The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  * * *

  While Kora and Kansten took off toward the Ring, Rexson fingered the much smaller ring on his left hand. He and Gracia were in the queen’s dressing chamber, a room large enough to house five times the three wardrobes that stood against the walls. Still clad in her silk nightdress, Gracia was brushing her long, chestnut locks before a mahogany-framed, claw-footed mirror. The king had not yet chosen a robe for the day, though he had put on his standard cotton shirt and farmer’s trousers. He was running Kora’s advice from the night before through his head, and failed to mark that his wife had not reacted, had not even turned, when he’d walked in. She had seen him in the mirror and gone on with the task at hand.

  “I’m to speak with Dorane’s spy this morning,” he announced. “Should Vane and I wait for you?”

  The queen spoke to her glass. “There’s no need. I’ve seen the roach once, and that’s enough for me. He knows what I wish on him. When do you leave?”

  “An hour or so.”

  “And return?”

  “When we’ve reached a sufficient bargain. I’ve no choice but to bargain with the lot of them, you know I haven’t.”

  “The spy, that worm, he may not know you have magic.”

  “Dorane could have told him. I can’t take that chance.”

  Gracia pressed her lips tight and brushed the right side of her head with renewed vigor. She seemed determined not to look at Rexson, so he took her upheld wrist and eased the brush from her grasp. Only then did she turn to him, jaw set, eyes dangerously calm.

  The king said, “We can’t take that chance.”

  “What we is there in this? Tell me, when has there been a we?”

  “There hasn’t,” said the king. “But there should have been. I should have taken your fears and your wishes, your pain more in account. I never intended to thrust you aside, though that’s what I did. I focused entirely on the children, on what I judged to be the best course of action to bring them home while avoiding public scandal. I could have, and I should have, made some concessions to you. At the least, I should have acknowledged your suffering.”

  The queen appeared stunned. “Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, you should have.”

  “Gracia, there’s no avoiding some give and take with these people.”

  “There can be. We can slit their throats like the pigs they are, like they threatened to do my sons.”

  “Have you ever killed, Gracia?”

  Gracia blinked in surprise at the question. “Of course I haven’t.”

  “Well, I’ve had to. I’ve had to, and I swear to you, you don’t want to handle the aftermath. You don’t want to relive that day after day, restless midnight after midnight.”

  “Rexson, you give me the knife and I’ll slit their throats myself, every one of them.”

  “Like Zalski killed your father the day of the coup? And your uncle, months after that?”

  “My father and uncle were innocent. These monsters deserve….”

  “These monsters might hope we’ll have them killed, Dorane especially. Zacry took their magic from them. They have nothing left to live for. I truly think we should force them to live, out of spite. Out of spite, while making it appear like a concession. What agreements could you accept, to procure their silence?”

  “They want to die? You’re sure of it?”

  “I have a guard on suicide watch.”

  “In that case….” began Gracia. She lowered her eyes to her slippers. “In that case, let the Fist rot in prison the rest of their miserable lives. Or shorten their lives with years of hard labor. I’m indifferent, as long as they never go free. You let them go free, and I’ll hunt them down myself.”

  “Understood. And the spy?”

  “He’s a scrawny whelp. He won’t endure much. I believe I, I could come to terms with a sentence of some twenty years for him. Vane told me his story, said Dorane’s more to blame than this Treel creature is.”

  “Good,” said the king. “Could you live with a council of magicians? They’ll demand that, I expect.”

  “As long as they have no say in whom you appoint, or what the council’s role is.”

  “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

  “Rexson, thank you, for consulting me on this.”

  “Those boys are yours as much as they are mine, though I’ve overlooked the fact. I’ve been attempting to balance varied concerns through all of this, including Vane’s desire to support us. I wanted to allow him that without endangering him more than necessary, so my attention.... The sole neglect on my part was you and your interests.”

