The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) (15 page)

“Look at you. You’re not in any condition to hear this. The day we’ve all had….”

Sedder’s eyes were blazing. “Why did it happen?”

She felt she was making a mistake, but she told him. Kora told him about his mother. Sedder’s anger subsided to an uneasy calm; he forced himself to sit on the blanketless bed.

“Lies,” he muttered. “It’s been nothing but lies my whole life.”

The insinuation against the woman who had raised him was more than Kora could take. She slammed a hand on the mattress and placed her face before Sedder’s. “Be as angry with me as you want. I deserve it. But your parents were good people, and I won’t let you pretend they did wrong by you. Zalski checked up on your mom before he killed her. Do you think your name would have escaped that list if he thought for one instant she might have told you the king was her brother? How dare
you blame her? How dare
you judge the people beneath this floor? Zalski took just as much from them as from you, in some cases more. Wilhem is their friend, and he’s dying before their eyes. If you can’t muster some inkling of sympathy….”

“I can sympathize,” he said. “I just….”

“You what?”

“I can’t stand the idea of something happening to you!”

Sedder’s outburst was loud, loud enough that Kora worried the others may have heard. The tone of his voice, the expression on the half of his face she could make out, the locked elbows that supported his upper body against the mattress, everything about him was unapologetic, if not defensive. Kora felt suddenly embarrassed for her tirade against him. She took a moment to let her heart rate slow, then seated herself beside him.

“If something happens to me, you’ll go on. Because I promise you, my story will be worth telling. Even if you don’t hear it, you’ll know that.” Sedder’s countenance softened to hear his own words echoed back to him, though it lacked a true smile. The sight heartened Kora, who told him, “When Malzin ambushed us, I remembered what you told me at Nani’s, and that cleared my head enough for me to fight back. I freed Laskenay. Ranler took a hit for me. We worked together.”

“Ranler took a hit for you?”

“Those people down there aren’t perfect, I’ll give you that. But they take care of each other, more than they do of themselves. They’re a strange kind of family.

“We’re at war, Sedder. Someone has to be doing what we’re doing. I’m glad it’s me, I am, and I’d have no one working with me but that ragtag group of soldiers. The danger we’re in is not their fault. You don’t know them well, I understand that. I don’t know them either. They’ve grown used to taking risks,
so you resent them. Y
ou want security, and you need to hate something for taking what security you had. But it’s not. Their. Fault.”

Sedder stared at her a long moment. Kora tried, and failed, to judge what direction his thoughts were running, but at least they were running somewhere. He was not dwelling on his parents, refusing outright to pardon the League. “We should go back down,” he said finally. “It’s safer there.”

It would also be impossible to finish to their discussion, which Kora suspected was the actual reason for his suggestion. She opened the trapdoor; dragging out this argument against Sedder’s will would do nothing to open his mind.

How much had the League overheard? If a good portion of the discussion, they were kind enough to hide the fact. No one avoided Kora’s eyes or acted strangely. No one commented on Sedder’s return, though Neslan nodded in his direction. Before too long, Menikas climbed the ladder. Everyone else, including Sedder, kept vigil by the sleeping Wilhem with serious or, in Bendelof’s case, prayerful faces. They speculated about why Zalski had lured them to the execution, or shared memories of their comrade, whose breath was alarmingly shallow. Eventually Kansten caught Kora’s eye, and after jerking her head to request a private word, walked to the other side of the room.

“Where did Menikas go?” asked Kora, in the same low tones everyone seemed to be using.

“To see if he can’t find out what Zalski’s playing at. It’s not like Zalski to toy with people for the hell of it. For a reason, yes. But not for nothing. Especially not his enemies.”

“So Menikas thinks the execution was a diversion?”

“Laskenay does,” said Kansten.

“Yes, she mentioned that when I got here.”

“Me, I’m not sure he isn’t toying with us, the way a cat plays with a mouse. Snatching a victory from our open palms plants doubt. Lowers morale. Just look around.” The air in the room was distinctly funereal, an air that the dirt floor, even hidden beneath blankets, did nothing to contradict. It was the perfect consistency for a graveyard. “Things aren’t good right now,” Kansten finished.

