Zalski had done the impossible. He had gutted her faith, perhaps cleanly. That was a power beyond sorcery, and to see its effects disturbed Kora enough to keep her up until the sun rose.
Laskenay returned as everyone was scrounging to put some kind of breakfast together. She was closing the door when she noticed Zacry speaking with Neslan, then Bendelof’s red head leaning close to Lanokas, telling him something in a low voice. The building fell silent. The sorceress clutched her chest.
“How long have I been gone?”
Neslan took out his battered timepiece. “Fourteen and a half hours.”
“But who…? How…?”
Kora stepped forward. “I transported to the tower roof last night. Blew a wall away.”
The prince said, “It was a group decision.”
“The only thing to do,” said Neslan. “Frankly, I’m amazed we didn’t think of it sooner. We discussed the likely aftermath.”
“All right then,” said Laskenay. Zacry smiled up at her.
“I know they went behind your back. No offense, but I’m glad they did.”
Laskenay told them all, “You don’t answer to me anymore. There’s no League to be bound to. Bennie, I don’t think I’ve ever been this glad to see you.”
“Same here. I mean….” Bennie’s face flushed as crimson as her hair. Lanokas patted her shoulder, while Laskenay turned to Zacry.
“I should never have left the possibility open….”
“Please,” said Zacry. “How could you know he’d find us? Laskenay, nobody hurt me.”
“Not as yet,” said the sorceress. She sent Kora an inquisitive look, to ask whether she should speak in front of Zacry. Kora could not see how to avoid the situation, and nodded; she trusted Laskenay would talk around any sensitive information. “So where do we go from here? Zalski’s hounds will be out within the hour.”
Lanokas countered, “He’ll have sent them out last night.”
“You’re probably right.” Laskenay sighed, and magicked over her sack. Hayden spoke for the first time since the sorceress returned.
“What are you doing?”
She rummaged for an inkwell. “Setting up a conference with Zalski.”
“What?!” cried the group. Kora grabbed the inkwell from Laskenay. “He’ll kill you on sight after what I did. He’d kill any of us.”
“He has a sense of honor. He won’t settle for slaughtering us when we walk up to him to negotiate.”
“Who’s we?” asked Hayden.
“Neslan, Kora, and I.”
Lanokas pointed perplexedly to himself. “Um….”
“Three to speak with three: Zalski, Malzin, and Argint. Neslan has a way with words that we’ll need and that frankly, you lack. I can’t risk you losing your temper.”
The prince replied, “In case you haven’t noticed, Kora’s no kitten.”
Neslan said, “Kora defaced his palace. For all in the capital to see. She needs to explain why she did it, she herself.”
Lanokas argued, “You think he’ll accept her apology?”
Neslan said, “She won’t be apologizing. She’ll be explaining, not for Zalski’s benefit but for Argint’s.” He looked to Laskenay. “That’s what this is about, no? Making sure Argint knows the man he serves imprisoned a twelve-year-old for being brash. Preparing the general so that when we approach him for help, he might give it.”
“Exactly,” said Laskenay. “We must have the general’s support. Last night changed everything. Argint’s our only chance now.” Zalski’s sister let out an exhausted sigh. “While I was out I performed some calculations about a spell, one of Hansrelto’s. It can freeze, in a sense, a sorcerer’s Lin, eliminate his powers, temporarily if nothing else. I wanted to see how many sorcerers we would need to even consider casting it on Zalski.”
“How many?” asked Hayden.
“Three ensures a strong enough effect. Well, we lack three. We could still attempt it with Kora and myself, but we’d have to physically get to Zalski. It’s strategically impossible without Argint.”
“You have three sorcerers,” said Zacry.
Kora trembled. “Absolutely not. No. Zacry, you’re going nowhere near that man ever again, and that’s final.”
“There’s no other way!” Zacry cried.
Lanokas rubbed his chin. “There might be, actually. If we could convince the man.”