  “And have you thought, Rexson, about why it was always my interests you overlooked through this process? Unthinkingly, perhaps even unknowingly?”

  “Somewhat,” he admitted. “Not sufficiently to draw conclusions.”

  “I didn’t think you had,” said Gracia. “You’re frightened what those conclusions are likely to be. Well, I’ve pondered this through to the endpoint, on multiple occasions, even. I’ve taken varied routes in the hopes of arriving someplace different, though I’ve yet to do so. It’s nothing complicated: we never loved each other, though we thought we did, the both of us. I can never doubt that. It was an act of self-deception, one so strong we required the Enchanted Fist to reveal the masquerade. Well, it’s revealed now, and between ourselves we need to cease the act. I accept your apology, for I know you’re sincere. I don’t grudge you a thing. Indeed, I’d be wrong to do so. You’re no more culpable for this situation than I feel I am. We can and we shall move onward, but the charade must end where you and I are concerned, it must. We must recognize this for the political union it’s become, were it ever something more.”

  Rexson felt as though she had spat in his eye, and could only pray his face and posture did not reveal as much. He would have seated himself, but Gracia occupied the room’s only chair. He said, “I believe it started as more than that. More importantly, I believe it still could be, though to salvage our marriage would require both our efforts.”

  “Our marriage is not in danger. I simply question its foundation. If it were a political union, would that be so devastating? My parents married for political expediency, as did yours.”

  “As I swore to myself I never would.”

  “You haven’t betrayed yourself. Neither of us realized what we were doing. We believed….”

  “You have an excuse. You lived sheltered, but I should have known, Gracia. If what you say is true, I should have recognized the truth.”

  “Because of that Porteg woman? Or the Duchess of Yangerton, rest her soul? Rexson, neither Kora nor Brianna has a thing to do with us. No two relationships provide for a flawless comparison. No single relationship maintains stasis. Stasis is death. As for the two of us, we acted in error on good faith.”

  “You’ve convinced yourself of this?”

  “I’ve recognized I never loved you as I believed I did, yes. I’ve recognized I can’t reverse my disenchantment. Rexson, can you honestly say you haven’t suspected likewise where you’re concerned?”

  Had it not escaped from him, just the night before, that he had never loved his wife as he had Kora? Had that stark and painful truth not been revealed by the mere act of standing once again in Kora’s presence after so much time apart?

  “I’ve suspected,” he admitted. “I should lie to speak differently.” He returned her hairbrush, which she set on the vanity before she rose and took him completely off his guard in an embrace nothing less than passionate. He returned the gesture, and held her in his arms for a full minute; her were eyes closed, her head pressed against his shoulder. Then she withdrew, taking his hands in hers. A line of tears stained her face still unmarred by any wrinkle.

  “Rexson, we shall get on. The worst of the nightmare’s run its length, in all respects. The children will return within the week, as soon as you pass sentence on those fiends. As for our marriage, we’ve admitted the truth of where we stand. We’ve allowed the light to enter, and our
personal demons shan’t torment us by day. We can live contentedly, more than contentedly, and shall relate better to each other without the masks. I truly believe that, or I shouldn’t have ripped them off. We were pretending to be lovers and destroying genuine affection as a result. I was…. I believe I’d begun to despise you, and I couldn’t bear such monstrosities to continue, could not bear it. You are far, far too dear to me. I could not bear to lose you that way.”

  “Gracia, you will never lose me, not in that manner. Not through costumes and acts.”

  She began to cry as intensely and he had ever seen her, and he held her close once more, letting her dampen the front of his shirt.

  * * *

  The room in Podrar’s prison where Vane and Rexson met with Treel was no larger than a storage closet. There were no windows, but the lamps on the stone walls proved more than enough to light the space, even to heat it in winter, Vane would have thought. As the year had not progressed into September, Vane started to sweat as soon as he sat in one of four wooden chairs, the only furniture in the room. The king, he thought, must be broiling beneath his robes.

