But in the end, it wasn’t Falk who came to see her, but Mother Northwind.
Brenna had wakened early that morning, she wasn’t sure why; something in a dream, she thought, though all she remembered were confusing images of Falk and Anton and the dead man sizzling in the campfire. That image came back far too often in her dreams, and usually cost her the next hour’s sleep. This time it had come so close to morning that she gave up going back to sleep at all, and instead got up, found the book she had been rather unsuccessfully trying to read, and settled down next to the lantern. Magelight would have been better, but she had no way of turning them on.
Hilary came in at the usual time, seemed startled to see Brenna awake, but said, “Good morning, miss,” and went about her usual tasks of building up the fire and setting the table in the antechamber for the breakfast that would arrive shortly.
Brenna discovered she had read the same page four times without once remembering what it had said, and tossed the book aside. She went out into the antechamber. “What’s the weather like, Hilary?” she asked. “I’ve been locked up in her for so long now I’m beginning to forget what fresh air feels like.”
“Outside the Palace, miss? Warm as always.”
Brenna grimaced. “No, I mean the real weather. Is it still bitterly cold? Has there been a meltwind?” Once or twice a winter, a great warm wind would sweep in from the west, causing the temperatures to rise so rapidly you could go from winds that would flay the skin from your bones to water running from the roofs in the space of a day.
Hilary shook her head. “No meltwinds, miss. Cold and still.” She lowered her voice. “Perfect for launching that flying machine of Falk’s, I hear.”
Brenna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather inside or outside of the Barrier. “Flying machine?”
“That’s the rumor, miss.” Hilary adjusted the silverware on the snow-white tablecloth on the little table beside the fire. “Shall I have someone light the magelights, miss?”
“What? No, the lantern is fine. Besides, it’s getting light outside.” She glanced back at the tall windows, which had turned to gray from black sometime in the last few minutes. “What about this flying machine?”
“Well, it’s supposed to be a big secret, but of course there are guards involved and they tell the maids all kinds of things, especially when they’re… well,” she blushed, “anyway, the story is that it’s a flying machine from outside the Barrier, if you can believe it.” Hilary shook her head. “I can hardly credit it myself. What is there outside the Barrier but wilderness and savages? But that’s what they say, all the same.”
“Did they… describe it?” Brenna said, trying to will herself to believe that there could be a flying machine other than Anton’s airship.
“Well, miss, the guards say it’s big, big as a house, shaped kind of like a loaf of bread, with a big wicker basket under it and this thing inside it like a little MageFurnace that shoots fire up into it until it’s all puffed up. A whirligig thing on the rear of the basket-don’t know what that’s for-and a rudder like a ship.
“There’s a strange boy been making sure it’s all set to go, and they say that this morning he’s launching it on a test flight. Wish I could be there, too, miss,” she added. “I would dearly love to see a flying machine. Not a bit of magic about it, the guards say. Commoner through-and-through.”
Anton? Brenna felt sick. Launching the airship… with Falk’s help?
Cold fury flooded her. Mother Northwind did it. She stole his thoughts, now she’s twisted his mind. All to help Falk!
And a test flight? Not a chance. Falk was sending Anton back into the Outside to serve his own ends… no doubt to lie to the Outsiders about how harmless the Kingdom of Evrenfels was.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
She wanted to scream and throw things, wanted to sweep the carefully arranged breakfast dishes off the table and into the fire, but she couldn’t frighten Hilary that way, and so all she said was. “How… interesting.”
Hilary brightened. “It is, isn’t it, miss?” She looked around to make sure all was set, then curtsied and said, “I’ll just fetch your breakfast, miss,” and went out.
Brenna went to the window and gazed across the lake toward the center of New Cabora. The real sun was just coming up, washing pale pink across the sky, hazed by the smoke and ice fog rising from the city’s chimneys. Brenna reached out and touched the cool glass pane. “Anton,” she whispered. She looked up at the sky, as if she would see the airship flying by, a tiny blue dot high in the sky.
But, of course, the sky was as empty as always.
He’s Falk’s man now, she thought with sick rage. Falk’s man, thanks to that witch!
She was still staring at the sky when she heard the door to the antechamber open. “Just put the breakfast on the table, and then you can go, Hilary,” she said.
“I’m not going to go so soon after working my poor knees so hard climbing the stairs.”
Mother Northwind! Brenna spun around. There stood the old crone, hunched over her cane by the fire, beady black eyes staring at her. Brenna’s breakfast was on the table, but there was no sign of Hilary.
“You!” Brenna strode toward her, not sure what she intended to do. “Get out of here, you witch!”
“Good morning to you, too, Brenna,” Mother Northwind said calmly.
“Don’t talk to me. Get out!”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Brenna wheeled toward the door, but Mother Northwind said, “And there’s no use calling for the guard. He can’t hear you right now, and he’ll have no memory of my having been here. Nor will your maid. She knows she delivered your breakfast, but somehow it didn’t register on her that I came into the room with her and remained after she left.”
“You are a witch!”
Mother Northwind sighed. “No, just a Mageborn with a knack for soft magic who has picked up a few tricks in a long life.”
“Falk will know you’ve come,” Brenna said. “He can probably listen in on everything you say here. You should-”
Mother Northwind held up her wrist, showing a glistening silver bracelet. “While I wear this, Falk knows nothing of what I do or say. Now, enough! I have things to tell you that you must know.”
“There is nothing you can say that I need to know,” Brenna spat. “You mind-raped Anton, and now you’ve twisted him so that he serves Lord Falk, you damned-”
“Enough! ” Mother Northwind’s voice, cold and sharp as a frozen dagger, sliced her voice to silence. “You know I do not serve Falk. His guards stole you from my men… and murdered them.”
“But Anton-”
“Your lad Anton has not been ‘twisted.’ ” Mother Northwind showed her teeth in a catlike grin. “But Falk thinks he has.”
Brenna blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Then you might try being silent for a few minutes!” Mother Northwind nodded at the door. “Or I can leave now… and leave you in the dark.”
Brenna pressed her lips together, but nodded, once.
“Good.” Mother Northwind pulled the chair out from the breakfast table and eased herself into it. “Ah,” she said. “That’s better.” She lifted a silver lid to reveal two slices of buttered toast. “May I?”
“Help yourself,” Brenna said between clenched teeth.
Mother Northwind lifted out a piece of toast, replaced the lid, and took a bite. “All right, then,” she said. “Anton is going Outside. Falk thinks he’s going to soften up the battle space, tell them they have nothing to worry about from the Barrier coming down… so that when the Barrier does come down, his army will face less opposition. In reality, Anton is going to warn them to bring up their military and be ready to fight if Falk brings the Barrier down in the spring.
“And I’m here to warn you.” Mother Northwind finished the piece of toast, and wiped her buttery fingers on Brenna’s napkin. “Much better. I was feeling peckish.”
“Warn me about what?” Brenna said.
Mother Northwind studied her. “Do you have any idea why you are so crucial to Falk’s plans? Or to mine?”
“No,” Brenna said bitterly. “I’m just a Commoner girl, nothing special. I don’t even know who my parents