“Petroc?” said Kora. She leaned back against the wall. “You think Petroc…?”
“I think it’s an option.”
“You do remember Petroc?”
“I remember that spell that broke Kansten’s back. I’d like to see him do the same to Zalski.”
“And if he casts it on one of us when we approach him for help?”
“I never suggested you go tromping to the Hall. I’m saying that if worst comes to worst, it’s a plan to fall back on.”
Laskenay said, “I agree. It seems odd, but I feel safer turning to Zalski’s general than sending you back to that lone wolf. Even Kansten said things about him that disturbed me, and I tended to take Kansten’s gripes with a grain of salt, God rest her. She had a propensity for…. For overreacting.”
Kora said, “Not when it came to Petroc. Do you really think Zalski will go for this meeting?”
Laskenay told her, “He’s always been curious, and he hasn’t spoken with me since the coup. He’ll want to know what could bring me to…. No, he’ll guess. But he’ll suspect there’s more. Neslan, I need you to help me word this.”
“How will you get it to Zalski?” Zacry asked. He had been hanging on the League’s every word, though he had no idea who Petroc was.
“I’ll magic it through that hole your sister left in the Palace. He’ll find it.”
Kora tossed Laskenay the inkbottle. Neslan and Zalski’s sister sequestered themselves in the loft; their heads together, they spoke low and continuously, except when they bent over to write. The others sat below, more or less in a group but lost in their own meditations.
Given the chance, what would Kora say to Zalski? She pondered the question for about seven seconds, then decided it was moot. No syllable from her, blunt or barbed, would do anything more than bounce off the armor-like coat of his resentment. The most she could hope was to prevent a ricochet word from striking her compatriots; one unfortunate turn of phrase could put all their lives at risk. To be fair, that was equally true of all three of them, but somehow she suspected Zalski would have less patience with her.
Kora did not notice Laskenay transport from the loft. She glanced up to see that Neslan, as silent as the rest of them, had joined their huddle. A few minutes later, the other sorceress returned. “When will it be?” Kora asked.
“Next week. Ten days from now.”
“Where?”
“The apartment in Yangerton.”
Over the next few days, Kora spoke many times with Neslan about the meeting. Lanokas, slighted at first by his exclusion from the conference, eventually admitted he trusted Neslan to represent him before the enemy, and offered decent advice as usual. He pressed Kora once or twice to track Zalski, but she refused with such vehemence he let the subject die. It was healthier, she insisted, not to know the extent of Zalski’s ire.
When not with the two nobles, Kora spent her time with her brother. He went with her to the riverbank when she had to wash clothes or fetch water, and she helped him practice the spells she had taught him before Zalski’s raid. His shield spell soon grew solid. She tried a few times to speak of his going into hiding, but he was obstinate, and for the time being, Kora judged it best not to argue.
When apart from Kora, Zacry made it a point to be Bendelof’s helper; the girl had become a second sister to him. Kora asked her to hint to Zacry he should give up his plans of revenge, hoping his respect for Bennie would open his mind a bit. No luck.
Laskenay offered to take Bendelof to the Miracle Pool, saying she had been there once before, with a grandmother. Bendelof resisted for a while—the Poo
l was her only chance, what if it failed? What if Zalski had guards there?—but Kora suspected she refused, deep down, for other reasons. Without her sight, Bennie would not feel guilty walking away. Without her sight, she would have an excuse for betraying her old worldview. Only after five days, and after Laskenay ascertained they would be safe, did Bennie allow the sorceress to transport her to the healing waters. She came back able to see.
“I’m staying,” she told Kora that night. “A part of me wishes the Pool hadn’t worked, as horrible as that sounds, but since it did, I’m staying. I can’t let him get away with what he did to Zac. What he let that woman do to Kansten. I can’t just forget that. I won’t let myself forget that.”