Kora had never heard such an understatement. Kansten’s eyes looked hollow, she had evidently been running her hands through her hair, and as she spoke she folded her arms like a frightened child. Kora remembered the fear card that had been part of Kansten’s fortune, then the cage, the card of capture, and how Kansten had sworn she would never be taken alive. Now the woman asked, “Do you remember that spell you found, to enchant an amulet? I want you to cast it the next chance you get. Do you mind?”

Laskenay might mind. But surely, with a sound barrier in place, Kora could safely enchant the amulet. What problem could there be giving Kansten an extra weapon?

“I’ll do it. Listen, did Wilhem have information about Zalski?”

“Zalski wouldn’t have let us take him. He’s blocked Wilhem’s memory. Blocked everything he would otherwise report.”

“Zalski cursed him? Couldn’t Laskenay reverse it?”

“The magic’s too powerful.”

“How much do we think Zalski learned from him?”

“We were lucky,” said Kansten. “Very lucky. Wilhem never keeps proof of his connection with us. They only found him out because Malzin caught him off-guard when he was thinking about….”

“His appointment with Laskenay,” Kora cut in. She shuddered to think how dangerous Malzin was, even with an inactive power. “Wouldn’t Zalski have used magic to force him…?”

“The human will’s sacred, even I know that. I’ve asked around about magic. I think it’s interesting. Look, no spell’s strong enough to break the human will, not even the ones Hansrelto wrote. And Wilhem refused to bend. He saved our lives in that. God knows what they put him through, in hopes he’d give us up.”

“He doesn’t look as though they tortured him.”

“Zalski would have healed him before they led him out, no? He couldn’t have walked otherwise.”

Kora gulped. Kansten ignored her unease. “You picked the wrong time to join up. This is the worst day we’ve had in a while. What we’ve lost….”

Kora protested, “We have more spies in Zalski’s guard, don’t we? People planted with the elites? We have to.”

Kansten shook her head, the gesture too somber to be accompanied by explanations. Kora, at last, understood the implications of Wilhem’s death. She stood lost in her thoughts until Bendelof appeared at her shoulder.

“He’s passing.”

Kora and Kansten joined the rest of the League. Everyone was standing near Wilhem, except Laskenay, who knelt to clasp his pale, glistening hand in both her own. The rise and fall of the poisoned man’s chest became harder and harder to distinguish in the lamplight. A minute after the last breath Kora could mark, Laskenay bent over and, supporting Wilhem’s torso with a trembling arm, held his forehead against hers. Then she lowered him gently and drew his blanket over his head. Her ice blue eyes sparkled with tears, though none deigned to wet her cheek.

Bendelof grabbed Kansten’s hand. Neslan and Lanokas bowed their heads, but no one else moved, and no one spoke. Then Ranler touched Neslan on the shoulder, and they went to collect the body. Laskenay blocked their easiest access, but she stared at the wall, oblivious to or ignoring their presence. They worked around her.

“On the count of three. One….”

Sedder and Lanokas helped the men lift the corpse through the trapdoor. Bendelof started weeping on Kansten’s shoulder, and still Laskenay knelt, motionless, her eyes unfocused. Kora only diverted her gaze from her when Lanokas came back down. She asked, “Sedder went with the others?”

“He volunteered himself.”

That was Sedder’s way of proving good will. Kora’s heart grew a few ounces lighter, and she indicated Laskenay, whom Lanokas helped to rise.

“One by one he kills us,” said the sorceress. She did not look at her fellow noble, though she spoke to him. Only Kora was close enough to overhear. “One by one.”

“Wilhem died in peace.”

“My own brother. My leech of a brother!”

Laskenay slammed a fist against the wall, then leaned her face against it, her frame wracked with sobs. Kora, ashamed for having eavesdropped, left Lanokas to comfort her and retreated to the other side of the hideout, where she sat with her back against a table leg.

For the first time since the raid in Hogarane, Kora felt like an intruder among the Crimson League. Watching a man die, knowing he lost his life to protect her secrets, the experience had a profound and sobering effect on her, but nothing could change the fact that Wilhem’s loss, for the others, was personal, something it would never be for Kora, no matter how plain his fortitude, how evident that he had been in the prime of life and had relished his role in the fight against Zalski.

