The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) (28 page)

“In
his office,” Vane reminded her. “In his own hand. Some documents in Terrance’s
hand as well; that’ll prove I didn’t plant them. Just be discreet, by all
that’s holy. Confront him about nothing, and don’t let him suspect someone’s
rooted through his things.”

“Pending
what I find, the king has me as an ally. Is that acceptable to you?” Vane said
it was. “I’ll accept no orders until I’m sure Evant’s planning an attack on
Yangerton. I won’t betray you, though. I realize that would mean the end of me:
arrest and prison, if nothing worse. Return here this time tomorrow, and I’ll
search the office before then. I can do that tonight. It’s downstairs, a room
off his workshop. Evant sleeps above, and soundly. His sorcerers, we’ve a late
meeting planned tomorrow, but if you come early, we can speak beforehand. You
can relay the king’s instructions.”

That
seemed wise. And if she hadn’t said
our
king
, neither had she resorted to that
your
again. Vane agreed to Lottie’s timeframe, and she told him, “You do know
that when I pleaded Rafe’s death, I meant it as a kindness?” Vane raised an
eyebrow. “It was the most I could do. She had seen too much, and I know Evant.
He would never have granted her release.”

Vane’s
rebuke lacked heart as he said, “Which means a greater kindness would have been
transporting her to safety against his will.” He could resent Lottie’s nap, for
he couldn’t sleep, at least not well, but to hold what aid she’d attempted to
give Francie against her when he himself had done less….

Less
in a sense. He’d saved her in the end, he reminded himself. Saved her life. He
would never feel that was enough. Oh, who was he to hide from Lottie the true
story? Perhaps admitting everything would cement her trust.

“Rafe’s
alive, you know. She’ll resign from the council, but she’ll live.”

Lottie
looked at Vane as though he were mad. “She can’t possibly be living. I watched
Evant bleed her dry. They found her body in Podrar. One of Evant’s new men took
it away.”

Vane
muttered a spell beneath his breath, the spell he had used to alter his
appearance before first heading to Partsvale. He grimaced with the
transformation’s fleeting pain, and Lottie jumped back with a start.

“It
was you! You kept her from death? She’s alive after all?” Vane nodded. “The
Giver be praised! I never dared to hope Rafe might…. Howar’s cousin,” she
blurted. She took another step away. “Evant claimed you were Howar’s cousin.
That’s why he trusted you. Howar’s a spy?”

“Howar’s
dead,” said Vane. “Terrance killed him. I killed Terrance in self-defense.”

Lottie
could not speak. Vane cast
Desfazair
to
return to his normal self, and told his new accomplice, “I should go. Don’t let
on to Linstrom you know more about Terrance’s fate than he does. Or Howar’s,
poor man. I’ll be here tomorrow. If it’s safe for me to attend that meeting at
the Hall, I’ll arrive before you, leaving from here.”

Lottie
asked, “How will you know if you can join us?”

“I’ll
know.” Vane’s tone was flat.

“What
kind of magic is…?”

“That’s
not your concern.” Lottie shrunk into herself, and Vane’s voice came kinder
when he spoke again. “I should go now. The king and I, we’re just trying to
maintain public order, I swear. To save lives. We can’t succeed without you.”

Linstrom’s
lover spoke softly. “The assault on Partsvale, it was supposed to be against
property and men who wear the king’s uniform. To begin at the guardhouse.
Civilians were never a major target, Ingleton. They would have had time to save
themselves. That’s why I convinced myself I could go along with the plan. If
what you say is true, if Evant’s true target has been the Central Plaza all
this time….”

“You’ll
see that for yourself soon enough.”

Lottie’s
gaze hardened. “You’ll regret it if you’ve lied to me.”

“I
haven’t. The plans are written in Linstrom’s hand,” Vane reminded her. “Until
tomorrow, then.” Her nod of dismissal was barely perceptible. Within five
seconds of it, he disappeared.

