The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  “Rexy Plaint,” offered Jane’s female student. Her bony face held no sign of slight taken.

  “Jane and Rexy. As you know, your powers are stronger together. That’s why, as much as possible, I’ve grouped you with someone you know well, someone whose actions you might anticipate. You’re to support one another. If your partner’s muted, undo the spell; such things are common sense. The general will have zoning assignments by this afternoon. That’s five stations for the sorcerers, Bruan.”

  The king told Vane, “I want you with another sorcerer, not a swordsman.”

  “I trust Thad’s blade as much as anyone else’s magic.” He sent Rexson a pointed look, one he meant to say, I’ll have Kora. The king understood him, for his expression soured.

  Zacry, perhaps, would be better grouped with Kora, but the king had assigned him to spend the day with Lottie. They would get to know one another, and their shared preference for directness might bind them. Zacry would understand how unnerved she was to join the king’s forces; he would have the sense not to antagonize her.

  The king asked Lottie to describe how Linstrom and his men had trained for battle. She warned him the account would not be brief, and those in the room arranged themselves as comfortably as possible to listen. The king sat on a settee with his general, his son, and his duke. Gratton stood beside the furniture, as though keeping guard. The military man, Vane realized, did not much trust the blonde and thick-cheeked sorceress. Zacry took up a similar post at the other end of the couch. His nephews, Jane Trand, and her students sat before them all on the parlor’s plush carpet. Hune’s dogs lounged with them, after sniffing them out and judging them friendly. The sharp-featured Rexy scratched one behind the ear.

  “Evant’s sorcerers divided into groups to train,” Lottie began. Her expression was one of resolve, Vane assumed to hold nothing back, no matter how the tidings might dishearten her new allies or cast her in a poor light. At least, that was what he prayed she’d determined to do. “They call themselves bands, with each band forming a military unit. Every group set to mastering a specific type of magic. Since Evant uses the Hall of Sorcery as a meeting place, his supporters have access to knowledge gathered by the ancients. The power of those incantations…. They’re beyond anything I’d seen before.”

  The king told her, “We understand that. Magic lost its potency as, by and large, those with the ability to use it chose to forsake it instead.”

  “There are three bands in all. The members of the first one—mine—had previous training in some weapon or other. We sought spells to augment our speed, energy, and strength. I’ve always been handy with a sword, myself.”

  Vane said, “I know such spells. I’ve used them. They can be useful in a tight situation, but to make a major impact….”

  Lottie insisted, “You’ve seen no spells such as these.”

  “Show us, then,” said Vane. “Spar with Gratton, here and now.”

  The king approved Vane’s suggestion, so Lottie retrieved her sword from its sheath, which she had propped against the wall next to the door when she walked in. Her blade was shorter than Gratton’s, but thicker at its base. When the gray-haired soldier advanced on her, she matched him blow for blow, parry for parry, falling back and then using the wall to propel herself forward and gain momentum, forcing Gratton away.

  Hune’s dogs growled, threatening to attack on behalf of the uniform they had been trained to obey, but their master called them back, and the hounds did nothing more than watch as tensely as the human spectators. The dogs sat on their haunches, poised to come to the soldier’s aid at a command from the prince. After four or five minutes, the sorceress and guardsman halted, sweat glistening on their brows and darkening the edges of Gratton’s hair. He asked, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  “My father was a guardsman. One of Zalski’s. Was waiting until I turned ten to turn me over to him for magic lessons, because my magic came a bit out of nowhere. My great-grandfather was a sorcerer, but he was the last one in the family, until me. My father kept me a secret…. I was six when Zalski died, and my future with him.”

  “Your father?” pressed Gratton.

  “A festering wound killed my father ten years ago. He refused to let me heal him, said the Giver had spoken through dreams it was his time. Personally, I think he was hallucinating, but he was firm in his wishes, and I respected them. I couldn’t stand the thought of angering him, not after I’d already disappointed him worse than I’d ever thought possible.” Her eyes flickered to the king. “The Magic Council had just formed. Without me.”

