at an
eye roll from Gretta. “Dearie, I know you hate the king. I know the job you
take won’t be pleasant, but it’s all worth it in the end if we give the
magicked some kind of voice. Just get on that council!”

“Fine,”
said Bennie. “Fine, damn you. I’m in.”

“Oh,
I never doubted that.”

“I
just wish it could be Ursa cleaning the Palace, her with her stylish clothing
and ridiculous mansion.” Bennie cocked her head and made sure to sound offhand.
“You been to her place?”

“Once
or twice, but it’s been a while. Heard she added a back porch and refurnished
some rooms since the last time I was there. Must be a couple years.”

The boys are there,
all right. She’s too insistent she hardly knows the place.

Bennie
claimed, “I’ve never seen the monstrosity. Never been invited there. Ursa’s a
horrid snob.”

“That’s
interesting,” said Arbora. “She says the same about you.”

“I’m
not surprised. We get along well enough when we have to, though.”

“You’re
mature enough for that, the both of you. All right then, Gretta, I can’t stay.
You’ll look into a job tomorrow?”

“Hang
you, I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Good,”
said Arbora. She transported away. Shaking, Bennie sank into the room’s now
unoccupied chair. She straightened her wig, determined not to remove it. Who
knew if Arbora might return?

Good Giver, I didn’t
expect that, I…. Well, I’m positive now Ursa has the boys. There’s no way
Arbora hasn’t paid her a visit in two years. Ursa’s her third in command, and
Arbora can transport. Ursa can’t. Yes, the boys
must
be there. Why else would Arbora lie about
the mansion?

We’ll get Rexson’s
sons back, and tomorrow, first thing. Then I can end this. Man alive, if I’d
taken my wig off in the hall…. Get a grip on yourself! Just a few more hours of
Gretta. It ends tomorrow.

CHAPTER SIX

Mistaken
Identity

A
fine mist lay over the fishing villages the next morning, a mist similar to the
one that had blown from the sea each day the only other time Zacry had traveled
this far south. Months before Zalski came to power, it had been. A friend of
Zacry’s father had moved back to the trawling zone to be near his aging
parents. He invited the Porteg family for a visit, so Walten Porteg loaded up
his wagon with a chest he had made as a housewarming gift—Walten was a
carpenter—and took his son for a two-week stay. Kora was recovering from
a bout of flu when the invitation came, and her mother insisted on staying home
with her.

Every
morning of that visit had been humid and gray. Zacry had never experienced a
coastal clime, had never seen reeds so tall, or cypress trees, or slimy films
of algae like those that grew on the rocks of the bay where the fishing and
shrimping boats made dock. The novelty of it all, coupled with the excitement
of a first voyage, explained how he remembered the region so vividly, how he
could fix it with enough clarity in his mind even at the age of twenty-six to
transport the rescue party there from Podrar. He saved his companions a journey
of ten days.

Vane,
in contrast, had never traveled to the fishing villages. The fog was not thick
enough to hide from him that he and his companions stood just inside a
settlement even more rustic than his native Fontferry up north. The two or
three cabins he could just descry looked more like shacks. A hunting dog rested
in front of one of them, tied to the remains of a wooden cart. The vehicle was
missing wheels, and the hound that guarded it was far enough away from the
newcomers that it ignored them.

“Which
village is this?” barked Gratton. “Carphead?”

“Snapperville,”
said Zacry.

“And
we’re approaching from?”

“The
north.”

“Then
we want to go south,” announced the guardsman, and gestured for the others to
follow. He had spent the previous afternoon poring over maps.

After
an hour of trekking through weeds and brush with hardly a sight of even a dirt
road, Vane spied Ursa’s mansion, a building stylistically plain except for its
large upper windows. Wooden planks painted a cool shade of blue covered the
exterior. As the mansion grew larger, the vigilantes reached the border of
Ursa’s land. Waist-high hedges with a tended lawn and flower garden on the
opposite side marked her property. The morning had progressed, and the sun
dispelled the worst of the mist that had earlier obscured Vane’s vision. This
was where the king’s party would split up.

Gratton
took Rexson and Zacry and circled right. Their goal was to sneak to the window
of a vacant room on the lower floor, from which spot the sorcerer could
infiltrate the mansion, invisible, and do reconnaissance. Ideally, Zacry would
run across the princes and get them out without alerting a soul. Otherwise, he
might at least ascertain whether Ursa was home and get to the boys through her
coerced cooperation.