From
Lottie’s home, Vane transported to Thad’s antechamber at the Duke of Podrar’s
estate. Thad had returned to his wife soon after Rexson’s first visit of the
day to Oakdowns, so Vane had lost any chance to speak with him in private. He
hoped to find the nobleman alone, and his timing proved favorable; Thad sat at
his desk with an old book, one recounting the history of sword strategy and how
it had changed battle tactics through the years. Vane had loaned it to him the
month before.

The
Duke of Ingleton had such a habit of paying unexpected calls that Thad failed
to look up from his book when Vane cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Just
a minute. This paragraph’s on strategy. Could prove useful.”

Thad’s
favorite sword—sheathed, with a line of emeralds on the hilt—was
propped in the corner against the desk’s side. Studying it, Vane asked,
 
“You’ll join whatever stand against Linstrom
the king orders?”

“Promised
your wife we’d fight together.”

“Thanks
for that.”

Thad
held up a silencing finger. He hadn’t yet untied his dark, wavy hair, and of
his clothing for the day he had only removed his boots. They stood together
against the wall, beside two similar pairs. Finally, after a minute or so, he
rose to shake Vane’s hand. Vane rarely noticed anymore he was four inches
taller than his best friend, but Thad drew his attention to the fact by saying,
“Thanks for what? For depending on your magic to protect us both? To move us to
safety if things go ill? I’m not the most intimidating figure on my own.”

The
twinkle in Thad’s eye was as strong as always when he jested. The man was as
adept with poor jokes when uncomfortable topics reared as he was with a blade,
and Thad routinely won fencing matches against swordsmen of note.

Vane
preferred a light tone, but knew he’d never maintain one, not with the way he
must follow Thad’s last statement. It gave him the perfect opening.

“I
wouldn’t think your magic can transport you away. You can vanish a threatening
spell rushing at you, though.”

Thad
froze midway in sinking to his seat. He had the leg strength to propel himself
back up, and he gawked at his guest. Vane told him, “I’ve known for years.
Gilbert told me, to show support, when I first returned to Herezoth after
killing his brother-in-law.”

“My
brother told you…?”

“Mentioned
you held the family record for the longest time vanishing something.”

“Not
anymore,” Thad muttered. He and Gilbert, and probably the rest of Thad’s
siblings, could make objects disappear temporarily. “I can’t believe Gilbert
told you. He’s never even told his wife. Doesn’t want Tanya fussing over him
with sympathy.” Vane let out a careless snort. Where any but her children were
concerned, Tanya Greller was as about as warm as a winter storm, though she
administrated her duchy with an efficiency and a skill Vane had long admired.
Thad went on, ignoring the interruption, “None of Gilbert’s children share the
family talent. He was lucky there, or she’d have to know, as their mother. A
suspicious mind might wonder if he’s actually their father, but since they’re
each his spitting image….”

Vane
grinned, but said, “Come off it.” Anyone who had met Tanya once knew she was the
last woman in the world for an affair. Even had she wished one, her duties left
her no opportunity.

Thad
shook his head. “My poor nieces….”

Gilbert’s
daughters took a bit too much after him in looks to be considered comely. With
an effort, Vane removed the mirth from his expression and demanded, “Stop
that.”

“Stop
what?”

“That
thing you do with uncomfortable topics: making light of them. Changing the
subject. This is serious. I’m being serious.”

Thad
nodded. “I’ve always felt I should have told you. That you had some right to
know, facing the kingdom’s constant attention as you do for your own magic.”

Vane
assured his friend, “I’ve never resented your silence. I understand it all too
well. I envy just a smidge too much the peace my mother knew before Zalski
exposed her powers. Do you think I’d admit to the sorcerer’s mark if my birth
hadn’t made concealing it impossible? I’d be a fool to judge you for acting as
I wish I could.”

“I
thought you would judge me a coward.”

“No
coward would have his weapon set out for access at a moment’s notice. If we do
have to fight, and your power can save you or can help someone else, don’t be
so much of a prig you won’t make use of it, all right? That’s all I meant to
say on the topic.”

Thad
nodded. He observed, “You look like someone took a hammer to your soul. I know
the feeling, Vane. It’s the one I get each time Carlina’s parents visit. You
should sit a while.”

“I
really should get back to Oakdowns.”

