thatâs not the Guildâs doing.â
âWell, I didnât go out and learn this,â the queen protested. âIt just happened.â
Agravan nodded. âIâm sure it did,â he said. âMaybe it will go away again. Good night, Ruli.â He stepped back and closed the door.
Then he beckoned to one of his bodyguards and told him quietly, âTonight, when sheâs asleep, kill her.â He no longer sounded drunk at all.
âKill the queen? â the guard asked, startled.
âYes,â Agravan said. âKill the queen.â He glanced back at the door, hoping this mysterious magic hadnât given Rulura the ability to hear through a closed door.
âItâll mean war with Hollendon, Your Majesty,â the bodyguard warned him. âAre you sure you shouldnât wait until youâre sober to decide such a thing?â
âIâm sure,â Agravan said. âWe canât afford to wait. You heard what she said about putting a knife in someoneâs back. She might well put one in my back, if she thinks she can use her magic to get away with it. Thereâs a reason the Wizardsâ Guild wonât allow anyone of royal blood to learn magic.â
âSheâs just levitating pens,â the guard protested.
â So far itâs just pens. Iâm not going to risk waiting. You have your orders.â
The bodyguard sighed. âYes, Your Majesty,â he said.
An hour later the only member of any royal family in the Small Kingdoms to have become a warlock became a corpse, eliminating any possible threat to the Guildâs prohibitions on mixing magic and government.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
In one small village in Aldagmor, easternmost and most mountainous of the Baronies of Sardiron, an old woman named Kara had hidden in her wardrobe when the screaming and other noises began. Now that everything had been quiet for a time she finally emerged, looking around cautiously by the dim moonlight.
Everything appeared normal. She lit a lamp and saw that her bedroom was undamaged.
The village was quiet.
The village was, she thought, too quiet. After all the commotion before she would have expected her neighbors to be gossiping in the road, but she couldnât hear any voices through her open window. She threw on a shawlâeven in midsummer the night breeze could be cool on the slopes of the mountainsâand hurried through the other room of her cottage, out into the center of the village.
It was utterly deserted.
She looked around at the other houses. Some were intact, untouched and dark.
Others were just as dark, but far from intact. The greenhouse at the east end of the cottage where Imirin the Herbalist lived had been smashed to bits. Half the roof was gone from her brother Karnâs house. And Elnerâs house was gone completely.
â Hai! â she called. âWhat happened?â
No one answered. The only sound was the gentle sighing of the night wind in the trees.
Frightened, Kara began searching the village house by house, looking for some sign of life, someone who could tell her what had happened.
She found no one. Doors were unlocked, many standing open, even in the intact houses, so she was able to investigate thoroughly. Every remaining bed was empty; no one replied to her cries.
Finally, she stood in the center of the village again, certain she was the only person left there, alive or dead.
She had found footprints leading southeast. She had noticed that the open doors, broken walls, missing roofs, and so on were all on the east or south. She looked in that direction, into the darkness of the night, and saw nothing.
For a moment she thought of following, of walking southeast in search of her missing friends and family. The urge grew, huge and irrational, and she took a step.
Then she caught herself. She hadnât survived seventy-three northern winters by acting on impulse or following blindly after
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