  Two guards led in a bound Treel, then left. The metal door boomed behind them, making the captive wince. He winced again when Vane cast a spell; it lit the walls with a glowing shade of yellow such as Treel would assign to nausea. The thought made little sense, but then, Treel was feeling quite nauseated at the moment. He sunk into an open chair.

  To see Ingleton calmed the prisoner, especially when the duke’s first words were, “You’re luckier than you know. We apprehended Dorane and the other kidnappers. They’re in Yangerton for the present.”

  Treel’s voice held the faintest note of desperation as he told the king, “I never meant him to threaten the princes, Your Majesty. Or your reign.”

  Rexson responded, “I don’t care about your intentions. I want to know what Dorane told you.”

  Vane conjectured, “Precious little, I’d think.”

  Treel asserted, “I didn’t know his goals, not fully. He deceived me so I would aid him. I don’t deny that aid, because I gave it. I told him about your sons’ excursions, but that’s my entire involvement, right there.”

  The king prompted, “And Dorane never mentioned me?”

  Treel blinked in the walls’ glow. “Only in passing, if it all. Nothing that I remember, at least. What would Dorane know about you? I was the one in the Palace. He came to me for information.”

  “Rexson,” said Vane, “I believe him. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I do. He has no idea what you’re referring to.”

  “And I don’t want to know,” Treel insisted. “I want nothing more to do with Dorane and his….”

  Rexson looked disgusted. “Enough,” he cut off Treel. “This could be an act, and I’m not taking chances. You’re to have no trial, you understand? We’ll arrange an appropriate sentence right now. Fifteen years hard labor.”

  “What?” sputtered Treel. That seemed too good to be true. Much too good—he’d be murdered in secret, off his guard.

  “For each of my sons you helped abduct.”

  That sounded more vengeful, and Treel breathed easier. Ingleton, however, looked flabbergasted. “Forty-five years? Rexson, that’s a steep….”

  “I’ve no proof his involvement was no greater than he claims. I won’t accept Dorane’s verification, should he confirm it. Forty-five years seems a fair exchange for his life and for sparing his family the shame of a trial. He’ll be allowed visitors.”

  “All right,” Treel agreed. “All right, I accept that. Forty-five years, fine. As long as I’m not killed. I don’t want to be killed.”

  “That’s up to you,” said Rexson. “Keep your mouth closed. You’re imprisoned for a theft attempt, we’ll say of my wife’s jewels. Political documents would make more sense, but I assume you cannot read.”

  “I don’t read, no.”

  “I’ll spell this out clearly, then.” Rexson hoisted Treel to his feet by the front of his shirt. “You speak one word, just one word for as long as you may live, about myself, or my family, or Dorane and his crimes, and you won’t be living much longer. If you think I don’t have informants within this jail….”

  “I’m sure you do,” Treel said.

  “Rexson,” Vane warned. The king released Dorane’s spy, thrusting him back, and Treel stumbled into the wall, hitting his shoulder and the back of his head before dropping to all fours.

  Vane grabbed Rexson’s arm, which stopped him from doing further harm. “We’re going,” said the sorcerer. “You asked me to keep you in line, and we’re going, to draw up papers for the sentence.” He released the sound barrier, the room’s brightness diminished, and the nobles walked out. The guards who had escorted Treel were waiting in the corridor outside. The king stormed past, ahead of Vane, and the sorcerer whispered to the soldiers, pointing back to the open metal door and the man beyond, “Make sure he sees a medic.”

  For the king’s own good—so he wouldn’t regret something he did on impulse—Vane would have to keep Rexson away from any bargaining session with the Fist. Luckily, the Fist’s officers were still in Yangerton, and Rexson could not get to them without Vane’s magic, or Zacry’s. Zacry was already at the Yangerton jail, undercover as one of the guards outside the kidnappers’ cells. If Rexson needed time to gain some self-control, then time he would have.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Family Affairs

  When Kora took Kansten home from the beach and saw her mother, she learned about Neslan and the snake. She wanted to transport straight to Zacry’s, but Ilana told her the boy was fine, that Kora could do nothing more than Joslyn and August to care for him, and that Joslyn would resent Kora barging over to take charge in her own home. She told Kora to rest, because she looked as though she had not slept in seventy-two hours. Kora had not, at least not well, and she dozed until midway through the afternoon.