“August
can handle Oakdowns and whatever’s happening there. Sit first. Have something
to eat. Have you had dinner?”

Vane
had not. Thad retook his seat and pulled a string that ran down the wall within
reach of his desk chair. A bell sounded, and Vane dropped with a pounding
headache into a cushioned chair across from his host.

“I’ll
have food brought you,” Thad said. Vane took no note of the statement, for it
wasn’t an offer.

“I
killed a man today.”

“And
some wine,” Thad added. He kept his voice cheery.

“That’s
better than the man killing me, I suppose. That was almost the case.”

A
servant came to the door and awaited Thad’s instruction. He bustled off to grab
“whatever you can find in the kitchens to constitute some kind of dinner, and
wine. A strong one.” When he had left, Thad asked, “He give you those bruises
on your neck?”

“He
tried to throttle me, when I took his voice. I had to. He was a sorcerer.”

“Seems
he got what he was asking for.”

“Linstrom’s
lover thought she would get the same. Thought I’m some kind of assassin for the
crown.” Thad choked on air, and Vane asked, “Have you heard that about me? I
want the truth.”

“Once
or twice, on the street in Yangerton. Walking past a room at Gilbert’s where
some servants were talking. I told him to dismiss them.”

 
Vane rose to leave, but Thad was up and around
the desk to grab his arm before he reached the door. “You will sit. And stay.
There’s food coming. Must I treat you like Hune’s pack of hounds? I’ll trade
you for them if you don’t behave. They listen better. Though perhaps,” Thad
advised, “you shouldn’t listen, not to nonsense like those comments I
overheard. No one worth a bronze piece takes them seriously.”

“Lottie
did.”

“Linstrom’s
lover? Some wench plotting to destroy Partsvale? You’re making my point for
me.”

“I
suppose that’s true.” Vane sighed, and took his chair again. His head had
stopped aching, but it felt eerily airy. He rubbed a temple, and Thad settled
once more behind his desk. He closed the book he had been reading and put it in
a drawer. The two men sat in a comfortable silence until the servant returned
ten minutes later with a tray that held a bottle of wine from the prized
vineyards west of Podrar, two glasses in which to serve it, a fresh bread loaf,
and two bowls of a chilled tomato, basil, and mushroom soup, a summer standard
in the capital.

“That’s
all there was on hand, Your Grace.” A duke’s son took the same title as his
father in Herezoth. Thad thanked the servant and dismissed him, and immediately
poured Vane a glass of wine. Vane hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, or how
much he longed to put the day’s events away from him. He drank the glass in two
gulps, though when Thad refilled it, he knew he should moderate his pace. He
took only a sip of the second serving before reaching for a bowl. He held it,
but waited to eat.

“The
man I killed,” said Vane, “Linstrom’s second-in-command, he attacked me at
Howar’s. The baker-turned-spy.” Thad nodded. “There was a period of time I
couldn’t be sure Linstrom hadn’t sniffed me out. That he hadn’t gone to
Oakdowns to avenge himself on my family. I had Francie with me. I saw what
they’d done to her, and I could picture my wife in that condition, my
daughters, all raped and beaten a few breaths away from death.” Vane shook his
head in self-accusation. “It was supposed to be me at risk, not them. Never
them. Not….” There went the second glass of wine. Thad moved the bottle to the
far end of the desk, out of Vane’s reach. “I should have thought ahead of time
to seal Oakdowns against transports. When I went to stalk a sorcerer I should
have thought…. I didn’t, Thad. My family could have died.”

“Your
family’s fine,” Thad reminded him. “You know they are, don’t you?”

“I’ve
been lucky. Been too damn lucky. The luck will run out at some point, and when
it does…. I have a horrible conviction it won’t be me who pays the price.” Vane
paused. He was feeling the effect of the alcohol now. It had loosened his
tongue, most certainly. He would never speak this bluntly without wine, or with
this much bitterness; he was speaking as he imagined Zacry might, in his place.
Would Zacry be the one? Or worse, one of Kora’s sons, hardly yet begun to live?
Who? The flush of drink rushed to his face.