“Where is His Majesty?” asked Arbora.
“Not here,” responded Vane. “You’ll negotiate with the two of us.”
“What’s there to negotiate?” asked Ursa, her eyes wide.
“The king’s willing to let you live,” said Vane, and Ursa’s panic subsided for the moment. “He’s even willing to spare you the indignity of a trial.”
Arbora asked, “And why would that be? Out of the goodness of his heart, is it?”
Vane said, “Don’t play games with me. You know why it is. He wishes your silence.”
Arbora replied, “If he wants my silence, he’ll do better than you’ve offered. Let us live? He thinks that’s a concession? My entire life’s work collapsed around me. I don’t care if I die. Let him haul us off and murder us, all three of us….”
Ursa looked just like a frightened deer. “Shut up, Bora!”
“The king would never kill us without a trial, you idiot. He’d never be able to live with himself. You’ve met the man, haven’t you?” Arbora turned back to Vane. She stared him down. “No, you can scurry back to the Palace and tell Rexson he can put us on trial, where I personally will reveal everything I know about his family and his tart’s return to Yangerton.”
Zacry warned, “Watch your tongue.”
“I’ll tell you plainly, I have no great need to destroy that woman, but I’d have no qualms about it either, slew of children or not. Kora should have considered them before she involved herself here. As for Rexson, he can have us tried or eliminated straight off, I dare him…. Or, he can create the council I’ve been asking of him for months.”
And there it was. Vane’s insides froze. His last irrational hopes of avoiding a council evaporated.
“Let him do as he will,” Arbora finished. “I have nothing more to say.” She rose, and Vane and Zacry barked in unison for her to sit. She obeyed.
“I have more to discuss,” said Vane. Arbora would want a public council. The king would never risk a private one, but she wouldn’t know that. She probably thought he preferred the thing private, that he assumed he could keep it so and avoid scandal. “This council will be secret. The crown will determine its size and its members, as well as its function.”
“That’s not good enough,” Arbora claimed.
Zacry glanced up from his notes to counter, “It’s fifty times what you deserve.”
Arbora said, “This council will be public. It will have no fewer than four members, and it will meet a minimum of three times a year. Anything less and I blab everything I know. If you care about your sister, you’ll convince the king to do this.”
Zacry argued, “I’d sooner convince him to kill you. Don’t think I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t and wouldn’t are different things, Porteg. I’ll take my chances.”
Vane said, “Your chances will improve if you sacrifice a little something with all those demands.”
“Like what?” Arbora asked.
“You’ll instruct every member of your group that it’s their responsibility, as well as in their interest, to support the king and council, whatever their resolutions. You’ll explain to them why you three buffoons will be in prison for the rest of your lives, and you’ll do so using whatever story the king provides to you. You’ll mention nothing about Kora or the royal family’s magic, not ever, and my involvement in your arrest stays hushed too.”
Arbora raised an eyebrow. “That’s all, is it?”
“Hardly. You three will be separated. You will never get your powers back. I don’t know if you even could, but it’s not to be attempted by any one of you. Also, each of you works however many years of hard labor the king deems just, be that none or three or seventy. If you want a public council, you’ll concede to all of that. You’ll concede, and Rexson just might consider your request.”
Ursa looked close to a panic again. “Separate us? You’d separate us?”
Arbora said, “I want visitors, for all of us. No restrictions. Those two have families.”
Zacry smiled. “Nice try. No restriction on entry, that we’ll grant. The king reserves the right to have visits monitored by anyone he chooses.”
“Such as…?”
“Such as myself. None of your friends are trying to reverse my spell. Your magic’s gone for good. That’s non-negotiable.”
Zacry’s words brought Dorane to seeming life. Revolted and battered, the man raised his eyes from the ground to peer at his rival. He wore the same expression as after Rexson’s beating. “You? Are you returning then?”
“Have I been banished, Polve?”
“That’s not an answer,” Dorane observed.
“It’s answer enough for you. Anything else for the king to consider?”
Ursa said, “If he’s gonna separate us, I’d rather not go south, where people know me. But that don’t matter, really. I just wanna live.”
Vane asked, “You all agree to our conditions, then?”
“I have something to add,” said Dorane. All vestiges of his lifelessness, of his numbness, were gone. He and Zacry glared at one another with pure loathing in their eyes. Dorane’s considerations of suicide vanished as he found a reason to live, a reason beyond his child, whom he was sure he had no chance of seeing until Zate exited the realm of Drea’s influence in fifteen years or so.
Dorane told Zacry, “You’re a poison. You’re a poison to the magicked, and your essays poison Herezoth. If you come here to live, it will only lend more credence to what you say. You’ll be more dangerous than ever. I won’t have that, Porteg. Publish another word or move your family back, and I scream to all the inmates and guards who come my way that your sister was among the party who stripped me of my powers.”
Zacry froze for a moment. Then he let out a mocking laugh. “You’ll be rotting in prison. How exactly would you keep your eye on me?”
