Free The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) by Victoria Grefer Page B

name?”
    “Rickard
Holler,” Vane announced.
    The bearded
man offered his hand as well. “Terrance Vole. You’re most welcome here. We can
always use more sorcerers, and if you’re Ingleton’s enemy, you’ll be tickled by
tonight’s surprise.”
    Vane raised
an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
    Terrance
said, “Meet us at the Dancing Drake after dark. We’ll transport from there to
the meeting.”
    Next to
Vane, Linstrom huffed in impatience. “For the last time, Terrance, you will
tell me what this is about.”
    “I’ll do no
such thing. It’s nothing to jeopardize our plans. You can wait like all the
rest.”
    Vane
shot at Terrance, “You one of those twenty?”
    Terrance
lowered the neck of his tunic. On the upper right quadrant of his chest was a
triangular-shaped birthmark, colored coffee brown. The sorcerer’s mark. Vane’s
own was behind his shoulder.

 
    CHAPTER
FOUR
    Valkin’s
New Duties

 
    Wonderful. Just
wonderful. I won’t be talking to Father anytime soon about myself, not when
he’s this mess to mop up.
    Valkin
sat in the Palace library once more, with his brothers and his parents. The
king had just explained Gratton’s visit from Partsvale, the urgency of its
nature. Not one of the princes had any misconception about what was at stake in
Vane’s mission. Neslan ran a hand down his face, and Valkin could almost see
his mind working, laying out the worst-case scenario for the young man to
consider. More bookish than his siblings and fond of history, Neslan
knew—more precisely than Valkin, the crown prince would
bet—Herezoth’s tumultuous past and the legacy of conflict between the
magicked and the rest of society. He looked dumbstruck. Hune, on the other
hand, couldn’t stop asking questions. He was thinking aloud.
    “So
Vane’s in Partsvale as we speak, risking his life? You sent him to do that?”
    Rexson
said, “Vane volunteered. If you’ve another option, or suggestions for when he
returns tonight, I’ll listen. I no more want him endangering himself than you
do.”
    “How
will the army get there in time? Can it? Troops from Podrar? Is there some way
they could transport? Two weeks…. They wouldn’t make it to Partsvale on foot,
even on horse.”
    “We
could call upon Zacry and Vane to transport men. Jane Trand and the elder of
her students.” Trand was the sorcery instructor at the Magic Council’s school
in Carphead, one of the major fishing villages off the coast southeast of the
capital.
    “Have
you spoken with Gerr Bruan?” The king’s general. “Mason Greller?” The Duke of
Podrar and Rexson’s Chief Adviser.
    “Hune,
we three were up all night. Well, the general and I were. Greller for half.”
    That
was a substantial sacrifice on Greller’s part. The man had to be past seventy.
The king himself was not young, Valkin thought. Nearing fifty. The previous
night, in fact, looked to have aged him at least five years; his eyes looked
sunken, his complexion pasty.
    As
much as Valkin loved the king and cared for Vane—as much as the thought
of something happening to Vane froze his insides with a jolt—Valkin could
not help but, once again, consider himself while staring at his father.
    My eyes will look like
that in thirty years. Good Giver, what if Father weren’t here? If I had to
handle this? I wouldn’t have the slightest concept how to respond, I….
    Neslan
must have guessed where Valkin’s thoughts were running, because he put a
steadying hand on Valkin’s shoulder. Though Hune and Gracia both studied the
king with worried expressions, it was Gracia who told him, “You should rest,
dear. Vane, Gratton, the general: they’re all seeing that what needs to be done
is done, and they would agree with me. You need to rest. At present, we can
only wait for Vane. You’ll have another long night once he returns with his
report, and he will return. Sleep
while you can.”
    The
king’s response was to ask his eldest son to accompany him to his office, which
was