The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) (14 page)

August
laid the paper on the dining room table. She had dressed as formally as the
previous day, and looked every bit a duchess in her emerald-hued gown with a
high waist and flowing sleeves. Her hair was braided in two strands, twisted,
and tied to the back of her head.

Something
was wrong, because August’s lip trembled. In an instant she lost what color
she’d possessed since Vane left Oakdowns, despite largely maintaining her
poise. Luce and Esper, her twin daughters, exchanged worried glances, and the
latter asked, “Is something the matter, Mother?”

“No,”
said August. “Just some trouble at the mill north of the city. A poor boy’s
drowned in the Podra. Not much older than you are, either.”

Luce
offered, “That’s dreadful.” Harren, age seven, was giving three-year-old Dalen
more berries and paid no attention. The twins returned to their breakfast,
looking solemn, and August passed Kansten the paper, her hands shaking worse
than ever.

The
story about the drowning, unfortunately, was real. On the front page. The
notice beside it had been the one to affect August, and Kansten’s eyes opened
wider and wider as she read.

Magic Councilor Assassinated

Francie
Ilea Rafe, longstanding member of His Majesty’s Magic Council, was found
floating in the Podra River near the southern border of the capital. A member
of the Duke of Crescenton’s household made the grisly discovery late Thursday
night. Cause of death was a blade wound to the neck.

The
Capital Guard has said nothing regarding an investigation, but the king claims
Rafe was honorable in all respects. He suspects political motivation. The
crown’s official statement reads:

Kansten
couldn’t finish the notice. Francie Rafe had been everything she admired, her
greatest role model. She asked her Uncle Zac about Francie often, and had heard
Vane mention her once or twice. The woman had worked with them. Rafe’s murder,
could it be connected with the plot Vane had infiltrated?

Fighting
to keep her voice steady and her expression nonchalant, for August’s sake,
Kansten asked, “Have you heard from Vane since he left?”

“Not
a word.”

Esper
said, “Father often spends two or three days at the Palace. His Majesty keeps
him busy. He sends a note here when he finds the time, but often he can’t.”

August
mastered herself. She smiled at her daughter and said, “He’s busy helping the
king with those Traiglanders. He’s spent so much time in Traigland.”

Luce
told Kansten, “He’s taking us next year for the first time. Me and Esper, for
our eleventh birthday. We made him swear he would.”

“And
so he will,” said August. “All finished?” Her daughters and elder son nodded.
“Then it’s off to prepare for lessons. Harren, you’ve been reading more than
enough lately. You’re to work at sums today.”

Harren
groaned. “I don’t need sums.”

“I
think you’ll find you do need mathematics. Off to the study with you, go on.”

Harren
and his sisters slipped from their chairs, passing by their mother for a kiss
on the cheek before exiting the dining room. Dalen, in a higher chair next to
August to accommodate his short height, was smashing berries with his spoon.
Kansten judged it safe to speak before the three-year-old.

“Vane’s
perfectly fine. I’m telling you, he has to be.”

“What
do you think this means? A councilor?”

Kansten
reminded August, “There’s no proof this is related to Vane’s business.”

The
duchess nodded, then reached for her son, to remove him from his seat. She
jumped instead as the door opened behind her, and Dalen began to fuss. “Down,
Mommy!”

Another
servant had entered, wearing a non-descript cotton frock. She handed the
duchess a letter. “This just came from the Palace, Your Grace.”

The
shaking of August’s arm became imperceptible with the presence of her maid.

“Mommy,
down!”

“Just
a moment, Dalen.” August passed the letter to Kansten and took her son in her
arms. He giggled as she swung him in the air and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“All finished?” she asked.

“Yes,
Mommy. Thank you.”

August
kissed Dalen again and set him down. He went off with Clara, the servant, to
find his nurse and read a book, and tremors shook August once more as she
dropped to the nearest chair.

