“It was,” Bennie agreed. “But I did need to discuss the League with someone, I see that now. You’ve listened to me go on and on, and…. I’m grateful, Gratton. You didn’t ruin things that night after all, did you?”
“Made them a hell of a lot more difficult. Wouldn’t have bothered trying, in fact, but I’d offered to help you get settled in Podrar, so I had to do that much.”
Bennie smiled at him, grabbing his hand with all the excitement of a child skipping down the road to the local fair for the first time. “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” she said. “I’m not really sure how to fathom that, where to start.”
“We should start with dinner in a bit, I think. One of those fancy places off the Great Square, so go put on something nicer. I have a change of clothes in the carriage I rented. I’ll run and get it.”
Bennie’s mouth fell open again. “You rented a carriage?”
“It’s waiting around the block.”
“Gratton,” she said, “let’s elope. Let’s do it tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“If we’re going by the Square anyway…. The Temple’s not far, and there’s always a priest on hand, at least until seven or eight. And someone will be working late in the license office at Town Hall.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to wait?”
“Wait for what? A wedding I can’t afford, I don’t have time to plan, and that isn’t safe for me to have anyway? Gratton, I’ve waited long enough to live. Let’s elope.”
He slipped his grandmother’s band on her finger. It was a perfect fit, which he could only consider a positive sign. “Let’s elope,” he agreed. Speechless in her gratitude, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, pressed her lips to his, and tugged him out to the entrance hall. Both ignored the painting lying facedown on the floor.
* * *
Vane enjoyed dinner that night far less than Bendelof and Gratton. The food at the Palace was excellent—tender steaks smothered with onions and mushrooms in the richest gravy he had ever tried; warm bread and fresh vegetables; a dark, aromatic wine perfectly aged—but he hardly tasted a thing. He was too busy trying to hold his own in conversation with Carson Amison, who, as Vane expected, started fishing for information almost as soon as they were seated. His first question was where Vane had grown up.
“East of Partsvale, for the most part.” A good ways east, two hundred miles and on the Podra River. “Later I moved to Yangerton.” That last was a pure lie. His Aunt Teena had brought him to Podrar, though the two had traveled to Yangerton many times. The younger duke judged it wise not to mention his time in Traigland.
“So you know Yangerton, do you?”
“I’ve always preferred the north,” said Vane.
“Indeed. You’ll forgive my prying, Ingleton, but your history is so… unique. The king said this morning an inn worker raised you. How were you educated?”
“The king saw to my education.”
“General or magical?”
The question was so direct it took Vane aback—but then, that was why Rexson and the queen were at the other end of the dining hall, to allow the two nobles to speak as plainly as they might desire.
“General, obviously. Let’s get this in the open, since you’re all but demanding the information: I am a sorcerer. The fact’s unsurprising, considering my lineage, but what magic I might or might not know is none of your concern. Unless I’ve given cause to assume I’m somehow plotting against the throne, my sorcery is my private affair.”
Amison’s face stretched in a satisfied smirk. “Rest assured, you’ve given no such implication. You’ve been at court a mere number of hours. But if I may offer some advice, as your elder and someone more experienced with politics….”
“I’m listening.”
“You’ll want to be cautious. It’s imperative you avoid any word or deed that could give the wrong impression of you and your intentions. Considering, as you say, your lineage.”
The thinly veiled threat was precisely what Vane anticipated. “I’ve had little time to establish myself as yet,” he agreed, “so let me make one thing clear. In terms of loyalty to the king and his family, I intend to prove myself my parents’ son. My father and grandfather gave their lives for the king in this very building the day Zalski wrested command. I understand your father was present as well. How did he respond to the treachery? He didn’t kowtow, surely?”
Amison’s cheeks, already flushed from drink, turned darker still. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw muscles moved barely a centimeter as he replied, “You’re new to the court, so I won’t take offense at your gaffe. You should know, Ingleton, the days of the sorcerer are an unwelcome topic here. They are not discussed, barring the rare event that official business in a meeting makes reference unavoidable.”
“Forgive me.”
“The slight was unintentional, I’m sure.”
Both men were aware the slight was as deliberate as could be. Vane meant to show that Zalski was no point of shame to be used to manipulate or bully him, and he cut into his steak with such force he thought he would split the china on which it sat. Yangerton sipped his wine and nearly shattered his crystal glass, he gripped it so tightly. He decided to change the topic.
“I’d heard someone was renovating your father’s estate. I meant to go down to see if that were true, but arrived in Podrar later than I planned.”
“I settled in a week ago. The repairs were fortunately minor, as His Majesty saw to upkeep through the years.”
“Using your father’s fortune, of course. I remember Oakdowns. The rooms are airy and the grounds well shaded in the summer months.”
The evening passed with a series of such pleasantries. Vane and Amison discussed subject after subject of small importance, sizing each other up all the while: their homes in Podrar and Yangerton; the theater in the kingdom’s two largest cities; how a good many nobles with their manors in one of those cities possessed less expansive grounds and houses in the other, Amison included. Vane’s parents had been a rare exception, and Amison suggested Vane look into procuring a bit of land in Yangerton.