Vane,
Bendelof, and Hayden had the task of taking down the bear, which was roaming
around somewhere and could threaten the entire operation. A shame they had to
kill the thing, but there was no way around it. Vane wanted to freeze it
magically, to do it no permanent damage, but Gratton ruthlessly revealed the
flaws of that suggestion. “Use your head, boy. Suppose Dorane or Arbora shows
up and
un
freezes the thing? What do
you care about Ursa’s animal for? It’s got to die, and quietly. That’s why
we’ve got Hayden’s bow.” In the meantime, Zacry would freeze the bear if he
came across it first, so that Vane and Hayden could finish the job. If the
cursed thing found the king and soldier after Zacry were inside, well, the pair
had arrows of their own, but Vane hoped they wouldn’t have to use them. Gratton
would not be pleased if he had to shoot the bear himself, not pleased at all.

Hayden
led the second trio in the opposite direction. Vane ran their plan over and
over in his head.

Kill the bear. Look in
the windows, because Zacry’s on the other side, and go in if you see Ursa or
the boys. A black flash for the enemy, red one for the hostages. Get in and get
out. But first the bear, kill the bear….

The
bear found Vane’s party almost straightaway, charging from a clump of oak trees
near the mansion, where it was sitting with no restraints. Hayden acted in a
flash; before the beast gave two great bounds he loosed an arrow, which lodged
in the animal’s snout as it made a third massive stride. With an angry
roar—one Vane used a muting spell to silence, but some seconds too late—Ursa’s
pet reared up, exposing its chest, and took two more projectiles. Eyes red,
claws exposed, yelling in a voiceless rage, the creature careened toward the
building when the fourth arrow struck. Then the bear collapsed against the
mansion’s blue wooden wall.

Vane
threw himself to the earth, and dew soaked his clothing. Hayden followed suit,
pulling Bennie with him. Hearts racing, they crept toward the building ten
yards away. The sorcerer got there first and found a line of narrow, barred
windows hidden by a bush row the bear had crushed. He turned invisible before
he jumped the hedge and sprinted to the nearest pane, next to the animal’s
corpse. He peered into a basement, a basement Zacry could not have seen because
it covered only half the building’s length. An identical room must exist on the
other side.

His
voice shaking, Vane uttered two spells. The first sent up a soundless spray of
ink-colored flashing lights. The second sent up red ones.

* * *

August
was reading to the princes when a horrible, strangle-like roar sounded outside,
then somehow cut off midstream. The two older brothers sat before her, Hune on
her lap, and she dropped her book at the noise, clutching the youngest boy
tight. Hune threw his arms around her, and his fingernails dug in the back of
her neck as the bear collapsed against one of the room’s high windows, smacking
the bars, making the pane shake. Neslan and Valkin clasped hands.

“What’s
going on?” said Neslan. “August…?”

“Someone’s
come for us,” said Valkin.

August
clambered to her feet, pulling Hune with her. The pretty pink tint abandoned
her cheeks, leaving them pasty. She had no idea what to do except to herd the
boys out the basement. Valkin was right, she knew it as he spoke: a rescue
attempt. A rescue attempt was afoot, and Dorane, Ursa, Arbora, they were all
upstairs. If they had heard that bear shriek….

What
if Dorane got to the boys before the king’s men did?

“Let’s
go,” said August. “We can sprint to the main doors, get out the building….
Hurry!”

Hune
moaned in fear as she tugged at his arm. Valkin stepped on August’s heel he was
so close behind her, and they had reached the foot of the steps when out of
nowhere August tripped, or rather, a spell tripped her. She let Hune go and
pitched forward, cutting her forehead on the wood of the bottom stair. She let
out a terrified moan, clutching her face.

Dorane
had arrived. If he could bring himself to do it, he would murder not only the
boys but August too, for her interference.

August
opened her mouth to plead, but no sound came out. Someone, a sorcerer,
materialized in front of her. He had jumped to the second step, and he was not
Dorane. He was younger, with clearer skin, larger eyes, and nicer clothes. He
was a bit scrawnier, too. He uttered a word August did not understand, a second
spell, and she cried out as lavender-colored cords bound her. The boys tackled
the stranger before he could speak again, all three at once, and the sorcerer
lost his footing, dropping two feet to his back on the stone floor, nearly
crushing August.

Valkin
started as he looked at the young man’s face. He remembered him from somewhere
in the Palace: a dinner maybe, in the parlor. He remembered his father making
jokes on the occasion. This was a friend. But then why…?

The
crown prince realized Vane’s error. “That’s not Ursa!” he yelled at the
sorcerer. “That’s not Ursa. She’s Ursa’s sister.”

“Ursa’s
sister?” Vane coughed.

