Puzzled, Sterren waited a moment for him to reappear, then turned and headed for the stairs. He wanted to see what was happening.
By the time he had saddled a horse and ridden out the gate and past the palace, it was all over. He found Vond standing atop a newly erected stone dais in the middle of a field, and the entire Ksinallionese army spread out before him, bowing in obeisance.
Three fresh corpses lay at the foot of the dais, sprawled awkwardly, swords fallen from their hands. Another corpse lay in the dirt amid the bowing Ksinallionese, this one burned black.
“Hello, Sterren,” Vond said as he rode up.
“What happened?” Sterren asked.
“Well, these men marched up, as you see, and I stopped them. I didn’t hurt them, just stopped them. Most of them couldn’t understand a word I said, but a few spoke Ethsharitic, and one of them said they wanted to parley. I think my citadel had impressed them. Anyway, that one there,” he said, pointing to one of the bodies that wore an officer’s uniform, “claimed to be the Ksinallionese warlord. That fellow over there,” he went on, indicating a bowing survivor, “served as his interpreter. They said that they had no quarrel with me — they called me a wizard, but I let that slide, since they didn’t know any better. Anyway, they said they were at war with Semma, not with me.”
Sterren nodded.
“Well, I explained that I had conquered Semma and intended to conquer Ksinallion, too, but that I hadn’t gotten around to it yet; and I offered them a chance to surrender. The warlord got all red in the face and swore he’d never surrender to a damned wizard, or something like that, and I told him that in that case, he might as well try and kill me, and we’d see what happened. So he tried, and I let him take a few stabs at me with his sword, and then I exploded his heart.”
Sterren found the calm way in which Vond described this murder to be extremely upsetting, but he hid that reaction and asked, “What about the others?”
“Well, after that, there was a lot of discussion in whatever language these people use amongst themselves — Ksinallionese, I suppose it is. Then this one,” he said, indicating another corpse, “tried to distract me, while that one,” pointing to the final unburned body, “came up behind me and tried to stab me. I stopped both their hearts. And while I was doing that, that one over there,” he pointed to the burned remains, “fired an arrow at me. He was too far away to be sure of getting his heart properly the first try, so I fried him, instead. After that, I told the interpreter that I would now accept the surrender of anyone who cared to surrender and bow to me. And then you rode up, and here we are.” He waved a hand. “I think a few at the back ran, instead, but I won’t worry about it.” He looked over the hundreds of groveling figures. “I think I’ve just acquired a palace guard,” he said, smiling.
“What are you going to do about Ksinallion, then?” Sterren asked.
“Oh, I guess I’ll fly there this afternoon, stage a few demonstrations, and let them surrender. I wasn’t planning to start empire-building until I had my citadel finished, but I can’t just leave them there after this.”
Sterren nodded.
That afternoon, Corinal II, King of Ksinallion, capitulated. He abdicated in favor of the Great Vond, and the Kingdom of Ksinallion became the second province of the Empire of Vond.
At least, Vond considered it the second. Sterren, who had ridden along to watch, pointed out that Phenvel had not actually surrendered yet.
Vond shrugged that off. “I’ll worry about that after I finish my palace.”
Two days later Vond intercepted a party of Ophkarite soldiers spying on his palace and took a break from construction to force another capitulation. He had to kill King Neran IV before Neran’s heir, the newly elevated King Elken III, would surrender and add Ophkar to the Empire of Vond.
Vond got home in time to finish tiling the roof. That night, during dinner at the high table in Semma Castle, Phenvel finally confronted Sterren directly and demanded, “Whose side are you on, the warlock’s or mine?”
“I am on the side of what’s best for Semma, your Majesty,” Sterren replied quietly, putting down his fork.
“What does that mean?”
“Your Majesty, I mean what I said.”
What he actually meant was that he was in favor of whatever caused the least trouble and did the least damage to lives and property. He was not particularly concerned with any other criteria in choosing “best.”
“And who do you see as best for Semma, me or the warlock?” Phenvel demanded.
“At the moment, your Majesty,” Sterren said, “I see only that to argue with the warlock is to die.”
“To defy me can get you killed, too, warlord!” Sterren tensed at this threat, but forced his voice to remain calm. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I don’t think you want to do that. The warlock thinks me his friend and would not like it if you killed me.” He hesitated, considering whether he dared say anything, and if so how much, then added, “Besides, I can promise you that he will not rule for long.” “Oh?” Phenvel eyed Sterren intently. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but I can’t tell you that.” He gestured at the crowded tables. “If someone here were to hear and word get back to Vond, I fear what would happen.” In a moment of inspiration, he suggested, “Perhaps you could ask the wizard Annara.”
Phenvel looked without thinking, then realized that Annara, as a mere commoner, was not at the high table; as a rule, she and Ederd ate their meals in the kitchen with the servants.
He snorted and turned back to his fried potatoes. Sterren was able to finish his meal in peace and then slip out of the castle unnoticed.
He strolled through the village, with its odd empty spaces where houses had been destroyed, and down the hill, where he paused and looked at Vond’s palace.
The greater moon was high in the sky, the lesser low in the east, and the white marble seemed to almost glow in the moonlight. The five towers, one at each corner, and a much larger one over the gate in the center of the northwestern wall, stood out starkly against the starry sky. Lights shone from a few windows, but he knew that most of the structure was still empty.
He watched it unhappily.
Vond was accomplishing some impressive feats. The palace was beautiful, at least on the outside, although a bit ominous in its appearance, with its high, blank walls. The village at Semma Castle was cleaner and sounder than ever before, at least, what there was of it. Ophkar, Ksinallion, and Semma were united for the first time in three hundred years, and at the cost of only seven lives in all, counting from the day after Vond’s sudden acquisition of access to the Lumeth power source.
But it all made Sterren very uneasy. He knew that it could not possibly last, and even while it did last, he did not trust Vond to remain as harmless as he had been so far.
He had more or less decided on a course of action already, but he was not happy with it. He liked Vond; the warlock was like a child with a new toy, or really, an entire new playroom. Still, Sterren intended to do all he could to remove Vond from power in Semma, not on behalf of any foolish king, but because Vond was clearly very dangerous indeed.
What would happen if the Wizards’ Guild did decide to remove Vond? A magical battle on the scale Vond operated on might lay waste to the entire area.
What if other warlocks did come along and take part in ruling the empire? No matter how benevolent Vond might be, a question that was still in doubt, sooner or later, a warlock would come along who was not.
And Vond would not always be there to stop such a warlock.
Better, Sterren thought, if Vond were to go quickly, before any other warlocks arrived.
He sighed and decided to go sleep at the Citadel, as Vond’s palace was now known, rather than Semma Castle. The warlock had said he was always welcome there, though he had not yet been given a room specifically for his own use or moved in any of his belongings. Phenvel, on the other hand, was no longer making Sterren feel welcome at all.
He said nothing to the warlock of what had happened.
It was only coincidence that the next day Vond came to Semma Castle, smashed every door that was closed against him to splinters, and demanded Phenvel’s formal surrender of authority.
Phenvel, Third of that Name, King of Semma, agreed immediately, and the Kingdom of Semma ceased to
