The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  “Do you swear allegiance to the Crimson League?”

  Kora paid no attention to the short ceremony. She was lost in her life of years ago, proud to salvage what part of those times remained to her, startled to think that the people standing about her were as much a family to her as Zacry or her mother. Laskenay firing questions from memory; Lanokas looking on with a smug kind of contentment; Kansten half-glaring, half-forcing herself to nod encouragement to Bidd: their guidance, strength, and pluck meant the world to her.

  Without Sedder—with or without the Marked One, even—the fight would go on. Wilhem, and Hunt, and even Laskenay’s husband, none of their deaths would be robbed of significance, Kora felt that in her blood more strongly than she would ever have believed, and a genuine smile crossed her face as her three new brothers stepped out of the circle, Hayden looking jolted while Bidd jabbed Kora playfully in the shoulder.

  445

  BOOK II

  CHAPTER ONE

  Conspiracy

  The room Zalski used as a study had once been the king’s office. Its only ornamentation was a pair of quartz crystals set to either side of the heavy black door; they glowed a dull yellow against the whitewashed wall as Alten Grombach stepped inside, passing to the light provided by the room’s one window. Beneath the pane stood a shelf overflowing with spellbooks and papers. Behind a desk sat an austere, olive-complected woman with shockingly white tresses.

  Wonderful, thought the general.

  “You’re back in Podrar,” the woman acknowledged, not bothering to rise.

  “Held up in Partsvale for the winter…. Don’t you have better ways to occupy your time than to ruin my conference with your husband?”

  Malzin fixed him with a stare that would have made a puppy whimper. “My husband requested my presence here. As the captain of his elite guard, not his spouse. You tend to overlook my service to Herezoth in that capacity, unintentionally, I’m sure.”

  “Whatever gets you through the day, dear.” Alten dropped into one of the room’s two armchairs, while Malzin’s expression relaxed into a smirk.

  “Thank God you’ve returned. I don’t know how we survived with you running around the kingdom.”

  “What happened while I was gone? Who’s this Porteg your men call the Marked One?”

  Malzin leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “There is no Marked One. Porteg is a sorceress, and a poor one at that. She’s not remarkable in the slightest.”

  “Being a sorceress is enough to make most plain terrified at the thought of her. But I’ll take you at your word. I hear you had the pleasure to, ah, make her acquaintance at a warehouse.”

  “I found her just as charming as I find you.”

  “Is that so? I suppose I should meet her.”

  “And soon. You can blast each other to the Great Unknown.”

  “How brilliantly subtle, as always. I do hope your firstborn inherits your wit, Malzin.” Malzin’s normally dark cheeks turned chalky in an instant. “I apologize, how boorish of me. I forgot you can’t give Zalski children.”

  Zalski’s wife shot up, trembling. “Where did you learn that?”

  “When you hold a military post, your health is my concern. I spoke with your physician before I left—bribed him, rather, why hide it? As you of all people know, the man’s more adept with the crystal ball than the scalpel, but really, Zalski’s the more interesting figure in your little drama. Have you told him he’ll lack an heir?”

  “What I say to my husband is none of your concern. We both know, General, that Zalski would never thank you investigating my affairs, no matter what you uncovered. I come from generations of war strategists so renowned they earned titles of nobility from the royals. I’ve not made one tactical error you could have avoided. It wasn’t even I years ago who exposed my power to Laskenay in all its minute detail: that was Zalski, long before it occurred to him to attempt all he’s accomplished. They were close once, he and his blasted sister, but that’s beside the point. The fact is, I am perfectly qualified for the post I hold.”

  “Tell me, Captain, when was it you found the Librette?”

  “My search was thwarted by a spy, a man by the name of Wilhem Horn.” Oh, hell. “But you’ll remember him, General. You gave him the commendation for promotion to my elite forces.”

