The Unwelcome Warlock

Lumeth source occurred to Sterren, and he almost fell down the stairs at the mere thought. One such warlock had reshaped the Small Kingdoms; what might scores of them do?

But how could anyone else have tapped into the Lumeth source? No, that didn’t seem very likely. The Wizards’ Guild wouldn’t allow it.

He paused on the third floor of the castle to catch his breath, call a few more orders, and take a look out a north-facing window.

The flying people had arrived more quickly than he had expected; they were already settling to the ground in Palace Square, while the capital’s inhabitants made way and stared in astonishment.

One of them, though, was not descending with the others; he was hanging in the air above the great doors of the Imperial Palace. He was tall, thin, and pale, and wore a black robe embroidered with gold. Sterren felt his throat tighten and his stomach knot. It had been fifteen years, but he remembered a robe like that.

That had been what Vond wore.

Sterren reached out and opened the casement just as the apparition began to speak, and even though he was at least half a mile away, Sterren could hear every word — the warlock was using magic to amplify his voice.

“People of Semma!” the flying man said. “I, the Great Vond, have returned! I have come back from a far realm to resume rule over my empire! Let the word be spread from Quonshar to Ksinallion that I am here!”

“Oh, this is bad,” Sterren said. Vond was back, and judging by his words, as egotistical as ever. But how was this possible? He had been Called, and no warlock ever returned from the Calling.

Or at least, none had until now.

Sterren turned away from the window and found two of his personal guards standing in the passage. “You, Bragen,” he said. “Go find Lar Samber’s son. Whether he likes it or not, he’s about to come out of retirement; I need to talk to him as soon as possible. Do whatever it takes to get him to come; he probably won’t want to. Threaten him if you need to.”

Bragen bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He turned and hurried away.

Sterren looked at the other guard. “Noril, go find Princess Shirrin and as many of my children as you can, and tell them to get out of the castle and away from Semma as quickly as possible. Go with them. Head for Akalla. If they can get to Ethshar, so much the better. Travel anonymously — you understand?”

Noril hesitated. “I...I think so, my lord.”

“Don’t just think so! That’s Emperor Vond out there, and if he loses his temper and doesn’t like what we’ve done with the place since he left, this whole city may be a hole in the ground by tomorrow, and I don’t want my family here if that happens.”

Noril bowed hastily. “Yes, my lord.” Then he, too, turned and hurried away.

Sterren forgot about his dignity as regent and ran for the stairs; he had to get to Palace Square at once. It was certain that Vond would want to see him, and keeping the warlock waiting was never a good idea.

Fifteen minutes later he trotted out into the plaza to find Vond waiting for him, hanging a foot or so off the ground. A mob of strangers and townspeople lined the sides of the square, but had left a wide berth around the warlock.

Most of the strangers, Sterren saw, wore black clothes — that probably meant they were more warlocks.

That was very, very bad.

Sterren was unsure just how best to greet the emperor, and decided not to go to either extreme; he stopped perhaps eight feet away and bowed, but did not kneel or otherwise abase himself. “Your Majesty,” he said.

Vond stared at him for a long moment, then said, “Sterren? Is that you?”

Sterren straightened up and looked Vond in the eye. “Of course it’s me,” he said.

“You’ve changed.”

“It’s been fifteen years — and I notice, your Majesty, that you haven’t changed. Frankly, that comes as something of a surprise.”

Vond smiled crookedly. “You didn’t expect me to come back at all, Sterren — you know it, and I know it. You don’t need to pretend.”

“I wasn’t pretending, your Majesty. You’re quite right, I didn’t expect you to come back. How did you manage it? Who are these people you brought with you?” He gestured at the surrounding strangers.

“They’re warlocks,” Vond said. “Or at least, they used to be.” He smiled unpleasantly.

“Used to be?” Sterren asked. “I take it there’s been some drastic change in...well, in something?”

“Oh, yes, there certainly has.” The smile broadened to a grin. “The Calling has ended, Sterren. Ended.”

That raised a great many questions, but Sterren settled on one to start with. “Ended? Permanently?”

“Oh, I think so, yes. The thing that was doing the calling, that was the source of warlockry, that fell out of the sky on the Night of Madness? That thing? It’s gone. It went home.”

Sterren considered that for half a second, then asked, “You don’t expect it to return for a visit, then?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“It hadn’t acquired a liking for Aldagmor?”

“Not at all.”

Sterren stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “So there isn’t anything magical in Aldagmor anymore? The only warlocks who can still work magic are the ones who use the source in Lumeth, instead?”

Vond nodded.

“Did you teach these people to use it?” Sterren gestured at the observers.

“No,” Vond said. “Not yet. I might, in time.”

“Or they might hear the buzz for themselves, the way you did.”

Vond’s smile vanished, and he looked around, suddenly uncertain. He clearly hadn’t thought of that possibility.

“But what you actually mean,” Sterren said hastily, to distract the emperor before he could do anything regrettable, “is that you are now the only warlock in the World.”

The smile reappeared. “Exactly! I am almost as powerful as I was before, and now I have no need to worry about the Calling. There’s nothing to stop me from expanding my empire further. I could unite all the Small Kingdoms!”

That was more or less what Sterren had feared, but something else Vond had said caught his attention. “Almost as powerful?”

“Almost, yes. I was drawing on both sources before, even when I didn’t know it, and now there is only one. In Aldagmor I found out I wasn’t as strong as before — these people are all I could carry, where I used to be able to move the World itself. My power increased as I flew south, though. I expect I will soon be stronger than ever.”

“It was most likely because of the distance, your Majesty; Aldagmor is a long way from Lumeth.”

“Do you think that’s it?” Vond glanced around again. “You’re probably right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You said these were all you could carry? Then there were more who survived the Calling?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course. Thousands of them; probably every warlock who was ever Called. We were all trapped in the thing’s protective spells — that’s why I haven’t aged. Has it really been fifteen years?”

“Yes, your Majesty, it has.”

“I see there are new buildings everywhere, and my palace is showing some wear.” He stared critically at the huge double doors; Sterren knew their finish was noticeably more weathered than it had been when Vond left. Giving them a fresh coat of varnish had never made it into the imperial budget.

That wasn’t important now, though. Sterren asked, “Your Majesty, what happened to the others?”

“What? The other Called warlocks? Oh, they’re probably still in Aldagmor.” He waved dismissively. “They aren’t my problem.”

“May I ask, then, why you brought these people?”