The Magebane, her research and her own knowledge had convinced her, could do far more than just counter the magic hurled at him: he could destroy magic entirely.
To do so, he had to be present when the Keys were transferred from Ruler to Heir. That magic, the greatest ever worked, drew from every living mage, each providing one of the threads from which the fabric of the Great Barrier was woven.
If the Magebane were there when the Keys transferred, touching the Heir at that moment, the Keys would not only fail to transfer, they would shatter. The Barrier would fall-and the magic it contained would rebound through every living Mageborn.
She didn’t think it would kill them. Not all of them. But Mother Northwind was convinced that not one of them would be able to use magic thereafter…
… except, possibly, those who practiced soft magic. Healers, who drew energy from within themselves rather than without, might-she hoped, though she could not be certain-retain their powers to help and heal the mind, if not the body. But the hard mages, those who used their powers to manipulate and destroy, would find themselves reduced to mere Commoners. And the true Commoners, led by the Common Cause, outnumbered them.
The Kingdom would fall. A new country, free of the tyranny of magic, would take its place.
Falk also wanted the Barrier to fall, Mother Northwind had learned as she eased the pain of his sprained wrist one day in the Palace. And he knew how it could be done without the Magebane, but his scheme needed an Heir to sacrifice, and the King showed no interest in producing one.
Mother Northwind also needed the Heir, not to sacrifice, but to bring into contact with the Magebane at the crucial moment. So up to a point, her agenda was compatible with Falk’s; and, of course, she’d never told him about the part that wasn’t.
From there, everything had advanced like clockwork. Trusted by the Palace, she had managed, through one of my greatest feats of magic, she thought sardonically, to temporarily turn King Kravon into enough of a man to father a child on the Queen. Shedding her guise as Makala, she had gone in her own person to Falk to offer him the Heir to raise.
Back in the Palace, she had disposed of both Queen and Royal Midwife, switched the infants, left Prince Karl, her hoped-for Magebane, in the Palace… and then Makala had disappeared forever and Mother Northwind had arrived at Falk’s manor with Brenna. He had built this cottage for her. And since then… she had waited.
Foul deeds, she freely admitted, to slay innocents… but deeds, she firmly believed, justified by the great end toward which she worked.
Now, that great end was very near. Falk also had to wait until Tagaza could confirm Brenna was the Heir, which he had done secretly during her last visit to the Palace. Now he was through waiting. He had set the spring equinox, when he would normally travel north to inspect the Cauldron with Tagaza, as the date he would attempt to seize the Kingship and control of the Barrier. That had forced her hand: she dared wait no longer to discover if Karl were a Magebane, and so, in her guise as the Patron of the Common Cause, she had sent Jenna to test the Prince.
She took a last look around the kitchen and, satisfied, picked up the lantern and moved through the sitting room toward her bedroom. A dark shape flashed through the flickering light, right across her feet, and she gasped, then laughed. “Mousebreath, you did give me a fright.”
The cat meowed and vanished into the shadows, no doubt to slip out into the night through the swinging catsized door she had made for him, to terrorize field mice in their tunnels beneath the snow.
Falk would take Brenna back to the Palace. He would arrest Davydd Verdsmitt-even if her dropping his name hadn’t been enough to arrange that, Verdsmitt’s play would certainly do the trick. With Verdsmitt, the Heir, and the Magebane all in place, only one more piece in her great game needed to be positioned: herself.
It was time for Makala to return to the Palace.
Mother Northwind blew out her lantern, undressed in the darkness, pulled a warm flannel nightgown over her head, and lay down on her bed. It was a pity, because she really liked the cottage Falk had built for her, but it couldn’t be helped.
Mother Northwind was not one to lie awake worrying about things, but she did spend a few extra moments that night thinking about the unexpected appearance of the boy from outside the Kingdom. Did he change anything?
She couldn’t see how. He was only one boy, and it was hardly a surprise that there were people on the other side of the Great Barrier, after all these years. Soon enough, the Barrier would fall and the people of Evrenfels would once more be part of that world. It didn’t much matter to her what that world was like, as long as it didn’t include MageLords or Mageborn… and she intended to make certain of that.
In any event, in the morning she’d know as much as the boy about that outside world. If any adjustments to her plan were necessary, she could decide on them then.
She closed her eyes, and within two minutes was fast asleep.
As the winter night wore away, she stirred only once, when Mousebreath returned from his nighttime perambulations, jumped onto the bed, and curled up against her, purring loudly.
CHAPTER 8
When Anton woke again, in the bright light of a wintry morning, the young woman-Brenna-he had seen in the night was there, this time accompanied by a thin, neat man wearing a dark-blue tunic and trousers. Something indefinable about him made Anton think, “Doctor.”
Brenna confirmed his guess, nodding to the man. “Thank you, Healer Eddigar. You may leave us.” Although her accent was as thick as ever, the fog in his head seemed to have lifted, and he found it easier to follow than when he had first heard it.
Healer Eddigar nodded. “The guards are right outside if you need anything,” he said, his accent as thick as Brenna’s. He gave Anton a cool, dispassionate look. “His leg should heal normally now. He may rise with a crutch when he is ready.”
I’m right here! Anton thought. Probably thinks I can’t understand him.
Well, then. “Thank you, Healer,” he said.
Eddigar started, but did not reply. He just gave Anton a hard look, then nodded to Brenna and swept out through the inner door. A moment later Anton heard the outer door open and close.
“Good morning,” Brenna said to him then. “Do you remember meeting me last night?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “You introduced yourself then. Brenna, right? And then you said-” And suddenly, so fast and hard that, like a punch to the stomach, it drove a sob from his throat, he remembered what else she had said. “The Professor-”
Brenna pressed her lips together and her eyes turned bright. “I’m afraid it’s true.” She reached out and covered his hand, lying on the coverlet, with her own. “I’m so sorry. He was dead when I saw him. There was nothing anyone could do. But you are lucky to be alive yourself.”
He knew that. A crash into the trees was every airshipman’s nightmare. Only an in-flight fire was more terrifying. But he didn’t feel lucky. He felt… lost. What do I do now? Professor? What am I supposed to do now?
No answer came floating through the ether from beyond the grave. The Professor had believed in no gods, no soul, no hope for life beyond that enjoyed in this world in the physical body. Anton shared, or thought he shared, that same hard-nosed, practical belief… or lack of belief. But now he wished the Professor had been wrong, and that, as the god-followers claimed, words of comfort from the newly dead could truly be heard if only he prayed hard enough.
Brenna cleared her throat and said gently, “Your name is Anton?”