The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) (35 page)

“He
married August before the council formed. I’ve tried to fall for other men, but
I always…. I make comparisons. No one ever comes out the better.

“Kansten,
your uncle mentioned you aspire to be like me. That’s a true honor, though I’m
not sure I deserve it. The only way I can think to respond is to tell you,
sincerely, you don’t want to live the way I do. Hune’s another one like Vane,
in that the more you get to know him, the more you’ll understand he has few
equals. Leave well enough alone.”

“I
can’t,” said Kansten. “Perhaps I should, but I can’t. Hune isn’t Vane. He’s not
married to someone else, and if anything he feels stronger about me than I do
about him. I have to see this through, however idiotic that makes me. I have
to.”

Francie’s
swollen lips were as taut as she could make them. Kansten told her, “Thank you
so much, for telling me about you. I won’t betray your confidence. What you’re
advising me to do, I don’t deny it’s the wiser option. I promise—I’ll
swear it on anything you like—there’s no one who could come closer than
you to convincing me it’s in my best interest to let Hune go.”

Francie
patted Kansten’s hand. “For your sake, I hope I’m wrong. The Giver knows I’ve
been wrong before: I was wrong to join that council in the first place, wrong
to think I was safe when the open threats stopped coming. You’re wise to doubt
me. I’ve done nothing right these past ten years.”

Kansten
protested, “You can claim someone else could have done the work, but the fact
is, Herezoth’s better for your time on that council. The children at your
school, the people who work there, the community of Carphead: they’re all
something more than they would have been without you.
I’m
something more than I was. Francie, I drove my uncle crazy with
questions about what you were doing, what project you’d tackle next. Sure, he
left out the bits about threats, because I was young, but he never…. He only
had praise for you.

“You
inspired me through him. I heard report after report from Uncle Zac about that
school. I could see how important your goals were. My uncle stressed you could
never have done such things if you hadn’t spent long hours reading books, so I
read too. I didn’t enjoy it at first, but I worked hard, and because of that I
have my apprenticeship. You said you were jealous of it. Don’t be. You’re the
reason for it.”

Francie
had tears in her blackened eyes. Regardless of any pain it caused her, of
bruised ribs and rope-slashed wrists, she pulled Kansten tight. “Bless you,”
she whispered. “The Giver bless you.” She only moaned when she let Kansten go
and turned to lean against the settee. Kansten handed her the bowl again, glad
to think the emotions Francie sensed would be decidedly more positive than the
last time.

“You
need that salve, you know.”

Francie
admitted, “It really does help. Would you put this on my back? I can’t see what
it looks like, but it can’t be pretty.”

Kansten
frowned. “You’ve been lying on it.”

“My
ribs hurt worse. He broke my broom across my ribs. He only kicked me in the
back.”

Kansten
winced at her words, then cringed more when Francie lifted the nightshirt
August had provided. Livid bruises spotted her shoulder blades and spine. Hands
shaking, Kansten scooped a mass of salve from the bowl Francie held.

“How
can you speak of this so calmly?”

“Better
to think of the broom than a baby.”

Kansten trembled so much she dropped a
dallop of paste on the settee, but she said nothing. Francie didn’t want pity,
and no words were possible that wouldn’t reek of the sentiment. She swung
Francie’s braid to the front, spotting it with the salve, and tried not to
press too hard upon her wounds.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Enter
Esclavay

August
held her husband against her, reluctant to let him go. The late morning sun
streamed through their bedroom window, making them uncomfortably hot as it fell
on the place where they stood, at the foot of their canopied bed. No one had
smoothed the blankets since they had risen before dawn at Kansten’s urging, to
go to Kora. Vane refused to pry August’s arms off him, or to remove his from
her shoulders, so he spoke into her ear.

“I
have letters, for the children. I slipped them in your bag when you were
rooting through dresses.” A small bag sat in the corner, one Vane had watched
his wife fill with various articles of clothing she had hardly given a glance.
It was possible few things matched, that she had right slippers to bring but
had forgotten the matching lefts. Neither of them cared. “They’re only for if
things go wrong.” If he were killed. He preferred not to voice the thought, but
August’s fresh teardrops on the front of his shirt told him she understood.
“The twins can have theirs now. Wait until the boys are a bit older.”

His
chest muffled her voice. “Oh, Val….”

“They’re
a precaution, nothing more. I have every intention to burn the things at the
earliest opportunity. I don’t know what state the manor will be left in, after
tonight. I don’t know when, if ever, we’ll return here, but I will see you
tomorrow, you understand me? You’re going to the Palace?”

She
looked up at him. “The Palace, once I fetch the children. Oh, Val….”

“I
will see you tomorrow.”

August
told him, “I almost lost you once, to Carson Amison. To that stab wound. For a
time, I thought I had. I can’t suffer that again. I can’t go back to that dark
place. I’d never find my way out a second time.”

“You
will, if it comes to that. Follow the instructions I left you.”

“What
instructions?”