Oh, you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Having me in your district, under your surveillance and removed from the king. Nicely tried, Amison. I’m not that foolish.
Neither of the dukes partook of pudding after the meal. Amison left the dinner as dessert was being served, citing an early morning departure back to Yangerton. Vane felt devoid of energy but had no such excuse available, so he passed more pleasantries with a handful of other nobles and stayed until everyone else had left, to speak with Rexson before returning to Oakdowns. Then Rexson made his way to Gracia’s antechamber, where the queen paced the floor, slipperless but clad in her satin gown, her hair still up. She flew to her husband when he entered, grabbed his shoulders.
“How is Vane? How did things go? I was a wreck, such a wreck clear on the other side….”
“Things went as we were all expecting.”
Gracia bit her lip. “Not any better?”
“At least nothing went worse.”
After four long months, Rexson felt he had a semblance of a stable marriage again. His and Gracia’s shared interest in Vane, their common desire for his swift and peaceful integration into court, and most importantly, their identical views of how to accomplish such an entry had gone far to reestablish their relationship.
“What did he tell you? Is he shaken at all?”
“A bit, but nothing serious. We knew Amison would never be supportive. He proved outright contentious, but he’ll know better than to antagonize the boy further.”
“He shouldn’t be putting himself through this, Rexson.”
“Vane? I agree with you.”
“I wish we could prevent him….”
“You know as well as I that we can’t. The title’s his, and he’s of age. We can’t legally interfere.”
“He’s doing this for us.”
“No matter w
hat his motive,” the king qualified, “our hands are tied. He’s been free to appear at court since the age of fifteen had he so chosen. I could refuse to install him on the council, but we’ve discussed this. If the boy’s to openly claim his duchy, it’s safer for him if I support him to the full extent I’m able. Our trust in him must be transparent.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “And he’s safe for the moment, I’m aware of that as well. It’s this horrid council that’s the trouble. When word breaks you’re seeking magicked…. And what of the girl?” demanded Gracia. “What will become of her, once her attachment to him is known? She’s no more magic to defend herself than I.”
“I gave Vane the crystals this afternoon. August’s already taken hers.”
Gracia shook her head. “What are they thinking?” she asked. “Rexson, what are they thinking?”
“They’re not. They’re head over heels for one another, and they’ll marry as soon as they can. If the timing were convenient, they’d likely be engaged by now.”
“How did we let this happen? How did we let them…?”
The king led her to an armchair. “There’s no preventing these things, Gracia. People live, they fall in love. Those two in particular, their backgrounds have striking similarities. I don’t know Vane would have the strength to be doing this without her.”
“And that would be an evil? He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t risk himself for us. He should have gone on letting people think him dead before some lunatic confuses him with his uncle and….”
“I know, Dear.” Rexson took her hand, but that did little to calm her.
“He could go back to Traigland, even still. He could take August with him, and they could live in the peace they deserve. Rexson, you could convince him.”
“My Dear, you know he’s resolved on this. It’s the one way he is like his uncle: he’ll do what he deems best and damned be anyone who tries to stop him. I swear up and down, I’d give anything to change his mind. His family’s damn well sacrificed enough for my sake, and I know better than anyone what it’s like to live with openly declared as well as veiled enemies at your back. I lived that way close to four years.”
“With this council, he could live that way until he dies a natural death, should he survive that long. Why doesn’t he see that?”
“He sees it, Gracia. He’s just that much braver than I ever was…. If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe the threat will be nearly that prolonged: a few months, if we’re fortunate. Once most people come to terms with the idea of a Magic Council, he’ll be as secure as he could ever hope to be. I daresay he’ll be able to marry in a year or two.”
Gracia caught Rexson’s eye. “There is one way to end this,” she insisted. “We kill the monsters who began it all. Your word or mine to Gratton, that’s all it takes. He has the connections. There’s simply no reason to let Vane get himself killed over this council when we….”
“You’re talking about August’s sister in addition to the others,” he reminded her. “August visits her regularly. Could you look that girl in the eye and tell her you ordered Ursa’s death? Could you, Gracia? She wouldn’t be grateful. She’s in love with Vane, and still she wouldn’t thank us if she knew we were acting purely on his behalf. Vane himself would never forgive us hurting August that way.”
The queen blinked in surprise. “You meant to say Ursa, did you not?”
“I said what I meant. Killing Ursa would harm August. It was Vane who convinced August to speak with her sister in the first place, who brought them together to some extent.”
“August told us months ago if her sister had to die, she would understand.”
“What August meant was, she accepted we had to detain Ursa and her cohorts, and if they somehow were killed in the process, she wouldn’t grudge us. If we tried them openly and fairly for their crimes and they received death sentences, that was justice taking its course, and she could bear that. She was in no way referring to our cutting the woman down in cold blood when she was already at our mercy and had received our solemn word that she would live. My God! She’s repenting, to a great degree.”
