He supposed he should say “our” plans. After all, there would be no plans if he hadn’t figured out, over years of research, how the First Twelve had created the Barriers, and-more importantly-how to bring both of them crashing down.
But although he and Falk both wanted the Barriers to fall, their reasons differed. Far more, in fact, than Falk knew.
Tagaza had seldom been as near to the Lesser Barrier as he was now. With a glance at the corpse, which he was reasonably confident was not going anywhere, he strolled north from the lake the hundred yards or so to the Barrier, and looked through its faint shimmer into the swirling storm beyond. Such an amazing achievement, he thought in admiration. Not as amazing as the Great Barrier, which absolutely was impermeable to magic, completely and totally… and, not coincidentally, to light as well. The Lesser Barrier was something you could see through. It was not the dome it appeared, but a giant sphere, half a mile in diameter, the Palace at its center, extending as far beneath the ground as it did into the sky above.
Even more remarkably, it somehow had been carefully tuned to allow air to pass through it, and the stream that fed the lake, without also allowing rain and wind and snow. A very fine piece of magic indeed, and Tagaza knew that the skills of the ancient MageLords that had accomplished it were long lost.
But the skill to bring it crashing down remains, he thought with pride. It remains in me!
And a good thing, too, because the ancient MageLords had badly miscalculated when they’d set an arbitrary expiration date for the two Barriers at a thousand years after their creation. Did they not know? Tagaza thought, reaching out a hand, not to touch the Barrier, but just to feel the power emanating from it.
Perhaps they didn’t. The Old Kingdom, the histories agreed, had sprung up on an “inexhaustible” lode of magic. Tagaza did not believe such a thing existed, but if it were sufficiently large, the ancients might have, since they had never run up against its limit.
But this lode, the one on which the Palace had been built, the one to which they had transported themselves and all their more-or-less loyal followers eight centuries ago, was certainly not inexhaustible: not when the Barriers were drawing incredible amounts of magic from it day and night, and had been for centuries.
Tagaza had stumbled on that hard truth during his student days at the College of Mages. There were methods for measuring the amount of magic available in any particular location. The central lode in the Old Kingdom had been surrounded by many secondary lodes, avidly sought by magic miners. Cities sprouted where those lodes were found (making the miners who found them immensely wealthy).
But this lode, directly opposite the Old Kingdom on the sphere of the world, had no secondary lodes. It existed in solitary splendor, spread through the Kingdom only by a few veins, stretching out into the countryside like the spokes of a wheel. It was on the strongest of those veins that the First Twelve had established their demesnes.
With all the magic in Evrenfels so well mapped, the old magic-prospecting techniques had been long lost… until Tagaza, seeking an interesting focus for his graduate thesis, had decided to research them. Deep in the University archives he had found scrolls and ancient books detailing the methods the magic-miners had used. They weren’t particularly difficult, and in short order he had created one of the enchanted magic-measuring devices he had read about in the histories. He had calibrated it carefully, and then decided to test it by measuring the strength of the central lode itself, which had been precisely measured and carefully recorded when the Twelve arrived.
He still remembered his bewilderment when his first reading had shown the lode considerably underpowered from what the ancients had measured. He’d checked again, recalibrated his measuring device, and checked again. A hundred times he’d checked, double-checked, rechecked. The reading never changed.
Unable to find any fault with his equipment, he had been forced to assume that either the founders of the kingdom had made an error, or that the lode was slowly being drained of magic.
His instructors had laughed at him. But Tagaza had continued to research and ask questions, and though no one else would believe him, he had come to the inescapable conclusion that the Kingdom of Evrenfels was running out of magic. And from further research, he had come to the equally inescapable conclusion that the cause was the Barriers. Magic did replenish itself, slowly, over time; no one knew how, exactly, but the effect had been measured. But it did not replenish itself as quickly as the Barriers were drawing it out of the lode.
Tagaza had graphed it. In no more than fifty years, probably less, the level of magic in the Kingdom would reach the point where all of it would be going to the Barriers. The Mageborn would find themselves without the use of magic for the first time in history. And when that happened…
Tagaza drew back his hand from the Barrier. When that happens, he thought, looking out into the snowstorm outside, nothing will stand between us and the anger of the Commoners we have mistreated and exploited for so long.