“There’s
a letter for you too.”

“Oh,
Val
!”

“Don’t
read it unless word comes I….”

“I
won’t, I promise. I can’t wait to throw the thing in Rexson’s kitchen fire, unopened.”

“I
can’t wait to watch you do that.”

She
pulled his face down, to kiss him. “When did you find the time to write?”

“The
night before I met Linstrom, when you’d fallen asleep. I hid the letters in my
desk. I knew if something happened to me, you’d find them going through my
things. Now, with Oakdowns threatened, I didn’t want to risk them being
destroyed.”

Silent
tears streamed in unbroken lines down August’s face. “Why would you tempt fate
like that? Better not to write….”

“Don’t
be superstitious. I wanted to make sure, in the eventuality….”

August
nodded. With a hiccough. Vane brushed away the wet, blonde curls that were
sticking to her cheeks, his hand steady, and some measure of his composure
transferred to her. He said, “When we settled in Herezoth, we knew something
like this was possible. We took the chance, and we must stand by that decision,
because no matter what happens, we chose rightly. I might not have believed
that twenty-four hours ago, but now I do. After all, we’ve set Ingleton to thriving.
Our school in your mansion, it’s growing each year, giving misfit, magicked
children a knowledge of themselves they couldn’t find elsewhere. Our children
know the land that’s a part of them, the land that made them. All of that’s why
we stayed here. All of that’s what you must remember if things go poorly
tonight.”

She
raised a shaky finger to his mouth, to silence him. “Don’t you worry about me.
You just make sure you make it out of here.”

He
kissed the slender finger pressed against his lips, moved those lips to her
forehead. “I was terrified before I went to Partsvale. So terrified I vomited
in a pail writing Esper’s letter.” The first letter. He’d written his children
in descending order of age; Esper had been born five minutes before Luce. “You
swore that same night I was equal to what the king had asked of me. What I had
offered. Well, I’m not afraid this morning. I’m the one telling you now, I can
do this. The king’s army can do this. We’ve the element of surprise, and I’m
soon to go to the barracks with Wilhem and Walt, to bring back an entire
company of men at arms. Thanks to Kora and Lottie, we know what to expect.
Linstrom hasn’t a clue what awaits him. August, I will see you tomorrow. I
will.”

“I
don’t think I’ll be able to come back here. Not after Linstrom. No matter how
well the floors and the walls are scrubbed, I…. I remember what Bennie’s home
looked like, after Amison’s attack. Blood was everywhere. All over the place. I
can’t live here knowing that same thing occurred in the rooms where my children
play, where….”

“If
you honestly can’t return, then we won’t. I promise you that. Right now, you
need to go. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can stop worrying about you,
stop fearing an attack that comes sooner than we expect. The children’s things,
and the portrait, you’ve had them loaded in the carriage?” August nodded.
“You’re all that’s missing, then.”

She
threw her arms around his neck, soaked his chest again with her wet face. She
mumbled, “I love you so much it twists up all my insides.”

Vane
kissed her lips, careful not to jolt her hold on him, and smiled. August always
had a way with words to make him smile. “I could say the exact same thing. The
sooner you’re off, now, the sooner we’ll be together again discussing how to
move on.”

August
drew back and took his hands; she held them as tightly as she could, was Vane’s
thought. She stared into his large, brown eyes for a good minute before she
said, “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, no?”

His
smile grew as wide as his mouth could manage. “I’ve only told you that six or
seven times.”

Vane
took her in one last, long embrace before she turned her back to him and
grabbed her bag on the way to the antechamber. She said nothing more and
refused to look at him, not even a cursory glance. He knew that if she did, she
would never find the courage to walk away.

* * *

After
her argument with the king, Kora spent the morning spying on Linstrom. She did
so as much to distract herself from the pain in her chest as to make sure
Linstrom set no spies around Vane’s property.

He
did not. Linstrom had faith he would take the duke unaware; he gloated over the
thought of killing him and capturing his entire household. He planned to hold
Ingleton’s servants, his wife, and his children in the basement of the cobbler’s
shop until he arranged to sell them to Esclavan traders as slaves. In the
meantime, he would keep them secure: under guard of two or three sorcerers. The
children alone would make him a bloody fortune, being sorcerers themselves and
of the noblest blood Herezoth could boast. And young, to boot. So gloriously
young. They would earn him enough to hire mercenaries from the army, so he
could maintain his attacks until, village by village, Herezoth fell to him.
Each step of the way would bring more captives, more slaves to sell, more
income to fund more mercenaries.

Linstrom
could no longer settle for razing public squares, spreading his message about
the crown’s deceit through newsletters. The king had identified him too soon,
had even discovered that Partsvale was a decoy. Linstrom had nothing to lose
now; the crown would come after him just for planning the assault.

