“We’ll stop him.”
“Not even Zalski considered…. Zalski never dared to enslave….”
“And Linstrom won’t have the opportunity. He dies tonight.”
Kora nodded. Her stomach was flipping, aching as badly as at the height of any of her pregnancies. Though hungry, she would never keep food down. Rexson watched her, concerned.
“What haven’t you told me?”
Kora said, “There’s nothing more to Linstrom’s plot. Not that there needs to be.”
“What’s troubling you, then?”
“Just a general unease, from knowing how Linstrom’s mind works. I tracked them both, and Zalski was never like this man. Never thought like this man. Zalski had some nobility of spirit, but this monster…. August’s gone by now? Vane’s children? They’re nowhere near this place?”
The king’s face turned red. “They’ve all left. Why? What are Linstrom’s plans for them?”
“He hopes to turn his first profit on the slave trade at their expense.”
Rexson coughed out of anger. His rage shook him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
Linstrom’s mother had been from Esclavay. She was born in that beautiful island nation on the far side of Traigland where slaves tilled the soil and sustained the economy. Neither Traigland nor Herezoth would trade with Esclavay, judging themselves morally superior, but Linstrom had cousins in Carphead, on Herezoth’s coast. Cousins with Esclavan blood, like him, who unlike him kept in touch with their family across the sea and had connections with the slave trade. His cousins worked as merchants; they had two or three ships Linstrom could commandeer to transport and sell his captives. Until coin appeared, the threats Linstrom could make (thanks to his magic) and the promise of payment to come would be enough to garner their support.
Rexson said, “I believe you, Kora. You know I believe you. It’s just…. We can’t tell Vane this. You’re forbidden to tell him, do you understand? His family’s safe, and if he knew what Linstrom intended….”
“We have to tell him—tell everyone—any captives are destined for slavery. We can’t keep that from them, because all of us, except Vane and you….”
“You think he’d kill me?”
“Given the chance? Without a second thought.”
“And my son?”
“I don’t know.” Kora twisted her hands. “I truly don’t know. He never considered that situation. He has no idea anyone’s waiting for him here, and especially not a prince. If he captured Hune, learned who the man was…. He could use him as a bargaining tool, right? Or make…. Rexson, that slug was thrilled to think what price Vane’s children would fetch him. If he had your son…. I don’t even want to think of this.”
“Nor I, but we must. We have to tell the others. Our men can’t let themselves be dragged out the building. If one of Linstrom’s sorcerers transports them away…. I’ll spread the word.”
Kora moaned, “If only we had more time. We need time, need to move everything of value out the manor. If Oakdowns falls to Linstrom, he’ll be looking for mercenaries. We don’t want to fund him.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that. You’re right, there isn’t time, not for clearing out the place. We’ll have to ensure that Oakdowns doesn’t fall.”
“It can’t,” Kora whispered. “Rexson, it can’t, can it?”
“We’ll do everything we can to prevent that.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly, wretchedly…. I never meant to drive Linstrom this far, turning Lottie. I never suspected Vane’s visit to her would unleash such a mania. I don’t understand this, I…. I’m the Marked One, aren’t I? I’m supposed to save Herezoth, supposed to bloody deliver it from its blasted worst hour, not deliver the place to Esclavay!”
“Kora, you’ve done no such thing.”
“No,” she admitted, “I suppose I haven’t. Not yet, anyway. But come tonight….”
“We’ll prevail.”
“Either that, or you’ll be dead, and I’ll be in chains in Linstrom’s basement.” She’d prefer Rexson’s fate. As for her brother, her children, she refused to picture them in either circumstance.
Kora asked, “Do you remember when we fought Petroc for my chain? You, me, and Kansten. The first Kansten.” That brought Rexson to smile: Kansten Carder, a feisty soul and fellow member of the Crimson League. A spirited woman whom Zalski’s wife had killed. “It took all my magic to overpower him, with all the help you and Kansten could give. He was one sorcerer. We need a miracle, and the Giver, his strongest devotees are the first to admit he’s not fond of those. He averages less than one per lifetime, and we’ve had ours, with your reinstatement. Just him intervening to mark me with that ruby….”
