… 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 into a simple spell he’d crafted many years before and said into empty air, “Sintha, I might as well get started on those inspectors’ reports. Please bring them in.”
“Yes, First Mage.” He heard her voice clearly in his mind as she responded to the magical call. A few minutes later she entered with a stack of papers. “Here you are.”
“Any more news on the Prince?” he asked, as casually as he could, reaching for the top sheet.
“No, First Mage.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.”
“I will.”
He gave her a dismissive smile, and she curtsied a little, then went back into the outer office, closing the door behind her. Tagaza started reading the paper on the desk. Magelight Inspection Report, Royal Palace, Royal Quarters. Greetings, First Mage Tagaza. As noted in my last report, we continue to suffer mysterious failures of the enchanted lightstones near the Prince’s quarters. It could be due to some natural interfering material in the stonework. I propose…
Tagaza read on, making notes. He found it hard to concentrate at first, but gradually the rhythm of the neverending paperwork reasserted itself and he became engrossed in the work. The day passed swiftly. He ate lunch at his desk, Sintha bringing in a plate of cold meat, cheese, and bread, and a bottle of Old Evrenfels Amber, Commoner-brewed but the best beer in the Kingdom for all that. By midafternoon, he had reached the bottom of the pile; but as he reached for the last report, the door to his office crashed open. In strode Falk… and two grim-faced guards. Beyond them, in the outer office, he could see Sintha, craning her neck to see what was happening.
Tagaza froze for an instant, hand on the last report; then he forced himself to pick it up as though completely unconcerned by the First Minister’s unannounced arrival. “Lord Falk,” he said. He laid the report on the desk in front of him, then picked up his pen, enchanted so that it magically transported ink from a reservoir in his desk as needed and thus never ran out. It was wrapped in an insulating leather sheath so it didn’t freeze his fingers as he used it. “Have you found the Prince yet? Is there anything I can do to assist?”