Francie, instead, asked for her salve. Kansten helped her sit up, folded her sheet, and then brought the wooden bowl she had taken from Oakdowns. A sweet-smelling paste sat inside; wine, it held, and a fair bit of mint. Kansten wasn’t sure what the thickening agent was. Using two fingers, Francie spread some of the ointment on her bruised face and arm. That done, instead of reaching inside for more, she laid a hand across the outside of the bowl, with a curious expression on her face. She sat that way for some seconds before motioning Kansten to sit beside her. The girl did so.
“I’m frightened too,” Francie said. “For Vane and Zacry, for everyone at Oakdowns. They’ll band together, and they’ll make it through. You’re not the only one who resents how unjust….”
Kansten willed herself not to shrink away in embarrassment, from a sense of violation. She knew all about Francie’s power.
“You picked up on all of that? From the bowl?”
“Well, the fear. And the resentment. What they pertained to, that was guesswork, but simple enough. What’s less certain” —Francie touched the bowl again— “is why you’re feeling guilty.”
“I should be standing with them, but well, I’m not. I can’t, not without magic. And besides that, there’s the fact that I….” Kansten swallowed, mortified, but forced herself to continue. “I’m fairly certain I’m in love with Hune Phinnean, or soon will be. If nothing else, we’ve kissed. We’ve kissed three times, and I’m about to tear my hair out.”
“Don’t,” Francie advised. If she was surprised, alarmed, judgmental, she showed none of that. Her facial injuries called for stoicism, at least where her countenance was concerned. “Your hair’s lovely. It’s got a sheen mine’s never had.”
“Francie, I’m serious.” Kansten might as well speak informally, given what she had admitted.
“So am I. Love’s not a crime, you know. You can’t control what you feel.”
“I can control whether I see him again, at least in private. Of course, this dilemma might work itself out. That’s another thing I can’t stop thinking about: that Linstrom maniac might solve my problem for me and….”
Francie took a deep breath, a shuddering one; her ribs must have taken as much damage as the rest of her. “Hune’s fighting at Oakdowns?”
“He brought his hounds with him.”
“Good,” said Francie. “Good. I hope one of them rips Linstrom’s throat out.”
Kansten was feeling desperate now. “Francie, Hune is….”
“Much braver than I realized. You don’t give your heart away to just anyone, do you?” Kansten was shocked to find empathy in Francie’s gaze. “Hune will have swarms of soldiers with him. The prince will be fine. He will. As for after the battle….”
“Hune seems to think we could have a future.”
“You can’t. Not Kora Porteg’s daughter and Rexson Phinnean’s son, not after people learn what’s happening at Oakdowns. Linstrom could undo all the progress my council’s made. Those with magic, at least the young women, they’ll speak against you out of jealousy. Those without power won’t just forget centuries of hatred. It’s burned into them.”
“But what if Hune’s right? What if…?”
“He isn’t. Let him go: that’s my advice, though you never asked it. You don’t want to waste your life pining after someone who can never be yours. You’ll end up bitter, and lonely, with almost no one to turn to and never time to rest, because every time you have a spare moment, you’ll think of him. You won’t want to think of him, so you’ll occupy your hours with anything you can. If you’re lucky, that’ll mean worthwhile work of some kind, perhaps your architecture, but even then you’ll spend hour after hour, day after day hardly sleeping, hardly wanting to eat a crust of bread. Your legitimate accomplishments, they’ll mean nothing to you because you can’t share them with him. That’s no kind of life. I swear to you, that’s no life at all.”
Kansten’s breath caught in her chest. Her voice was so quiet she doubted Francie would have heard her, had the two not sat side by side.
“Is that your life?” she asked. “Is it Vane?”
“He married August before the council formed. I’ve tried to fall for other men, but I always…. I make comparisons. No one ever comes out the better.
