The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  “Eventually, we arrived in Fontferry. We’d walked all day, and night was falling. We turned to the first inn we saw, but an old man with whom we’d taken up a few hours before said we didn’t want to go there. That the rooms were cold enough to keep a body restless, but at least our alertness would prevent the keeper robbing us, which he was certain to attempt. He said to go farther, to take the ferry across the river. There was an inn on the opposite bank.”

  “And you met Teena.”

  “She ran over from the kitchen, stopping short when she saw the baby. I’ll never forget that. She stared at him a moment, and then she looked at me, her eyes pleading, so I let her hold him. He wrapped his fist around her finger and cooed. A tear gathered in her eye, and she said to forgive her, that she had lost a daughter three weeks before. The girl had been one month, ill since birth.

  “This woman was the person I’d been praying for. And I, I had never felt so torn. Relief settled in my heart, then guilt, dread, a terrible heat born of resentment that ran down the left side of my body…. I decided not to speak until the morning. Valkin slept cradled in my arms all night. I don’t think my eyes left him for a second, not one second. He slept well, bless him, better than he had since we fled Podrar, only waking just before dawn. I was pacing the hallway with him when I heard Teena in the kitchen.

  “I explained everything. I told her who I was. I told her of my brother, of what he’d done and what I expected his intentions were. I showed her the mark on Valkin’s shoulder blade. ‘There had to be a reason you were dragging an infant halfway across the kingdom,’ she told me. I asked her to take him, to call herself his aunt and never let him doubt his parents loved him. She swore Zalski wouldn’t find a trace of his nephew. I left the inn with Lanokas before I could change my mind, trying to believe the Giver had granted Teena to my son, rather than taken my son from me.”

  “Did Zalski look for the child?”

  “Nothing Wilhem told me ever led me to believe so. It seems odd, doesn’t it? Zalski longs for an heir, and he holds so strongly that magic means entitlement. Malzin, of course, would mistreat the boy, because he’s my son, and Valkin’s in addition. She would never forgive him his parentage, her husband knows that well. I like to think he refuses to subject a mere child to Malzin’s hostility, especially a child of his own blood. After all, the boy’s a complete innocent.”

  “You’re right about Zalski,” said Kora. “At least in part. But he also…. He doesn’t want Malzin to ache like she would, having your son about. He really cares for that woman. He’d rather be heirless, I believe it, than upset her by bringing his nephew to the Palace, to her home. Their relationship, it’s oddly functional.”

  Laskenay let out a mirthless laugh. “It always has been. Zalski and Malzin are just different enough that they find each other stimulating.”

  “She’s crueler than he is,” said Kora. “More impulsive.”

  “Never cruel without justification—or what she deems justification. Vengeful, that’s what she is. I’ve loathed her since we were four and my pumpkin juice spilled on her favorite doll. She retaliated dumping a pitcher of cream on my head. When we were older, she convinced herself I pried Valkin from her—perhaps I did. I certainly urged him not to attach himself to Malzin. I knew they were wrong for one another. That wasn’t my place, he hadn’t asked my opinion, but he noticed her vein of cruelty for himself, watched her berate a butler who dallied when she called. Once she and Valkin found a bluebird in the garden, dead off the path, and he proposed they bury it because he thought she’d be distressed to leave it rot. She preferred not to soil her gown. That alarmed him. Such indifference spoke to her character, he told me later. Valkin remained fond of her, though. Always believed she might better herself. I knew differently.”

  “Laskenay, when I suggested we give Teena the Librette I didn’t realize….”

  “How could you? I made Lanokas swear on his mother’s grave not to tell a soul where we left my son.”

  “We can move the book.”

  “Where to? It’s safest where it is. I’ve considered what might happen, if Zalski learned I left my son at Teena’s inn and went there…. He’s always deemed me the paradigm of caution, Kora. Never would he consider I might leave my son, a sorcerer himself, in the vicinity of spells like that book contains. The boy could find them and use them down the road, you see? Oh, he won’t, I know he won’t, I’ve been telling myself Valkin’s son could never…. But the possibility is there, and Zalski would be sure I’d die before taking that chance. I told you once before, Teena Unsten is the safest guardian in the kingdom for that book. And we must keep the book secure, now more than ever.”

  “For Bennie.” Kora hung her head. “Every time I think of her trapped in that room….”

  “Your heart cracks a little, I know.” Laskenay took Kora’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Mine does as well.”

  “If only there were something we could do for her!”

  “There is,” said Laskenay. “Keep the Librette from Zalski.”

  They circled the barn in silence, Kora trying to make sense of the day’s revelations. Valkin looked nothing like his mother, she thought. She tried to remember what Teena called the boy, whether she had mentioned his name. Laskenay’s voice pulled her from her recollections.

  “I’ve been open, I think you’ll agree. I have something to ask now, and I expect you to speak candidly. Is there any attachment between you and Lanokas I should be aware of?”

  “Lanokas?” Kora’s cheeks grew hot. “Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve wondered for some time, more so of late. His anger with his brother is too hot to be disinterested. It’s all on your behalf, and you hardly looked at one another all day. Again, is there something between you?”