“You’ll
have to read it to me. I can’t, Kansten. Please….”

Kansten
broke the wax seal shaped with the king’s crest. The missive was from the
queen.

August, dear, we’ve seen
Vane. He’s ingratiated himself with Linstrom, and is safe and sound. He came to
us after midnight, almost a full day after leaving you. Rexson wishes me to
tell you that Francie Rafe owes her life to your husband. She was kidnapped by
Linstrom’s men, but he procured her safety. Rexson announced her death to the
Bugle
forthwith, to maintain Vane’s place in
Linstrom’s gaggle. Realize no one must know Rafe is alive, save you.

You should expect Zacry
Porteg and Jane Trand at Oakdowns today, to meet with Vane in safety. Keep
servants from the main parlor, for Vane intends to transport there.

August, I’m so sorry for
all of this. I’m so very, very sorry.

A
long outpouring of breath came from the duchess. Then she snatched the letter.
“She speaks as though she’s responsible somehow.”

Kansten
placed a steadying hand on August’s shoulder. “He’s unharmed. I told you he
would be. I can’t imagine better news than this letter contains. August….”

“This
crisis is hardly settled. Disaster still could….”

“I
know. But Vane’s earned Linstrom’s trust. Without rousing suspicion, from the
sound of things. That’s marvelous, August, he…. Vane’s something, isn’t he?”

“Perhaps
I shouldn’t admit this to you, after how kind you were to call me strong in
front of him. To reassure him that way. Kansten, you’re forbidden to speak a
word of this to Val, but I…. I can’t live this life without him. I wouldn’t
know where to begin, to administrate his duchy. It’s been ten years, and I feel
just as insecure around nobility as that first official dinner Val brought me
to. I can’t face those people alone.”

A
male voice spoke from the threshold. “Come now,” it said. “Are we really that
intimidating? We deserve better faith than that after a decade.”

“Thad!”
August cried, and ran to embrace the newcomer. He was short for a man, with a
thin moustache and wavy brown hair tied at the base of his neck. He dressed
more elegantly than Kansten had ever seen Vane clothe himself: a silk vest and
tailed coat over a linen shirt and tailored trousers.

“Kansten,”
said August, pulling her new guest forward, “This is Thad Greller. Val’s best
friend, the Duke of Podrar’s son.”

“The
youngest son,” Thad specified, with a courteous though understated bow.

Kansten
said, “Your father, then, he’s the king’s Chief Adviser?”

“Has
been humbled to hold the post since His Majesty’s coronation.” Thad turned to
August, who bit her lip to hold back tears and hugged him a second time. He
patted her on the back. “My father told me everything last night, over a late
dinner. I came here as soon as I woke up, to make sure you’re getting on.”

August
told the nobleman, “The children know nothing. And they shouldn’t. There’s a
reason Val forbade me to speak a word to them. Thad, I don’t know how much
longer I can go on pretending, not when any second they could kill my husband.
I….”

“Have
you heard anything?”

August
handed Thad the queen’s letter. He read it and said, “That seems positive
enough.” Then he smiled. “The queen’s always treated you like a daughter. Makes
my wife right jealous from time to time. How you can get on so well with
royalty and still fear us muckdwellers of dukes and counts….”

August
smiled. “It’s foolish, I suppose. Though you wouldn’t imagine for an instant I
ever feared you.”

“I
can’t call braving my presence much of a feat. By her dress—which is, by
all accounts, quite lovely—your friend’s got no more noble blood in her
than the man who opened your front door for me, and she clearly considers me
caricaturish. A dandy.”

Kansten
gawked, embarrassed. That was precisely the impression he’d made on her. The
nobleman let out a disarming chuckle.

August
specified, “That’s Kora Porteg’s daughter, Thad.”

“No
wonder I strike her as pompous. Her mother’s as genuine a hero as they come,
her uncle a world-renowned scholar.”

Kansten
protested, “I never once called you pompous.”

