of magic at the heart of the Old Kingdom. Over time, the magic power surrounding them had changed them, altered them, generation by generation, until they could draw on its power and use it to change the world around them.
His theory was bolstered by the fact, otherwise inexplicable, that at rare… very rare… intervals, a child born to Commoner parents was found to have magical ability: to be, in fact, a brand-new Mageborn. This had historically been a matter for great rejoicing, both on the part of the Mageborn and the Commoner parents, whose child was then assured of being lifted out of servitude: although the rejoicing was tempered by the fact that the child was then promptly taken from its parents and raised by Mageborn surrogates. (Some Commoner parents had tried to hide their children’s ability when it manifested, usually about the same time they started to talk; such deception was, of course, punishable by death.)
In any event, as far as the First Twelve had been able to determine there were no other lodes of magic anywhere in the world except for the site of the Old Kingdom… and the one deep beneath the Earth below Tagaza right now.
Why that should be so, no one knew. Tagaza leaned toward the theory that magic had arrived from outside the world, that it belonged to some other world, some alternate world invisible to this one but somehow close at hand, and had somehow leaked between the barrier hiding the one from the other: but that was just idle speculation, since there was absolutely no evidence one way or the other.
In any event, the scarcity of magic outside the two known lodes of it meant, Tagaza suspected-but had never dared suggest to Falk-that if the Unbound escaped the Great Barrier and set out on a war of conquest against the supposedly defenseless Commoners of the Outside, their conquest would be short-lived indeed, for they would soon find themselves outside the regions in which magic could be easily drawn upon.
What Tagaza had argued with Falk was that the best course for the Mageborn to follow was not to use their magic for conquest when the Barriers fell, but only to defend themselves. Best of all would be for them to seek cooperation with the Commoners. Surely both cultures had a lot to offer each other.
As Falk had just thrown in his face as evidence of his perfidy, Tagaza had long advocated a gentler approach to the Commons, pointing out that the Commoners greatly outnumbered and were outbreeding the Mageborn, and that reforms aimed at placating the Commoners were therefore only prudent.
Falk had rejected those arguments, too. And if he had now destroyed City Hall, and was threatening even more retribution for Karl’s disappearance… then the opportunity for greater cooperating between Commoners and Mageborn had quite possibly passed forever.
And it was that that particularly kept Tagaza awake that long night before Falk’s expected summons in the morning. Because whichever way he looked, he saw disaster looming.
If he failed to find Brenna, or if she were dead, Falk’s plan would fail, the Barriers would not fall, magic would dwindle away.. . and the Commoners would take their revenge.
If he did find Brenna, and Falk succeeded in his Plan, and brought down the Barrier, but then pushed aggressively into the outside world, he would soon run into the limits of magic. The Outsiders would defeat the Kingdom… and this time, there was nowhere for the Mageborn to flee.
Falk’s summons came very early in the morning: the cell’s magelight, reacting to the impending day outside the dungeon, had barely begun to glow. But Tagaza was awake. “Hello, Charic,” he said to the Royal guardsman who opened the cell door. “Time to attend Falk, I presume?”
Charic had been in the Magecorps before joining the guard; he’d once accompanied Tagaza on his annual inspection trip to the Cauldron. He half-smiled, looking a little shamefaced. “Yes, First Mage,” he said. “I’m to put the manacles back on you, if you don’t come willingly.” He looked down at his feet. “I’d really rather not.”
Tagaza sighed. “No need,” he assured the guard. “I told Falk I would do what he asked, and so I will. I presume we’re going to the Spellchamber?”
“Yes, First Mage.”
Tagaza smiled. “Shall I lead the way, or will you?”
Charic laughed. “Perhaps you should, First Mage. So I can follow and make sure you don’t run away.”
Tagaza chuckled. “Charic, have you ever seen me run anywhere?”
“No, First Mage,” Charic admitted, still grinning. “This way, then.”
“This way” led up stairs, down one of the long corridors running down the middle of each wing of the Palace, to the Grand Entrance, and then up more stairs, climbing, climbing, Tagaza having to stop halfway, puffing. He gave Charic a rueful smile, then resumed climbing.
At last they reached a great hallway, wide and curving, following, he knew, the outside wall of the dome that was the Palace’s central feature. Through two doors of beaten silver, and…
The Spellchamber. Tagaza, still breathing hard, stood just inside the doors, looking up at the high domed roof, decorated with silver stars and golden comets in a painted sky of deepest blue. Here a mage could draw most easily on the energy of the roaring fires of the MageFurnace far below. Few magics required that much power, but the spell Tagaza would use to locate Brenna certainly did. More typically, the Spellchamber was used when there was a need to fine-tune the weather or the course of the magical sun within the Lesser Barrier, perhaps two or three times a year. The rest of the time it stood empty.
But it wasn’t empty today. Falk already stood there, waiting. “First Mage,” he said coldly. “How kind of you to come.”
“How kind of you to invite me,” Tagaza answered, tone equally icy. He looked up at the magelights in the ceiling, and willed them to glowing blue life. Their illumination made the ceiling seem darker and set the silver- and-gold decorations sparkling.
The room was uncomfortably warm. All around the edges of the dome were vents which could be opened to make it hotter still, to counteract the deep chill the magic worked there would produce, even though the bulk of the energy would be drawn from the MageFurnace.
A warning tale told to young Mageborn studying at the College of Mages recounted the fate of a mage who worked a mighty spell in an enclosed space and was discovered in the morning frozen solid. The tale was so well known that a popular students’ pub was called The Frozen Mage.
“You may go,” Falk said to Charic. Charic saluted and left, closing the silver doors behind him.
Tagaza walked past Falk to the center of the room, where what looked like a circular pedestal emerged from the floor. He could feel heat radiating from it. It was, in fact, a pipe, driven through the heart of the Palace, straight down into the fires of the MageFurnace. A bit of magic… a substantial bit of magic, actually… kept the exhaust gases from pouring up that pipe into the dome, venting them instead through the Chimneys, located a few miles to the east of New Cabora. All the MageFurnace’s wastes were likewise dealt with. After centuries, the Chimneys had become a vast, blighted wasteland of smoke and ash where nothing grew.
A metal cap on top of the pipe gave it its pedestal-like appearance. Sliding open that cap would simultaneously open the hot-air vents along the outer wall of the chamber.
Tagaza turned his back on it to face Falk. “Before I begin this,” he said, “it might be helpful if you told me more about Brenna’s escape. Do you have any idea where she might be now? So that I know approximately where to look first.”
“Northeast of the manor,” Falk said. “Quite likely in the vicinity of the Great Lake, or even on it.”
Tagaza blinked, startled. “How did she get that far in such a short time?”
“You don’t need to know that,” Falk said. “Prove your loyalty by finding her, and then, perhaps, I’ll tell you. But not yet.”
Tagaza shrugged. “All right.” He turned back toward the pipe, closed his eyes, and reached inside himself for the immensely complex spell he was about to attempt, made more complex by the fact it had been developed by a previous First Mage, and reflected his personal idiosyncrasies.
Magic of this strength required fierce concentration. A slip of the mind could send the spell awry, and with the energies involved, that could be catastrophic. In fact, one of the functions of the Spellchamber was to contain the damage should that happen.
Damage to the Palace, that was; the damage to those within the chamber would just be too damn bad.
Tagaza had no fear that his spell would go catastrophically awry. Whether it would actually work, of course, was a different matter, because he had never attempted it before.
It was a brilliant piece of theoretical work, though, he had to admit, even though it wasn’t his. First Mage Cassik, who had served Queen Castilla, whose inheritance of the Keys had disrupted the dynasty of Falk’s family,
