Magebane (46 page)

Once across the bridge, Falk took a deep breath of the balmy air, thick with the smell of green growing things, and began shedding his coat. “Well, again, Davydd, excellent work today. Now that you are at liberty to move around, I hope you'll take time to enjoy the Palace grounds. The ornamental gardens are really quite beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lord, I have been hoping to do so.” Verdsmitt bowed low, then turned and angled away, pulling off his own coat as he did so. One of the servants, who had scurried up as they had stepped off of the bridge, took it and strode off toward the Palace as Verdsmitt disappeared around a flowering bush.

Falk walked slowly on toward the Palace himself. He would wait two or three hours before questioning the informant who had approached the captain, plenty of time to let the wine work on him. It was one of the softer interrogation techniques, but sometimes remarkably effective. Even if the man were dissembling, he would be more likely to betray himself with a flagon of wine . . . “really good wine,” as he'd told the captain, which would be understood to mean the wine that they heavily fortified just for these occasions, the taste of the extra alcohol magically removed.

In the meantime, there was Mother Northwind's progress with Tagaza to check on.

But on his way to Tagaza's quarters, he was met by Brich, who for once—
And a nice change it makes, too,
Falk thought—looked pleased by the news he carried. “Yes, Brich?”

Brich smiled. “My lord, a message came in this morning from a Mounted Ranger on the east side of the lake. He has spotted Brenna, Anton, and the airship being pulled south by dogsleds. The Mountie is shadowing them from the shoreline.”

I have her again!
Falk thought, and it felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. “I would issue orders to immediately dispatch a sizable contingent of soldiers to seize them as soon as an opportunity presents itself, but I suspect they would be redundant,” Falk said.

Brich's smile widened. “The orders were issued the moment the message came in . . . in your name, of course.”

“Excellent.” Falk trusted Brich—about the only person he could say that of, now that Tagaza had betrayed him—and had made it clear to his secretary that he could, within reason, issue orders on Falk's behalf if time were of the essence. “They will seize them tonight, and have them back here . . . ?”

“Within two days.”

“Excellent,” Falk repeated. “Well done, Brich.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brich looked almost as pleased by the praise as Verdsmitt had.
And Mother Northwind
, Falk thought rather smugly,
didn't have a thing to do with it.

With Brenna having been found by ordinary means, it was no longer urgent that Tagaza be healthy enough to try his Heir-finding spell again—but when Brich intercepted him, Falk had been on his way to see how the First Mage was coming along under Mother Northwind's ministrations, and now he let inertia carry him the rest of the way . . .

. . . to be met, outside Tagaza's quarters, by a grim-faced Mother Northwind, just closing the door behind her.

“Ah, Mother Northwind. How goes it?”

“I'm sorry, Lord Falk,” she said. “I did my best, but . . . he died ten minutes ago.”

With Brenna found, he felt little but relief at the news; and feeling a little impish, knowing it would shock her, he simply shrugged and said, “Oh, well. These things happen.”

This was so obviously not at all the response she had expected that she actually seemed speechless for a moment, much to his delight. For once, knowing Brenna and Anton had been found, he was a step ahead of her.

She'll find out when they're brought here and not a moment sooner,
he thought.
A valuable reminder that, useful though she is, the Plan we are both working for is mine, and I can achieve it even without her help.

“Although I'm very sorry to hear it, of course,” he continued. “What happened?”

“His own spell happened,” Mother Northwind said, her dark eyes narrowed as she searched his face. “It was interrupted just as he was gathering the energy he needed . . . and that energy had to go somewhere. He tried to throw it off into the steam, but he was being hurled backward and scalded at the same moment, and lost control. Some of the energy burned through him. His brain was so badly damaged I could not heal it. And even as I tried, the last thread holding him to life snapped. I chased after it, trying to keep his heart beating, keep him breathing, but every Healer has limits, even I, and . . . he slipped away.” She sighed. “It may have been for the best. Even if he had lived, I do not think he would have been more than a . . . lump. His mind, I think, was destroyed at the moment of the accident. Even his memories were lost.” She spread her hands. “I have failed you this time, Lord Falk.”

“Through no fault of your own, Mother Northwind,” Falk said. He smiled, thinking of Verdsmitt. “And you have succeeded spectacularly for me so many other times. Now, go and rest. You have done all you can for me for now.”

“Thank you, Lord Falk,” Mother Northwind said. “I
do
feel fatigued.” She made her slow way down the hall, and Falk watched her go, feeling like a little boy who had just put something over on his mother.

His own mother was long dead and hadn't wasted a lot of affection on him when she was alive, and he would never mistake the “Mother” in Mother Northwind as anything more than an honorific the Commoners applied, but still, the feeling was the same.