“I demand access to news issue of the major newsletters. You think a new publication from you won’t be mentioned? That people won’t care if Kora Porteg’s brother returns to Herezoth? That would be the story of the year, my friend.”
Vane cut in, “That demand’s invalid. Suppose the king names Zacry to the council? The crown’s to have no interference there. How could Zacry take part if he didn’t relocate?”
“I believe he could transport in for three meetings a year and then go home.”
Zacry was no longer laughing. He jumped up, toppling his chair with an ear-splitting clang that made everyone but him and Dorane shudder. Dorane rose to counter him, and Zacry pounded a fist on the table. “You cretin….”
“There can be no mention of your sister in any documents we sign, I realize that. Just have a written record that I’m to receive those newspapers. The rest we’ll consider a verbal contract between you and me.
“What, you thought you’d strip my powers and get off free? No consequence? No, Porteg. I won’t have you posing as a hero of the magicked, as the one who brought some degree of reconciliation to the kingdom, not after what you did to me. The king wants you on his council? That’s his business. You’ll accept the post? That’s yours. But you’re a hypocrite. You don’t represent the magicked after you destroy a sorcerer, and if what you’ve done to me won’t reveal your true nature, your continued abandon of Herezoth will. Work here on the council if you like. You won’t live here, and you won’t respond to my rebuttals of your essays, because that’s one thing I can do from prison. I can write. I haven’t written since my two years at university, and I’m feeling the itch.”
“You do realize I could kill you with a word here and now?”
It was Dorane’s turn to chuckle.
“I’ve read your essays, Porteg. I know your ideals of justice.”
“You bastard, I’ll….”
Vane rose, his heart hammering. He grabbed Zacry’s upper arm, half to calm, half to restrain him, and said, “Listen, we’ll discuss this. Don’t do something you’ll regret, something Kora might regret. Dorane’s not the only one who knows
she was here.” He indicated Ursa and Arbora, both in a stupor at what had unfolded. “You think they wouldn’t rat her out if you killed him? You’d kill the women too?”
“We’re done,” announced Zacry. He undid Vane’s sound barrier and flung open the door. Four guards rushed in, and everyone jumped up.
“Wait,” said Arbora. She caught Vane’s eye. “We need to speak. In private. And you,” she told her fellow captives, “you keep your mouths shut, understand?”
Vane nodded at the guards, who led Dorane and Ursa off. Only Zacry remained. “It’s fine,” Vane told him. “Wait outside, all right?” His mentor followed the others into the corridor, and Vane reinstated the sound barrier. “What do you want?” he demanded. Both he and Arbora remained standing.
“I saw you at Ursa’s. You took the boys away. Who are you, exactly?”
“That has no bearing on your agreement with the king.”
“Zalski’s nephew, no?” Vane went rigid, and Arbora smirked.
“Ingleton’s son,” Vane protested. “I’m the son of the Duke of Ingleton. I am the Duke….”
“How’d you get here today? Transported? A newbie mistake, that. The king should have known better. You shouldn’t be seen in both Yangerton and Podrar in one day. If someone realizes that’s the case, your secret’s out.”
“I’ll worry about my own affairs. Don’t you have enough to occupy yourself?”
“Your concerns are my concerns, I’m afraid. Sorcerer to sorcerer, just because those rats bound my powers….”
Vane narrowed his eyes. “Those rats taught me everything I know.”
Arbora changed tactics. “Well, you’re in position to completely upstage them. Their presence in Herezoth won’t come close to matching yours, not from Traigland. And the claim you can make to your father’s title, to his wealth….”
“I haven’t got all day,” Vane prodded. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to observe that you’re about to be in over your head. You should think things through before….”
“Why don’t you want me on that council?”
Arbora crossed her arms. “Did I say I didn’t?”
“Why don’t you want me on that council?”
“You’re young,” she said. “You’re markedly uncomfortable with your family legacy. And I’m not sure the king doesn’t take advantage of you.”
“Then you don’t know the king at all. And if you gave a damn about me, instead of turning me against him you’d convince Dorane to lay off Zacry Porteg.”
“Nice try. No, that was a stroke of brilliance on Dorane’s part. I could try to convince him to budge in one direction or the other, relocation or the publishing bit, but he wouldn’t. Have Porteg in Herezoth? That’s the last thing I want, really. And Dorane’s violently opposed to Porteg’s essays. Listen, Dorane will hardly know his son, hardly know the boy. I won’t deprive him of this victory. It’s all he has.”
“Forgive me if I’m less than sympathetic.”
“Well, you should be feeling in this instance. You need Dorane to have some reason to feel content. With nothing to lose he’d give the king quite a headache, not to mention your precious Portegs. A much greater headache than what he just caused.”
“We’re done here.”
Vane ignored Arbora’s protests. He marched to the door, removing the sound barrier as he went, and pushed it outward with all the force that Zacry had used before. Zacry sent in two guards to remove Arbora, and soon he and Vane were alone in the dark and dreary conference room. Even with the uneven lighting, Vane noticed the red splotches on his mentor’s face. Zacry demanded, “What in the Giver’s name just happened?”