Rexson’s face was expressionless. “If we’ve had our miracle, let’s hope our children are due theirs.”
“I’ve been racking my brain, trying to remember old spells, to remember anything…. All I’ve hit upon are Hansrelto’s amulet enchantments. They were different for each stone, and Laskenay and I, we copied them all. I can’t remember them now.”
“Kansten’s amulet,” remarked Rexson. His tone became nostalgic. “Her jade amulet. Those cyclones she could make….” Kora leapt to her feet.
“Zalski’s wife stole that amulet from her. Used it the day we took the Palace. Do you have…?”
“I dumped it in the ocean with Hansrelto’s spellbook, when I was taking Vane to Traigland.”
Kora’s face fell. “The amulet? Why? You saved my necklace. You kept the Lifestone.”
“No one but you can use that necklace. As for the Lifestone, no one but the League knew Zalski had it, could even be sure it existed beyond legends. The amulet was different. Scores of people saw its magic in our final battle. When the opportunity arose to destroy the thing, I took it, and I can’t say I apologize.”
Kora narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to have it now. Someone could use it.”
“And have Linstrom’s men turn the magic against him, like Zalski’s wife did Laskenay? No, Kora. That amulet’s best where it is. Without it, Vane might have known his mother. Laskenay might have….”
“There’s no point arguing the impossible. What’s done is done…. I shouldn’t leave Linstrom unattended much longer.”
“You’ve nothing else to report?” asked the king.
“You know everything I do.”
“You’ll partner Vane this evening?”
Kora felt weak. She would have to eat something soon, appetite or no; for now, she steered Rexson to the door and told him, “I’ll do everything I can to keep Vane safe. I owe that to Laskenay. Until then, I’ve got to track Linstrom. Please, leave me to my chain. Where’s my daughter, do you know?”
“Vane took her and Francie to Teena’s.”
Good. Kansten was safe. She would grudge being sent away, but that didn’t matter, as long as she was gone from Oakdowns.
Rexson left the room, and Kora thanked the Giver that her daughter had no magic. Otherwise, three of her children would be at risk. To think she might lose two was bad enough; to think of Walt and Wil made her already dry throat ache like it hadn’t since Zalski had destroyed her vocal cords. Trembling, Kora took a sip of water and returned to stalking the man who threatened not only Herezoth, but everything she held dear.
Outside Kora’s room, preparations for Linstrom’s attack continued at a breakneck pace. The youngest sorcerers made every window on the ground floor impenetrable by magic or projectile. The evacuation of all staff and as many stable animals as possible wore on according to Hune’s schedule. Thad Greller came with his sword, and Hayden Grissner, of the Crimson League, with his bow. Vane saw soldiers transported in waves from the Podrar barracks, where the general gave a briefing, to his estate. Rexson summoned his personal guard from the Palace, while Kora watched Linstrom gather more and more supporters at the Hall of Sorcery. To everyone’s relief at Oakdowns—for they stood no chance
without it—Jane Trand drafted her spell to nullify Linstrom’s befuddlement magic.
When the king gave Gratton a note for the Podrar barracks, one that explained Linstrom’s ambitions and was only to be opened should Oakdowns fall, the guardsman assumed Rexson would want to stay and fight, and tried to convince him to do otherwise. The king would hear nothing of that. He commanded Gratton’s silence, and the man left to deliver his missive.
Back at the Palace, Valkin sat in his father’s office, in one of the chairs around the circular table. He had just dismissed Tanya Greller, the Duchess of Yangerton. Following August’s advice, he had accomplished what he’d hoped from the encounter, though Her Grace was not pleased he’d denied her funding and men to redistrict her duchy. Before leaving, Tanya swore with all vehemence to hold Rexson to Valkin’s word; Valkin had promised to oversee the work as soon as possible, and without fail in the next four months. The prince was glad of the threat, which implied she accepted his words as the king’s. The duchess would not weasel out a different arrangement once Rexson returned to his normal duties, and that had been Valkin’s one dread.
