The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) (23 page)

“Neslan and I had known Zalski since we were born. To find out the way we did
about his sorcery, from Valkin…. T
o have it proved before us in those circumstances…. It was a shock. Granted, I’d never told Neslan I was telekinetic, but my powers were—
are
—nothing compared to Zalski’s.

“Neslan and I dragged Menikas to the passage entrance. I don’t know how we did it, but we were lucky, we met no one else on the way. We carried him down a set of spiral stairs and through the passage itself, until we reached the Temple of the Giver, the vault where they prepare bodies for funerals. We found it empty, because no one awaited burial that day. We bandaged Menikas properly and brought him back to consciousness before fleeing the building all disguised as priests. I forced him to move at a dangerous pace, but I thought Zalski might find the passage, follow us out.”

Kora felt sick to her stomach. She wished she had never heard the story. Her imagination was vivid, and as she knew the people involved, had been to the Crystal Palace, the images Lanokas evoked were as clear as her own memories.

Bidd was the first to stir. Kansten glared at his back as he looked to the horses. He said softly, “I think they’re finished.”

Lanokas replied, “Then we should move on.” He climbed to his feet. Kora wanted to console him, if only with a look, but Lanokas seemed determined not to look at her, to look at anyone. Kansten reached him before anyone else and patted the side of his arm. Even that failed to draw his eyes, though he held her hand to his bicep for a second to acknowledge the gesture before Kansten let him walk ahead.

They passed the day harried to make good time, speaking little, and slept that night on the far side of a hill two hundred yards from the road: the best cover they could hope to find for miles, Bidd assured them. He had been this way before. Lanokas suggested they split the night in half and stand guard in pairs, to ensure Kora would not take watch alone. At least he refrained from singling her out, because he said nothing to shame her, and Kora knew Kansten did not blame her for the morning’s fiasco. Quite the contrary, Kansten had defended her. Remembering such, Kora felt a surge of affection for the gruff, difficult woman, and was disappointed when Bidd drew the lot of sleeping the night through. She rather thought Kansten deserved it, but Kansten would take second watch with Hayden. Kora and the prince took the first.

The night was cloudy but free of fog, and they could not risk a fire for the smoke. Kora wrapped a thick shawl about her shoulders, grateful Laskenay had made her take it. Lanokas wore a cloak. The two sat in plain view of the others but far enough away that they could whisper, perched near the hilltop. Lanokas opened conversation.

“A lot’s changed since we last stood watch together, hasn’t it?”

“The day I met Zalski.” Before Sedder’s death that had been, even before Petroc. Lanokas had been dying to know what the sorcerer wanted with her. Now Kora was the one with questions, and she knew the prince would answer.

“Your story from this morning, you hadn’t told it before, had you?”

“Not me, no. But Neslan has.”

“How did you move Menikas from the temple?”

“A hired carriage. It was safe,” he insisted, when Kora clicked her teeth. “We were in disguise, and Zalski planned his coup in stages. He kept everything contained in the Palace for a day, at least a day. We went to Laskenay: to warn her, for one, and because we knew she was a sorceress, thanks to her husband. We hoped she could heal Menikas, and she did make his wound smaller. She prevented infection as well, which is what truly saved his life. Some emergency spells were all she really knew back then, but they proved sufficient. Once Menikas was stable, she rushed to her parents’ home to find her mother dead.”

“Not alone she didn’t?”

“We’d just told her Valkin had died, and that Zalski more than likely had killed her father. Neslan was with her, and I’m glad he was, considering their discovery.

“This might sound odd, but Zalski killed his mother from compassion. He didn’t want her to live with the pain of losing her husband to her son. He was kinder to her by far than to any victim since.”

“He had no grudge against the woman.”

“She had no magic, so she couldn’t be a traitor. And it was Zalski’s father, more than she, who stifled Zalski’s powers, so no, he didn’t grudge her.” The prince paused. “Laskenay took what spellbooks she could find in the house. That’s where her collection started.”

“Why didn’t Zalski kill his sister before the coup?”

“I’ve wondered that for years. Perhaps there wasn’t time. Perhaps he never planned to kill her, only to c
oerce her to stand behind him. A
fter all, he wouldn’t want to squander her talent.”

That sounded like Zalski. “He didn’t want to waste mine, that’s for sure.”