Yes,
Linstrom must set his eyes on a loftier goal. He must depose Rexson Phinnean
and establish a rule like that of Zalski Forzythe before him, without the harsh
penal code the man had enforced. It had kept the people weak sure enough, but
at the cost of provoking them. How oddly fitting—perfectly
fitting—that Zalski’s last living relatives would be the first to
acknowledge Linstrom’s might….

All
morning, Linstrom transported from town to city across Herezoth, gathering
groups of his non-sorcerer followers and taking them to his hideout in the
mountains. Kora’s heart weakened to see the Hall of Sorcery again; some of her
worst memories were associated with those magically warmed ruins and with
Linstrom’s father, who had lured her there. She was cursing Petroc for ever
begetting his foul-souled bastard when someone knocked on her door, around
noon. She threw off her chain and admitted the king.

Once
inside, Rexson started pacing. She waited for him to speak, assuming he would
apologize, but the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re still here. I’m
glad. I thought I might have pushed you home in a huff.”

“To
abandon Vane? My brother? My
children
?
When I’m the only person who can keep an eye on Linstrom before he makes his
move? Is that what you think of me? Rexson, who on the Giver’s green earth do
you think I am?”

He
responded, “A woman I’ve spoken with three times in the last twenty-five
years.” And he was right: when he’d first brought Vane to Traigland, and then
when his sons were kidnapped, and now this mess. Still pacing, he asked,
“Forgive me for earlier, if you would.”

Kora
sank to the bed. She folded her arms across her stomach and refused to hint how
his tirade had opened old scars.

“I’d
hardly call being loath to hang me something that begs forgiveness.”

“You
must stay. Vane’s on his own without you. I’ve nine sorcerers if you leave, and
since the general says we’ll need five groups, he’d be fending for himself. On
top of that, Lottie showed us what Linstrom’s capable of doing. My son, my
Hune’s come here, determined to fight, and I….”

With
a moan, Kora said, “I’m so sorry. I’ve unleashed a monster on you and yours.”

That
stopped the king cold. “What are you talking about?”

“You
sent Vane to Lottie at my prodding. When Linstrom interrupted her going through
his plans, he knew you were aware of him. Now, seeing he’s nothing to lose,
he’ll sell your subjects to Esclavay to finance a run for your throne. He’s
been off all morning gathering his men. He’ll bring everything he has against
us tonight, hoping to take Vane’s household alive, and if we fail to stop him….
Rexson, should we fall to him….”

“We
won’t,” the king assured her.

“He’ll
bring Esclavay and all its strength to his aid. He’ll promise to open trade
with them as Herezoth’s sovereign, human trafficking as well as goods. Good
Giver, he….”

“We’ll
stop him.”

“Not
even Zalski considered…. Zalski never dared to enslave….”

“And
Linstrom won’t have the opportunity. He dies tonight.”

Kora
nodded. Her stomach was flipping, aching as badly as at the height of any of
her pregnancies. Though hungry, she would never keep food down. Rexson watched
her, concerned.

“What
haven’t you told me?”

Kora
said, “There’s nothing more to Linstrom’s plot. Not that there needs to be.”

“What’s
troubling you, then?”

“Just
a general unease, from knowing how Linstrom’s mind works. I tracked them both,
and Zalski was never like this man. Never thought like this man. Zalski had
some nobility of spirit, but this monster…. August’s gone by now? Vane’s
children? They’re nowhere near this place?”

The
king’s face turned red. “They’ve all left. Why? What are Linstrom’s plans for
them?”

“He
hopes to turn his first profit on the slave trade at their expense.”

Rexson
coughed out of anger. His rage shook him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why
would I lie about something like that?”

Linstrom’s
mother had been from Esclavay. She was born in that beautiful island nation on
the far side of Traigland where slaves tilled the soil and sustained the
economy. Neither Traigland nor Herezoth would trade with Esclavay, judging
themselves morally superior, but Linstrom had cousins in Carphead, on
Herezoth’s coast. Cousins with Esclavan blood, like him, who unlike him kept in
touch with their family across the sea and had connections with the slave
trade. His cousins worked as merchants; they had two or three ships Linstrom
could commandeer to transport and sell his captives. Until coin appeared, the
threats Linstrom could make (thanks to his magic) and the promise of payment to
come would be enough to garner their support.

Rexson
said, “I believe you, Kora. You know I believe you. It’s just…. We can’t tell
Vane this. You’re forbidden to tell him, do you understand? His family’s safe,
and if he knew what Linstrom intended….”

“We
have to tell him—tell everyone—any captives are destined for
slavery. We can’t keep that from them, because all of us, except Vane and
you….”

“You
think he’d kill me?”

“Given
the chance? Without a second thought.”

“And
my son?”

“I
don’t know.” Kora twisted her hands. “I truly don’t know. He never considered
that situation. He has no idea anyone’s waiting for him here, and especially
not a prince. If he captured Hune, learned who the man was…. He could use him
as a bargaining tool, right? Or make…. Rexson, that slug was thrilled to think
what price Vane’s children would fetch him. If he had your son…. I don’t even
want to think of this.”