“I know advances won’t come easy. I know what protests there have been. I’ve devoured the reports in the Bugle like they were honeycakes. But the potential’s there, I’m sure it is, and I’d like to be a part of this council if you’ll let me. I don’t imagine I’m what you’re looking for, but just applying, I thought maybe that would help me find some peace for what I did. Maybe that boy’s applied as well? His name was….”
“Francie, stop.” Vane popped into view, and the girl jumped up.
“Vane!? Vane, what are you doing here? How…?”
“I’m the Duke of Ingleton, Francie.”
“How is that possible?” she sputtered. She advanced a few steps, as though to better see him and make certain who he was. “That’s not possible. Teena Unsten’s your aunt, and she ran an inn. She wasn’t any duchess or….”
“Teena was a stranger my mother left me with when Zalski took control of the kingdom.”
The poor girl looked as though a battering ram had hit her square in the stomach. “So it’s you? It’s been you all along I’ve read so much about? You they’ve been protesting, you who ran off to Partsvale to…? Of course, to Partsvale. Where else would you elope? You talked so much about the Shrine.”
Francie’s knees began to shake, and Zacry pushed her chair beneath her before she fell to the floor.
The king asked, “What exactly is your power, Miss Rafe?”
“It’s not the kind of power people think of when they consider magic. It…. I’ve had it as long as I remember. For a while I didn’t even realize it was magic. I thought everyone could do it, until I was old enough to wonder why everybody asked so often how I or someone else was feeling. I never had to wonder that about other people.” She shot a frightened, apologetic look at Vane, and he nodded encouragement. “When I touch an object—any object, a pen, a glass, someone’s sleeve—I can sense the emotional state the last person who touched it was in when they touched it. At least, that’s how I’ve deduced it works. I’ve run little experiments to check.”
“You can read emotional states?” asked Zacry.
“It’s like a wave, almost like vertigo sometimes. How strong it is depends on how strongly the other person was feeling what he felt, if that makes sense. And how long he held the object, I’m pretty sure that’s a factor too. I don’t know magically who that person was or what caused the emotions, but the emotions register with me.”
“How do we test this?” asked the king.
“I know,” said Vane. “I have to run to Oakdowns, but I’ll be back.”
He turned invisible and transported to the servants’ door, then transported again to his manor from just outside the Palace. He entered to the library, and grabbed something wrapped in cloth from a secret compartment in the desk there. Then he was gone again.
“Would you wait outside?” he asked Rexson and Zacry when he returned. They consented to leave, and Vane placed the bundle he held on the desk, around which Francie joined him.
“It’s not in great condition,” he said, as she uncovered Laskenay’s journal. “That’s why I keep it wrapped like this, to hold it together. I’m sure no one’s touched it since I did last, and I remember the occasion.”
Francie grazed the cover with a finger, and jumped back. She squinted her eyes and rubbed her forehead; she even seemed to sweat a bit.
“I’ve rarely had a signal that powerful.”
“What did you pick up?”
“An odd mix of things. A strong sense of grief…. No, not grief as much as simple loss, an opportunity never given. I can’t say what that would have been. Gratitude too, that’s strong: gratitude and a sense of envy, and a longing for something, I don’t know what.”
His mother’s conviction and courage.
“There’s more beneath all that, too.” She touched the journal again. “There’s fear of something, a dread I’d almost guess you had picked up this book to try to forget, though that might not be true at all.”
Vane nodded at the woman he had known as a girl; he had last read some entries in early March, to distract himself from the ever-approaching announcement of the council.
“My power,” said Francie, “it’s the reason I never came by after my mother made all that trouble. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t bear the thought of touching your doorknob and knowing exactly how I’d hurt you, how much you resented me for that, how confused my actions made you.”
“Don’t apologize. You were a kid. You had no idea....”
Francie changed the subject, indicated the journal. “Vane, what is this?”
“A diary my mother kept in her time with the Crimson League.” And Vane wrapped it once again in its cloth.
“That makes sense,” said Francie. “And the envy?”
“She never doubted she was doing what she must.”
“And you do? You doubt this is worth the trouble?”
“Francie, why in the Giver’s name are you here?”
In two seconds flat, Francie’s face looked like she had spent an entire July afternoon on the meadow without a parasol. “You know why I’m here. You were hiding in the corner when I explained. But you, Vane, why are you here? That’s the real question. You’ve been involved in this from the start, haven’t you? You’ve been a part from the very beginning. The king lied in those interviews. Vane, what’s going on?”
“That’s none of your concern. You’ve no business here.”
“I have every right to be here, thank you very much!”
“Your power’s inactive. Inactive! How do you propose to protect yourself?”
“I don’t care about that. All I know is this council is bigger than the both of us, so don’t change the subject. And don’t ruin this for me, don’t you ruin this. I know I’m not justified in asking a thing of you, but….”
“I’ll recuse myself from discussing your appointment, and that’s all I’ll do. Otherwise I’d vote against you, for your safety’s sake. As for you, now….”
“What about me?”