“Perhaps he knew she’d turn against him, and so wanted her to suffer such loss as she did. He can be spiteful, Zalski. He could also have planned to arrest her before she heard enough to flee. She’d have hanged, a traitor against magic, knowing full well what lives her brother took. I don’t know what he intended.”

“But you had a full day before Zalski stretched out from the Palace. Didn’t you try to stop him? To sound an alarm?”

“I did what I could: I warned my father’s general, via letter. I couldn’t risk approaching him. Zalski probably had an ally in the army, you see. I warned Alten Grombach as much.”

Kora held her breath. “Did Zalski have one?”

“Alten himself. The general himself, he headed the operation to extend control. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of him.”

“I’ve read the name, in the
Letter
, but no one in the League’s mentioned him. Ever since I joined there’s been something urgent: that first raid, the
Librette,
my sorcery, Wilhem, Petroc….”

“That’s some list. Still, someone should have spoken.”

“So what should I know?”

“I’ve confronted Alten once since my father’s death. He slipped away, but not before he revealed a few things he should have kept concealed.” Kora scooted closer to Lanokas. “He can change the direction of an object. Rotate or flip it without making it physically turn.”

“So it’s basically instantaneous?”

Lanokas held out his palm, and Kora just made out a perfectly straight, raised scar across his fingers. “A memento from the general,” he said. “I was grasping my sword hilt when suddenly I found my hand wrapped around the blade: instantaneous rotation, like you said. His magic must have been how Zalski won him. He spied, discovered Alten had a power, then revealed what he’d seen and convinced Alten to join his side. I’d guess it was the matter of an hour for Zalski to rouse a sense of entitlement in him. Alten thinks militarily. He would have recognized Zalski’s coup had potential, that Zalski would give him more power and gratitude than my father did. If I’d put two and two together when it mattered and brought that letter to someone else….”

He shook his head in self-disdain. Kora said, “It would have made no difference.”

“Zalski had me watched as well. I’m sure he did, but Menikas and I never took magic lightly, never used it even in private. We knew what would happen if Herezoth learned its royal family held vestiges of sorcery. The general, on the other hand….

“Alten was—
is—
in charge of the army. His word is command. Without Alten’s backing, Zalski couldn’t maintain his rule. The problem is, we’ve had no news of Alten in almost a year. Not even Wilhem found out what Zalski has him doing, and that’s destroying Menikas, because he wants revenge on Alten as much as on the sorcerer. Alten betrayed our father, betrayed the people, after taking the general’s oath to die if need be for this kingdom.”

Lanokas sighed. “My brother was always more serious than I. He would lecture me on occasion, but never without cause, and I respected him, I did. Now…. He’s not the person he was, Kora. He doesn’t joke, ever. He hardly laughs. I think he’s forgotten how, if truth be told
.
I think he might choke on the atrophied muscles in the back of his throat. He puts every waking thought into the League, into hunting Alten down or killing Zalski.”

“Maybe you could talk to him. About things other than the League, things like Brianna. You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, Lanokas. I understand you might not want to tell everyone about her, but your brother….”

“Menikas never liked Brianna. I realized that when I first mentioned I wouldn’t mind seeing her more often. He thought her easily swayed, said she didn’t mean things the way she phrased them. He never saw the letters we wrote before everything went to hell, never heard the response Neslan brought when I wrote after. Talk to Menikas? He’d think I’m insane.”

“Or he might be pleasantly surprised to learn he was wrong about her. If you’d just tell him about the letters….”

“
Shh
!” hissed Lanokas. And Kora heard someone coming up the road, following the same route as the Leaguesmen.

Had the guard from the forest betrayed them? Had Hank’s superiors not believed his story? Lanokas was about to peer over the hilltop when Kora held him back. “You’ll be seen.”

“We have to know who that is.”

“Then let me do it.
Despareska
,” Kora whispered, and disappeared from sight. The sound of pounding hooves was getting louder, but not as loud or frenzied as she expected. There was only one horse.

Who would travel alone, at night? Kora’s throat constricted in fear: no one not official, that was the answer. No one but a guard. She swallowed with difficulty and launched her head over the hillcrest, but was too far away to see the horseman with precision. She crept as close to the edge of the road as she dared.

