me well in these past few days, Teran?”
“My lord, I beg of you-”
“Your begging does not interest me.” Falk stood up. “Fail me again, and your mother and sister will find their lives suddenly very difficult. As will you… though in your case, it will be both difficult and short.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Join the search for the Prince. But I may wish to speak to you again later.”
Teran nodded and fled, and Falk dismissed him from his mind.
The day wore on. The searches turned up nothing. At noon, Falk, to general though muted outrage, ordered the Royal guard to search all personal quarters. By three o’clock, there could be little doubt: Prince Karl was no longer inside the Lesser Barrier.
Two boats had been found on the far side of the lake, one of the Palace pleasure boats and an ordinary rowboat no one could remember seeing before-but that meant little, since there were numerous boats tied up here and there around the lake, and if anybody was missing one, he was unlikely to claim it when it might implicate him in the disappearance of the Prince. Both boats were unmoored, and it could have simply been the breeze that pushed them so close together along that weedy bank… but the breeze had not churned the mud, flattened the weeds, and pushed through the thicker growth above the shore to the very edge of the Lesser Barrier.
It had snowed heavily again during the night, obliterating any tracks there might have been on the other side of the Barrier, but the signs seemed unequivocal. Prince Karl had passed through the Lesser Barrier, perhaps following someone else.
Which was utterly and completely impossible.
Or so Tagaza has always said, Falk thought. His calm response to the original news of Karl’s disappearance had long since vanished in rage burning hot enough to scour the streets of New Cabora with fire, had he unleashed it magically. But he could not turn that rage on the Commoners… not yet, at any rate. When he was King…
… except he might never be King if Karl had stupidly allowed the Common Cause to finish the job of assassination it had botched so spectacularly just days before. If Tagaza were not to be trusted, the magical search for the next Heir that the MageLords would insist upon would point straight to Brenna, and that would raise questions even Falk could not dance around. I’d have to kill her, he thought. Quietly and quickly. The Heirship would pass to someone else. Tagaza’s search would point to someone else. No one would ever know she was Heir, and Karl was not…
… and twenty years of careful planning would collapse into chaos. Who knew if he could come out the other side of that chaos with even his life, much less the Kingship?
And if he did not become King, then the Hidden Kingdom would remain hidden for another two hundred years: forever, from his point of view.
All of which drove him to Tagaza’s office, two carefully selected guards in tow.
Time to answer a few questions, old friend.
CHAPTER 12
Tagaza hadn’t spoken to Falk since the Minister for Public Safety had returned from his manor, though he’d been expecting to be summoned at any time.
He’d been even more shocked by the subject matter of Davydd Verdsmitt’s play than most. Magic running out, the Barrier crashing down… it was exactly what would happen if the Barriers were not brought down and were instead allowed to exhaust the magic lode. It was to prevent that happening that he had joined forces with Falk. But how had Verdsmitt, a Commoner, come up with the idea?
And then he’d been shocked all over again when Falk and the guards so suddenly arrested Verdsmitt. What’s Falk playing at? he wondered as he stood in the theater, watching the playwright taken away, the actors arrested, the Prince hurried out by Teran. He can’t really believe Verdsmitt had anything to do with the attack on the Prince, can he?
But of course he could. And if he did, then Tagaza could only assume that the reason was something he had been told by their mutual acquaintance and coconspirator: Mother Northwind.
After the arrest, he returned to his quarters and waited, certain Falk would come to explain his actions. But he didn’t. Tagaza went to bed, had his usual breakfast of eggon-toast in front of his open window, enjoying the breeze blowing in from across the lake, then went out and through the bustling corridors of the Palace to his office, located in the same wing as Falk’s but on the top floor rather than in the basement. He passed through the rather ordinary oak door into the outer office, decorated in dark blue panels separated by marble pilasters. His secretary, Sintha-perhaps not as efficient as Falk’s Brich, but being half Brich’s age, female, slim, and with long black hair she liked to wear loose, considerably easier on the eyes-sat behind the marble-topped oak desk. She got to her feet as he entered.
“First Mage,” she said breathlessly. “Have you heard the news?”
Tagaza’s heart sank. In his experience, nothing good ever followed that particular phrase. “About Verdsmitt’s arrest? Of course, I was there-”
“No, First Mage.” Sintha shook her head. “Apparently, sometime in the night, Prince Karl disappeared from his locked room.”
That bit of information did more than just make Tagaza’s heart sink; it damn near stopped it cold. “What?”
“None of the guards heard a thing,” Sintha said. “But when the servants went in to dress him and bring him his breakfast… he wasn’t there. His bed hadn’t even been slept in.”
Tagaza thought for an instant he might be sick. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. Without the Prince, the plan he and Falk and Mother Northwind had been working toward for two decades was about to unravel… and it might unravel him along with it.
Brenna, he thought. She’ll have to go. They’ll call on me to search out the new Heir… it can’t be her. He was sure Falk would want him to lie about who the next Heir was, if he had to do that spell; but the magic wouldn’t let him lie. He’d have no choice but to reveal the true Heir. Falk will have to dispose of her…
That thought made him feel even sicker. He had met Brenna every year since she was ten, which had been the first time Falk had brought her to the Palace. She had been a brown-haired, brown-eyed, grave, curious, and very intelligent child, whom he had led by the hand around the Palace, showing her all its wonders, once even carried her to bed when she’d fallen asleep after a concert.
And you always knew she was doomed, a cold voice deep inside him pointed out.
But that was different. It was one thing to sacrifice her for the greater good, to ensure the Barriers could come down and the drain on the magic lode be reduced before magic failed entirely. Regrettable, but absolutely necessary. But to eliminate her just so Falk and he could avoid discovery…
It was monstrous.
He saw Sintha’s concerned look, and smiled at her weakly. “I hope he’s found unharmed,” he said. “I’ve grown very fond of the boy.”
“I hope so, too,” Sintha said. “He’s been very pleasant to me.”
“Lord Falk has not requested my help in the search?” he said.
Sintha shook her head. “No, First Mage.”
Tagaza nodded. “Very well. I’ll be in my office.” He hurried through the inner oak door. His office was white: white carpet, white walls, white ceiling, white desk, all trimmed with gold. Just as in his quarters in the east wing, the windows were thrown open, letting in air and light. He went over to the window and peered out across the lake. He could see guards even then combing the lakeshore, guards in boats, guards on the bridge.
He gazed down at the ornamental gardens, down toward the boathouse, and even from that distance recognized the slim gray figure of Falk, talking to someone. He’ll want to see me now, Tagaza thought. He turned away from the window, went to the desk, and sat down; then, after a moment, got up again and went to the sideboard beneath the giant portrait of King Kravon, looking far more regal than he’d ever looked in real life, opened a decanter of asproga, and poured himself a glass of the fiery anise-flavored liqueur, which he’d introduced the Prince to some years ago. His hand shook slightly as he took it back to his desk. For a moment he just sat there, staring across its white marble top at the two empty chairs on the other side; then, with a sigh, he folded his mind