A creak from above roused Kora. She expected to see Sedder, longed for someone to share her gloomy solitude, but it was the back of Menikas’s blond head she watched descend. His mere presence instilled the room with a kind of order; the Leaguesmen pulled themselves together and gathered around him. He said not a word, but passed out fliers he apparently had found posted throughout the city. The first went to Kora; she had only to read it to understand why.

GENERAL NOTICE

Forty percent of Podrar’s residents paid last month’s taxes in part, or not at all. Forty percent, an increase from thirty-five in August and thirty-two in July. This trend is unacceptable. To illustrate exactly how unacceptable I find it, a child from each of fifteen families that paid no part of their due all year has been taken into custody. At sundown on October 28, these children will be placed permanently with solvent individuals of the court’s appointing, unless one Kora Porteg joins me for a tête-à-tête at noon that day, at the Crystal Palace.

Should she accept my invitation, Miss Porteg will be advised that, as my guest, she will come unarmed and alone, and will speak no words she would not wish me to utter back. These conditions met, she need fear nothing.

The parents of said children will witness Miss Porteg’s arrival. Upon leaving, Miss Porteg will escort the children out, and their parents’ debts will be forgiven. To verify that nothing impedes Miss Porteg’s exit, the families will also witness her departure.

The flier was stamped with Zalski’s seal.

445

CHAPTER NINE

Of Palace and Prince

Kora stared at Zalski’s notice for a good three minutes after she first read it. She stared at it until the printed words ran together in an illegible, shifting jumble. Then she looked up to see Kansten and Bendelof’s lips moving, speaking to Lanokas, though she heard nothing at all. The next thing she knew, Menikas and Laskenay pulled her away. Lanokas, though no one beckoned, went with them.

Kora’s shock evaporated in one fell swoop. Her body entered that state she had come to associate with being on a mission: alert, active, sharp. She held the sheet of parchment out in front of her. “Is this genuine?”

“In what way?” asked Lanokas.

“When he says I won’t be harmed. The twenty-eighth should be tomorrow. We’re talking about tomorrow. Can I trust this?”

“I think you can,” said Laskenay. Her eyes looked bloodshot, but her face betrayed no other sign that she had wept. Zalski’s invitation had restored her preoccupation with the living. “He’s never gone back on his explicit word of honor. And if he meant to kill you, he wouldn’t kill you this way.”

“Why not?”

Lanokas said, “Zalski’s kind of power corrupts, and I don’t mean it turns a heart black. It distorts the ego. Ask any of us, Zalski thought he was invincible even as a child. After what he’s accomplished, he takes it as proven fact.”

“But Wilhem said he fears me.”

Lanokas explained, “He fears in the back of his mind—the only place he can admit it—that in the future you might pose a miniscule threat. Make no mistake, Zalski wants you dead. But he wants the satisfaction of hunting you down, of beating you at the top of your game, especially now that he knows you’re a sorceress. He can triumph playing fair, he’s sure of that. To take you down like this….”

“It’s not the way he operates,” said Menikas. Like his brother, he looked relieved to know for certain what Zalski had up his sleeve, a different reaction from the others, whose horrified whispers in the background Kora found unsettling. “I should say, it doesn’t conform with his modus operandi. It’s beneath him, beneath someone of his caliber. But there’s a first time for everything, and if we’re wrong, I’m well aware I won’t be the one to suffer for it.”

Kora’s skin paled, and Lanokas sent his brother a dirty look before telling her, “I swear to you, Zalski’s nothing to gain from transplanting these children. This is a ploy to convince you to visit. Just to visit, Kora.”

Menikas started to speak again, but Kora raised a hand to hush him. She let what the three had already told her mull in her brain. How confident, how unworried Menikas stood before her was striking. Far from being callous, his air reassured her that, more than likely, Zalski’s word was good. And if the League happened to be wrong….

“If you’re wrong, and I still show up, will he let the children go home?”

Lanokas told her, “Those parents will see you walk in. If their children don’t come out, Zalski exposes himself as a fraud. He doesn’t care if the people hate him, but he won’t have them thinking he’s a coward or a liar. Again, it’s the ego.”

Menikas said, “If he does intend to kill you, he’ll make Malzin resemble you and she’ll bring the children out.” Kora went pale again, and Menikas reiterated, “I’m outlining the possibilities, nothing more. That’s not the Zalski we know, we keep saying it.”