A civilian dressed in black sped by without the faintest suspicion he was watched. At least, Kora assumed he was a civilian. Between the darkness and his speed he posed little more than a blur, but he hardly seemed a soldier. He had no visible weapon other than a makeshift sling, the gray of its wooden handle visible against his clothing. The rider, whose years she had no way to guess, slouched in his saddle and let his legs flail about with the motions of the horse, signs he was no trained equestrian.

Kora tramped back up the hill and muttered, “
Desfazair
.” She told Lanokas, “He’s an outlaw. As to what he did, or whether he’s being followed….”

“Just what we need, this man leading a troop of soldiers straight to us. This hill’s the only cover nearby, they’d be bound to check it.”

“It’d be more dangerous to leave. Anyone following him would overtake us.”

Lanokas grunted his agreement. “When it’s time for second watch, tell Kansten what you saw. If she hears anything on the road, have her wake us all, you first.”

             
Whoever the midnight rider had been, no one was on his trail. What remained of Kora’s watch with Lanokas slipped by in silence, she straining her ears and hearing nothing. She woke when the first rays of dawn penetrated her eyelids. She turned over, groaning, but Bidd flipped her back to face the sun.

“It’s time to get going.”

445

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A New Trick for a New Sorceress

The silver of dawn still lingered. The group of five were saddling their horses, preparing to leave the hill, when Hayden asked, “Where exactly are we headed?”

“The mountains,” said Kansten.

Bidd, full of energy after a full night’s rest, grabbed Lanokas. “You’re not planning to cross the river?”

“We have to.”

“Forget it. An aunt of mine lives up north. I know for a fact Zalski’s always got three men at the bridge, and the ferry owners get tax breaks for each fugitive they turn in. I’ve heard more than one person talk about it. Zalski’s determined to keep outlaws on the same side of the Podra as their crimes. There’s no way across unless you have a private boat and go by dark, and even that’s a toss-up, with Zalski’s patrols going up and down the current.”

Kansten swept the unfixed saddle from her horse’s back in a fit of temper, but Lanokas turned to Kora. “There’s a way we can cross,” he said. “It depends on you.”

Kora stared at him, confused. “I could move you two with
Mudar
, I guess. No offense, but your power’s limited, and I’m not risking you dumping me in the river. I’m the problem, I can’t cast
Mudar
on myself and I don’t know any transport spell.”

“You didn’t know any transport spell until Zalski used one in front of you,” the prince corrected her. Kora’s face turned white, while the despair evaporated from Kansten’s.

“If you think I’m going to try that spell for the first time to cross a river like the Podra….”

“So you remember the incantation.”

“Of course I remember. He put the word
palace
behind it.”

“You could practice before you cross, practice it now even,” said Kansten. “Go on….”

Kora turned to face a flat stretch of land parallel to the hill. “
Trasporte….
Oh, I don’t know,
Trasporte ten feet
.”

Kora felt nothing. At first she thought nothing had happened; then Bidd let out a whoop from behind, and she realized Lanokas was no longer at her shoulder.

A wave of disgust washed over Kora as she thought where that spell had come from, the occasion she had seen it used, and how angry Zalski would be if he ever learned she had stolen a piece, however small, from his magic arsenal. Then the moment passed, leaving a smug satisfaction in its wake. Kora would cross the river. She would confront and defeat Petroc, would take the chain of red gold that was somehow supposed to aid her in avenging Sedder, in destroying Zalski, all thanks to what Zalski himself had taught her.

Kora walked back to the others, a broad grin across her face, amused to see that Bidd’s stretched features put her own to shame. Hayden gawked at her, clearly impressed. He looked unsure whether he should be frightened or relieved.

“Do that again,” said Bidd. “Can you take me with you?”

“She’s not a horse!” cried Kansten.

“No,” said Kora, “I should probably see if I’m able to take someone along. Just because Zalski could…. Here, Bidd, take my hand.”

“Would Laskenay approve this?” Lanokas asked.

“Probably not,” said Kora. “Bidd, come on.”

Bidd closed his hand around Kora’s, and she shut her eyes, wondering: did she have to voice how far she wished to move? Or would the incantation be enough by itself? Laskenay had shown her magic was a simple exertion of will, of knowing what one wanted.