“On
our side,” Valkin told him.

“Don’t
hurt her!” Neslan cried. “She can’t do magic.”

“Let
me up,” said Vane. “I made a gross mistake. There isn’t time….”

The
boys released him. He vanished August’s bonds with another spell and helped her
to her feet. “I thought you were Ursa,” he said feebly.

The
appearance of three people on the landing prevented him saying more.
That
was Ursa, on the right. Arbora
stood in the center, Dorane on the left.

Valkin
and Neslan waved their arms in unison, without hesitation, and Dorane slid off
the landing’s edge. He slammed hard against the ground and looked dazed,
stunned. “Gag him!” Vane shouted, erecting an ice blue shield in front of Hune,
whom Arbora was pulling magically toward her. August tore a strip of fabric
from the bottom of her dress, lace trim and all, and leapt to gag a stirring
Dorane, then kick him to keep him subdued. Ursa jumped to attack her sister,
and Vane, one arm tight around Hune, let his magic shield slip away to fling
Ursa against the wall with the same incantation he had blocked Arbora from
casting on the youngest prince, one called
Mudar,
meant to move objects
.
Ursa hit
the back of her head and slid unconscious to the floor.

Then
a slew of things happened all together. Arbora yelled “
Estatua,
” and Neslan turned hard and gray, frozen like a statue.
Valkin screamed; Hune fainted and became a dead weight Vane had to support.
Dorane, regaining strength, ripped his gag away, overpowered August, magicked
over one of the boys’ pillows, and began to smother her. Vane made the pillow
vanish while Arbora froze Valkin the same way she had his brother. Dorane
grabbed for Ursa’s sister, who almost wriggled free from him, and the noise of
shattering glass rang out when three booted feet and a sword smashed four of
the basement windows.

Hayden,
Rexson, Gratton, and Bendelof aimed arrows through the bars; Vane could plainly
mark their faces. His sparks had brought the king and guardsman rushing over. Dorane
let August slip through his fingers at the distraction. Pale and coughing, she
fell a yard away from him.

Arbora
stood alone on the landing. She gaped to glimpse Bendelof in the first broken
window, as though she recognized the woman. Then the metal door behind Arbora
exploded, jarring her back to the moment, and she conjured a maroon shield to
block debris. Vane ducked, protecting Hune’s unconscious form.

Zacry
had arrived. Thank the Giver! Now Vane could get the children away from there.

Valkin
and Neslan would be all right. Whatever Arbora’s intent in freezing them that
way—to keep them from harm or to stop them from escaping—they were
safe in their current state. The same could not be said of Ursa’s sister. Carrying
Hune, Vane crouched and scurried to where August lay. Dorane was occupied by
the arrows aimed at him, and the split second he hesitated in reacting to
Vane’s approach allowed Vane to freeze him like the princes.

With
a ghastly-looking but superficial smear of blood across her forehead, August
reached out for Vane’s wrist. He transported to the Palace guest stables, since
Rexson had warned him he could not infiltrate the Palace itself via magic. He
put Hune on a bale of hay and assured August, who collapsed beside the eight-year-old
with an alarmed look, that the child was not hurt. Then he directed the only
stable hand he could find to fetch the queen and to run, in the Giver’s name!
The stables were empty when the man fled; the horses had been taken out for
exercise, but the odors of saddle leather and manure lingered. August wrinkled
her nose. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m
going back for Hune’s brothers. You’ll be safe here.”

Vane
turned invisible and transported back to the basement, where Arbora had
unfrozen Dorane, the two were dueling Zacry, and arrows were flying to minimize
Zacry’s disadvantage in being outnumbered. Vane materialized next to the frozen
princes, and he threw himself down, stomach to the floor, to avoid the barbed
missiles and stray incantations. He muttered
“Desfazair”
twice to free the boys, pulled Rexson’s older sons down
by their shirts, and transported once again to the stables. Valkin lost his
glasses, but they fell into his hand as he disappeared.

Vane
was panting. He should go help Zacry, but another transport and he would find
himself so winded as to be useless. When the queen came, he told himself: when
the queen came, he would go. Zacry wouldn’t grudge him waiting to deliver the
boys to their mother. That was just responsible. He knew next to nothing about
this girl with whom he would otherwise be leaving the children. Perhaps he had
been a fool to leave her with Hune the first time. Besides, Arbora and Dorane
were frequent visitors to the Palace. What if they should transport here?

Rexson
had told Vane to stay with the boys if he should find them, not to let them out
of his sight. And—he remembered with a jolt, as though the memory were
from years ago—Vane himself had promised Kora to obey the king.