Karl stared at the closed door, his body still, but his mind in turmoil.
He believed Mother Northwind; how could he not, when he had seen magic literally bounce off him and rebound on its wielder, twice, and when what she had told him so well explained the strange ability he had been aware of since childhood. And he would gladly believe he was not the Heir, that King Kravon was not his father… though he still had memories, from when he was little, of Kravon showing him affection, and of loving the strange man he saw only on rare occasions.
His real father, his real mother, he would never know. Mother Northwind had chosen them as nothing more than a… a breeding pair. She needed an infant she could substitute for the true Heir at birth, an unborn child she could mold into the Magebane, and it could have been anyone… it just happened to be him.
She stole my parents from me, Karl thought coldly. She stole my childhood. She cares nothing about me; I’m just a sword to wield against the MageLords.
But she had also left him with nothing else to be. He was not the Heir, and Falk had always known it. He would never be King, and Falk might well kill him once he was no longer needed.
And Teran, the bodyguard I thought was also my friend, will help him, he snarled silently, remembering what Mother Northwind had said about him.
I could flee, he thought. Flee through the Lesser Barrier, just walk right through it and disappear into the Commons…
… bringing down the wrath of Falk once more on the city of New Cabora, he realized sickly.
How many innocent people would suffer then because of him?
Suddenly Karl couldn’t stand still any longer. He turned and strode back into his bedroom, dressed in a hurry, and went out, Teran leaping to attention and following him as he passed through the hallways of the Palace almost at a run.
At the top of the Palace steps, Karl paused, staring down at the ornamental gardens, the statue of Queen Castilla, the lake, and the Barrier, and beyond the lake at the snow-choked, smoky city of New Cabora.
“I’m going across the lake,” Karl said to Teran, without looking at him, as the bodyguard caught up to him. “To the place where I like to swim.”
“Your Highness? Where the assassin-”
“Yes, where the assassination attempt was made,” Karl snapped. “Come.” And without another word he strode down the steps, toward the boathouse at the far end of the gardens.
There, he climbed into the same white-and-gold boat he had used to follow Jopps and Denson in the dark the night of Verdsmitt’s arrest. Teran climbed in behind him, picked up the oars, and began rowing them steadily, mechanically, across the lake. With only one or two glances over his shoulder, he drove the boat to within a few feet of where the assassin had died.
Karl jumped out, and strode up the grass to the Lesser Barrier. There he stopped. He reached out a hand to the barrier.
“Careful, Your Highness,” said Teran.
Karl ignored him. He leaned in with his outstretched hand…
… and it passed through shimmering Barrier as though it wasn’t there. He felt the icy nip of the outside air on his fingers.
Behind him, Teran gasped. “How…”
Karl withdrew his hand and studied New Cabora. Sunshine streamed down on the snow in the park today, which cast it back in a million diamond sparkles. The city, buildings black from decades of smoke, squatted on the other side of the parkland beneath a pall of ice fog, the contrast between its dark structures and the pure-white parkland making it look a dark and dangerous place indeed.
He turned around and studied the Palace. It shone like a jewel, white against the green of the lawns, windows sparkling, gardens awash in riotous flower colors. Karl listened. He could hear birds singing, insects chirping in the grass, even a distant, haunting snatch of music, though whether it came from living musicians or enchanted instruments, he had no way of knowing.
A butterfly, its wings iridescent blue, rested on the bright-red petals of a waist-high flower a few steps away. Karl knelt and examined the insect. It reminded him of the Palace in its beauty. Crushing such a thing would be an act of senseless destruction.
But there was one difference between the butterfly and the Palace. The butterfly was natural. Though it was out of season, in the real spring that would soon break winter’s grip on the world outside a million more just like it would appear. Its beauty owed nothing to magic.
Karl stood and gazed at the Palace again. Unlike the butterfly, there was nothing natural about it at all. It would not exist if not for magic. And yet, it too was beautiful.
Did he destroy it? Destroy all the wonderful things magic could do because some of those who wielded it used it for evil?
He turned and gazed at the Barrier again, and New Cabora beyond it. The city, black and ugly, was no more natural than the Palace. It had been built by men bending Nature to their will, just as the Palace had been, the only difference being the tools used. The Commoners’ tools were crude. Therefore, the city was crude and ugly. The MageLords’ tools were refined and powerful. Therefore, the Palace was refined and beautiful. But Commoners and Mageborn alike strove to impose their will on Nature.
The difference, Karl thought, is that the MageLords also seek to impose their will on others. But would Commoner rule really be any better?
Turning his back on the Palace, he stared out at the city again, pulled at by the desire to flee, to deny what he was-what Mother Northwind had made him-and simply refuse to act…
… except that by refusing to act he would be acting, and those actions would have consequences: for the Commoners, among whom Falk would surely seek him; for the MageLords, who would find Falk their King; and for the Outsiders, who would soon find themselves fighting the MageLords for their own freedom.
He remembered standing in this place the day of the assassination attempt, thinking how much he longed to be free of his imprisonment in the Palace. Now he was free; he could walk out on everything…
… and yet he felt less free than ever, for he had been given the unwanted power to decide the future of the Kingdom and the world.
It was too much. He put his hand through the Barrier again, held it there so long his fingers stung with cold by the time he pulled them back; but when he turned back toward the boat, he still had not made up his mind what to do.
But he did know one thing he had to do. Teran was staring at him, hand on his belt: not on his sword, but on one of the enchanted spellstones set into his guard belt. Karl glanced down, then up at Teran’s pale face. “Were you planning to use that on me?”
“Your Highness…” Teran licked his lips. “I thought… you put your hand through the Lesser Barrier… I… how? ”
“I could walk through it right now, Teran,” Karl said. “The Lesser Barrier is no barrier to me. It’s as open as that door into the maids’ bathing chambers.” He softened his voice. “Do you remember that door, Teran?”
A flicker of a smile on Teran’s face. “Of course I do.” The smile faded. “But I can’t let you do that, Your Highness.”
“Why?” Karl said.
“I am sworn to protect you-”
“Sworn to protect me?” Karl took a step closer to him and spoke his next words as though he were snapping a whip. “Or sworn to spy on me for Falk?”
Teran stepped back. “Your Highness-”
“Don’t bother protesting,” Karl said. “I know the truth.”
“You don’t understand,” Teran said. “Your Highness… Karl.. . Falk… he’s got my mother, my sister, they’re prisoners in a house in the Mageborn enclave…”
Karl remembered Teran’s sister, three years younger, as a laughing child with golden hair, playing with a ball in the Fountain Garden, and the hatred he had begun to feel for Falk flared higher. “Teran,” he said. “Falk’s days are numbered. You won’t need to fear him much longer.”