He shuddered and turned his back on the Barrier. Which was why the Barriers had to come down. With only the Mageborn’s normal use of magic, the lode would be inexhaustible, or nearly. They could live without the Barriers…
… but only if they came to some better accommodation with the Commoners. Tagaza had argued over and over with Falk that the MageLords had to reform the way they governed, had to give the Commoners more rights… had, in fact, to adopt many of the policies the Common Cause-at least, the legal, public version of it-espoused.
If Mageborn and Commoners could live peaceably together, then the Lesser Barrier wouldn’t be needed. As for the Great Barrier… well, if the histories were true, nothing waited outside the Barrier except wilderness and savages. Ordinary force of arms could secure the borders well enough.
And if the outside world had found this land in the time since the Old Kingdom fell, it was a world ruled by Commoners. All the more reason to reach an accommodation with the Commoners within the Kingdom, before facing those without, Tagaza thought.
He heard a rattling from the bridge, and looked up to see an open wagon, a coffin in the back, rolling across the cobblestones with two men on the seat. He walked slowly back toward the corpse in the water.
Knowing the Barriers had to fall, he’d researched that little problem, too, and had figured out how to do it… but had also realized it was both fiendishly difficult and posed ethical problems, to say the least. It required the simultaneous murder of the King and the Heir.
At that point Tagaza might well have given up, if a certain tall, intense young man, a fellow student, had not come to his quarters one blustery winter night to ask him a few very pointed questions about his research into the construction of the Barriers.
The young man had been Falk, and though he hadn’t said much that night, over time he had revealed that he belonged to the forbidden sect known as the Unbound, and that the Unbound shared Tagaza’s desire to bring down the Barriers. Tagaza had been intrigued by Falk and the insights he offered into the Unbound. Tagaza thought their professed belief in some great “SkyMage” who guided and protected the MageLords as silly as the ancient legend of the Magebane, the “anti-mage” who supposedly had turned the MageLords’ magic against them during the Rebellion that destroyed the Old Kingdom, but the fact that they had held on to that belief, and their belief that the Barriers had been a cowardly mistake, for eight hundred years, fascinated him.
The Unbound taught that the Mageborn were a chosen people, gifted with magic by the SkyMage so that they could have dominion over the entire world. Their roots lay in the religious beliefs of the Old Kingdom, but the impetus for their coming together into an actual organization had been the First Twelve’s decision to hide the new Kingdom of Evrenfels behind the Great Barrier, and the King and Council behind the Lesser. The Unbound saw that not only as cowardly, but also as a direct affront to the will of the SkyMage.
Over the centuries Kings, Queens, and MageLords had persecuted the Unbound to a greater or lesser degree, but the cult had never faded away entirely, new recruits joining regularly, usually from the ranks of the young. Not too surprising, Tagaza thought. The Unbound message boils down to “you’re special, you’re better than everyone else, and unlike them, you know The Truth.” It might have been crafted specifically to appeal to young men. He snorted. Maybe it was.
Then, a little less than a century ago, the Unbound’s fortunes had taken an enormous turn for the better when, for the first time in their long secret history, a MageLord had joined their ranks: Lord Falk’s grandfather, Lord Excar.
Tagaza knew the story well enough to know that Excar’s conversion had had nothing to do with a sudden eruption of piety. It had been humiliation and fury that had driven him to the Unbound. And that message of being special and destined to rule would have really appealed to him, Tagaza thought.
That was because Excar had been the Heir Apparent, son of King Severad. Like Karl, he had grown up in the Palace. The dynasty had been unbroken for two and a half centuries at that point, so no one had doubted that, in time, the Keys would come to him. The First Mage didn’t even test him when he turned eighteen, the youngest age at which the Keys’ magic could be detected in their future recipient: there was no Confirmation Ceremony in those days.
The reason there was one now was because, when King Severad had died… the Keys had gone elsewhere. Five days after his death, five days of confusion and wondering in the Palace, a twenty-year-old Mageborn girl named Castilla had ridden up to the Gate of the Lesser Barrier, driven by an unbreakable compulsion to make the long journey from her father’s horse ranch near Berriton. The First Mage had examined her and declared that she now held the Keys, and she had immediately been crowned Queen Castilla: the first ruler of Evrenfels to arise from the ranks of the ordinary Mageborn rather than from one of the families of the Twelve.
