“You were right to order me out. I know why you did, and it’s disgusting.”
Argint pushed Zalski away. The sorcerer tumbled with a groan, clutching at Hayden and toppling both the Leaguesman and the chair, which fell away as not only Hayden’s but everyone’s bonds disappeared.
Zalski, it seemed, had not carried the Lifestone on his person.
Lanokas stared at Argint, blinking stupidly, as though convinced that what he had witnessed was some kind of hallucination. Bennie clutched at Kora’s leg from the ground, trembling more than ever. Hayden scrambled away from the expanding pool of blood gushing from Zalski’s neck.
A hundred memories flashed across Kora’s mind, each in a microsecond, things she had never expected to experience again: a spring breeze, the patter of rain, her brother’s smile, her mother’s cooking. Life. A life that she only now let herself realize how much she longed to hang onto. She rubbed her throat with her newly freed hands. It pained her as much as ever. Breathing hard, supporting Bendelof, who had now stood up, she looked at Zalski’s killer and mouthed one word: Why?
Argint asked her, “Do you recall my reaction when you explained his obsession with the Librette?”
Hayden was staring at the corpse in as much disbelief as Lanokas. He said, “You told her the point was moot.”
Argint bent to wipe his sword on Zalski’s tunic. “It stopped being moot when you idiots let the spellbook fall in his hands. Frankly, if this had only to do with you four, I’d have left as he wished. God knows you deserve what comes to you, pulling a stunt like that attack. But he wouldn’t have stopped with today. There’d have been others, for years to come. No one should have power like Zalski stood to gain with that book and those stones. I’m not particularly righteous, or political, but….”
Lanokas’s voice was shaky. “Everyone draws the line somewhere.”
Argint studied the rightful king with suspicion. “You didn’t arrange to lose the book, by chance?”
“Why the hell would we arrange…? You think we’d want…? How were we to know you felt so strongly? That’s not the impression you left Kora with.” Kora shook her head, eyes wide. How could Argint even imagine she might give Zalski what he sought? She wished the man shared Malzin’s power, could touch her and discover what she could not tell him: that she had hardly slept in a week, had been fighting to keep food down ever since her reunion with Petroc.
Argint countered, “I had to feign indifference, or you might have surrendered the book. To get my aid.”
Lanokas said, “You didn’t accept my word he found the Librette. You’d never trust me on that topic. How did you know?”
“The spell he killed your companion with, the Duke of Crescenton’s son…. That was the one he’d been searching for, no?”
Bennie, who shouldered a greater portion of her own weight now, squeezed Kora’s hand. Lanokas confirmed Argint’s suspicion, while Hayden turned to the resident sorceress, wondering why she had not answered. “Can you still not speak?” he asked. Kora shook her head for what felt like the fiftieth time. “But why not? The bonds disappeared when he died.”
“Sorcery’s not that uniform,” said Lanokas. He glared at Zalski’s remains. “A binding spell isn’t complex. It’s also what Laskenay used to call continual magic.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” said Bennie. “That horrible woman, that wife of his, she fought dirty.”
Hayden cut her off. “Did you really expect Malzin to play fair?”
Lanokas held himself more stiffly, but continued without comment. “Those bonds were made of magic. Dependent on Zalski’s Lin—on his magic force,” he clarified for Bendelof, “force which disappeared with his death. The spell he cast on Kora must be stronger, or of a different type, able to persist without his Lin sustaining it.”
“So what happens now?” asked Hayden. Without looking up, Argint slid his sword back into its sheath.
“That would be the question of the hour. To avoid chaos, clearly the best option is to restore legitimacy. Restore Rexson to the throne. I believe that’s been your aim from the beginning.”
A knot formed in Kora’s chest. She forgot about her throat at the onset of the newer, sharper ache, an ache that arose as she realized she had lost three friends, what felt like three family members, in Zalski’s demise, not two. She had forgotten to count Lanokas. The tyrant’s death, which had felt like a miracle five seconds before, felt all at once to be the triumph of a lesser evil. A substantially lesser evil, it was true, so that Kora felt selfish just considering it such, but all she could dwell on was the moment she would have to leave Lanokas and….
