Sterren wondered how the other servants had received word of Ildirin’s death. Who had told them, and what had they been told? How many had decided to leave?
He closed the door and thought for a moment.
The weather was beautiful, of course, as it always was in Vond’s empire, but that might not last. He decided to enjoy it while he could. The courtyard held a magnificent flower garden.
He was sitting on an iron bench, feeling the sunlight warm on his face, and letting the scent of roses fill his nostrils, when Vond screamed.
The scream came not just from the warlock’s throat, but from the air around him, from the palace walls, and from the stone of the earth itself; everything vibrated in rhythm. The stones groaned, so deeply that the sound was more felt than heard, while the air shrieked and even the leaves of the garden whistled piercingly.
The scream had no words; it was shapeless terror given voice.
The echoes were still fading, the air still humming, when the window of Vond’s bedchamber exploded outward into the garden, spraying shattered glass in every direction; Sterren ducked and covered his head with his arms as shards rattled down on all sides.
When the last tinkling fragment had settled, he looked up and saw Vond hanging in the air above him. The warlock wore only a white tunic, and his face was almost equally white. His eyes were wide and staring, his hands trembling.
“Sterren!” he called. “Sterren!”
Sterren said quietly, “I’m here.”
Vond heard him and looked down. He plummeted from the sky and landed roughly on the graveled path, falling to his knees and only catching himself from falling flat on his face with one outstretched hand.
He looked up at Sterren and said, “The nightmares, Sterren, they’re back!”
Sterren nodded. “I thought so,” he said.
Vond’s expression changed suddenly. Sterren’s calm cut through his fear and released anger and uncertainty. “You thought so?” the warlock demanded.
Sterren blinked and said nothing.
Vond rose to his feet, using warlockry rather than hands and legs. “Just what did you think? I had a nightmare, how would you know anything about that?”
Sterren hesitated, trying to phrase an answer, and Vond continued, “It was just a nightmare! It wasn’t... wasn’t that. It couldn’t have been. It was just a nightmare, my mind playing tricks on me.”
“No,” Sterren said, shaking his head and marveling that even now, Vond could not accept what was happening.
“It was an ordinary nightmare,” Vond insisted. “It must have been! That thing in Aldagmor is still out of range. It has to be! I haven’t been using it! I’ve been getting power from Lumeth!”
“No,” Sterren repeated. He was horribly aware that Vond was on the verge of complete panic and could lash out wildly at any time and strike him dead instantly. “No, it almost certainly does come from Aldagmor.”
“It can’t,” Vond insisted.
“Of course it can!” Sterren answered, annoyed at Vond’s stubborn refusal to understand.
“But how?” Vond insisted, “I’m out of range here!”
Sterren shook his head. “Nowhere is really out of range; you know that. When you first came here, before you learned to use the Lumeth Source, you could still draw on Aldagmor. Not much, but a little. Don’t you remember? You couldn’t fly, but you could stop a man’s heart.”
“But that’s apprentice work! Apprentices don’t get the nightmares!”
“You’re no apprentice any more. Don’t you see? You’ve been drawing so much power from Lumeth, you’ve become so powerful, so receptive to warlockry, that the Aldagmor Source can reach you. Receptivity isn’t that selective. After all, your receptivity to Aldagmor was what let you use Lumeth in the first place. They’re the same thing; the more sensitive you are to one, the more sensitive you are to both. The Lumeth Source is closer, so you can draw far more power from it, but you still hear the Aldagmor Source, too.”
“But I cant!”
“You do. You told me so yourself. You couldn’t enter Lumeth of the Towers and you’ve been complaining for days about whisperings and buzzings in your head; didn’t you realize what they were?”
Vond paused, his expression shocked.
“No,” he said at last, “I didn’t. But they... you’re right, I was hearing Aldagmor. I wasn’t listening, since I had Lumeth, but I was hearing it. Why listen for a whisper when you can use a shout?” He focused on Sterren again.
“You knew“ he said accusingly. ”You knew this was coming!'
Sterren did not dare to reply.
“Why didn’t you warn me? I...” Realization dawned. “Gods, you encouraged me!” Vond exclaimed. “You, it was your idea to fold up the edge of the World!” Fury seethed in Vond’s eyes, and Sterren expected to die then.
He didn’t.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Vond screamed.
“I was going to,” Sterren answered, truthfully. “Really, I was. But then you killed Ildirin and hardly even noticed, and I... I thought you were becoming too dangerous. Besides-” He took a deep breath, and continued, “besides, would you have believed me?”
Vond’s face, though still pale, was calm as he forced himself to consider this question. He sat down on the bench beside Sterren.
“No,” he admitted at last. “No, I wouldn’t have.”
“Besides,” Sterren said, “I had no idea how much longer you had, how much power you would have to use before... before this.”
Vond nodded. “No other warlock ever came close to the power I had,” he said wistfully. Sterren noted his use of the past tense. He had already resigned himself to the situation.
“So,” Vond said, “I’m back where I was when you found me in Shiphaven Market, back in Ethshar, I’ve had my first nightmare, passed the brink. I need to either get farther from Aldagmor, or to stop using my magic and live with the nightmares, or else I’ll hear the Calling and... and do whatever the Calling makes one do.”
Sterren nodded.
“I can’t get any farther away, can I?”
“We’re not at the edge of the World,” Sterren pointed out. “Not quite.”
“But from here to the corner there’s nothing but sand and grass and desert. It’s not worth it. I can’t even build anything to live in; it would use too much power.”
“You could use your hands,” Sterren suggested.
Vond snorted derisively. “I don’t know how,” he said. “You could just stay here, go on as you have, and go out in a blaze of glory. After all, the Calling isn’t death, is it? It might not be so bad.”
“No,” Vond said flatly. “I don’t know what it is, but anything that sends those nightmares... No. I escaped it once, and that just makes it worse now.” He shook himself, and said with sudden resolution, “I’ll give up magic. I don’t need it now; I’m an emperor. I can live as I please without it!”
Sterren nodded. “Of course,” he said.
But he knew Vond could never do it. After using warlockry in such prodigious amounts for months, using it for his whims for years, could Vond really give it up?
Sterren did not believe it for a minute.
CHAPTER 38
Vond walked into the audience chamber, climbed the dais, and settled uneasily onto the borrowed throne. He looked down at Sterren.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Fine,” Sterren said reassuringly.
