The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) (30 page)

Laskenay protested, “He had Wilhem. Why would he kill Wilhem? If what you say is true, if he wants one of us alive….”

“Wilhem was a spy. His job was to pass information
to
you, he hardly knew a thing about what you and Menikas were doing, am I right? It wouldn’t have been wise for him to know. Besides, when Wilhem was caught Zalski didn’t have the book. Or the mindstone. No, Wilhem had to die.”

“Zalski has mindstone now,” said Laskenay. “And until we prove otherwise, I’ll assume he has the Lifestone. If we assume he doesn’t and we’re wrong….”

Kora glanced with a shudder at the book she held. “We have to keep the
Librette
from him. We have to.”

“If only we could destroy that page. That single page. The single word of the incantation.”

Kora and Laskenay tried to make the page, then the ink, vanish, but not even their combined power could deface the text. Kora knocked the
Librette
away in desperation. “What do we do? We can’t keep it with us, Zalski thinks we have it. We either found it or we gave up the search, that’s what he said before…. Before he killed Sedder.” Kora caught Laskenay’s eye. “I wasn’t fast enough. A simple shield spell would have saved him, my shell deflected that same curse when Zalski cast it at me.”

Laskenay put her hand back on Kora’s shoulder. “You had no experience with magic. You faced Zalski with the additional threat of some ten guards and Malzin, and lost one person. One person. I don’t mean to trivialize that loss, but you are the reason four people in the next room are still alive. Bennie told me what Sedder did. He died a hero’s death.”

A death to inspire his companions. The kind of death he had spoken of to encourage a frightened and confused young sorceress. Kora nodded, a faint, grateful smile beneath her tearing eyes. Laskenay gave her a motherly squeeze.

“You don’t have Petroc’s threats lying over your head anymore. Do you still want to leave us?” Kora stared at her feet. “Neslan said you mentioned leaving. He also said you handled your loss better than most would have.”

Kora could not bring herself to look at Laskenay. “I flew at Lanokas. What would someone else have done, stab him?”

“None of that matters now, you know it doesn’t. I just need to know if you’re still planning to walk away.”

“I’m not,” said Kora. And that was true. The frights she had shared with Kansten and Lanokas had changed her, had led her to discover a perseverant kind of strength inside herself that grew thin at times but would never snap in two unless she chose to destroy it. She wiped the remnants of a few stray tears from her face and changed the subject.

“How would Zalski know that spell exists? Hansrelto’s mindstone spell?”

“
Mudar
,” said Laskenay, and the familiar, faded binding of
The Book of the Book
came flying toward her. She set it atop the
Librette
and flipped a few pages. “Here,” she said. “I skimmed this once before.”

Kora stared at a subheading halfway down the left-hand page that read, “The longing for mindstone.” Laskenay told her, “Hansrelto was fascinated with the mind. I imagi
ne that’s why he wrote the spell. H
e just never found the mindstone to satisfy his curiosity. But that’s enough about Zalski for now.”

“Galisan,” Kora remembered. Her blood ran cold. “We mentioned Galisan in the Landfill. Before the attack. I’m pretty sure Zalski was with us at some point, is Galisan…?”

“Galisan’s fine,” said Laskenay. “Zalski heard nothing about him, or he’d be dead or missing by now. And I mean it, that’s enough about Zalski. Tell me about these youths. Kansten explained how you met them….”

“Hayden’s quiet,” said Kora. “He’s quiet, but I’d wager he thinks quick. He’ll take the League seriously. Now, Bidd…. I’m not sure Bidd understands what he’ll be up against. He’s got a hasty mouth, and he excites easily. He might panic if he’s ambushed, especially before he gets used to things. Those two are cousins, and skilled with a bow.”

Laskenay looked pleased. “That’s what Kansten said. We can always use archers.”

“As far as Hal goes, I only met him yesterday. He seems to have his head on straight enough, but he could be more careful. Quieter, I mean. He and Bidd have been friends a long time. He’s resourceful, that much I can tell you. He made a home of sorts out of an abandoned farmhouse, my mother’s farmhouse.”

“Kansten said you returned with a transport spell? You’ll have to give me the incantation. I don’t know it.”

“I tried to transport to Alten, to take the mindstone….”

Laskenay looked more frightened than Kora had ever seen her. Her eyes lost their luster, distinctly resembling her twin’s; she grabbed Kora’s arm. “Tell me that didn’t work.”

Kora drew back, confused. “Kora!”

“It didn’t work.”

“That could have been disastrous!”