  Gratton asked, a bit too quickly after Lottie’s final statement to sound natural, “What you just did, that was you fighting without spells?”

  Only then did Lottie bring sorcery to her aid. First came an energy spell, Vane surmised from his studies, though the incantation was not the same as the Energa Crez spell he’d used consistently over the last few days. Lottie’s pupils turned a dull red, giving her a horrifying appearance that only amplified when another spell, Fwerz Plumayr for strength, increased her body mass. Lottie’s biceps and other muscles bulged beneath her dress. She signaled with a hand for Gratton to attack her, and he did so, with all his skill.

  The guardsman found himself stymied. Within ten seconds, Lottie had forced him to fall back to defending himself against her. Within thirty, she had swung her sword with enough force against his to notch them both. Through it all, her eyes glowed that terrible shade of crimson that would have reduced any one of Vane’s children to panicked tears. Gratton held her off for another minute, nothing more. A solid strike from Lottie bent the metal of his blade some sixty degrees before she cut his legs out from under him with a sweeping foot that moved far too quickly. Unnaturally quickly. Three seconds after that, Gratton was on the floor with Lottie’s blade against his throat. He banged his head with a thud on the wood beneath the carpet.

  With a bow toward the king, Lottie backed away. She muttered Desfazair, and her muscles shrank back to their natural size. Her pupils faded to black. Vane could only gape as Lottie cast a stretching spell to restore Gratton’s sword to its previous condition; the most talented swordsman the duke had ever known clambered to his feet in a daze, his eyes unfocused. Zacry cast a healing spell, which seemed to restore his faculties, though the soldier spoke nothing. No one did for a good thirty seconds that seemed five times that long, until Lottie suggested, “The red pupils will be a signal of what you’re dealing with, with that particular band. As you might imagine, you’ll want to strip them of their weapons.”

  Walten’s voice was calm, much calmer than Vane expected given what they had just witnessed. The boy, Vane realized, had no concept of the skill Gratton actually possessed. “What weapons would that be?” he asked. “All swords?”

  Lottie’s tone was bleak. “Sword, staff, and battleax.”

  Next to Vane, Hune’s face betrayed his stupefaction. The youngest prince had always resembled Gracia more than Rexson, but the stoicism that, bit by bit, he forced into his expression was just like his father. So was the assertiveness, the command in his tone as he asked Lottie, “What of the other bands?”

  “The second specializes in befuddlement spells. The ancients were fond of such magic, had entire books devoted to it. I’ve seen Linstrom’s men practice spells to wipe a mind blank. They stop a person in his tracks. Other spells can confuse friend with foe, or make you feel safe in the midst of your enemies.”

  From his seat on the floor, one of the olive-skinned twins protested, “How is that possible? Magic can’t touch human will.”

  Lottie told him, “Those spells don’t try to. The spell to confuse friend with foe can’t force you to attack your friend, but if you’re in the middle of a battle and you mistake him for the enemy, you’ll do just that by choice. If you feel secure, you’ll see no need to defend yourself against real danger. The spells do nothing more than give your mind false information to process. You’d have no way to suspect that inf
ormation’s wrong until it’s too late.”

  The second twin spoke up. “Doesn’t forewarning help? Surely if you know….”

  His voice died away as Lottie shook her head. “Those spells are powerful, boy. They counteract any previous knowledge you might have about them, any suspicions that you’re bewitched. I know: they’ve cast the spells on me. I’ve volunteered to help them train. If we sorcerers fight in pairs, the best you can hope is that your partner realizes in time what’s happened. In that sense, it can help to be forewarned.”

  Zacry asked Lottie, “Do you know any spells we can cast beforehand, to protect our minds from that kind of interference?”

  “If such magic exists, I’ve never run across it.”

  Undeterred, Zacry turned to Jane Trand. “You’re a scholar of sorcery, more so than I am. My focus is magic politics. Could you write a spell before Linstrom arrives, one to reflect those befuddlement spells back at the casters, or to nullify them?”