“Kansten, your uncle mentioned you aspire to be like me. That’s a true honor, though I’m not sure I deserve it. The only way I can think to respond is to tell you, sincerely, you don’t want to live the way I do. Hune’s another one like Vane, in that the more you get to know him, the more you’ll understand he has few equals. Leave well enough alone.”
“I can’t,” said Kansten. “Perhaps I should, but I can’t. Hune isn’t Vane. He’s not married to someone else, and if anything he feels stronger about me than I do about him. I have to see this through, however idiotic that makes me. I have to.”
Francie’s swollen lips were as taut as she could make them. Kansten told her, “Thank you so much, for telling me about you. I won’t betray your confidence. What you’re advising me to do, I don’t deny it’s the wiser option. I promise—I’ll swear it on anything you like—there’s no one who could come closer than you to convincing me it’s in my best interest to let Hune go.”
Francie patted Kansten’s hand. “For your sake, I hope I’m wrong. The Giver knows I’ve been wrong before: I was wrong to join that council in the first place, wrong to think I was safe when the open threats stopped coming. You’re wise to doubt me. I’ve done nothing right these past ten years.”
Kansten protested, “You can claim someone else could have done the work, but the fact is, Herezoth’s better for your time on that council. The children at your school, the people who work there, the community of Carphead: they’re all something more than they would have been without you. I’m something more than I was. Francie, I drove my uncle crazy with questions about what you were doing, what project you’d tackle next. Sure, he left out the bits about threats, because I was young, but he never…. He only had praise for you.
“You inspired me through him. I heard report after report from Uncle Zac about that school. I could see how important your goals were. My uncle stressed you could never have done such things if you hadn’t spent long hours reading books, so I read too. I didn’t enjoy it at first, but I worked hard, and because of that I have my apprenticeship. You said you were jealous of it. Don’t be. You’re the reason for it.”
Francie had tears in her blackened eyes. Regardless of any pain it caused her, of bruised ribs and rope-slashed wrists, she pulled Kansten tight. “Bless you,” she whispered. “The Giver bless you.” She only moaned when she let Kansten go and turned to lean against the settee. Kansten handed her the bowl again, glad to think the emotions Francie sensed would be decidedly more positive than the last time.
“You need that salve, you know.”
Francie admitted, “It really does help. Would you put this on my back? I can’t see what it looks like, but it can’t be pretty.”
Kansten frowned. “You’ve been lying on it.”
“My ribs hurt worse. He broke my broom across my ribs. He only kicked me in the back.”
Kansten winced at her words, then cringed more when Francie lifted the nightshirt August had provided. Livid bruises spotted her shoulder blades and spine. Hands shaking, Kansten scooped a mass of salve from the bowl Francie held.
“How can you speak of this so calmly?”
“Better to think of the broom than a baby.”
Kansten trembled so much she dropped a dallop of paste on the settee, but she said nothing. Francie didn’t want pity, and no words were possible that wouldn’t reek of the sentiment. She swung Francie’s braid to the front, spotting it with the salve, and tried not to press too hard upon her wounds.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Enter Esclavay
August held her husband against her, reluctant to let him go. The late morning sun streamed through their bedroom window, making them uncomfortably hot as it fell on
the place where they stood, at the foot of their canopied bed. No one had smoothed the blankets since they had risen before dawn at Kansten’s urging, to go to Kora. Vane refused to pry August’s arms off him, or to remove his from her shoulders, so he spoke into her ear.
“I have letters, for the children. I slipped them in your bag when you were rooting through dresses.” A small bag sat in the corner, one Vane had watched his wife fill with various articles of clothing she had hardly given a glance. It was possible few things matched, that she had right slippers to bring but had forgotten the matching lefts. Neither of them cared. “They’re only for if things go wrong.” If he were killed. He preferred not to voice the thought, but August’s fresh teardrops on the front of his shirt told him she understood. “The twins can have theirs now. Wait until the boys are a bit older.”