And what? Try to find Zacry? Her mother? How, with no voice to communicate? Where would she go? No place where Kora was known would ever be safe again.
With a start, Kora realized the voice she was tuning out belonged to Lanokas himself. He was questioning Argint, at whom she chose to direct her gaze instead of—to attribute his proper title to him made her bite a finger—instead of toward the king.
“…You say I can depend on the elite guard? They won’t betray me? Betray you?”
“Not if they have nothing to gain by resisting. I suggest unquestioned amnesty for all. Forgiveness of any crime, and all debt to the state as well, to appease the commoners. It’s the only option.”
“It’s no option.” Lanokas crossed his arms. “Some of the guard broke oaths to my father. To the kingdom. Most were coerced—that’s cowardice, not treason—but others acted freely. The lot of them will be brought to trial to determine the traitors.”
“And those who took no part in the coup three years ago?”
“They have nothing to fear, if they never abused their power. But I tell you now, I’ll handpick my personal guards, and Zalski’s former henchmen will not be among their number. Every one of his elites found innocent I’ll reassign.”
Argint harrumphed, and Kora was suddenly aware he held the only weapon in their midst. “Forget that. You must. You’re four in this room, and unarmed. There are ten times your number crawling around the Palace, perhaps more. They could overpower you without sweating. The only way they’ll bow to you is if you offer amnesty.”
“I won’t be the puppet of Zalski’s guard. They’ll neither dictate my policy nor escape justice.” Lanokas gestured to the door. “There’s a kingdom of people out there screaming not just for the oppression to cease, but for vindication. They would lynch me, and rightly, if I ascended the throne without giving that to them. I would know, Argint, I lived among them for three eye-opening years. If you won’t accept my word, take that of my companions. They’re not highborn, not one of them. Zalski’s regime destroyed their lives, that’s the reason they took up arms. They may be unique in their actions, but not their sentiments.
“Zalski’s blood alone will not appease the kingdom. Nor should it. As pertains to the guard, I know you’ve worked beside those men, that you respect the majority of them. Those you speak for will have nothing to fear, not from me. I’ll trust your word. You’ve proven you deserve that faith. And I swear I’ll spill blood only for blood crimes, crimes punishable by death under the old, established code. If I maintained Zalski’s code I’d have to hang them all. Poetic justice of a sort, I admit, but…. The courts will deem lesser punishment acceptable for most. Listen to me, to let those men, and others, escape unaccountable, completely unaccountable…. Herezoth won’t have it.”
Argint raised an eyebrow. “And me?”
“As you took it on yourself to destroy Zalski’s order, I expect you’ll help me establish a new one.”
“Again, there’s that immediate problem of Malzin’s men.”
Lanokas sat on the settee, head in hands. “This is where I, I need Neslan. I need Neslan, I’m not a strategist, I…. I have to get out of the Palace, we all do. That’s the first objective. How…?”
He lifted his head, struck by an idea. “Get rope, Argint. Enough to bind our hands. You can guide us two by two to a carriag
e, to the stables out back, under orders to transport us to the jail. Will anyone question your authority?”
“Unlikely. Where am I to take you in reality?” Argint asked.
“The city barracks.”
“To my men.” Argint nodded his appreciation of the plan.
“With their number we can march on the Palace. When the elite guardsmen realize we killed Zalski, they’ll surrender without further bloodshed.”
Hayden clapped Lanokas on the shoulder. “That could work. That could honestly work. My God, we can do this.”
“Provided we make it out,” said Argint.
“Go,” Bennie urged him. “Go, please!” The general left the parlor as Lanokas bent over Zalski’s body, to search it for weapons. Bendelof dropped into a chair, still white. “I thought we were finally safe,” she said. Kora put an arm around her, shuddering at the thought of what the guard would do to the two of them without Zalski to ensure restraint.
Hayden walked over to Lanokas. “Nothing?” he asked.
Lanokas rose from his knees. “A dagger,” he said, laying it out in his hand. “I’m surprised he carried even that.” The prince drew back his leg to kick the sorcerer, but Hayden stopped him, taking the dagger.