“Why?” Kora stammered. “How? Do you want your brother to have mindstone?”

Kora knew instantly she had gone too far. Laskenay gave a jolt at the sound of the word “brother,” and though she did not raise her voice—in fact, her voice grew quieter—her words had a mixture of suppressed anger and contrived confidence no one else could have achieved.

“You know as well as I that if Zalski set to searching us out we’d be dead within a month. Within a week, if fortune favored him. He refrains because he wants to destroy us a specific way. He wants rumors, specific on
es, to arise about our deaths. H
e wants them badly enough he overlooks our small successes. If people held the faintest suspicion Zalski tore through one of our minds to destroy the rest of us…. Kora, a pall of fear would descend like Herezoth has never known. Group resistance would be impossible. Zalski would require one capture to bring down an enterprise, and the bigger the operation—the more likely one normally would deem it to succeed—the more likely it becomes to fail. Zalski lets us carry on while he plans to crush not only our rebellion, but to stem any future opposition. If he saw a critical piece of what he needs slip through his fingers, most likely never to return, there’s a chance he’d abandon his schemes and quash us in a less remarkable way, but one equally final. Let him have his mindstone. We have his book.”

“He’ll come after it,” said Kora.

“If he does it will be in stealth, not an attack like you saw in Podrar. Zalski can have a horrible kind of self-restraint.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kora said. She stared at her thumbs, unsure of what to say, unable to watch her fellow sorceress run a hand down her face. “You were right to be sharp with me,” Kora said. “I should have consulted you before trying to stop Alten. Should have talked to Menikas. I just didn’t realize….”

“No harm was done,” said Laskenay. “There’s no reason to dwell on this, any of this, not now. We’ve new members to induct. The League’s waiting.”

The first thing Kora noticed when she entered the main room was that Neslan, Ranler, and Bendelof had disappeared. “They’re moving the horses,” Lanokas said. Laskenay set a ring of candles in the middle of the room. Very little light filtered in through the curtains, and when Lanokas extinguished the lamps the space was filled with a twilight dimness, though it was not yet midday. As Laskenay prodded the boys to the center of the circle, what should have been a moment of unexpected peace for Kora was fractured by the memory of her own initiation, of the dear friend who had stood beside her answering Laskenay’s questions.

“Do you swear allegiance to the Crimson League?”

Kora paid no attention to the short ceremony. She was lost in her life of years ago, proud to salvage what part of those times remained to her, startled to think that the people standing about her were as much a family to her as Zacry or her mother. Laskenay firing questions from memory; Lanokas looking on with a smug kind of contentment; Kansten half-glaring, half-forcing herself to nod encouragement to Bidd: their guidance, strength, and pluck meant the world to her.

Without Sedder—with or without the Marked One, even—the fight would go on. Wilhem, and Hunt, and even Laskenay’s husband, none of their deaths would be robbed of significance, Kora felt that in her blood more strongly than she would ever have believed, and a genuine smile crossed her face as her three new brothers stepped out of the circle, Hayden looking jolted while Bidd jabbed Kora playfully in the shoulder.

445

BOOK II

CHAPTER ONE

Conspiracy

             
The room Zalski used as a study had once been the king’s office. Its only ornamentation was a pair of quartz crystals set to either side of the heavy black door; they glowed a dull yellow against the whitewashed wall as Alten Grombach stepped inside, passing to the light provided by the room’s one window. Beneath the pane stood a shelf overflowing with spellbooks and papers. Behind a desk sat an austere, olive-complected woman with shockingly white tresses.

             
Wonderful,
thought the general.

             
“You’re back in Podrar,” the woman acknowledged, not bothering to rise.

             
“Held up in Partsvale for the winter…. Don’t you have better ways to occupy your time than to ruin my conference with your husband?”

             
Malzin fixed him with a stare that would have made a puppy whimper. “My husband requested my presence here. As the captain of his elite guard, not his spouse. You tend to overlook my service to Herezoth in that capacity, unintentionally, I’m sure.”

             
“Whatever gets you through the day, dear.” Alten dropped into one of the room’s two armchairs, while Malzin’s expression relaxed into a smirk.

             
“Thank God you’ve returned. I don’t know how we survived with you running around the kingdom.”

             
“What happened while I was gone? Who’s this Porteg your men call the Marked One?”

             
Malzin leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “There is no Marked One. Porteg is a sorceress, and a poor one at that. She’s not remarkable in the slightest.”

             
“Being a sorceress is enough to make most plain terrified at the thought of her. But I’ll take you at your word. I hear you had the pleasure to, ah, make her acquaintance at a warehouse.”