  That night, when the children were in bed, Kora stepped outside with Parker. They took a walk down deserted and moonlit dirt roads not unlike the ones Kora remembered near her childhood home outside Hogarane.

  Kora was not in the habit of keeping secrets from her husband, and she told him everything: how she had been seen, how people said the king had fathered her children, how the king had followed her to Triflag and what had passed between them on the beach. She told him about Kansten’s lack of magic. As for herself, she revealed a plan to transport to Traigland City if need be, to turn to Parker’s best friend should she need to hide.

  “You and the children aren’t in danger. I’d never have gone back if my doing so threatened you, never. If they do come for me, and that’s unlikely, no one could legally touch any one of you.”

  “Don’t you worry about our family. None of us is going anywhere. It looks like Vane and Zac’ll be the ones leaving Triflag, to help out Rexson in his jam.”

  “Parker, the king’s feelings for me aside, because I, I’m not sure they’re not still stronger than he’ll admit even to himself…. There’s nothing between him and me. Nothing.”

  Parker slung an arm across her shoulders. “I know that, Kora.”

  “You’re the one thing that’s kept me from turning bitter, you know. From turning horribly, nastily bitter. I can see that looking back on my time here. When we first met in that general store, you knew who I had to be, but you didn’t gawk, or run terrified, or worse, ask for some display of magic like so many have. You just helped me lift that sack of rice that was too heavy for me, even when that idiot yelled for me to move it with a blasted incantation, what else was my magic for? You’ve put up with so much when you had no reason to: the insults, the people who stopped coming to you for horseshoes at the beginning.... And you’ve never once complained, implied that I owed you something for it. You’ve made my life bearable here, much more than bearable. My mother and Zac could never have done that. As much as I love them, they could never have stripped the resentment from my soul. You did that. I don’t deserve you, I don’t, a
nd I know I never will.

  “Parker, I should be bursting inside at the thought of Zac going home. I should be hurt, and angry, and jealous beyond belief, and maybe part of it is that I did go back, if only for a day, but I can’t feel any of those things. All I feel when I think of Zac leaving is how blessed I am that you’re here, and as much as I despise Triflag some days, I know that if I could live in Herezoth without you, I’d never. I’d never, I just couldn’t.”

  Parker kissed her on the cheek. “Life sure has its sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

  “Where are you taking this?”

  “I’ve always felt like I never deserved you. It wasn’t just your homeland the Crimson League fought for, you know. It was mine too. I may have been here all that time, but….”

  “You might as well have been with us. God knows you know everything we went through. Each nightmare that’s woken me through the years, each flashback, you’ve made me confront them.”

  “You haven’t had one of those dreams in quite a while.”

  “Six or seven months. The last one was that conference with Zalski: handing him that chain, admitting how I’d used it to stalk him.”

  “That was always one of the more frequent ones. I’ve been telling you for years it would probably go away if you told Zac the whole story.”

  “Yes, well, Zac knows now, thanks to Lanokas. He’ll feel guilty and obliged for the rest of his life because he knows I risked torture to get him amnesty.”

  “Zac’s no idiot, Kora. He’s got to know Zalski would have tortured and killed you if he’d been able, necklace or no.”

  “You’d have to have met the man, Parker. It would have been worse for me after that confession. I made things personal invading his mind, and he wanted his vengeance, he…. I can’t even describe him. You’d have to have met him, and Zac did. Zac will understand. Zac will understand now why Zalski didn’t kill me straightaway in the courtyard when we attacked….”