His chest muffled her voice. “Oh, Val….”
“They’re a precaution, nothing more. I have every intention to burn the things at the earliest opportunity. I don’t know what state the manor will be left in, after tonight. I don’t know when, if ever, we’ll return here, but I will see you tomorrow, you understand me? You’re going to the Palace?”
She looked up at him. “The Palace, once I fetch the children. Oh, Val….”
“I will see you tomorrow.”
August told him, “I almost lost you once, to Carson Amison. To that stab wound. For a time, I thought I had. I can’t suffer that again. I can’t go back to that dark place. I’d never find my way out a second time.”
“You will, if it comes to that. Follow the instructions I left you.”
“What instructions?”
“There’s a letter for you too.”
“Oh, Val!”
“Don’t read it unless word comes I….”
“I won’t, I promise. I can’t wait to throw the thing in Rexson’s kitchen fire, unopened.”
“I can’t wait to watch you do that.”
She pulled his face down, to kiss him. “When did you find the time to write?”
“The night before I met Linstrom, when you’d fallen asleep. I hid the letters in my desk. I knew if something happened to me, you’d find them going through my things. Now, with Oakdowns threatened, I didn’t want to risk them being destroyed.”
Silent tears streamed in unbroken lines down August’s face. “Why would you tempt fate like that? Better not to write….”
“Don’t be superstitious. I wanted to make sure, in the eventuality….”
August nodded. With a hiccough. Vane brushed away the wet, blonde curls that were sticking to her cheeks, his hand steady, and some measure of his composure transferred to her. He said, “When we settled in Herezoth, we knew something like this was possible. We took the chance, and we must stand by that decision, because no matter what happens, we chose rightly. I might not have believed that twenty-four hours ago, but now I do. After all, we’ve set Ingleton to thriving. Our school in your mansion, it’s growing each year, giving misfit, magicked children a knowledge of themselves they couldn’t find elsewhere. Our children know the land that’s a part of them, the land that made them. All of that’s why we stayed here. All of that’s what you must remember if things go poorly tonight.”
She raised a shaky finger to his mouth, to silence him. “Don’t you worry about me. You just make sure you make it out of here.”
He kissed the slender finger pressed against his lips, moved those lips to her forehead. “I was terrified before I went to Partsvale. So terrified I vomited in a pail writing Esper’s letter.” The first letter. He’d written his children in descending order of age; Esper had been born five minutes before Luce. “You swore that same night I was equal to what the king had asked of me. What I had offered. Well, I’m not afraid this morning. I’m the one telling you now, I can do this. The king’s army can do this. We’ve the element of surprise, and I’m soon to go to the barracks with Wilhem and Walt, to bring back an entire company of men at arms. Thanks to Kora and Lottie, we know what to expect. Linstrom hasn’t a clue what awaits him. August, I will see you tomorrow. I will.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to come back here. Not after Linstrom. No matter how well the floors and the walls are scrubbed, I…. I remember what Bennie’s home looked like, after Amison’s attack. Blood was everywhere. All over the place. I can’t live here knowing that same thing occurred in the rooms where my children play, where….”
“If you honestly can’t return, then we won’t. I promise you that. Right now, you need to go. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can stop worrying about you, stop fearing an attack that comes sooner than we expect. The children’s things, and the portrait, you’ve had them loaded in the carriage?” August nodded. “You’re all that’s missing, then.”
She threw her arms around his neck, soaked his chest again with her wet face. She mumbled, “I love you so much it twists up all my insides.”
Vane kissed her lips, careful not to jolt her hold on him, and smiled. August always had a way with words to make him smile. “I could say the exact same thing. The sooner you’re off, now, the sooner we’ll be together again discussing how to move on.”
August drew back and took his hands; she held them as tightly as she could, was Vane’s thought. She stared into his large, brown eyes for a good minute before she said, “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, no?”
His smile grew as wide as his mouth could manage. “I’ve only told you that six or seven times.”