  “Something between us? Besides his birth? My sorcery?”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  Kora took a deep breath. “I do care for him. I do. Losing Brianna like he did, it convinced him he cares for me more than he actually does.”

  Laskenay said, “He deserves more credit. He’s lived without Brianna for some time.”

  “Perhaps. It really doesn’t matter. The two of us would be doomed from the start, we both know that.”

  “You’ve talked about this?”

  “Last night.”

  “Last night? Yes, that explains today.”

  “I’m not wrong, am I? I mean, I can’t expect Herezoth to tolerate me. It’s public knowledge what I am. Assume we reinstate Menikas….”

  Laskenay crossed her arms. “That’s quite an assumption.”

  “What kind of a life should I plan for?”

  An air of exhaustion overcame Laskenay. She sighed, a light sigh, as though she lacked the energy for a heavy one, and stopped walking to lean back against the barn. “I’ve been waiting for that question. Dreading it, to be honest. As for the answer: a quiet life, Kora, that’s what you should expect. At the very least, that’s my advice. A quiet life, in a provincial area. I expect that’s not what you wanted me to tell you.”

  “Not exactly. But you’re forgetting where I come from, outside village limits.”

  “You may find—you will find—individuals more reasonable and more accepting than the public at large. You’ll have friends. You’ll marry and start a family, there’s no reason to think otherwise. But you’re wise to avoid a gentleman of standing, that’s undeniable. As for a prince….”

  “What will you do when all this is done?”

  “I don’t know,” Laskenay admitted. “I had a plan, but after Rone I just don’t know. I trust you not to breathe a word about my son.”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  “In that case, is there anything else I should know? Any tracking reports?”

  “Zalski knows we killed Alten.”

  “That was a matter of days at best.”

  “I hoped Ranler would be out of the city first. And Menikas. Zalski’s gone back there, back to Y
angerton.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m meeting the men in two days. I’m bringing them here, with any of Galisan’s men who’ve nowhere else to go.”

  A somber expression fell over Laskenay, and Kora realized she herself had not spared a thought for Galisan since leaving his body behind. She felt guilty for forgetting him, until the barn door’s creak made her jump.

  Lanokas was responsible; the moonlight glinted off his blond head. “You’re lucky,” Kora told him. “I nearly just cursed you to kingdom come. You’re not on guard for another hour.”

  “I was up,” he said.

  Laskenay beckoned him nearer. “I need you to accompany Hayden tomorrow, you two specifically. In case something goes wrong. Have a drink at the inn: a drink,” she specified. “A glass of wine for appearances. It’s cheap. Keep an eye on the game, but don’t be conspicuous, and don’t use magic unless someone’s life depends on it, either of you. I’m trusting your discretion. If we have to flee Wheatfield, we’ll be living in a wood somewhere.”

  “Understood,” said Lanokas. Laskenay nodded, and he remarked, “Not our brightest hour, is it?”

  Laskenay said, “I just hope this is worth the risk. Not the monetary risk, that of your neck. Menikas will have your head if Hayden gambles away our silver.”

  “I told you earlier, I can handle my brother.”

  “Yes, that’s the other scenario I dread.”

  Lanokas raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? I realize we’ve never shared the details of our lives, he and I.”

  “And you grow more distant by the day. I’m frightened of a rift, Rexson.”

  “Between Hune and me? In truth?”

  “We’re all entitled to our irrational fears. Humor me. Try not to anger him unnecessarily.” The younger prince assented, and Laskenay turned to Kora. “Why don’t you turn in for the night? I’d like you up earlier than the rest of us. Zalski will be at work before the sun’s risen, I promise you.”

  To learn Zalski’s plans for the day would only make sense; that way, Kora might know in advance all that hinted of importance. Lanokas offered to finish watch for her. “Go on,” Laskenay prodded, and Kora made her way back to the barn.

  * * *

  Zalski rapped on an unmarked door on the top floor of Yangerton’s City Hall, and Kora recognized the man who opened to him: an elite guardsman with gray hair, a goatee, two scars on his right cheek, and another down his arm. She had tied him to a chair in her first raid; he had come to as she was leaving through the window. Now, as then, resignation lined his face.

  “I figured you’d be paying me a visit.”

  The room was a small office, and rather reminded Kora of the League’s second apartment, strewn with papers and maps in an ordered chaos. Two swords leaned against the far wall next to a folded cot. The guardsman, with an irregular gait, overtook his guest to clear a stool, but Zalski ignored the gesture and remained on his feet.

  “How did this happen?” asked the sorcerer.

  “It started when Vobel botched the warehouse job and had to kill Galisan Bane. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he was in charge.”

  “His incompetence reaped its own reward.”

  “Vobel’s mistake let on we had a spy, which forced us to raid League headquarters with no previous surveillance. You were there, you know there wasn’t time. Someone returned before Alten got out.”

  “Three adolescents, in fact,” said Zalski. “Who are they?”

  “If Rone met them, he didn’t mention it.” The guardsman shook his head. “Over a year. Over a year it took him to be trusted with their headquarters, and immediately Vobel….”