             
“I found her just as charming as I find you.”

             
“Is that so? I suppose I should meet her.”

             
“And soon. You can blast each other to the Great Unknown.”

             
“How brilliantly subtle, as always. I do hope your firstborn inherits your wit, Malzin.” Malzin’s normally dark cheeks turned chalky in an instant. “I apologize, how boorish of me. I forgot you can’t give Zalski children.”

             
Zalski’s wife shot up, trembling. “Where did you learn that?”

             
“When you hold a military post, your health is my concern. I spoke with your physician before I left—bribed him, rather, why hide it? As you of all people know, the man’s more adept with the crystal ball than the scalpel, but really, Zalski’s the more interesting figure in your little drama. Have you told him
he’ll lack an heir?”

             
“What I say to my husband is none of your concern. We both know, General, that Zalski would never thank you investigating my affairs, no matter what you uncovered. I come from generations of war strategists so renowned they earned titles of nobility from the royals. I’ve not made one tactical error you could have avoided. It wasn’t even I years ago who exposed my power to Laskenay in all its minute detail: that was Zalski, long before it occurred to him to attempt all he’s accomplished. They were close once, he and his blasted sister, but that’s beside the point. The fact is, I am perfectly qualified for the post I hold.”

             
“Tell me, Captain, when was it you found the
Librette
?”

             
“My search was thwarted by a spy, a man by the name of Wilhem Horn.”
Oh, hell
. “But you’ll remember him, General. You gave him the commendation for promotion to my elite forces.”

             
“Enough.”
Neither Malzin nor Alten had heard Zalski enter; he slammed the door behind him. “You two alone…. I’m astounded there wasn’t bloodshed. Malzin, take a seat. A
different
seat.” Malzin traipsed over to the armchair next to Alten, while Zalski settled himself behind his desk, arranging a stack of files he had brought in. “First things first.” He pushed the papers to his general.

             
Why in the name of God is she here? If he expects me to work with her….

             
“What are those?” Malzin asked.

             
“Diagrams,” said Zalski. “Measurements. Sketches. All pertaining to the central plaza in Fontferry. You know the area, General?”

             
“Fairly well. I’ve seen it more than once.”

             
“What do you know of Fontferry’s mayor?”

             
Alten arched an eyebrow. “Jonson Peare? He’s middle-aged, held the post for a decade now. He’s revitalized the community.”

             
“He’s respected. According to his appointees, he’s also lax in enforcing economic and criminal policies it’s not within his power to suspend.”

             
“He disapproves of them.”

             
“Not openly. He’s too experienced for that. But a Judge Roxburn sympathizes with us and provided ample documentation of Peare’s gall. Fontferry’s Tricentennial, as you may or may not know, is in four months, and the mayor’s asked me to deliver an address. I accepted his invitation so as not to insult the town. Arresting Peare for dereliction of duty would be equally insulting.”

             
“What he’s doing is a capital offense.”

             
“I’m aware, Alten. Peare poses a great dilemma. I could have him assassinated, I suppose. Publicly? I’d be blamed just as surely as if he were executed. Secretly? There would still be speculation I had a hand in it. To let him go unpunished emboldens others like him. I did come up with one solution: imagine, both of you, that as I were delivering my address an attempt were made on
my
life….”

             
“And Peare becomes an unintended victim.” Alten nodded. “It has potential.”

             
“More than potential. Especially when the assassin is caught and linked to the Crimson League by his own confession.”

             
Malzin savored the thought in silence. Then she said, “Ingenious.”

             
A nice touch, to vilify the League.

             
“It won’t be easily implemented,” Zalski said. “We’ll have to feign the death of Peare’s killer. Alten must organize the event so that our goals are feasible.”

             
Alten said, “I assume the festivities are planned for the village square?”

             
“The square was modeled on Yangerton’s plaza. You’re to spend a fair amount of time in the original, developing different options. Peare’s accepted my offer to defray the fest’s cost, an offer which necessitates my approval of all construction: booths, platforms, etc.”

             
“That’s fortunate,” said Alten.

             
Malzin’s smug grin widened as she placed her hand on her husband’s. “Fontferry mustn’t have such a milestone as three hundred years tarnished by tawdry decoration and poor physical design.”

             
“I’ll also need you two to be less hostile. You won’t work together, but you’ll both take active roles in this operation. I imagine you can respect that you’re equally indispensable to my government?”

             
Alten turned to Malzin. “I would never deny the accomplishments of the elite guard.”
Being as they come from my training.
“Some measure of the troop’s success must go to you.”

