The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  Over the next two days, Thad Greller testified that Amison had openly threatened Ingleton with the intent to dissuade him from joining the Magic Council, and Hayden Grissner confirmed his account. The facts proved malice on Yangerton’s part but could not exculpate Vane, whom they showed had good reason to loathe the man. More in Vane’s favor was the testimony of his fellow council members about the crystal he wore and his response to its glowing: the obvious fear it caused, his hurried exit. Part of the transcript ran thus:

  JUDGE: His shock and concern were genuine?

  F. RAFE: What do you mean, Judge?

  JUDGE: There’s no proof anyone but Ingleton made that crystal glow. He could have used it to paint a premeditated murder as defensive, couldn’t he?

  F. RAFE: I imagine he could have. If his concern was feigned the man’s in the wrong profession, that’s all I can say. He should be on the stage, not in politics. No actor I’ve seen can shake that convincingly, or look that overwhelmed and antsy all at once. He tapped the crystal to make it stop glowing and almost hit air. And his hand slid off Zacry Porteg’s arm when he pulled him to the door.

  JUDGE: You’re perceptive, Miss Rafe. I’m curious, why would you say Ingleton took Porteg with him?

  F. RAFE: I may have magic, but I don’t read minds, Your Honor.

  JUDGE: If you had to guess?

  F. RAFE: I’d guess he was thinking his wife was in God only knew what kind of trouble. That he didn’t know Porteg well, but Porteg’s a sorcerer and comes from a family that knows what it’s like to feel threatened because of magic. That it might be nice to have someone who could back him up against some kind of mob, if he found himself facing that. You know what crowds there were at Oakdowns…. Like I said, I don’t read minds.

  Vane looked up from the paper to tell August, “She perjured herself. For us. The judge is right, Francie’s perceptive. She picked up at her interview I’d studied with Zac and spent some years in Traigland. She’s got to realize that’s where we are now, that if she spoke before reporters….”

  “We owe her one, Val.”

  “Much more than she knows.”

  Zacry and Gratton testified the following day about their roles in ending the attack, more or less keeping to the truth. The only lie was one required to prevent Vane’s connection to Zacry from getting out, a falsehood composed by Rexson when he first brought news of the deaths to the papers: that an unharmed Ingleton had magically taken his wife from the scene to some location no one knew, barring perhaps His Majesty. The king himself claimed Ingleton had contacted him as soon as possible, to alert him to the unfortunate events and explain how Yangerton’s death had come to pass.

  Public opinion, as referenced in the Bugle and other papers throughout the region, began to turn in Ingleton’s favor with Rexson’s testimony. Had Ingleton gone to the king, the king of all people, after killing Carson Amison? He must have. Why would the king lie for him, after what sorcery in general and the boy’s uncle in particular had done to the royal family in years past? Was Ingleton controlling the monarch, using him as a mouthpiece? That theory seemed improbable. Why should Ingleton go to such trouble? If he had wanted to murder Amison, why risk so much to kill the man openly and with magic, when he could have found some way to arrange the man’s death that implicated him in no manner whatsoever? Ingleton was a bloody sorcerer, after all.

  August and Vane testified two days later, he with the aid of an energy spell to maintain appearances of perfect health. Excepting the judge and journalists, the room was empty but for Gratton, the king and queen, and Amison’s sisters, two innocuous women in their thirties with silk shawls and tawny hair whom Rexson would not deny the opportunity to hear the testimony. According to what Zacry told August, word had broken that morning that Ingleton would come to court, and the throngs outside were incredible in size, but calm. Since Zacry transported her and her husband directly into City Hall, she spared the public little thought.