“If you regret at all what happened when we were kids, you won’t tell a soul you saw me here today. You say you’ve been following the Bugle. Then you know what an outcry there’d be if people suspected the king wasn’t exactly truthful in those first statements.”
“They’d say you’re controlling him with some spell. Which is utterly absurd, since human will….”
Vane raised an eyebrow. “You do know your stuff, don’t you?”
“I’ve read up in my spare time: what little I have, at least. Spend every blasted day in that God-forsaken store.”
“Are you married?” She shook her head. “Engaged?”
“Not even close. And you, you’re the Duke of Ingleton. Reading those articles, I couldn’t help but think the man was suicidal. That’s how it looked. Vane, when did they tell you?”
“Who my parents had been? That Zalski Forzythe was my uncle? Teena and the king told me together. I was twelve, and I wasn’t exactly surprised. I’d been going to the Palace for visits since I was five, though not often. And I knew I was a sorcerer, so with all that together, I had my suspicions. I wasn’t sure, because I still thought Teena was a blood relative, but…. I was relieved to learn the truth.”
“Relieved? How would that be a relief?”
“I thought all along I’d been Zalski’s son.”
With that, Vane opened the door for Zacry and the king, announcing when they’d entered, “Her power’s legitimate. Whether you’ll have her on the council is up to you. I told her I wouldn’t interfere in the decision.”
“Then take a seat, Miss Rafe,” Rexson directed. “I do have a few more questions.”
Francie blinked a bit stupidly. “You’ll just take his word like that?”
“If he chose the object I imagine he did, your magic is more than confirmed.” Rexson glanced at Vane. “The diary?”
“The diary,” Vane agreed.
“Then we can proceed. A seat, Miss Rafe, if you please.�
�
Vane paid the rest of the interview small mind. He took in enough to judge that Francie handled herself well, that she was far more qualified for the post than the previous hopefuls, but found himself distracted by attempts to organize the massive clutter of nostalgia, bemusement, and wonderment, among other things, that Francie’s reappearance had evoked. He’d made little progress by the time the king dismissed her, and she asked Ingleton, “I don’t suppose you can join me for a drink? As old friends? It won’t compromise my application, not if you’ve recused yourself from commenting on it.”
“I can’t, Francie. I can’t discuss myself in the open, and I shouldn’t be seen with you in public, period. I just got married. If someone caught wind….”
“Vane, I….” Francie’s face turned red again. “Should I even call you that? Do you go by that name at all anymore?”
“Vane’s fine,” he said. “With you, Vane’s fine. Just know I’ve gone to great trouble to keep the papers from printing my life story, because frankly, I don’t deem it anyone’s business. Teena’s living at Oakdowns for the moment, just as a precaution, because the nobility know I was raised by a commoner I call my aunt. She’s using a false name at the manor. I’ve gone four months without reporters snooping out my childhood, and I’d like to extend that.”
“I understand,” she said.
Vane shot Rexson a pleading glance, which the king had no trouble reading. “I can give you an hour in this room,” he said. “Then I’ll have to have Miss Rafe escorted out.”
Vane thanked him, and the king and Zacry left.
“We came to Podrar,” said Vane, before Francie could ask. “When we left Fontferry my aunt and I came here, until I was thirteen. Then we made as though we were moving together to Yangerton, but only my aunt went there. I went farther south to study, under a different name, with accompanying documentation the king provided. I came back Valkin Heathdon. That explains how Vane Unsten disappeared, so to speak. How the papers haven’t traced my background.”
He had compromised himself enough just revealing his presence to her; no one must know he had lived in Traigland.
“You didn’t go south,” accused Francie. “Though it’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t suppose I deserve the truth from you.”
“Where did I go, then?”
“East. Across the sea. You studied with Zacry Porteg, didn’t you? Or his sister.” Vane’s jaw dropped, and she explained, “You had to learn your magic somewhere. And Porteg didn’t react in the slightest when I kept calling you by your name. Your old name.”
“Vane’s still my name,” he insisted.
“Then who by the Giver’s lyre are you? Who?”
“The reporters and the nobility and the protesters haven’t exactly given me time to figure that out.”
“Vane, what’s going on? Why are you doing this? It’s surely not for giggles.”
“It’s not,” he confirmed. “You’ll forgive me for not saying more.”
“I’ve always regretted what I did to you,” said Francie. “What my mother did, I hope you understand that.”
“Of course I do. So let it go,” he advised.
“I always assumed we’d be married or engaged by now, if I hadn’t gone and screwed everything up. Meeting you here, I know we would have been, no question. Is that just me?”
“Francie, don’t do this. There’s no point.”
She insisted, “The tension in this room, it’s ridiculous. That’s the one explanation for it. You’re not saying you haven’t been thinking we would have ended up together?”
“It’s not just you, no.”
Vane cleared his throat to try to clear the awkwardness. He failed.