“You keep saying it,” said Kora. “I’m not sure why, it doesn’t really matter. If I keep these families together by going, I’m going. We all agree there?”

Menikas said, “You have no choice. Technically you might, but Zalski arranged this with an end in mind. That end is you in the Crystal Palace.”

The trapdoor’s familiar squeak sounded like an explosion to Kora’s fraught nerves. She watched all that was left of her old, anonymous life climb down to join her, along with Ranler and Neslan. How could she explain to Sedder where she was going the next afternoon, after what he had admitted that very night? That very night…. Good God, it felt like ages ago.

Sedder’s face was unreadable. He held a copy of the notice crumpled in his hand, and he spoke before Kora could, his tone persuasive, urgently so.

“You’re going, aren’t you? You have to go.”

Kora stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’re all right with this?”

“Of course I’m not! But those kids, what else can you…? These people are destitute, all they have
is each other. You are
going?”

“I’m going.”

Sedder looked at Menikas. “Does he mean what he says here? About her safety?”

“I’d say he does.”

“How sure are you?” Sedder pressed. “How damn sure?”

“Ninety-six percent,” said Lanokas. “If you want to put a number on it. I’d say one hundred, but well, we’ve misread Zalski before, haven’t we?”

The rest of the night passed quickly. No one slept. The League spoke of nothing but the notice, voiced reason after reason why Zalski’s word was good,
and repeated these
until Kora had each
argument numbered and memorized, yet
no one broached the topic of
why
Zalski would lure the League to a staged execution, to clear the way for the state to seize fifteen children, all to persuade Kora to accept an invitation to speak with hi
m. That was what they called it,
an invitation. Kora, who had no desire to contemplate Zalski’s motives, much less discuss them, had some ideas of what he wanted, suppositions she was sure were flitting through the group like so many large, black flies. They were distracting like flies too, their buzzing never quite dying away.

Kora’s companions spent the morning hours giving her advice, even those who had never seen Zalski.

“Don’t turn your back to him,” said Kansten.

“Don’t let him intimidate you,” said Neslan. “He swore to let you leave, remember that. There’s no clause concerning what you do or do not tell him.”

Laskenay said, “Should Malzin walk in, keep calm. Her power’s inactive. She cannot, and would never, harm you when you’re Zalski’s guest. Avoid letting her touch you if you can. She can’t read your thoughts without touching you. As sound as Kansten’s advice is—” Kansten made a face behind Laskenay—“it’s Malzin to whom you mustn’t turn your back. Remember, her power is how they caught Wilhem. Don’t let her catch you thinking something you
would not say out loud
.”

Menikas drew Kora aside to have his say just before she left. His face was grave and his voice quiet, as though he were wary his band might overhear.

“It makes no difference how we encourage you, you’re bound to fear for your well-being. The thing is, you’re not the only person whose health is at stake here. You hold every one of our lives in your hands: in your lips, I should say. You can be sure they put Wilhem through hell, and he didn’t break.”

“I know.”

“If after what he suffered to protect you, you personally,
you turn your back on us….”

“I know, Menikas. I suppose it’s your duty to tell me this, especially when I just got here. I haven’t earned your trust. I haven’t had the time, but I did take an oath, and I remember what I swore allegiance to. I don’t take those words lightly.”

Menikas nodded curtly, more or less appeased. He nudged Kora toward the ladder, where two less austere faces were waiting to send her off.

“Trust your instincts,” said Lanokas. “You have good ones.”

Sedder’s advice was perhaps the most appreciated, though certainly the least wordy. “A story to inspire,” he whispered as they hugged.

* * *

The Crystal Palace was so awe-striking that for a moment its sheer grandeur made Kora forget why she approached. From outside the wrought-iron fence that enclosed the grounds, she gaped at a colonnade of white marble pillars that extended fifty yards and led to the Palace itself. Flagged brown bricks covered the ground. The mansion that in better days had sheltered the royal family was as tall as a spired temple, though smaller than Kora’s imagination had led her to expect. Arched nooks in the walls of white stone housed the statues, made of crystal, which gave the structure its name.

Safe among the townsfolk who meandered the street, Kora adjusted her gaze to study the thirty peasants who huddled beyond the fence. The women wore thin, yellowed bonnets. The men, dignified but powerless sentries, had grayed hats and stood close to their wives. One by one the parents of the children Zalski held began to twist their hands, to look about for a sundial or to ask each other lip-readable questions.