The statue of her on the horse she had arrived on now stood at the foot of the ceremonial gardens in front of the Palace, and her grandson, King Kravon, now sat on the throne (figuratively speaking, Tagaza thought, since he so rarely made an appearance in the Great Hall for court functions).
Excar, now Lord Excar, had not been there to see her arrival. He had fled the Palace for good, returning to the family manor far to the west, near the Great Barrier. Young, bitter, still a MageLord, still wealthy, still powerful, but not King, he had known the Keys would never return to his family.
Tagaza suspected Excar’s real reason for joining the Unbound, offering his manor as a meeting place, providing money and resources, was to strike back at Castilla. In any event, he had quickly become the leader of the Unbound, as was his son after him, and his son after him: Lord Falk.
The Unbound had long faced a serious difficulty: to fulfill the SkyMage’s will, as they saw it, they had to bring down the Barriers. But as far as anyone knew, there was no way to bring down the Barriers.
Until Tagaza came along.
Early on in their discussions Tagaza had told Falk his belief that magic was fading, and would disappear entirely unless the Barriers fell. Falk had scoffed at that. He believed magic came from the SkyMage and could no more fade and fail than the sun, and that the lode of magic beneath the Palace was simply a conduit for the SkyMage’s power. He also vehemently disagreed with Tagaza’s argument that the MageLords and Mageborn had to find a way to share more power with the Commoners, treat them more as equals. The Unbound saw the Commoners first as an underclass, there to serve the Mageborn, and second as a potential threat. After all, it had been Commoners who had risen up in rebellion against the MageLords in the Old Kingdom, with the help of traitorous mages, of course, since it was unthinkable they could have defeated the Mageborn on their own.
“Treat them well as long as they keep their place,” Falk said. “Punish them without mercy if they don’t.”
Their differences were great, but their goal was the same. Both wanted the Barriers brought down.
And when Tagaza finally, one night over a bottle of wine… or possibly two, he couldn’t remember… told Falk how it could be done, Falk had grown very silent, excused himself early, and disappeared for several weeks.
When he’d reappeared, he’d asked Tagaza to work for him upon graduation. Tagaza had agreed, of course-it would have been foolish to turn down such a request from the heir of a MageLord even if he didn’t share Falk’s goals-and a few years later, when Falk’s father had died and Falk had ascended to the Twelve, Tagaza had (officially, though not in practice) left Falk’s service to join the Magecorps, advancing rapidly. When the King named Falk Minister of Public Safety, some years later, he had also named Tagaza First Mage, in which position he had remained now for twenty-five years.
Twenty years ago they had finally been able to begin the process of bringing down the Barriers. Until the Heir turned eighteen, and the presence of the Keys’ magic could be confirmed, they’d been unable to act. Having finally made that confirmation, they were within weeks of carrying out their long-laid plans…
… and now, this.
Tagaza looked uneasily again at the corpse in the water. Could Falk’s darkest suspicions be true? Could someone know, and was that someone working against them?
Mother Northwind may be able to find out, he thought, and shuddered. The old renegade Healer frightened him more than a little. He knew she had only to touch him to read his mind like an open book, and so he never let her touch him. But to think she might also be able to read the mind of a corpse… that was frightening on a whole new level. A man’s secrets should be safe when he’s in the grave, he thought.
Although he had to admit that he fervently wished her luck in obtaining information from this corpse.
The wagon sent to retrieve the body had almost arrived. About time , Tagaza thought. My wine should still be waiting in the garden. I might not even be called on for the Prince’s afternoon tutoring session. An assassination attempt is a pretty good excuse for skipping class.
He smiled a little as he thought about how Karl had stood up to Lord Falk… and how much it must have galled Falk to show the respect due to a Prince to the youngster.
Karl would make a far better King than Kravon, Tagaza thought. Perhaps a very fine King indeed. Too bad he’s not really the Prince, or the Heir, at all.
He sighed, and went to meet the approaching wagon.