“I have no prospects,” Francie said, “but you, you are married, aren’t you? I’m sure she deserves you, too. At the very least, I hope she does. Anyway, the point of all this—I wouldn’t be saying these things without a reason—if the king and Zacry Porteg appoint me to the council, I want to be clear I would never cause you problems with August. Isn’t that her name? God knows I’ve caused you trouble enough in your life before now. Listen, I’ll retract my application. I’ll retract it. I swear I had no idea you were….”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I’ll retract my application,” she insisted. “I was hoping to get in touch with you, hoping you’d apply, I admit it. But I never thought you’d be married this young. You don’t need me here on top of everything else, that much is obvious.”
“Let them consider you,” Vane suggested. “You didn’t come here for me alone. You’re clearly passionate about this. The amount of time you’ve devoted to researching magic, to following politics…. Francie, you said it yourself, the council’s bigger than the both of us. Don’t give this up for my sake. It means too much to you.”
“Your wife will understand?”
If there was one thing Ursa’s sister understood, it was the search for redemption, to find some way to forgive oneself. She had tried to help Ursa with that very struggle, though she had yet to return to the prison since her marriage. Vane said, with conviction, “If I’m honest with her, she’ll understand. She’s wonderful that way.”
“If she doesn’t, though…. If she doesn’t, Vane, I want you to tell the king not to consider me.”
“In that case, I’ll tell him you changed your mind.”
They shook hands to confirm the agreement, and spent the rest of the hour asking questions about their respective families. True to his word, Vane asked August after dinner that night, “Did I ever mention Francie Rafe?”
“I can’t say you have.”
“Well I need to after today.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jorne Warrell
All in all, the following days of interviews went just as poorly as the first, and the days when the Enchanted Fist came in worse still. Francie made the cut in the end for her knowledge of magic and her passion for its history. She had studied much, proved a logical thinker, and her understanding of recent political developments concerning magic was one Zacry couldn’t rival, having been removed from Herezoth so long. Vane accepted the appointment, for after watching the interviews of the entire pool of applicants, he knew the king had no other choice—but he did talk Rexson into offering her protection, along with the other appointees, and close to demanded that Gratton and a small group the captain selected (he had recently been promoted) would be assigned to Francie in particular.
“Why did no sorcerers apply?” asked Vane. “No one who could stand up to the opposition we’ll have? Are there really so few?”
“There are more than you think,” said Rexson. “More than most people would probably care to ponder. They’re staying in the shadows.”
Zacry reminded Vane, “It’s a far cry from admitting you read emotions through touch, admitting publicly that with a mutter, if you so pleased, you could burn a house with a family inside to the ground. You can’t blame them.”
“I’ll blame them as much as I want to! I went public, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Zacry conceded. “And how large did the crowds get outside Oakdowns?”
Rexson was relieved no unknown sorcerer had sought a post on the council; the only two in the Enchanted Fist had been Dorane and its foundress. The king gave neither Zacry nor Vane’s magic a second thought, and never had, but considering what he’d suffered in the past at the hands of a sorcerer he did know, the thought of entrusting the responsibility and opportunity the council afforded to a stranger with that kind of power…. It made Rexson decidedly uneasy, though he could never have admitted as much in his present company. He directed Zacry and Vane’s attention back to those magicked who had come forward, and pushed the case for Johann Clee. He had little trouble convincing his fellows to support the selection.
Johann was a banker, forty-two, who had spent his entire life in Podrar. He had an adept financial mind and would aptly judge the fiscal liabilities of any project the council undertook. His power woul
d also be an asset: as he could touch a book and mentally absorb its contents, he was the obvious choice to serve as council secretary.
As for the Enchanted Fist, two members married to each other took the council’s final slots. Hart Quin was just under thirty, and had the ability to bend glass. Zacry liked him because, as a successful merchant, the man had a head for problem-solving and increasing productivity. Rexson and Vane leaned in his favor because he held no strong political opinions, unlike others in Arbora’s group. He just wanted the council to support sensible, timely measures to reduce the tension between magicked and non-magicked factions, so his children and grandchildren could live more secure than he did now.
Casandra Quin was from Gratton’s hometown of Partsvale. The two had known each other as children, though Gratton never knew she was Crale Bendit’s great-niece and a firestarter as her uncle had been. She had joined the Enchanted Fist at Crale’s invitation, but—according to Bendelof—Casandra and Arbora’s opinions often clashed. While Casandra held that the magicked should support one another, she doubted the wisdom of segregating themselves from the rest of the population to do so: something Arbora tended to favor.
Back at Oakdowns, August was struggling to make it through each day, what with Vane’s prolonged absence due to council business. The anonymous letters alarmed her, and they increased fivefold when the Bugle mentioned Vane’s council interview. August felt nervous at the thought of birthing a child, not to mention her panic over what the public response would be when word got out she was pregnant. Despite Vane’s vehemence that she focus on her personal joy and hang the rest, she could dwell on nothing but the threats already coming in with the baby still a guarded secret. She could not keep busy with housework because the servants had returned, so she spent the afternoons reading, or trying to, or sewing with Teena. She also spent much time with Bendelof, but even her substitute sister was not the solace August would have hoped, because August dared not tell Bennie she might be pregnant until she were two months along.
The Magic Council (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 39