  “Rone knows of these boys. Where is he, Argint?”

  “Awaiting burial.”

  “He’s dead as well.” Zalski shook his head. “By the League? How did they know he was ours?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “How could they have known? In theory?”

  “Perhaps they have a spy themselves,” said Argint. “In the elite guard.”

  “Not after the Wilhem Horn fiasco. I made sure of that.”

  “You have to admit it’s possible.”

  “If they had a spy, they would have known Rone was a traitor. In that case, would they have waited for something like the warehouse job before killing him?”

  “Maybe something in the warehouse clued them in.”

  “I searched it yesterday. There was nothing. That’s not to say, of course, the League hadn’t destroyed the proof, or that some piece of information in conjunction with another…. Suspicions arise easily. Yes, that must be how it happened. It’s of little matter. Even alive, Rone would be useless after Vobel’s folly. Whatever the case, I find myself equally deprived of a spy as of a general. Sit down, Argint.”

  Argint seated himself on the stool he had cleared, the false leg that had so surprised Kora protruding in front of him. How had she forgotten it?

  “Your father was a soldier, I believe. You yourself have been in the military your entire adult life.”

  “Thirty-five years.”

  “And an officer for twenty.”

  “Twenty-three,” said Argint.

  “I stand corrected. The fact is, you’ve deserved a promotion for some time. I finally find myself capable of granting one. Congratulations, General.”

  Argint rose and shook Zalski’s hand. “It’s an honor, Sire, thank you.”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a brilliant strategist. Every plan you’ve had a hand in shaping has been nothing short of successful. I considered you for Captain of the Guard, but I needed someone who could physically lead those men. In your new post you’ll have ample officers to handle such duties. The leg you lost should be no hindrance.”

  “I’ve never allowed it to get in my way.”

  Zalski glanced at the cot in the corner. “I was sure I’d find you in,” he said. “How long have you been sleeping here?”

  “The past three nights. There’s been too much going on for me to leave.”

  “Was it you who sent Webb to Podrar?”

  “Let’s say I suggested for his own well-being he’d do better not to stop on the journey.”

  “Where are Grombach’s personal effects?”

  “At headquarters.”

  “Miss Carder’s remains?”

  “Kansten Carder was interred in the prison cemetery.”

  “What of Mouser Rone’s intelligence? Have we taken advantage of it in the wake of Grombach’s death?”

  “As much as possible. We arrested three of the men whose names he gave as Galisan Bane’s cohorts. They’ll go on trial. Conviction’s guaranteed with our evidence. The others have disappeared.”

  “Someone’s warning them,” said Zalski.

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “Come with me to headquarters. I need to collect something I gave your predecessor. You can give me specifics later.” Argint took two steps toward the door before Zalski stopped him. “I have more efficient ways to travel.”

  445

  CHAPTER TEN

  Of Snakes and Scorpions

  As far as Kora was concerned, Zalski revealed nothing unknown or unexpected to Argint. The item he collected was Alten’s crystal, and he passed it to the general’s successor. He put Argint in charge of the mayor’s assassination and gave him a rundown of the situation, a situation Kora was sick of thinking about. She maintained the connection to study the League’s promoted enemy, not to listen to Zalski; Alten’s replacement was a stoic, prudent sort, entirely professional. All in all, Kora found herself at a loss as to what the man thought of the morning’s events.

  That afternoon, Kora revealed what had happened in Yangerton as she straightened up the loft with her fellow sorceress.

  “Argint Wicker, you say?”

  “What do you know about him?” Kora asked.

  “Only what Wilhem mentioned, which is little. He comes from comfortable beginnings.
He’s a cautious type: takes in everything and leaves little to chance. He has principles, Wilhem said, more than most of the elites.”

  Kora scoffed. “Principles? Yes, well, so does Zalski.”

  “What was your impression, Kora?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t make heads or tails of him. He struck me as serious, very serious, but that falls in line with Wilhem’s description, doesn’t it?”

  “How does he compare to Alten?”

  Kora thought for a moment. “I don’t know if it’s intuition or just plain lunacy, but I’d rather Alten be at the helm of the Fontferry job. Argint seems more methodical, more thorough. I’ve seen him before, Laskenay.”

  When they finished in the loft, Laskenay went off to the plaza. Kora took it on herself to rack her brain for a spell to enhance the security and secrecy of Wheatfield, but came up with nothing. She checked on Zalski a couple times; he and Argint were setting a timeline for the assassination plot, one that differed little from Alten’s previous schedule.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” said Neslan, climbing the ladder. “I wanted to show you this.” He pulled, with great delicacy, a leather-bound tome from his sack. Its binding looked ready to split.

  “Were you supposed to take that?”

  “It won’t be missed in twenty-four hours. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”

  Kora looked to the spine, but no title was visible; cracks and scratches in the leather had rubbed it away, if indeed it had ever been printed. Neslan handed her the book. “Careful with it,” he warned. The title, it turned out, appeared on the first page in a dull, black cursive, hand-written: A History of Magical Lore. The author was someone named Conter Runic.