Then the door swung open, and Valkin whirled to face it in his chair, terrified for one desperate moment that Tanya Greller had returned to demand something. Neslan stood before him, his face inquisitive, his blond hair tied at the neck like always. Like Valkin’s. He eased the door shut and took the same chair the Duchess of Yangerton had used, next to his brother.
“How went things with Tanya?”
“Are you really going to ask that, when Hune’s at Oakdowns? And Father? When we know what they’re doing there?”
“That’s precisely why I’m asking how things went with Tanya. Because I can’t bear to think of what Hune’s doing. How went the meeting?”
“Well enough, I suppose. As well as I could have hoped.”
“You do realize you made that conference turn out in your favor while frightened out of your skin for those with Vane? That’s no small accomplishment.”
Valkin spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll make a decent king, I know. I’ve been fed that line by everyone. If I hear it once more….”
“Why are you angry? Nothing will happen to Father. It can’t possibly. He’d never stay at Oakdowns for the battle.”
The crown prince only refrained from shouting so as not to be heard from the hall outside. He jostled Neslan as he rose to his feet and started pacing. “You think that’s what I’m worried about where the king’s concerned?”
Neslan, as always, was unimpressed by his brother’s bluster. “It’s bound to be part of your fears,” he pressed.
“The man’s my father. Before I’m his successor, I’m his bloody son.”
“Do you think I’m blind to how much you respect the man? The one who read to us as children? Who placed us on our ponies the first time we rode them and assured us, when he saw how nervous we were, that he’d hold the guide ropes? The one who looked like he aged five years in the month and a half those fools held us kidnapped?”
Shame heated Valkin’s face. “Of course you realize….”
“You have a multitude of reasons to wish the king well, and it’s for one mere set of those I wanted to make sure you aren’t ignoring how you did him proud today, not only as his son, but yes, his successor. You’re both. You’ll always be both, and if you start resenting the people who care about you for admitting plain and cold reality, you’ll find yourself quite lonely, quite quickly.”
“I know you never meant to offend.” Valkin grasped for something else to say. “Why did Hune leave a note, to tell us where he’d gone? Why wouldn’t he tell us himself? Take proper leave when he knows he might not make it back to us?”
Neslan’s voice was dry. “He knew you’d order him to stay. He’d never disobey a direct command from his prince, so he left secretly. It’s nothing more complicated than that. For the last time, I told you I don’t want to think about….”
“Hune’s where he needs to be, Neslan. Where we’d both be if we could choose.”
Neslan’s expression hardened, though he maintained his composure and kept to his seat. “You know full well you can’t risk yourself. What if Linstrom attacks before Father leaves? Kills both him and Hune? If you were there and he killed you too?”
“Oh, stop it, Neslan. I know I must act the dutiful coward and hole myself up here. You too. What if I stayed here alone, and you, Father, Hune, you all met your ends at Oakdowns? Who’d be my successor, if something happened to me before I married and had a child?” Neslan shrugged his shoulders. “You see? We have to be proper little caterpillars, you and I, in our bloody cocoon.”
Neslan observed, “Turning bitter won’t change things.”
Valkin then did something he had not dared in years. With a wave of his hand, all the scrolls Tanya Greller had left for him on the table went careening through the air, slamming against the tapestried wall with a series of muffled thuds before they fell in a heap. The gesture brought Neslan to his feet and his brother’s side.
“This will stop,” he said, and forced Valkin to sit once more. “You know better than to risk revealing…. What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Valkin gestured about the room. “I don’t want this! No one in his right mind would want this!”
“Then I suppose we’re all blessed you’d rather do something else, now aren’t we? Do you know what happens when someone who wants the throne possesses it, Valkin? Zalski Forzythe’s abuses happen, that’s what.”
Valkin tried to respond, but his voice failed him. He had never considered the situation from that perspective.