“Neslan wouldn’t want that. Neither would Laskenay.”
“Somehow I don’t think Neslan would mind,” said Lanokas. But he spat on the corpse instead. “Damn it, I warned him! I told him not to react if she were killed.”
“He loved her,” said Bennie. “Did he love her?”
“Since he was ten. He hid it well until today. He felt he had to.” The prince kicked Zalski after all. Twice. He threw off Hayden’s restraining hand and joined Kora by the table.
“Damn him, I don’t know what he did to you. I watched him do it, and I still don’t know. Did he say he removed your vocal cords? Open your mouth.”
Kora obliged. “Damn him,” Lanokas repeated. “You need a doctor.” Kora shrugged her shoulders; she couldn’t see how a doctor would be able to do a thing for her. “And Bennie, shit! What happened to you?” Lanokas had just noticed her sliced and bloodstained vestments.
“I was stabbed. Before Zalski set off that, that light and noise. I feel weak, lost some blood, but it’s nothing serious. He healed me. I’m a bit lightheaded, but sitting helps.”
“She needs to eat something,” said Hayden. Kora sent him a look that said they all did. “She more than the rest of us.” He carried over the bread and butter tray.
The refreshments were enough for them all to have a bite, even after they gave half to Bennie. Some color returned to her cheeks. The pain of swallowing must have shown on Kora’s face, because Lanokas kept looking at her with concern. Argint returned just as they were finishing. “Who first?” he asked.
Lanokas answered: Kora and Hayden. Bennie needed more time to rest, and Lanokas should be the one to stay with her, because of his telekinesis. The general disagreed.
“Your life’s the one that matters. You have to take the throne. If they kill you before I get back?”
“I can protect myself.”
“Shut up,” hissed Argint, without warning, “all of you.” Someone was moving down the corridor outside. Running. Argint threw his rope to Hayden and motioned for the Leaguesmen to back against the wall. He took up station beside the door.
The blue-uniformed soldier who entered was a tall man, muscular, with larger than average ears. Before he had time to mark the corpse on the rug, Argint grabbed him and threw him to the corner, keeping him there with his sword. Lanokas brought the man’s own blade flying through the air to his outstretched hand.
Looking beyond Argint, unsettled by the way he had been disarmed, the guardsman glimpsed Zalski’s body and raised his hands above his head. The general told him, “It will bring me no joy, but I’ll kill you if you yell an alarm.” The elite nodded his consent, and Argint rolled his eyes. “You can speak in normal tones, Kant. Have you other weapons?”
“A dagger.” Hayden passed the rope to Kora and went over to confiscate a second knife.
“Why would you barge into Zalski’s parlor? What’s your purpose?”
Kant refrained from answering his former fellow guardsman. In the silence, Kora heard the faintest sounds of—could it be a scuffle? More rushing feet, hurried voices, the words inaudible.
“What news do you bring, soldier?” Argint prodded Kant with his blade.
“The townsfolk are attacking. It’s the crest on the wall. They realize at least one royal’s still alive, or was earlier. There’s at least a hundred of them. And they’re growing.”
445
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Price of Victory
Kora grabbed for Lanokas, missing him the first time. A mob was forming, a mob that would group all sorcerers with Zalski, as Jonson Peare had. A mob that could easily kill her. Lanokas turned her to face him, alarmed at her terror. He brushed a lock of hair away that had fallen across her face. “They won’t touch you. They won’t touch you, do you hear? They would have to kill me first, and they want to reinstate me.”
Wouldn’t they kill him? Mightn’t they, if they were rabid enough and they realized their new king had worked with sorcerer scum? If he revealed any sign of what he felt for her? Desperate, Kora pointed back and forth between Lanokas and herself, indicating their relationship; then she jabbed a finger at his chest and ran it across her throat. He comprehended her warning. “I won’t let them hurt you, I swear it,” he repeated. She shut her eyes, feeling dizzy rather than reassured. “Kora….”