  Trand’s voice had a shrill quality to it. The grooves in her face etched themselves deeper as she frowned. Her straw-colored hair fell in front of one eye, and she tucked it behind her ear. “Mere hours? I could write one given three days, but mere hours?”

  Zacry assured her, “I’ll help. So will Lottie. With her knowledge of the spells we have to act against….”

  Vane urged, “Please, Jane. It’s worth trying. Nothing’s lost if you don’t succeed.”

  “It’ll have to be to nullify,” Jane argued. “To make such magic rebound would be more complicated. More useful, sure, but I can’t see myself having that finished in time. A spell to simply nullify….”

  Vane told her, “That’s perfect. A spell we can cast before Linstrom comes, to provide a lingering barrier against such meddling with our thoughts.”

  Doubt was plain on Jane’s expression. In her tone. “I’ll do what I can. I can’t promise you anything.”

  Vane assured her he understood, and turned back to Lottie, anxious for her to finish her report as quickly as possible, so that she and Zacry could start working with Jane on that incantation. “The third band?” he pressed. “What magic have they mastered?”

  “Detection spells,” said Linstrom’s mistress. “Mostly for looting and pillaging, to find coin and people hiding. They also have spells to detect traps, whether magically set or no.”

  Vane cursed beneath his breath. He had a clearer picture now of Terrance’s assault in the bakery. The sorcerer must have walked in to find Howar by himself, or dismissing the last of a surge of customers. Howar, who had not been expecting the visit, had let his unease show, thinking Francie was alone and unprotected, and Terrance had muttered a spell in the direction of upstairs, one to reveal two individuals in a set of rooms that should have been unoccupied.

  The Duke of Ingleton asked, “Was Terrance the head of the detection band?”

  She confirmed his suspicion. “I headed the warrior band,” she added. “Evant led those mastering befuddlement.” Her voice turned bitter. “That Agatha, she’s his prótegée. You remember her? The one who wanted to heal…?”

  Vane’s tone was sharper than he intended. “I remember.”

  The sorceress who’d wanted to heal Francie so they could beat her more. He would never forget Agatha’s haughty air, the way she’d held her heart-shaped head as she argued with Lottie. By the sneer on Lottie’s face, Vane had not been wrong to think the women grudged each other.

  Unsettled, Vane’s thoughts turned from Agatha to Terrance’s cousin, to Gertrude the seer, the only other woman to make an impression on him at the Hall. He wondered what effect her magic might have. To see the future a minute in advance…. She might be young, but she’d be devastated to find Terrance gone, to fear him dead.

  The king noted, “Linstrom finds two of his bands leaderless, then, with you and Terrance vanished.”

  Lottie said, “The bands won’t fight separately. They’ll mix and match to maximize strengths.”

  “Still,” said the king, “Linstrom lacks you and Terrance. That can only aid us.”

  Wilhem said, “We’ll need all the aid we can get. We….”

  He stopped talking when his uncle sent him a warning glare. Zacry then said, “Jane, Lottie, we should get to work on that spell. Now.”

  “Go to the library,” said Vane. “There’s ink there, and enough paper for what you’re attempting, as long as you’re careful not to waste any. Gratton, Bruan,” —the balding, scarred general looked to the duke— “all my plans of the manor are there too. In the desk, the cabinet on the left-hand side. In the Giver’s name, start putting some kind of defensive plan together.

  “Remember, Linstrom and his men can only enter through doors and windows. They can’t penetrate my walls, and I’m sure I can find spells to reinforce every window in the manor. Consider panes unbreakable, from either side.”

  The general remarked, in his gruff way, “I’ll concentrate on doors, then.”

  “Doors,” Vane agreed. “Linstrom can’t bring the fence down, but he can transport inside it. As for your soldiers positioned here: I know cloaking spells. I can prevent detection magic betraying us, so we won’t scare Linstrom off to attack somewhere else. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  The elder sorcerers and the soldiers filed out the parlor. The twins and Rexy, Kora’s sons, Hune: they all looked stunned. Not one of them seemed to notice people exiting. Vane recalled them to the moment while the king watched on.