  “Enough.” Neither Malzin nor Alten had heard Zalski enter; he slammed the door behind him. “You two alone…. I’m astounded there wasn’t bloodshed. Malzin, take a seat. A different seat.” Malzin traipsed over to the armchair next to Alten, while Zalski settled himself behind his desk, arranging a stack of files he had brought in. “First things first.” He pushed the papers to his general.

  Why in the name of God is she here? If he expects me to work with her….

  “What are those?” Malzin asked.

  “Diagrams,” said Zalski. “Measurements. Sketches. All pertaining to the central plaza in Fontferry. You know the area, General?”

  “Fairly well. I’ve seen it more than once.”

  “What do you know of Fontferry’s mayor?”

  Alten arched an eyebrow. “Jonson Peare? He’s middle-aged, held the post for a decade now. He’s revitalized the community.”

  “He’s respected. According to his appointees, he’s also lax in enforcing economic and criminal policies it’s not within his power to suspend.”

  “He disapproves of them.”

  “Not openly. He’s too experienced for that. But a Judge Roxburn sympathizes with us and provided ample documentation of Peare’s gall. Fontferry’s Tricentennial, as you may or may not know, is in four months, and the mayor’s asked me to deliver an address. I accepted his invitation so as not to insult the town. Arresting Peare for dereliction of duty would be equally insulting.”

  “What he’s doing is a capital offense.”

  “I’m aware, Alten. Peare poses a great dilemma. I could have him assassinated, I suppose. Publicly? I’d be blamed just as surely as if he were executed. Secretly? There would still be speculation I had a hand in it. To let him go unpunished emboldens others like him. I did come up with one solution: imagine, both of you, that as I were delivering my address an attempt were made on my life….”

  “And Peare becomes an unintended victim.” Alten nodded. “It has potential.”

  “More than potential. Especially when the assassin is caught and linked to the Crimson League by his own confession.”

  Malzin savored the thought in silence. Then she said, “Ingenious.”

  A nice touch, to vilify the League.

  “It won’t be easily implemented,” Zalski said. “We’ll have to feign the death of Peare’s killer. Alten must organize the event so that our goals are feasible.”

  Alten said, “I assume the festivities are planned for the village square?”

  “The square was modeled on Yangerton’s plaza. You’re to spend a fair amount of time in the original, developing different options. Peare’s accepted my offer to defray the fest’s cost, an offer which necessitates my approval of all construction: booths, platforms, etc.”

  “That’s fortunate,” said Alten.

  Malzin’s smug grin widened as she placed her hand on her husband’s. “Fontferry mustn’t have such a milestone as three hundred years tarnished by tawdry decoration and poor physical design.”

  “I’ll also need you two to be less hostile. You won’t work together, but you’ll both take active roles in this operation. I imagine you can respect that you’re equally indispensable to my government?”

  Alten turned to Malzin. “I would never deny the accomplishments of the elite guard.” Being as they come from my training. “Some measure of the troop’s success must go to you.”

  She responded, “I acknowledge your role in transitioning from the old regime.”

  “Good,” said Zalski. He pulled two pieces of twine from around his neck; strung onto each was a crystal perhaps two inches long that had been hanging beneath his tunic. He handed his wife the fir
st (she turned it in her palm) and threw the other to Alten, who held it at his side. “You’ll appreciate these,” Zalski assured them.

  “What are they?”

  “I altered the spell I wrote to enchant the crystals on the walls. If you tap the stone three times….” He nodded to Malzin, who did as instructed. Her crystal began to glow a brilliant red, and Zalski removed a third pendant from his neck, which had turned the same color: “…I’ll know to come to you. Try yours, Alten.”

  At the third tap the general’s pendant lit up a deep blue. The tint shadowed his face and was copied in Zalski’s crystal, which darkened to match its shade. A brush of the sorcerer’s index finger returned all three gems to their normal, cloudy white.