Kora pulled herself together, nodded at him. Meanwhile, the noise was getting louder, and Argint, with Hayden’s aid, had bound and gagged the guardsman.
“What now?” said Hayden.
Lanokas said, “We run for the courtyard. Zalski’s men still hold the Palace, we can’t let them trap us here. Come on….”
He pulled Bennie from her seat, and the four of them, plus Argint, rushed into the corridor. The general lagged behind with his false leg, but only a little, as the others moved slowly due to injury. Lanokas yelled at Hayden to pass one of the daggers to Kora, because she would be the one in greatest danger, he knew it despite his reassurances. She gulped in fear, but accepted the weapon.
“We won’t pay unjust taxes!”
“The tyrant will pay now!”
“No more jailings! No disappearances!”
“Death to Zalski! Death to sorcery!”
“The king’s line lives! Long live the king!”
The people of Podrar, armed with stones, planks of wood, some with kitchen instruments, had forced their way into the vestibule. The bodies of Zalski’s guard littered the floor. The mob had begun to rush up the staircase, to pour into every hallway that led off the entrance chamber, but halted when Lanokas and his fellows appeared, stopped by the shouts and the cheers of the first to lay eyes on the prince, men and women alike pumping fists and raising weapons.
“LONG LIVE THE KING!”
The townspeople let Lanokas and his group through, to the center of the entrance chamber. Four or five men reached out to lay hands on Argint, but the prince jumped in front of him, wielding Kant’s sword. “He’s an ally!” More men made to grab at the general. “An ally, I say!”
“Where’s the sorcerer?” they yelled.
“The sorcerer!”
“Death to Zalski!”
Lanokas hushed the crowd. They consented to leave Argint in peace, more interested in the fate of the usurper.
“Zalski’s dead,” said Lanokas. “Down that corridor.” He pointed the way he had come, and ten or fifteen men rushed to verify his claim. “Don’t kill the other man!” he shouted after them. The outbursts of joy and hysteria swallowed his voice.
“Kill all tyrants!”
“All sorcerers!”
“Kill that one! That one there!” A woman, perhaps thirty, jabbed a slender finger in Kora’s direction. “That’s Porteg, I saw her use magic in the street!”
/> “She’s one of them!” screamed an older man.
“The worst of them!” cried four of five together. At least, it sounded like four or five. Kora dropped her dagger, a cold terror freezing her feet to the marble. Her companions jumped to shield her from the advancing masses, beating the closest ones back.
“She’s a loyalist!” shouted Hayden. “A bloody loyalist! Always has been!”
The mob stopped pressing on them, but continued presenting its case.
“She wants to steal Zalski’s seat!”
“She’ll manipulate the king! She has to die!”
Lanokas tried to calm them. “She can’t speak! Can’t speak, cannot cast spells, not one. In God’s name, isn’t one of you a doctor?”
“I am,” said a man three yards away. Those next to him pushed him forward.
“Examine her, her vocal cords are gone.”
The doctor laid rough hands on Kora’s neck. He pulled her mouth open and peered into her throat. “They might be gone,” he said. “They look to be. In this light I can’t be certain.”
The mob grew more restless than ever. “She’ll always be a sorceress!” cried the woman who had first pointed Kora out. Dozens of voices sounded at once.
“Always!” “A sorceress at heart, a slave to magic!” “She’ll go to the Healing Pool she will!” “Nothing’s uncleansable save sorcery and wine stains!” “Death to sorcery!” “She’ll betray us like he did!” “She’s no different! None of them are!”
Lanokas, Bendelof, Hayden, and Argint had by now formed a ring around Kora. She dared not summon her protective shell, dared not demonstrate the slightest proof of magical ability. Magic she had cast that morning held her bandana in place, but she quaked to think the fabric could slide away and the crowd label her an imposter of a hero thanks to the ruby, which remained her last and only secret. Within seconds, the mob shoved Hayden aside. Someone yanked Kora’s hair, while more hands grabbed her clothing and threw her to the floor, facedown. She could do nothing, could not even plead. A pipe struck her shoulder, and Bennie started a tug of war with the twenty-something who held it.
The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 58