  The king explained how his sons had recovered Zalski’s record books. He presented the page that revealed Amison’s involvement in torture and execution, a specialist in handwriting authenticated the document through comparison with other of Zalski’s papers, and then August took the stand. She confirmed her pregnancy and spoke of her husband’s fateful use of a cliché that held greater implications for Amison than the younger duke ever could have realized. She told the judge how Amison had thrown the phrase back at her during the assault, how Vane had shown up just in time to remove her from harm’s way and kill Amison before Amison killed him. Throughout the ordeal, Amison’s sisters stared at her with horrified expressions she could only try to ignore.

  “Why were you at that house in the first place?”

  “To visit Bendelof. A simple visit.”

  “How did you know her?”

  “Through my husband. She knew his mother, no? When he came to Podrar she offered him her best, and they kept in touch.” August paused. “I didn’t know her long, but we grew close. I saw her the day after she married, and I can assure you, she was having no affair with Carson Amison, not under any name. The man had me followed to her house. He had no other business there, none at all.”

  Then came Vane’s turn. He confirmed everything August had said. When the judge asked him why he struck to kill instead of to incapacitate, he said, “You wouldn’t ask that had it been your wife.”

  “Well, it wasn’t my wife, so explain.”

  “I pulled August away from him, and he came quite near to stabbing me before I cast that spell. I didn’t know he wouldn’t, and I wanted to ensure he couldn’t threaten her again. Ever.”

  “And you just happened to have that spell in your pocket, hmm?”

  “I receive death threats in the dozens, Your Honor. Per day. The way I look at it, I’d have been a fool not to.”

  “You had no weapon on hand?”

  “I admit I didn’t think to ask him to hold off slaughtering August for a jiffy while I ran to the kitchen for a carving knife.”

  “Watch your step,” the judge warned Vane. “You could have grabbed weaponry from Oakdowns, if you say you went there first.”

  “To find August! I went there to find August. Had I taken the time to grab weapons, she would have been dead before I got to her. I’m telling you, it was magic or nothing. On most occasions I prefer not to cast spells, but I’m not about to let someone murder my wife because I need to make some political statement about sorcery. There’s a point where those considerations disappear, and I’d place it at the point of a dagger against my pregnant wife’s abdomen.”

  August was proud of Vane’s spunk, and glad to see him defend himself with so much fervor, demonstrating not just energy (thanks to that spell) but heart he had not shown since the attack. All the same, she felt relieved that Amison’s sisters sat behind her and well to the left, barring them from her vision.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Return to Podrar

  Amazingly, the Podrar Bugle printed no opinion articles the day after Vane came to court. The editors let Ingleton and his duchess, and especially the king, speak for themselves through their testimony. While it seemed incredible to think Carson Amison had sliced out a rebel sorcerer’s tongue, and the timing of the record books’ discovery was suspicious (or providential, as the king had noted on the stand Bendelof Esper would have viewed it), the truth of the situation seemed plain. Amison’s own servant had mentioned his throwing “Cat got your tongue?” back at August, and the expert witness who verified the books’ authorship was a neutral party, an employee at the university and library. People who originally had taken Vane’s guilt for granted began to ask themselves: could Ingleton be innocent after all? He used magic on a semi-regular basis, everyone knew that, but for transportation. Even for someone of Zalski’s blood, transporting was a far cry from slicing open a man’s chest with premeditation. And there was still the question of how stupid Ingleton was, if he had committed murder, to do so openly and with magic when he magic
ally could have covered everything up.

  The crowds thinned out considerably at Oakdowns, and their violence ceased. The judge sentenced Rich Goodly to hang for conspiracy in the attempted murder of August Heathdon and the murder of Bendelof Esper; Goodly did so in the jail two days following the trial.

  The evening of the execution found August with Vane in Zacry’s office, where they had been sleeping because what used to be Vane’s room was now Viola’s. The desk had been pushed against the wall to clear space for a mattress, and the two had just closed their eyes when Vane opened his again.

  “August?” She turned to him with a wondering stare. “If we can go back to Oakdowns at some point, would you want to? We could buy a house here, couldn’t we?”