Kora focused her mind on a clump of dead grass on the hillside. She was not sure of the distance, perhaps some twenty yards, but she whispered, “
Trasporte
,” her eyes still closed. She said nothing but the single word, afraid she would look like a fool when nothing happened.

Bidd’s shout in her ear announced success. Kora saw her feet surrounded by a clump of pale brown, felt her body balance on an incline. Bidd slapped her on the back with greater force than he intended, and Kora smiled at him, her eyes stinging from the blow. She walked back to the campsite, Bidd cantering at her side. “We’ll cross the river just fine,” she told Lanokas.

Hayden said, “We should make for a spot I know three miles south of the ferries. We can cross there and rejoin the road, maybe slip into a group leaving the ferry dock.”

Kora dug in the ground with her toe. All of a sudden, she felt horribly awkward. “Listen,” she said, “it’s got to be just Kansten, me, and Lanokas to cross the river. We’ll join up with you on the way back. We’ve given our word you can come with us to Yangerton.”

“Is that where you’re going back to?” asked Bidd. He looked sullen. Hayden, on the other hand, seemed to assure himself that if Kora planned now to leave him behind, her thoughts would change in the time it took to reach the crossing point.

Bidd turned to Lanokas. “You can’t let her leave us like that.”

“Our business doesn’t concern you. If you can’t accept that, you can leave right now and fend for yourselves.”

“Whoa, that’s not what I meant! We’re not letting this chance slip by.”

“All right then. Let’s go.”

Everyone turned back to the horses, everyone but Kora, who started shaking, rooted to the spot, her heart pounding faster than she could ever remember. Horror etched itself across her face as she realized the mistake the League had made, realized how many might already be dead because of it.

“He was there,” she announced.

Kansten seemed the only one to hear her. She turned back to Kora, the others following, and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Zalski. In the Landfill, before the ambush. When we were talking with Neslan and Bennie. He was there.”

Lanokas groaned. Bidd and Hayden exchanged confused but frightened glances. Kansten, in denial, looked as though Kora had slapped her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “The door never opened, and the windows were closed, they were locked.”

“He used that transport spell.”

Hayden took a moment to force himself to speak. “Wouldn’t…. Kora, wouldn’t you have seen Zalski if he appeared in some room you were in?”

“Zalski likes to turn invisible.”

“Sweet Lord,” said Kansten, deluding herself no longer. She put a hand on the nearest horse’s back to steady herself. “Galisan. We gave Galisan away. And this mission, we told the others all about it.”

Lanokas looked gray, but his voice was calm. Just its tone brought Kora some measure of clarity. “Let’s be methodical,” he said. “Whoever followed Neslan would need half an hour to reach the Palace. From the Landfill? Half an hour, if not longer. Another ten at the least to meet with Zalski and explain what he’d discovered, to gather a group of men. On top of that, I’m not sure Zalski could have traveled to the cabin by magic. He couldn’t have visualized it, not if he’d never seen the place. Laskenay’s always talking about visualizing….”

“You don’t know that he couldn’t transport there,” said Kansten.

“He’d never been to that part of the city, I’d bet my life on it. Not the slums, not he. So he probably took another thirty minutes to follow the informant back with that band of guardsmen, and we talked business right away, for no more than forty, forty-five minutes. I can’t think he heard a word about Galisan, or Petroc.”

“He would have thought I dreamed Petroc,” said Kora, her heart slowing just a little. “He refuses to believe the Marked One’s appeared on his watch. He would have to admit what he’s actually done to Herezoth.”

“But did he hear us say we were going north?”

“He might have,” said Lanokas. “But he doesn’t know we left when we did, and he can’t expect us to cross the river the way we’re going to. We made it this far. We have to carry on.”

“What else did we talk about?” pressed Kansten. “What else? My mind’s gone blank.”

Kora assured her, “Nothing related to the League. The good old days, more than anything. Look, it could have been worse, much worse.” But Kora shivered.

No one felt like eating breakfast. They readied the horses and moved on, Kora with a new sense of vulnerability that would not leave her and was all the more powerful after her short, unexpected revel in mastering Zalski’s transport spell.