445
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Of Minors and Menikas
The day of the conference came all too soon: after Bendelof regained sight, but before Zacry could be relocated; before Menikas established any kind of contact; before Kora felt prepared to face the man who had thrown her brother in a prison cell, or what amounted to a prison cell. Nonetheless, that afternoon Kora transported with Laskenay and Neslan back to the Yangerton apartment.
The opposing party had already arrived. To see Zalski leaning against the wall the same way Lanokas used to do made Kora’s stomach churn. Malzin sat with perfect posture in Menikas’s chair, while Argint had chosen a stool. The three stood straight at the apparition of their adversaries, Argint a bit slower than his fellows, and gathered to present a united front. The Leaguesmen followed suit, with Neslan in the middle. The breeze from the broken window ruffled Kora’s hair.
“Laskenay.” Zalski proffered his hand to his sister, though not to her companions. She refused to take it. Unsurprised by her cold reception, the sorcerer did cock a brow when he noticed the man on her right. “Neslan. This is unexpected. And Miss Porteg, of course. My recent visitor. You really should give advance warning before you drop by my humble abode.”
“I gave you the same warning you gave Kansten Carder.”
From the edge of her vision, Kora watched the general. Despite the wig she had worn on her first raid, Argint remembered the only other occasion he had set eyes on her, she was sure of it; he seemed uncertain what to make of the encounter, uncertain whether to grudge or to dismiss it. Malzin, in contrast, fixed her gaze on Laskenay’s faded dress, on her frizzed strands of hair, and looked genuinely taken aback.
“Where is Hune?” asked Zalski.
Laskenay’s voice was flat. “Hune hasn’t come. Nor Rexson. That is all you need to know.”
“I know a good deal more about Hune than I imagine you do, as of yet.”
“Fiddlesticks,” said Kora. Zalski ignored her. His eyes remained locked on his sister’s furrowed brow.
“Hune was spied trying to cross into Podrar.”
“By whom?” demanded Neslan. Kora glanced at Laskenay, whose normally pale cheeks took on a rosy tint. Zalski’s voice was sharp:
“Stop interrupting and I’ll say.”
A dramatic pause. An obedient silence, which placated the sorcerer, who continued, “A company of the guard set upon him and his companions. You’re aware I protect city limits…. It so happens your fellows were subdued. Not before Hune killed a handful of my men, to his credit, but he always did have wretched luck. By pure chance, one of the fallen had a brother present. Now, all soldiers who guard Podrar have strict orders to take you alive, any of you, but this brother attacked Hune after capture.”
“Cleaved his head clean off his shoulders,” said Malzin. Kora raised a hand to her neck. “He beheaded a second rebel before they restrained him, what a name, Bitt something or other….”
“Bidd,” said Neslan. “It was Bidd.” His hands were balled into fists at his side.
Zalski said, “It’s all the same. The soldier broke protocol, which I deem unacceptable. He hanged this morning with your surviving cohorts, the both of them. After that spectacle with Miss Esper, I learned prisoners are more trouble than they’re worth, at least when they ally themselves with the Crimson League.”
Neslan stepped forward. “Hal was barely of age.”
“But he was of age. Anyone capable of killing my general is adult enough to pay for his crimes. You were always reasonable, don’t pretend you can’t concede the point.”
“He’s bluffing,” said Kora. “They weren’t captured. Neslan, step back.”
In response, Zalski opened a small silk sack and tossed a square piece of fabric, dyed yellow and brown, at Kora. Hal’s bandana. It shook in her hand, and she bobbled the next objects he threw to her: a tarnished lockpick, the deck of cards Bidd always carried with him. Zalski then tossed a gold ring, engraved with the coat of arms of the royal family, a ring she had seen Menikas wear on occasion. Kora’s lip trembled, her face gray, while Malzin smirked at Zalski’s side. Laskenay clasped her hands beneath her chin, her face inscrutable. It was Argint who broke the tension.
“Why are we here? What do you think we could possibly negotiate?”