  “We’d have to sell Ursa’s to free up the money.” She sat up, and Vane, who had recovered considerable strength in the last day or two, followed suit. “Is that what you want to do? Move to Traigland?”

  “I don’t, not really. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be wise.”

  “When have we ever done the sensible thing?”

  “Amison could have killed you, August. He would have, gladly, and there’ll be others. You read Goodly’s testimony. All Herezoth heard him talk about sorcerer scum, and the fewer the better, and…. Goodly’s not the only one who thinks that way. And it’s not only us now, there’s the baby coming. If someone hurts that child and we could have prevented it just by living elsewhere, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Val, I figured out what I want to do with the mansion.”

  “With Ursa’s? What’s that?” he asked, confused by the change of subject.

  “I’ve been thinking, ever since you told me what the council was discussing before you ran off, since you mentioned a school where magicked and non-magicked children could live and study together. No existing school would take that project on. It’s too much work, too controversial, and the funding the council has, it’s not enough to build a new school and pay teachers and everything else. You could use the mansion, though. We could easily fix it up to be suitable for a boarding school.”

  “August….” Vane put a hand on her shoulder. “August, that mansion would be perfect.”

  “We’d have to sell the mansion to move here. Val, the council could go on without you, and we could learn to be happy in Traigland, I think, especially in Traigland City. But, well, we couldn’t keep helping the people in Ingleton like we have been. We’d have to give that up. Visiting Ursa, that’s out too, and Rexson and Gracia, we couldn’t see them. If we abandon the kingdom, we can’t randomly drop by the Palace of all places. That’s absurd. It would only cause Rexson trouble. And we couldn’t turn the mansion into a school, because we’d need the money from it to establish ourselves.” She paused, and Vane said nothing in the few seconds she fell quiet. He was too busy pondering the implications of that learn to be happy.

  “Why do you want to leave Herezoth?” she asked. “Is it the thought of facing all those nobles again? Greller and Thad and Amison’s family?”

  “I couldn’t care less what they think,” he said. “Thad’s better than most, but even he wouldn’t stand up for me after I married you. And Thad’s father, he saw right through Amison. He’d never think I arranged the man’s murder. I don’t fear the Duke of Podrar.”

  “So what is it?” she asked. “Why do you want to stay in Traigland?”

  “I don’t want to stay here. My pride balks at the very thought. But if it’s that or lose you to some maniac, that or have someone harm our child….”

  “Name one thing Traigland has to offer us that Herezoth can’t: other than Zacry and Kora, because that doesn’t count. Rexson’s in Podrar and it’s a case of either-or. Name a single way we can help people here above and beyond what we can do in Ingleton, and I just might tell you we should relocate. One thing.”

  “I can’t,” he admitted.

  “We’d be wasting our lives here. Val, listen to me, Bennie didn’t die so that we could run scared. And Laskenay, if she’d thought fleeing justifiable she would have brought you here herself. She knew her place was between Herezoth and her brother, and you know yours is in Podrar on that council. Beyond that, you will not deprive her grandchild of the land she died for, not as long as I’m the tot’s mother.”

  “The child won’t have long to love Herezoth if someone slaughters him.”

  “I know Traigland’s safer, I do. And I know you’re only thinking of me and the baby and our well-being.” She grabbed his hand and said, “You have to understand, what happened was a once in a lifetime tragedy. No one else came close to being the kind of threat Amison proved, and somehow, people see you were innocent in his death. Allow three weeks, maybe a month for some other story to grab the public eye, and we’ll be able to go back. Oakdowns is secure. If those spells you have protecting it held during that onslaught, nothing will bring them down. We got married to face what challenges might come head-on, together, and that’s what we’ll keep doing, because Amison didn’t change us. We can’t let him change who we are. Oakdowns will be safe again, and I, I swear to you the next time you tell me not to leave, I’ll listen. I’ll listen…. Oh God, Bendelof!”