The day wore on in a solemn truce between the Leaguesmen and the teenage boys in their squabble about separating. Bidd’s enthusiasm over Kora’s new spell had evaporated, but neither he nor his cousin mentioned continuing past the river. Hayden, who had always spoken less than Bidd, now said next to nothing. When darkness fell, the five passed the night in a dingy roadside inn where Kora suspected everyone, including the innkeeper, was wanted for one thing or another. The custom of the place was for patrons to keep to themselves, and Kora’s group was happy to oblige. Kora studied those around her, trying to determine if one of them could be the previous night’s mystery horseman, but the likeliest candidate, a man traveling alone who smelled of dye and claimed to be going to Partsvale’s shrine—a commonly cited destination, Kora learned—seemed a bit too wide around and a bit too steady on his feet. In truth, she would have been disappointed if he were the rider. He looked nothing but a common black marketeer.

On second thought, Kora doubted that anyone who took the trouble to travel in the dead of night would show his face at a public inn. He wanted stealth. She dropped her speculations and pulled a chipped set of dice from her pack. Lanokas raised an accusatory eyebrow.

“I paid for these,” she insisted. “At the last inn. I’m not so good with cards, so….”

             
They wagered Lanokas’s coins. Kora came out third, behind Hayden’s first and the prince’s second, in a five-contender match. Bidd did worst of all, gambling large amounts on long chances and taking his losses in stride. Why would he not? No one cared about money that would go back to Lanokas and was at no real risk. Not to think of Zalski for one short hour, to put out of mind what a slaughterhouse he could have made the Landfill, was the purpose of the game, a blessing turned curse when afterward Kora’s mind returned to the same worn tracks it had traveled all day.

             
The scene played out before her. Zalski’s deep, strong voice cut through the air, and she, Kora, fell first, her body crumpling as it tumbled to the filthy floor near the wall where she and Bendelof were talking about bandanas. Because Kora would go first: she alone had real power to protect the others. She watched them jump, saw (her heart sped up) Sedder’s face contort as he stared at her, saw Bendelof try to revive her, Neslan and Kansten rush the invisible sorcerer. Lanokas jerked a hand in the voice’s direction, but Zalski was too quick. The prince was the second down; between his birth and his magic there was no one else Zalski would attack. Neslan and Kansten followed before reaching the bodiless voice, their corpses tossing through the air, limbs flailing like they were made of silk cloth, snapping with a crunch no fabric could ever make. Then Bennie, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, still bending over Kora. Only Sedder was left, and he shut his eyes, steeling himself as the voice spoke again.

Pulgaqua!

Bidd trudged off to the room the men had let. Hayden and Lanokas followed, and after sitting for a few moments before the fire, Kora and Kansten turned in for lack of anything else to do. They looked at each other as they climbed in their hard, uncomfortable beds—Kora’s smelt of pipe smoke—and Kora’s mind was still fixed on the Landfill. She lay awake, reliving the last hours she had spent within its walls, remembering a rustle that came from the dust-infested corner as she told Sedder about going north, a rustle she suspected her exhausted, tormented brain may be imagining. Kansten’s breathing in the dark was heavy, uneven; she too did not sleep, and Kora wondered what, in Kansten’s mind, the death order would have been.

* * *

The day dawned cool with a promise of rain, but Kora was glad to leave the inn. The air of futility about the place sat ill with her, not to mention the smoky smell, which sat
on
her and would cling to her for days. The silence among her companions was as heavy as the first fat drop that fell around midday. Steadily, almost mindlessly, Kora followed Bidd’s lead from the back of the group. The rain became a fast drizzle, a dull, unchanging patter that kept people off the road. Kora saw no one even as they spotted a pair of grain silos in the distance rising above a cornfield, the first sign of the town ahead. Bidd guided his horse into a thicket whose grass rose to the animal’s knee. Kora was last to turn after him, her thoughts on the town she was skirting.

Kora had heard about this place all her life: Fontferry, so named for the fountain that used to stand in the village square and the passenger boats that operated just south of the town’s southern limit. The road bridge crossed the Podra north of the small but growing community, the northernmost on the river’s east bank.

Ilana Porteg had been a child in Fontferry. She had lived in a farmhouse here with her mother until she was twelve, and remembering the stories Ilana told about her childhood friends, about fishing with her grandfather, about the annual watermelon fair, made Ilana’s daughter homesick.

The rain came down more heavily now. It had soaked Kora through, but she hardly noticed. She had spent all afternoon wet.