“So spare her and kill the others. If she’ll keep silent, if she’ll accept us postponing the council, perhaps indefinitely, then kill Dorane and Arbora.”
“My understanding, from what August’s told Vane and Vane’s passed on to me, is that Ursa’s enamored of Dorane somehow. That was why she involved herself in the kidnapping to begin with. If we killed him….”
“They’re in separate cities, Rexson. How would she find out?”
“Prisoners transfer from prison to prison constantly. Not those three, I’ve seen to that, but others do. If you don’t imagine Ursa asks every individual who comes up from Yangerton for news of Dorane…. My Dear, this council must happen. You know it must. To be honest, a part of me knows it’s time for such a step, that the step should have been taken centuries ago. The concept can and will succeed in our day, despite the risks. I just wish Vane needn’t involve himself in the initial stages. God help me, I do.”
Gracia squeezed her husband’s hand in wordless sympathy.
CHAPTER THREE
Of Traigland and Tarts
The day after Vane joined court was Tuesday, August’s day off. With her new crystal tucked beneath her dress, Melly’s nurse set out to lunch with Bennie at one of their favorite taverns in Crescenton, halfway between the Palace and Vane’s manor (where August was going afterward). Vane had introduced the women in the fall, and they had developed a sisterly repartee despite their fourteen-year disparity in age. The king’s old companion fascinated August; Bennie spooked and impressed her telling stories of the Crimson League, or from her time with the Enchanted Fist as Gretta Yastly. By January, August was closer to Rexson’s spy than she had ever been to Ursa, and had established a habit of going to her for advice.
The tavern was busy, perhaps two-thirds full, but the women found a table near a window that looked to the street. They had ordered tea and stew before August noticed the band on Bendelof’s finger. She let out a little gasp. “Is that….?”
“Gratton and I eloped last night.”
August squealed in delight and took Bennie in a hug. “Gracious! Good gracious, that’s wonderful! But what the dickens are you doing here?”
“Getting married was spur-of-the-moment. I wouldn’t stand you up because of that, and I’m thrilled to share the news, to be honest.”
“I won’t tell Val a thing,” August promised. “You should do that yourself. Oh, I hope things went well for him yesterday. You should have seen him!”
“Was he nervous?”
“It didn’t show. Not beforehand, at least.” August lowered her voice. “I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked me. I wasn’t quite convinced where I stood before yesterday, but I am now, because he’s so sure of himself. He has been since I’ve known him, I think. He just didn’t realize it at first.”
August paused, then decided to continue. “He knows who he wants to be. He sees what he needs to do to be that person, and he’s doing it. He’s doing it, Hannah, and when I’m with him, I can’t think of anything but how much I admire him, and except in rare moments I can’t feel frightened. But when we’re apart, I’ve been here and there and all over the place trying to think straight about him and me. All the uncertainty…. Heaven knows how long that first period of turmoil will last. A month? Three years? Heaven knows how long we’ll have to keep on being guarded, when we’ll be able to finally think about marriage.”
Bennie, who still was not used to her alias and almost started at being called Hannah, at the end of August’s rant could not help but smile.
“You’re eighteen,” she said. “If you have anything, it’s time. No need to rush things.”
“Back in the day,” said August, “how did you handle not knowing what would happen? How and when it would all be over?”
Bennie rubbed her wrist—the wrist she had nearly slashed all those ye
ars ago. “I didn’t handle the stress all that well,” she admitted.
August insisted, “You handled it well enough. You’re here, aren’t you? So how did you cope?”
“I tried to focus on the reasons I got involved in the first place. When I needed a reminder, people assured me we were all in that hell together, and that however we got through it, we’d come through arm in arm. And we did, some of us.
“Now, your situation’s a bit different, isn’t it? The road might be easier the entire way than you’re expecting, but if it isn’t, you know you and Vane are in this together the same as my old crew back then, and you have some, well, some powerful friends on your side.” The king and queen. Zacry Porteg. “Keep sight of that when you get frustrated. And man alive, remember you have time. Patience is a virtue.”
August smirked. “This coming from a woman who eloped last night.”
“At age thirty-two, Little Miss. I’m sure you’ll be married long before then.”
“I don’t have a reason to complain, not compared with what you suffered at my age. But I…. Oh, I do hope things went well for him yesterday! March, you know, March will be horrendous.” That blasted Magic Council. “If things are bad in January….”
“Hopefully there’ll be time for improvement before March.”
“That’s the idea,” August agreed. “Who can say if things will unfold that way? And after March, well…. I’ve been starting to wonder, you know. How can I be a…?”
August almost said “duchess” in the middle of a tavern! She stopped herself and, feeling self-conscious, lowered her voice so that she whispered. “How can I be his wife? I’m not the kind of person people like him marry. I’d be a disaster.”
“You’d have some things to learn,” Bennie admitted. “But your employer could help you there, surely? It makes sense you’d be thinking about that, as close as you and Vane are, but don’t let it scare you away from him. Don’t let those little snags prevent you from being simply and gloriously happy together, because I think you would be. I really do.”
The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 32