“Where is she?”

“What time is it? Is it twelve?”

The actual sentries guarded the gate, five of them, in blue uniform. Kora took a deep breath, then left the road. The soldier who spoke to her was short and muscular, with deceptively kind eyes and a hoarse voice.

“What do you want?”

Kora handed him a copy of the notice. He glanced down at it.

“Well?” he said.

Her voice nearly stuck in her throat. “I’m Kora Porteg. It’s noon.”

“It’s past noon,” he corrected, but opened the gate. Kora grew more disconcerted than ever when three of the guards led her up the colonnade, one before her, two behind—surely, one would have sufficed?—but there was nothing to do but move her feet. To ease the pressure in her chest she reminded herself why she had come, and she had wits enough about her to smile reassuringly at the children’s parents as she passed. One woman reached out and squeezed her hand, God bless her. Just for that moment, Kora’s breath came unrestricted.

The statues were mostly of old kings, with one or two queens among their ranks. At least, Kora thought they were the kings; the ones that she could see wore crowns. Considering the statues, she did not expect the great wooden doors to have Zalski’s symbol carved across them, but they did. Her escort knocked five times in some kind of coded rhythm, and the barrier opened to admit him. Kora followed, two guards still at her heels, into a marble-floored, domed area clearly designed to impress. A gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, the tallest Kora had ever seen. A twisting, velvet-carpeted staircase rose three flights. The men’s boots sounded sharply with each step as they quickened their pace.

The party passed through the first of five sets of double doors in the vestibule’s back. They entered a hall, a narrow one; the same rich fabric that covered the staircase ran its length. Between the men in front of and behind her, and the walls that stood not six inches from either shoulder, Kora had the distinct impression of being trapped: which, she told herself, was exactly what Zalski had intended.

They turned into another corridor, where a pair of quartz crystals hung on the otherwise naked wall. The stones began to glow as the lead guard drew near. When he stopped before one of a series of black doors with silver handles, the action was so abrupt Kora nearly tread on him. As he raised his fist to knock, a man inside commanded him to enter. Kora’s heart skipped a beat at the disembodied voice, but she hardly had time to notice, such a blur was the moment they all shuffled in, when Kora received her first glimpse of Zalski.

He was much like Kora had imagined: tall, like his sister, with her inky hair and ice blue eyes, though his were less bright. To see him on the street, Kora doubted she would have known him. He wore a simple tunic, classic blue, in perfect condition, and unfaded trousers that put Kora’s frock to shame. He had better muscle tone than anyone Kora could remember, except perhaps Wilhem, and rose from his armchair quite at his ease.

The room was a kind of parlor, and surprisingly homey considering the hall’s austerity. Someone—Malzin?—had decorated with a black and silver theme to match the door. Chairs, some cushioned but all ornately carved, cluttered the space with the help of a matching settee and a pair of end tables. A tapestry depicting the sorcerer’s triangle set off the mantle.

Zalski sent the guards off with a wave. The next thing Kora knew, she was alone with the man who had ordered the deaths of her best friend’s parents. They stared at one another, Kora with a lump in her stomach, Zalski sizing her up.

“Miss Porteg.”

“Zalski Forzythe, no?”

“I trust you noticed the crystals in the hallway?”

“I did,” said Kora, confused. “A pair of them.”

“One of my recent innovations: the crystals mark an approaching party through the sound waves that travel up the wall. Quartz is remarkably sensitive to such vibrations. I’ve placed it strategically throughout the Palace. When the crystals register passage, I know it. One can never be too cautious.”

Was he warning her? Trying to frighten her? “No, I suppose one can’t.”

“Forgive the public nature of my invitation. Had I been able to contact you privately, I’d have done so. I’m delighted to meet….”

“Not the Marked One?” The words ran off her tongue before she realized she had said them. When they registered in her brain, she forced herself to keep talking. “That would make your
reign the darkest hour of Herezoth.”

Zalski smirked and nodded his approval, whether of her wit or her daring she was not quite sure. She did not expect that reaction from him, but it did away with her dread. His air was informal, breezy. He indicated for her to take a seat, which she did, and returned to the chair he had vacated.