             
She responded, “I acknowledge your role in transitioning from the old regime.”

             
“Good,” said Zalski. He pulled two pieces of twine from around his neck; strung onto each was a crystal perhaps two inches long that had been hanging beneath his tunic. He handed his wife the first (she turned it in her palm) and threw the other to Alten, who held it at his side. “You’ll appreciate these,” Zalski assured them.

             
“What are they?”

             
“I altered the spell I wrote to enchant the crystals on the walls. If you tap the stone three times….” He nodded to Malzin, who did as instructed. Her crystal began to glow a brilliant red, and Zalski removed a third pendant from his neck, which had turned the same color: “…I’ll know to come to you. Try yours, Alten.”

             
At the third tap the general’s pendant lit up a deep blue. The tint shadowed his face and was copied in Zalski’s crystal, which darkened to match its shade. A brush of the sorcerer’s index finger returned all three gems to their normal, cloudy white.

             
“The purpose of these,” said Zalski, “is to eliminate third parties and excess documents. When you’re in Yangerton, summon me to give updates instead of sending off a messenger. I’ll transport to City Hall at my earliest convenience.”

             
Malzin caught Zalski’s eye. “That
you
,” she asked, “Is it singular or plural?”

* * *

             
Kora Porteg sighed in frustration as she pulled a chain of red gold from her neck. She was no longer alone in the left-most room of the Crimson League’s Yangerton apartment.

             
“You do realize Alten’s in a meeting?”

             
“How should I know you were tracking him? It’s hard to tell these days.”

             
Tracking
was the term Kansten used to describe the invasion of Alten’s mind and physical surroundings. Both the phrasing as well as the unique brand of magic it tried to label made Kora uncomfortable, but Kansten had a point: the more experienced Kora became tracking Zalski’s general, the better she could balance a double set of locations. Where at first her body had dropped into a kind of trance, now she was able not only to stand, but to move a bit without losing the connection with Alten. That was the only positive development Kora could name from the past five months.

             
After she exposed her magic during an ambush in the capital, word of Kora had spread. Though some people considered the stories bunk or were able to differentiate magic from ambitions to terrorize the kingdom, for many her name raised as much dread as Zalski’s. This made it more difficult for the League to garner support. It also meant Kora could venture out only on rare occasions. Besides that, once inducted into the resistance proper, Hayden had been so awestruck he was only now daring to speak more than monosyllables to anyone other than Bidd and Hal. His confidence was nil, especially after tripping over a stool when Kora happened to be practicing a spell to slow an enemy; Kora flinched at the noise, and the charm went askew, hitting Bidd, who had been (as usual) in the middle of an argument with Kansten and refused to believe Kora had not targeted him in support of the blonde. Menikas had taken the three new recruits out a few times to shoot arrows and practice sword skills, but that was not enough for Hal. The youth was frustrated he had yet to receive an assignment other than buying food or drawing water, unable to appreciate the risks he negated by running errands in place of the established Leaguesmen whom the army would be ten times more likely to recognize. Laskenay had begun to include Kora in some of her meetings with Menikas, which made Kansten jealous and, in conjunction with prolonged exposure to Bidd, was more than enough to keep the woman in a foul mood. In addition, Galisan Bane, who spearheaded operations in Yangerton, had failed to intercept each of the last five coal shipments to pass through the city. He simply lacked the men for such heists, had lost too many.

             
Most gravely of all, after a year and a half of printed support for the resistance, the
Letter
had ceased to publish. Alten’s men had killed the paper’s founders and a good number of its contributors. Kora felt the loss personally; she could not help but think the publication would have thrown its support behind her, possibly moderating the public’s terror. As things were, she could not go out to escape her companions, which was vexing enough. To be interrupted while she spied on Zalski from the confines of the apartment….

             
“This had better be important.”

             
Kansten narrowed her eyes. “Don’t blame me. His royal highness summoned you.”

             
“Menikas?”

             
“Of course Menikas. He and Laskenay are about to have their conference.”

             
Kora could have said a number of things: that she hadn’t asked to be the closest thing to a spy near Zalski the League possessed; that she hadn’t invited herself into Menikas’s inner circle; that she didn’t enjoy destroying someone’s privacy, even if that someone was Zalski’s right-hand man. She had said them all before, and she knew Kansten was not annoyed with
her
per se, but angered to be continually denied the kind of access and influence Kora had achieved since their encounter with Petroc. Kansten, after all, had risked just as much in the enterprise and been fighting with the League for a year before Kora burst on the scene.