“You would never be fit to hold power if you longed to do so. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, start considering your reluctance to rule your greatest asset, and in the Giver’s name, cease displaying your bloody magic.”
Neslan’s words made Valkin shake, because they were true. They were undeniably, horrifyingly accurate. A sovereign who had no qualms making decisions to impact the lives and even deaths of his subjects would soon become a tyrant. Valkin’s feelings of unworthiness had overwhelmed him for so long that he’d never once considered how his conviction of inadequacy was nothing less than a saving grace.
Valkin thought of his father. The king never complained, but Valkin had spent countless hours with the man as he saw to his duties, and Rexson loathed the crown. Despite the years behind him, he still felt the burden of ruling. Rexson never overlooked that the slightest adjustment to taxes meant significant changes for someone in his realm. He never forgot that sending grain to Partsvale during a drought meant putting off road repair in Podrar or constructing a town hall in one of the Fishing Villages. He strove to attend to as many needs as possible, balancing urgency with tasks long overdue. And Rexson was never satisfied with the results. He’d once warned Valkin, “The moment you grow complacent, you’re finished.”
No, Rexson did not enjoy being king. For one, he couldn’t trust his nobles. Every one of them alive during Zalski’s coup had sworn allegiance to the usurper, and still, Rexson ruled week after week, month after month. He trained his son to rule after him, knowing Valkin balked at the very thought of succeeding him; the king trained him because he balked so strongly.
Valkin used to think he’d hidden his reluctance from his father. Now he realized the only person hoodwinked had been himself. Rexson knew what his own life was, and he knew his son. He knew Valkin would shirk from the thought of succeeding his father. All this time, Valkin had striven to spare the king his true feelings, fearing to shame, or guilt, or offend Rexson. He had hidden nothing, and felt nothing short of stunned to suspect his true emotions had made the king proud.
“Neslan,” said Valkin, “thank you.”
“What for, exactly?”
Neslan reclaimed his chair.
“For showing me what a dangerous road I walked, letting resentment fester. I can’t hide that kind of a pussing wound for long. It’s one thing for you to know how I
feel, but once people like the Duchess of Yangerton, or the Count of Fontferry suspected, I’d have endangered not only myself, not only Father, but the kingdom at large. Any number of nobles would jump at a chance to grab the crown.”
“Precisely,” said Neslan. “What would Father say to that, eh? After all he suffered, all he’s done for this kingdom and for you, specifically, as his son….”
“I know. And I’ll come to terms with what awaits me. I just…. I’ll need some time, to let go of everything the crown means forsaking.”
Rest-filled nights. Privacy. The use and development of his magic. A wife taken for love, not political gain. Already those sacrifices seemed smaller than before, when considered payment to guard the throne from nobles who had courted Zalski’s favor. He considered how wretched he would feel to let all his father had lived for come to nothing.
Neslan offered, “I’ll leave you be for a while, shall I?”
“Look, all your help these past few days…. You haven’t enjoyed this any more than I have.”
“Just think on what I told you. It’s not a shortcoming you don’t want to be king. You’ll use Father’s approach as a model when it serves, and you’ll be wise enough to recognize when it doesn’t. Valkin, I never doubted you’d succeed this week.”
“I know,” said Valkin. Neslan left him, and he felt how tired he was. Sluggish. He saw the table before him, the scrolls he had thrown with magic, as through some kind of fog. He would be surprised if he’d slept a grand total of ten hours over the last three nights. He let his eyes fall closed and ran Neslan’s final words through his head, over and over, thoroughly believing them; within three minutes he fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Battle at the Stables
At nightfall, Evant Linstrom (with the aid of his sorcerers) had gathered each of his two hundred supporters at the Hall of Sorcery. He had seen nothing of Terrance all day, and accepted the man must have died in the bakery fire. Pity of pities, that: he would have made a ruthless warrior when the time came. Having seen the state in which he left Francie Rafe, Kora had to agree, and thanked the Giver Vane had killed him.
The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 31