magelink… and that he is to be ready to carry out my orders.”
“It will be done, my lord.”
“Good.” Falk’s jaw clenched. “And as for Teran…”
“Yes, my lord?”
“I assume he is in a cell.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then leave him there. I’ll deal with him later.”
Brich started to turn away, then hesitated. “My lord?”
“What?” Falk snapped.
“Your side, my lord. You’re bleeding…”
“You think I don’t know it? It’s just a scratch. I’ll have a Healer attend to it when I have time. Now carry out my orders!”
Brich nodded and hurried away.
Falk itched to “deal with” Teran immediately, itched to make someone pay for all that had happened that day, but now that he had spoken to Brich, he instead returned to the hallway outside Mother Northwind’s quarters. His winter clothing remained on the chair where he had dropped it. He looked inside. Servants were collecting debris and sweeping up dust. The girl who had tried to kill him had been covered by a sheet. But hers was still the only corpse in the room.
Well. Mother Northwind, alive or dead, would be found soon enough. Brenna concerned him far more. He would supervise that search himself. And when that was done, and she was once more in hand, then he would deal with Teran, and his bitch-mother and sister.
His side burned. A Healer first, he thought. And then…
He had been lenient with the Commoners last time Karl had vanished among them, confining his destruction to buildings.
He would not be so lenient again.
CHAPTER 30
Anton, on his third crossing of the Anomaly, knew exactly what to expect and how to deal with it. By gaining enough altitude long before he came to that impossibly high wall, he was able to fly over it without getting caught up in the rush of wind at its top, or the downdraft that had driven the airship to the ground when he and the Professor had first cleared it, though he still felt a surge of speed as the cloud-capped top passed beneath him.
He had more confidence in his navigation now that he had successfully found Elkbone, and drawing on the careful bearings and notes taken on his way out of Evrenfels, he confidently turned the prow of the airship toward New Cabora. With the sun lowering behind him, and the propeller beating its steady rhythm in the cold air, he watched the snow-covered landscape beneath him fade from white to blue, pass into darkness, and then begin to gleam silver as the rising moon took over from the sun and spread its own ghostly light across the plains.
Here and there lights shone, the yellow glow of burning oil or tallow in Commoners’ farms and villages, far less often the distinctive blue glow of magelights in homes belonging to Mageborn. His path did not take him over Falk’s manor, but he passed another MageLord’s estate at one point, the great house ablaze with light to rival the new electric-lit Crystal Castle in Hexton Down. There were several carriages drawn up in front of the house, some with horses, some without, and he thought he saw a footman glance up as he passed high overhead, no doubt puzzled by the throb of the propeller. But he himself was showing no lights, and he doubted the man saw anything.
Nor would he believe it if he did, Anton thought. For everyone on this side of the Anomaly, this airship is as unbelievable as the existence of magic was to me.
I suppose once you advance technology enough it’s pretty hard to tell it apart from magic, really, he thought. They both involve manipulating matter and energy. The methods differ, but not the results.
He wondered what would really happen in a clash between the armies of Evrenfels, armed with primitive weapons but also with magic, and the forces of the Union Republic, with their cannons and steam-guns and armored crawlers. It had been a long age since the MageLords had last faced Commoners in combat. He suspected they might get a surprise.
But then he remembered uneasily that Falk had destroyed New Cabora City Hall single-handedly, and knew the surprise could cut both ways.
There is no place for magic in the modern world, Anton thought. It will only bring chaos and bloodshed…
Unlike technology? an opposing thought intruded.
Anton had no answer.
These things were beyond him, anyway. He had done what he could to prepare his world for the possible emergence of Falk’s army. Mother Northwind would have to look after the destruction of magic. His focus now had narrowed to one purpose-to save Brenna, pull her out of the web of intrigue that had trapped her, and take her far away from whatever happened here over the next days, weeks, or months.
If she will come with you, spoke that inner voice of doubt once more. And once more, he had no answer for it.
The sun had been down for four hours or more when at last he saw, dead ahead, a greater glow than any he had passed thus far. First he saw the blue magelights of the Palace, then the dimmer yellow glow of New Cabora’s lanterns and gaslights; then he began to make out individual buildings, the Palace a marble jewel surrounded by dark foliage and the glitter of water, the city an untidy sprawl of smaller buildings at the edges leading to a few grander structures, several stories tall, at the center.
The wind was from the west, as it almost always was in these latitudes. Anton reached over and pulled back on the throttle levers, silencing the propeller. As its steady thrum subsided to a whisper and then to nothing, he lit the burner one more time, the roar filling his ears as hot gas filled the envelope and lifted him higher. Then, in silence, slowly descending, he drifted on the breeze toward New Cabora, using the rudder to turn the nose toward the open space at its center, the Square. He reached for the binoculars hung inside the gondola, not far from the rifle and handgun.
This time, he would not land without knowing exactly what he was getting himself into.
Vinthor listened to Karl and Brenna in silence. When they had, between them, told him everything they knew about the Patron-Mother Northwind-and her Plan, he got up suddenly and went into the back room without saying anything.
Karl glanced at Brenna. She still looked exhausted, but at least she had stopped shivering. She didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead into the fire.
For himself, he felt… exhilarated, if he were honest. When he had so impetuously followed the two strangers out through the Barrier on the night of Verdsmitt’s arrest, he had simply exchanged one captivity for another. But this time he was not a captive. This time, he was, at last, not only acting on his own, but acting with full knowledge of what he was doing, who he was, and who the players were in the intrigues that had swirled around him his whole life, oblivious though he had often been.
If Mother Northwind was dead, then many elements of her plan must be collapsing… but one thing remained: he was the Magebane, and he was with the Heir. Together they could, on the death of the King, bring down the whole corrupt edifice of MageLord rule.
The death of the King. Karl had shied away from thinking about that element of the plan, but it could not be denied. Just as Falk’s plan had hung upon the failed attempt to assassinate the King, so Mother Northwind’s must also rely upon the King’s death at a moment of her choosing. Which must mean yet another assassin was waiting to strike. But who? And would that assassination proceed without Mother Northwind to give the order?
Mother Northwind had never explained exactly how his powers as the Magebane would work to destroy the Keys. But he remembered how they had passed through the Lesser Barrier together, moving from the warmth of a Palace night to the shocking cold of the Commons winter in an instant. The Barrier had made no impression upon either of them. While he held Brenna to him, she had been as impervious to magic as he.