  “Wilhem, Walt, you trained with your uncle. You’ll know spells and strategies Jane’s students don’t, and vice-versa. Compare your knowledge. Share everything you can with each other. Understand?” They all nodded. “Hune, can I entrust the removal of my servants to you? They must be gone before the sun sinks, all of them. Make them understand they can’t return tonight, without alarming them. We can’t have word spreading through the city we’re preparing for an attack.”

  “Consider it done,” Hune told the duke. “That’ll free your time to handle other things.”

  Vane hadn’t hired just anyone to work for him. Every maid, cook, secretary, and butler at Oakdowns he had chosen with caution. They were Rexson’s old tried and true servants, or family to people who had known and loved Vane’s parents, who owed debts of gratitude to them. He need not fear betrayal from that quarter, as long as his staff understood the need for silence.

  Hune asked Vane, “Before I start with the servants, is there a private place I can speak with my father?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Leaving Oakdowns

  Hune took Rexson to an empty guest bedroom. He left his hounds with the young sorcerers, for the dogs had taken to Rexy and to Kansten’s brothers. He hoped to give the animals time to bond with the group, and with the young woman above anyone else. He planned to convince her to keep one with her during the battle to come, any but Adage. The good-natured, brown-spotted beagle that was nonetheless a vicious attacker would have to stay with Hune. He would never leave the prince in a hunt situation.

  As the door shut behind Rexson, Hune’s thoughts turned to the unpleasant conversation ahead: his father would want to send him home before Linstrom’s men arrived, and then the news about Gracia…. Rexson wouldn’t take that well.

  Despite ample seating on the room’s settee and in armchairs, even on the bed, both men stood as for a confrontation. The king wasted no time in asking his son, “What in the Giver’s name have you…?”

  “Mother’s gone.”

  That cut off Rexson’s tirade.

  “She left,” Hune repeated. “For Partsvale, soon after you did this morning. Had a note delivered to me afterward, else I would have stopped her. She must have been planning this since yesterday, since Vane brought word of that fire on the high street. She wanted to see the damage for herself, to let the people there know they’re not forsaken. She knows she’s responsible for what happened, so she….”

  “Tell me she at least took guards.”

  “Her personal g
uard, of course she did. Every one of them, though I doubt she’ll need their protection. She’ll need a fortnight, at least, to reach Partsvale, and Linstrom, well, he’ll be no threat to her by then.” Hune paused. “He’ll be dead this evening.”

  “She had no way of knowing that, Hune. No understanding of what we’re planning here. The woman has lost her mind.”

  “She’s plagued with guilt,” Hune protested. “Nothing more than that. You know how many souls have pilgrimaged to Partsvale. To the Giver’s Shrine. She shouldn’t have left how she did, with Linstrom still such a threat, but….”

  “She’s endangering every man with her, as far as she knows. Every one of them.”

  “She’s doing penance. That journey to Partsvale isn’t comfortable. The road’s a rough one, and they’re going by horse. No carriage for her. She doesn’t want the attention the royal carriage would bring, doesn’t feel she deserves a comfortable vehicle. Anyway, what’s done is done, isn’t it? We can’t sacrifice a sorcerer to go after her and bring her back. I just thought you should know what she’s doing.”

  “And you?” the king demanded. “What do you think you’re doing, barging into the parlor like that?”

  Hune’s voice remained respectful in tone. “I wouldn’t have had to, had you brought me to begin with.”

  “There’s a reason I didn’t.”

  “That you’d rather keep me safe is no excuse. With all due respect, it’s not. You heard every word Lottie said, as plain as I. You saw her demonstration. My bow and my hounds are needed here. When the bow’s no longer useful, I’m trained to use a blade. You know we must stand behind Vane in this, in every way we can, as publicly as possible.”

  Rexson agreed with that sentiment. He said, “That’s why I’ll be fighting to defend his home.”