  “The purpose of these,” said Zalski, “is to eliminate third parties and excess documents. When you’re in Yangerton, summon me to give updates instead of sending off a messenger. I’ll transport to City Hall at my earliest convenience.”

  Malzin caught Zalski’s eye. “That you,” she asked, “Is it singular or plural?”

  * * *

  Kora Porteg sighed in frustration as she pulled a chain of red gold from her neck. She was no longer alone in the left-most room of the Crimson League’s Yangerton apartment.

  “You do realize Alten’s in a meeting?”

  “How should I know you were tracking him? It’s hard to tell these days.”

  Tracking was the term Kansten used to describe the invasion of Alten’s mind and physical surroundings. Both the phrasing as well as the unique brand of magic it tried to label made Kora uncomfortable, but Kansten had a point: the more experienced Kora became tracking Zalski’s general, the better she could balance a double set of locations. Where at first her body had dropped into a kind of trance, now she was able not only to stand, but to move a bit without losing the connection with Alten. That was the only positive development Kora could name from the past five months.

  After she exposed her magic during an ambush in the capital, word of Kora had spread. Though some people considered the stories bunk or were able to differentiate magic from ambitions to terrorize the kingdom, for many her name raised as much dread as Zalski’s. This made it more difficult for the League to garner support. It also meant Kora could venture out only on rare occasions. Besides that, once inducted into the resistance proper, Hayden had been so awestruck he was only now daring to speak more than monosyllables to anyone other than Bidd and Hal. His confidence was nil, especially after tripping over a stool when Kora happened to be practicing a spell to slow an enemy; Kora flinched at the noise, and the charm went askew, hitting Bidd, who had been (as usual) in the middle of an argument with Kansten and refused to believe Kora had not targeted him in support of the blonde. Menikas had taken the three new recruits out a few times to shoot arrows and practice sword skills, but that was not enough for Hal. The youth was frustrated he had yet to receive an assignment other than buying food or drawing water, unable to appreciate the risks he negated by running errands in place of the established Leaguesmen whom the army would be ten times more likely to recognize. Laskenay had begun to include Kora in some of her meetings with Menikas, which made Kansten jealous and, in conjunction with prolonged exposure to Bidd, was more than enough to keep the woman in a foul mood. In addition, Galisan Bane, who spearheaded operations in Yangerton, had failed to intercept each of the last five coal shipments to pass through the city. He simply lacked the men for such heists, had lost too many.

  Most gravely of all, after a year and a half of printed support for the resistance, the Letter had ceased to publish. Alten’s men had killed the paper’s founders and a good number of its contributors. Kora felt the loss personally; she could not help but think the publication would have thrown its support behind her, possibly moderating the public’s terror. As things were, she could not go out to escape her companions, which was vexing enough. To be interrupted while she spied on Zalski from the confines of the apartment….

  “This had better be important.”

  Kansten narrowed her eyes. “Don’t blame me. His royal highness summoned you.”

  “Menikas?”

  “Of course Menikas. He and Laskenay are about to have their conference.”

  Kora could have said a number of things: that she hadn’t asked to be the closest thing to a spy near Zalski the League possessed; that she hadn’t invited herself into Menikas’s inner circle; that she didn’t enjoy destroying someone’s privacy, even if that someone was Zalski’s right-hand man. She had said them all before, and she knew Kansten was not annoyed with her per se, but angered to be continually denied the kind of access and influence Kora had achieved since their encounter with Petroc. Kansten, after all, had risked just as much in the enterprise and been fighting with the League for a year before Kora burst on the scene.

  “Can he wait?” Kora asked.

  “He says no. He has to speak with Galisan before nightfall.”

  “Unbelievable. He could wait ten minutes.”

  “So make him,” said Kansten. Kora let out a dry laugh.

  “Would you make Menikas wait?”

  For the last month, as conditions deteriorated within and around the League, Menikas, never exactly lighthearted, had grown severe and demanding. The more he saw situations drifting out of his control, the harder he fought to rein them in. Kora cursed as she followed Kansten into the living area of the League’s quarters.