“Especially after our stroke of luck,” said Malzin. “We know what it implies, your losing the heir apparent. You’re royalists.”
Laskenay said, “I had no leverage with Hune alive. His death’s changed nothing. After Kora defaced the Palace, you three will hunt us like never before, which means you’ll find us. Which means in turn that in victory or defeat, this fight will end. That’s why I’m here.”
Malzin studied her sister-in-law with disbelief. “You can’t have fallen so far. You can’t hold the delusion you could triumph.”
“By all means, condescend as much as you like. I have nothing to say to you, I invited you here to have equal numbers. I thought it courteous.” As though to prove her point, Laskenay looked to Malzin’s husband. “You’re the one I need to speak to. I’m appealing to any family sentiment you have. Not for my sake.”
Zalski nodded. “For your son.”
“What are your plans for him?” The boy’s uncle stroked his chin, considering whether to answer. Laskenay prodded, “Zalski….”
“I suppose you have the right to know. Very well: within the year a new program will begin, to test all children for magic. Those found to be gifted will attend a school in Podrar, where they will learn to esteem their talents and train to fill government posts. I myself will train the sorcerers in casting, though casting forms only a part of what they’ll master. When Valkin reaches the age of seven, he can expect no special treatment.”
“I won’t have him brainwashed.” Laskenay walked up to her brother. “I won’t have it.”
Malzin mocked, “You won’t have it? You’ll be rotting in an unmarked grave.”
Laskenay threatened, “I’ll bind his powers. Eliminate them.”
“How, in the name of all that’s holy?”
Zalski hushed his wife with a stiff hand on her shoulder. “The Librette.”
Laskenay said, “Should you recognize him by his mark, to find he lacks all magic, will you let him be?”
Malzin rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he? What makes you think your brat holds special interest?”
Laskenay ignored her. “Zalski, I’ve had no contact with him in three years. Nothing. He’ll pose no threat to you because of my influence, I made sure of that. If he cannot cast spells, will you let him grow in peace?”
Zalski looked to be struck dumb. He stood stock still. Then he exploded, “Bind his powers? Are you mad? You can’t take the boy’s natural gifts! He was born with abilities so he could use them. My God, woman, he comes from Brenthor’s line!”
“I’m well aware from whence he comes. He needs protection from whence he comes, protection from you. This is the only way. I’m his mother. The decision to bind his magic belongs to me.”
“Laskenay, you have no right….”
“You have no right to counsel me. You are not the boy’s father. You killed the boy’s father. I simply ask whether I can trust you not to interfere in my son’s life.” Zalski said nothing, and Laskenay declared, �
�You owe me this.” She seemed intent not to cross the line into begging. “If nothing else, you owe me this for the sake of our youths. It’s no simple request, not for someone who holds your views, but I ask nothing else.”
“I owe you nothing. You owe your son a forum to develop the skills he was born with. That, however, seems too much to expect from you, as you clearly still flee from your own.”
“We are not discussing me. I came here to discuss my child.”
Zalski shook his head sadly. Nostalgically. “I wanted you to stand beside me,” he said. “It would have strengthened us both. If there had been the slightest chance of it, I would have offered you anything, a position teaching magic, amnesty for those you named. I wanted your support, Laskenay. I wanted to see my nephew raised by his mother, in a decent home. I’ll say this, I never intended your husband to suffer.”
Laskenay quaked in anger. “You never gave my husband a thought! If you did, it was to plan for him to die that day. He shared my views of sorcery and would have passed them to his son. Admit it, Zalski. Admit it to my face. Which was it?”
Zalski lost his patience; his voice came short and crisp. “I intended Valkin to die, not to suffer. I was merciful in that. The man deserved to suffer for conspiring against his offspring, and you, you chose to spite me of your own volition.”
“You never gave me the chance to do otherwise. Never consulted me.”
“Would you have accepted my offer?”
The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 48