Vane took her in one last, long embrace before she turned her back to him and grabbed her bag on the way to the antechamber. She said nothing more and refused to look at him, not even a cursory glance. He knew that if she did, she would never find the courage to walk away.
* * *
After her argument with the king, Kora spent the morning spying on Linstrom. She did so as much to distract herself from the pain in her chest as to make sure Linstrom set no spies around Vane’s property.
He did not. Linstrom had faith he would take the duke unaware; he gloated over the thought of killing him and capturing his entire household. He planned to hold Ingleton’s servants, his wife, and his children in the basement of the cobbler’s shop until he arranged to sell them to Esclavan traders as slaves. In the meantime, he would keep them secure: under guard of two or three sorcerers. The children alone would make him a bloody fortune, being sorcerers themselves and of the noblest blood Herezoth could boast. And young, to boot. So gloriously young. They would earn him enough to hire mercenaries from the army, so he could maintain his attacks until, village by village, Herezoth fell to him. Each step of the way would bring more captives, more slaves to sell, more income to fund more mercenaries.
Linstrom could no longer settle for razing public squares, spreading his message about the crown’s deceit through newsletters. The king had identified him too soon, had even discovered that Partsvale was a decoy. Linstrom had nothing to lose now; the crown would come after him just for planning the assault.
Yes, Linstrom must set his eyes on a loftier goal. He must depose Rexson Phinnean and establish a rule like that of Zalski Forzythe before him, without the harsh penal code the man had enforced. It had kept the people weak sure enough, but at the cost of provoking them. How oddly fitting—perfectly fitting—that Zalski’s last living relatives would be the first to acknowledge Linstrom’s might….
All morning, Linstrom transported from town to city across Herezoth, gathering groups of his non-sorcerer followers and taking them to his hideout in the mountains. Kora’s heart weakened to see the Hall of Sorcery again; some of her worst memories were associated with those magically warmed ruins and with Linstrom’s father, who had lured her there. She was cursing Petroc for ever begetting his foul-souled bastard when someone knocked on her door, around noon. She threw off her chain and admitted the king.
Once inside, Rexson started pacing. She waited for him to speak, assuming he would apologize, but the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re still here.
I’m glad. I thought I might have pushed you home in a huff.”
“To abandon Vane? My brother? My children? When I’m the only person who can keep an eye on Linstrom before he makes his move? Is that what you think of me? Rexson, who on the Giver’s green earth do you think I am?”
He responded, “A woman I’ve spoken with three times in the last twenty-five years.” And he was right: when he’d first brought Vane to Traigland, and then when his sons were kidnapped, and now this mess. Still pacing, he asked, “Forgive me for earlier, if you would.”
Kora sank to the bed. She folded her arms across her stomach and refused to hint how his tirade had opened old scars.
“I’d hardly call being loath to hang me something that begs forgiveness.”
“You must stay. Vane’s on his own without you. I’ve nine sorcerers if you leave, and since the general says we’ll need five groups, he’d be fending for himself. On top of that, Lottie showed us what Linstrom’s capable of doing. My son, my Hune’s come here, determined to fight, and I….”
With a moan, Kora said, “I’m so sorry. I’ve unleashed a monster on you and yours.”
That stopped the king cold. “What are you talking about?”
“You sent Vane to Lottie at my prodding. When Linstrom interrupted her going through his plans, he knew you were aware of him. Now, seeing he’s nothing to lose, he’ll sell your subjects to Esclavay to finance a run for your throne. He’s been off all morning gathering his men. He’ll bring everything he has against us tonight, hoping to take Vane’s household alive, and if we fail to stop him…. Rexson, should we fall to him….”
“We won’t,” the king assured her.
“He’ll bring Esclavay and all its strength to his aid. He’ll promise to open trade with them as Herezoth’s sovereign, human trafficking as well as goods. Good Giver, he….”
The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 30