  Hal and Bidd were out, probably buying dinner. Hayden, Kora smiled to see, was holding a conversation with Neslan, explaining why he did not read for pleasure. Lanokas, Bendelof, and Ranler were huddled at the table, trying to determine if the city’s grain silos or coal sheds could be looted. (Kora had been amazed when Lanokas told her at least a hundred families depended on the League to supply their flour. The black market’s tax-free prices were all that prevented many from having to choose between shoes and blankets, milk and bread.) Menikas and Laskenay were standing by the door; the elder sorceress beckoned Kora over.

  “We’re heading across the street,” said Menikas. As he turned to leave, Kora muttered “Despareska,” as she almost always did now before stepping out. She vanished from sight.

  The League’s second apartment was reserved during daylight hours for Menikas and Laskenay, who sometimes delegated its use to other Leaguesmen working on sensitive projects. Laskenay kept it magically sealed. Kora herself had only been there a handful of times. Its walls were bare, like those of its counterpart, and its layout nearly identical.

  Stacks of parchment filled a small bookshelf and overflowed onto the floor. Kora reappeared as Laskenay took a seat around a scratched, square-topped table and Menikas removed the papers spread across its surface. Kora grabbed an inkwell and quill from a collection in the corner. “What’s going on?” she asked, pushing the writing tools across the table. The prince sent them back.

  “We shouldn’t need those.”

  “So what are we doing?” Kora repeated.

  “I have an hour. In that time I want a consensus about what we’re doing with that spellbook.”

  The Librette Oscure, an historic book of dark magic that had been one great headache for the League both before and after they stole it from a fortuneteller. Kora said, “You want to move the thing? After months of our guarding it here?”

  “I’ve been saying for months it’s foolish to hide the book in the city Malzin’s goons are turning stone from stone searching for it.”

  The city where Zalski’s general was soon to plant himself…. But there would be time later to deal with Alten’s mission.

  Laskenay’s expression turned hard, but did not phase Menikas. She said, “It’s asinine to hide the tome someplace we can’t keep our eye on it. Do you honestly think I’d let my brother lay hands on the Librette?”

  “I think your brother will try his damnedest to do just that. If he wants the spell we think he does, he’ll also need a Leaguesman. Why let him gain both in one attack?”

  “Laskenay, Menika
s has a point. There are two things we know Zalski needs to solidify his power, only two. It doesn’t make sense to keep them together.”

  “It does make sense to store the book where we can best protect it. That means here. I seem, however, to be alone in that opinion, so we’ll be moving the cursèd thing. Tell me, where?”

  “Wheatfield?” Kora suggested. It was more the first place to come to mind than a good idea. “The farm where my mother grew up? It could be a safe option, it’s abandoned.”

  Laskenay shook her head. “It’s one thing to separate ourselves from the book. It’s another to leave it unguarded, without a keeper.”

  “I agree,” said Menikas. “We should leave it to someone’s charge, someone neither in Yangerton nor Podrar. Surely one of us knows a person.”

  “Kansten’s old crew?” suggested Kora.

  Menikas told her, “None are left. Do you know anyone in Hogarane?”

  Laskenay protested, “It’s within the search area. The guard searched it once and they could again, no. Perhaps Partsvale?”

  Menikas nixed that. “I don’t trust the Partsvale group. They’ve never truly been tested. I’m not leaving that book with anyone untried.”

  Kora whispered, “Teena.”

  “Who?” said Laskenay.

  “An innkeeper in Fontferry, the one who offered to help me any way she could.” Kora still had Teena’s letter. It was one of the items stuffed in the sack she always kept ready in case the League had to flee without notice.

  Laskenay sat in stunned silence, her hands on the table. She looked strangely close to shaking, and had to grasp the furniture to stay still. Menikas said, “Fontferry? You think we have the provisions to send a man to Fontferry?”