His smile widened as she turned the corner and went out of sight, and he thought about the informant waiting in the Blue Lounge. If the man really did know where Karl was—and Falk had high hopes—then Falk would know
two
things Mother Northwind did not, and presenting her with the
fait accompli
of both Karl and Brenna back where they belonged, under his thumb and in the Palace, would send an even more forceful message to her not to underestimate
him
.

It was still too early to go to the Blue Lounge, so Falk directed his steps instead toward his office, where the damnable paperwork had no doubt climbed to alarming new heights during the course of the day. He stepped aside with a smile—much to their surprise—for the servants hurrying to Tagaza's room to take charge of the body. There would have to be a state funeral, of course, but it would fortunately fall to the Prime Adviser, Lord Athol, to arrange it and to give the eulogy.
I'll get Verdsmitt to write it for him
, Falk thought.
There won't be a dry eye in the Great Hall
.

His smile faded as he thought of the one thing Tagaza's death
did
cast uncertainty on: the spell that would break the rules governing the succession of the Keys and transfer them to him in the moment of the simultaneous deaths of King and Heir. But then, after recent events, he would not have trusted Tagaza to perform the spell even if he had lived. The other mage who had learned the spell was a staunch member of the Unbound, and almost as skilled as Tagaza.

He'll suffice
, Falk thought.

And the time was drawing oh-so-near.

There was one other thing to think about, though. Falk made his way through the magically sealed door and guard station (“Marigold.” “Cornflower.”) to his office, nodding to Brich, text-stamping away once more.

The Outsider boy, Anton,
Falk thought, sitting at his desk.
There's where Mother Northwind can help once more. Make him as loyal to me as Verdsmitt, and he will teach me how to operate his airship. Send him back over the Barrier with someone I can trust . . . he can be my ambassador to the Outside, assure them we only want peace, that when the Barrier falls there will be no cause for alarm . . .

Yes,
Falk thought.
That is what I'll do.

Satisfied, he pulled the nearest stack of paper toward him and reached for his pen.

Mother Northwind was thinking furiously as she walked away from Falk, but though she racked her brain, mentally reviewing everything she thought she knew about the current state of play, she could think of no reason why Lord Falk should have reacted with such equanimity to the news of Tagaza's death.
These things happen?
What kind of way was that to respond to the death of your oldest friend . . . not to mention the architect and planned-for-executor of a major component of your two-decade-old plan to seize the Kingdom and destroy the Great Barrier?

Mother Northwind had been prepared for consternation, fury, accusations of incompetence . . . anything, really, except for this calm, almost jovial acceptance.

She reviewed what she knew. Prince Karl was safely ensconced at Goodwife Beth's. Brenna and Anton by now had been retrieved by the dog teams sent north from Foam River. They would soon be delivered to a rocky bay, safe from prying eyes, on Foam River's outskirts, and from there taken to join Karl.

The only thing . . . the
only
thing . . . she could think of that might have made Falk so accepting of Tagaza's death was the speech Verdsmitt had been expected to deliver.
He must have done himself proud
, Mother Northwind thought.
People forget he can act as well as he can write. And it must have been difficult for him to portray himself as suddenly rejecting the claims and ideology of the Common Cause.

Well, she thought, the Common Cause had always been a sideshow for him, really. Verdsmitt's true driving purpose had always been revenge on his ex-lover, King Kravon . . . not surprising, since when she had touched him on the night she enlisted him, she had ensured that time would do nothing to dim the bright, shining pain caused by Kravon's betrayal, or Verdsmitt's burning desire to retaliate.

That must be it
, she thought. Verdsmitt's speech had gone so well that even Tagaza's death could not shake Falk's renewed confidence. Perhaps he had already resigned himself to not being able to use Tagaza to find Brenna, assuming he would eventually find her through nonmagical means.

She paused for a moment as she climbed the stairs one floor to the level of her apartment. She did feel fatigued; she hadn't been lying about that. Healing a man was tiring, but killing one was exhausting . . .

. . . especially when you first had to systematically search for and destroy his memories so that no other Healer could reach inside and find some fading evidence of his complete innocence. Not that it hadn't been interesting to rummage in Tagaza's mind, especially those parts that had to do with the Great Barrier. Tagaza really did believe that magic would fail on its own in a few years if the Barriers were not brought down. More, though he had never told Falk—and now never would, Mother Northwind thought with relish—he believed that Falk's dreams of conquest were futile, since the farther Falk's forces got from the lode of magic on which Evrenfels was built, the weaker their magic would become, until it didn't work at all.

He was never really on Falk's side, either
, Mother Northwind thought.
Three of us working to bring down the Barriers, and none of us for the same reason.

She did not expect to fail. But she took some comfort in the thought that, even if she did, the MageLords would still be destroyed.

Breath coming a little easier, she finished climbing the stairs and headed to her room for what she felt was a welldeserved rest.