“Dorane turned the tables on us, that’s what.”
“I could kill the bastard.”
“I think part of him wanted you to.”
Zacry punched the stone wall hard enough that Vane heard bones crack. Though the older sorcerer did not cry out, he winced to such a degree his eyes shut, and Vane had to heal him with a spell. “Get a hold of yourself,” said the younger man, and magicked the closest chair over. Zacry sank onto it with a graceless thud and a “Damn it!”
“What’ll you do, Zac?”
“What choice do I have? I’ll stay in Traigland. I can’t let him rip Kora’s life to shreds, can I? Damn it!”
“You were thinking of moving back here?”
“I’d all but decided to, pending Joslyn’s reaction.”
“At least you hadn’t spoken to her yet, gotten her hopes up. She’s kind of restless in Traigland herself.”
“We all are. At least you can get away. That’s something.”
“Yeah, well, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. This council, it….”
“You were hoping a council might not be necessary?”
“I was more deluding myself. Oh God, this…. Zacry, I can’t do this. Not without you in Herezoth to have my back.”
“You can and you will.”
“Will you join the council? If the king should ask?”
“If he should ask. But I’ll ask him to pass me over if he can. It would look awful, Vane, me living in Traigland and openly advising Herezoth’s king. I’d look the worst kind of hypocrite.”
Vane knew Zacry was right. His insecurities took over, though, and he argued, “That’s what Dorane wants. He wants you to pass the council over.”
“I couldn’t care less what Dorane wants. He wins this one. I remove myself from the landscape or ruin my reputation. Either way, he wins. I’d rather just not get involved.”
“I’d do the same thing in your place. I just…. Zacry, I don’t want to get involved either.”
“You don’t have to, Vane.”
“Who else can do it? Who else does Rexson have? He’ll need local support, from someone with magic, strong magic. You can’t be here. Dorane’s made sure of that, so it’s got to fall to me. I can’t just abandon the king.”
“Rexson wasn’t lying when he said he’d never ask you to take part in this. He wasn’t expecting you to offer help, and if you decide you can’t, he wouldn’t grudge your change of heart. One thing I will say: if you’re going to back out, back out now. If you declare yourself in, you need to stay in. For the long haul.”
“Then I’m in. Where else can he turn?”
“He’d find people.”
“Look, he’s dreading this as much as I am, probably more. He didn’t invite this fiasco, and I want to help him. It’s the right thing to do. My parents would help him if they could.”
Zacry said, “Your parents always helped Rexson. They wound up dead because of it, and you could too.”
“That’s why I’m terrified.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You can’t let fears and hypotheticals dictate your life. On the other hand, prudence is a virtue, and prudence would recommend you not stick your neck out this way. Maybe you could get involved behind the scenes?”
“That wouldn’t make sense. Zac, I want to claim my title. I don’t want anyone, ever, to be able to argue I’m ashamed of my parents or the lives they led. Beyond that, I’d never take my father’s wealth while shirking the duties that come with noble birth. That’s wrong, flat-out wrong. Once I’m at court as Duke of Ingleton, well, everyone will know I’m a sorcerer. If I’m not on the council at that point, it implies the king doesn’t trust me.”
“Or, it implies one or the other of you deemed it prudent, considering Herezoth’s history, that other magicked families take initiative on this.”
“You know people would spread rumors, would assume there’s a lack of trust. Soon they’d assume I’ve given signs of following my uncle’s footsteps. Some might even strike preemptively. I’d be safer as an active member of the council.”
“In that case, they’ll assume you’re ingratiating yourself and biding your time. Same level of danger for you. But then, if you’re on the council, there’s no doubting you’d use magic to defend yourself against attackers. That should i
nhibit plotting. You’re right, Vane. Perhaps it is best to join the council, if you accept your title.”
“I’m accepting it, and I won’t bind my powers, so….” Vane sighed. “I’m on the council, if Rexson will have me. You and I both know he’ll have me. It really is an honor in its way, a great mark of his confidence. I should try to think of it like that. But I don’t mean to make this about me, not after Dorane just…. Zacry, what’ll you tell Joslyn?”
“The truth.”
“And your sister?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Your research, Zac. Your essays, weren’t they…?”
“My livelihood? Yes. Yes they were. All my plans for the rest of my life just went up in smoke.”
“Rexson won’t let your family starve. Listen, he can convene this council as often as he’d like. You can make a career of it, a livable salary.”
“I won’t be a hypocrite, Vane. And I won’t take a salary from taxes people pay here without living here to feed that money back into Herezoth. Before I started writing, I considered being a schoolteacher. I could do that still, or tutor. I could tutor, if it would bring in enough.”
“You help Parker all the time. Couldn’t you join him at the smithy?”
“All that would do is cut his income in half.”
“You’re right.” Vane ran a hand down his face. “Zacry, there should be an opening or two at a schoolhouse in Triflag. If not there, they can’t hire people fast enough in Traigland City. You could work in the capital. You wouldn’t even have to move. You could transport, couldn’t you?”
The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 27