“I
only jest,” Thad assured her, with a bow to dissipate ill will. “Was trying to
maintain some kind of smile on August’s face, poor woman. Looks like I
succeeded.”

August
told him, “It means a great deal to me, you coming here like this.”

“I
couldn’t miss the breakfast spread, could I?”

The
duchess said, “I know you ate already. Still, you’re welcome to anything you’d
like.”

“I’m
not hungry,” Thad assured his hostess. “Shall I stay a while? Carlina’s home
with the children. They both have a slight cough, else she would have been
breaking down your door before dawn, you can count on it. I’m glad to see, at
least, that you haven’t been alone.” Thad told Kansten, “Carlina’s my wife. And
Kora Porteg’s your mother? Have you come to aid Vane with this mess?”

“No,”
said Kansten, her cheeks turning red. They always flared when people assumed
she worked magic. She couldn’t fault the strangers, exactly—she would
make the same assumption in their place—but the whole situation made her
feel awkward, every time it arose. “I’m not here to join Vane in Partsvale. I’m
not a sorceress. I’ve never cast a spell, I….”
I’m an utter disappointment.
“I’m not like my siblings. They’re
sorcerers, like our mom. All younger than me.”

“That’s
fortunate,” Thad offered. “I’m a youngest sibling myself, so I assume from
experience your presence is enough to keep your brothers and sisters in line,
magic or no.”

Kansten
had to smile. “I do a decent job of that when I’m around. Wonder if the girls
have conquered my room yet.”

“Again,
as a youngest sibling, I advise you assume the worst.” Thad chuckled, then
turned to August, his expression sobering. “You, on the other hand, have every
reason to hope for your husband’s safe return. The queen’s news is promising,
August. You’ll see Vane today.” The duchess nodded. “All the opposition he’s
faced since claiming his title has shaped him, you know. Honed his instincts.
Prepared him for a situation as damnable as this one.” Thad squeezed August’s
hand. “Listen to me: if it comes to arms, Vane will have me there. I swear I
won’t leave his side, nor he mine. With his magic and my training as a
swordsman, the two of us can handle whatever this lunatic and his followers
bring. I won’t leave him, you understand?”

August
nodded her thanks. Thad went on, “There’s not a man in Herezoth more important
to this realm than your husband, and I include the king when I say that. That
school Vane opened on your property, the kingdom needs it. We need Vane’s Magic
Council. We need Vane himself, as a sorcerer respected and a noble beloved, at
court. The king knows that as surely as I do. He won’t let Vane be lost to
Herezoth, my dear. Nor will I.”

Speechless,
August wrapped Thad in her arms. The first tear that Kansten had seen stain her
cheek slid away from her nose as she found her voice. “The Giver bless you,”
she whispered. Thad slung an arm around her.

“Let’s
go secure the parlor, shall we? Those are royal orders. They mustn’t be
disregarded.”

The
nobleman led August from the dining room. Kansten, feeling awkward enough to
wish she were anywhere else—except maybe Traigland—matched their
slow gait.

* * *

Back
in Traigland, Vane had gone to meet with Zacry Porteg. The duke had always
considered Zacry’s presence, especially in confined spaces, more powerful than
people would expect given his average size, and Zacry’s house was not a large
one. He sat in his study’s one chair, his booted feet on his desk and one fist
clenched. He held the other to his bearded chin.

Zacry’s
sister stood behind him, gripping his seat for support. Kora pressed her lips in
concern, and the lines around her mouth were deeper than Vane had ever seen
them. Too deep for a woman only forty, still possessed of her subtle but not
unremarkable beauty. The bandanas she always wore contributed to her rustic
grace.

Like
Vane, Zacry Porteg had been present at all interviews for the Magic Council. He
had worked on the council for ten years, and his anger at Vane’s tidings was so
hot it burned white in his cheeks instead of red.

“These
men raped Francie and slit her throat with a spell?”