  August started to sob, and muffled her wracking breaths against Vane’s chest. He could only hold her. “You’re not responsible,” he said. “You’re not. She would never in a million years blame you. Neither would Gratton.”

  “I know,” she choked. “I know. Please, say we’re going back. Please tell me….”

  “We’ll go back,” he said. “The Giver help us, we’ll go back.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Val, thank you.”

  * * *

  The next week, Vane was walking longer distances without the aid of magic, or even a guiding arm. Teena went to Kora’s as Ilana’s guest, and Vane proposed lodging at an inn for the rest of his and August’s stay in Traigland. Joslyn would hear nothing of it.

  “It’s like old times again, having you around, and August is no trouble at all. In fact, she’s a wondrous help with Foden. She hasn’t been around children quite that young, and it’s good preparation.”

  As summer had arrived, Zacry was not teaching, so he and Vane spent a good bit of time in his office discussing the Magic Council and August’s suggestion to convert Ursa’s mansion to a school.

  “It’ll need protection,” said Zacry, when Vane first proposed the idea.

  “And we can protect it the same way as Oakdowns, can’t we?”

  “It’ll need a sorcery instructor,” Zac continued. “If any students are sorcerers, they’ll need training in basic spells, in health and healing. Ethics lessons too. I’d volunteer to do it, but there’s Dorane.”

  Vane told him, “If no one else comes forward, I’ll take the post.”

  “And you have time for that?”

  “Frankly, no. Not with Ingleton and the Palace and the council and…. I also just killed a man with magic, which makes me far from the optimal candidate. But it wouldn’t be for a year, probably two or three, if we’re realistic.”

  In the weeks that followed, as the crowds disappeared slowly but surely around Oakdowns, Vane and Zacry put together a proposal for the council’s next session, one Vane could present as his own work. August collaborated, describing the mansion’s layout and helping the men develop a floor plan for the school. Together they determined which rooms would be used for what, keeping structural changes to a minimum. Kansten interrupted them almost every other day, to rummage through Vane’s old books; she always exchanged one she had finished for one the duke recommended.

  The proposal was set by the end of July, which was lucky, because Johann Clee had consulted the king concerning Ingleton: whether the duke would return to Podrar from wherever he had gone; whether he himself as council secretary should wait to call a session, or should go on without the sorcerer. The king suggested Johann wait until August, and the first week of that month, with no strangers outside the grounds to bother them, Vane
and his wife returned quietly to Oakdowns. Teena returned to her home in Yangerton, safe in the knowledge that the public could not connect her with the Duke of Ingleton.

  Their second evening back, the duke and duchess arranged to see Rexson and Gracia in the Palace library. While Vane pulled the king aside to discuss his return to court, August sat with the queen. At four months August’s pregnancy was beginning to show, and Gracia had not trusted herself to offer congratulations, indeed to speak at all, when the duchess walked in. Eyes bright with tears, the queen had taken her in a protective embrace for a good thirty seconds, a maternal hold that reminded August quite wonderfully of her grandmother’s hugs when she was a girl and skinned her knee. Now, after pleasantries and after Vane had asked about Gratton—he was staying at an inn in Crescenton, an inn whose keeper was under strict orders from Hayden not to let him drink, though Gratton had not once asked for alcohol—the queen found her voice. She told August, “I’ve spoken with Amison’s sisters, and they’d like to meet you.”

  “The Giver’s bugle, what for?”

  August had never passed word with a noble, barring Carson Amison. She had never thought of her Val as a nobleman and never would, while Hayden Grissner struck her as about as noble as she deemed herself.

  “They’d like to apologize, dear. Express their sympathies.”

  “No,” said August. “No, I don’t want…. I don’t have a thing to say to them.”

  “There’s no one to make you speak the slightest word.” Gracia took August’s hand. “Though before you decide to have nothing to do with them, you might ask yourself how you would have felt had Rexson and I shunned you after your sister wronged us.”