went straight to fetch you.”
Sterren nodded. “All right,” he said. “You go find whoever takes care of such matters and see to it that the Imperial Council is in the council chamber an hour from now. I need to speak to them.”
The valet hesitated. “What do I do here?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Sterren said. “Leave it just the way it is. The Great Vond might come back.”
With a shiver, Sterren realized that might even be true. Nobody knew what happened to warlocks who gave in to the Calling. None had ever returned.
But Vond had been more powerful than any other warlock who ever lived, and warlocks had only existed, and therefore had only been vanishing, for twenty years. Nobody really knew whether Vond might come back.
But quite frankly, Sterren doubted it.
Back in his room, he had someone fetch him a tray of breakfast pastry, which he ate while bathing. When he was washed, fed, and dry, he took his time in dressing in his best tunic and breeches, combing his hair, brushing out his freshly grown mustache, he was almost, he thought as he looked at the mirror, ready to grow a proper beard. When he was thoroughly satisfied with his appearance, he headed for the council chamber.
All seven councillors were there waiting for him; Lady Kalira, anticipating his arrival, was at the foot of the table, leaving room for him at the head. He marched in and took his place.
“The Great Vond,” he announced, “has moved on to a higher plane of existence.”
“You mean he’s dead?” Prince Ferral asked. “No,” Sterren said. “Or at least, I don’t think so.”
“You’ll have to explain that,” Algarven remarked. Sterren did, not concerning himself with the truth. Warlocks, he explained, did not die the way ordinary people did. They vanished, transmogrified into pure magic. The nightmares and other ills that the Great Vond had been suffering were his mortal body’s attempts to prevent this ascension.
“He’s gone, though?” Prince Ferral demanded.
“He’s gone,” Sterren admitted. “But we don’t know if it’s permanent. It’s only twenty years since warlockry was first discovered, and the Great Vond was the most powerful warlock the World has yet seen. We really don’t know whether he might return or not.”
The councillors watched Sterren carefully, and he looked them over in return, trying to judge how many of them believed him. He couldn’t tell. After all, these were all expert politicians. They could hide their opinions quite effectively.
Then Lady Kalira asked the really important question, the one that Sterren had called this meeting to answer.
“What now?” she said.
“I don’t know,” Sterren admitted.
“Well, what do you think?” Algarven asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sterren said. “We could just go on the way we have been. After all, nobody outside the palace has seen Vond in almost two months now. Nobody has to know that anything has changed.”
“I don’t know about that,” Algarven said. “I don’t think we can keep it secret forever. The servants will know, and they’ll talk.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“We could take Lord Sterren’s approach,” Lady Kalira suggested, “and say that he’s gone, but he’ll be back.”
“Do we want to go on as we have?” asked Lady Arris of Ksinallion. “We could put everything back the way it was, couldn’t we?”
“Could we?” Algarven said. “What would we do with this palace?”
Everyone began talking, and Sterren lost track of who was saying what.
“Why should we go back to stupid little border wars?”
“Why break up the strongest nation in the Small Kingdoms?”
“What if the peasants don’t want to switch back?”
“What about all the roads he built?”
“We could be beheaded for treason!”
“How would we divide up the imperial treasury?”
It was Lady Kalira who settled the matter by asking, “Do you really want someone like King Phenvel back on the throne?”
That settled it; the Empire of Vond would continue.
“What about a new emperor?” Prince Ferral asked.
“Who?” Algarven asked in reply.
“If we pick one of the deposed kings, we’ll have rebellions in the other provinces,” Lady Kalira pointed out.
“What about Lord Sterren?” Lady Arris asked. Sterren thought he sensed a current of approval and he blocked it quickly. He had thought this all through once before, when Vond had appointed him to handle the details of government.
“No,” he said, “I’m not interested. I didn’t want to be warlord of Semma, I didn’t want to be Vond’s chancellor, and I certainly don’t want to be your emperor!” Lady Kalira started to speak, and Sterren cut her off. “You don’t need an emperor,” he said. “The Hegemony hasn’t got an emperor. Sardiron hasn’t got an emperor. They get along just fine.”
“What do they have?” Prince Ferral asked. “The Hegemony has a triumvirate, three overlords who form a sort of council. And Sardiron has a council of barons. We have a council here; we don’t need an emperor.”
“You’re suggesting, then, that the Imperial Council be the highest authority?” Algarven asked.
Sterren nodded. “Exactly,” he said.
“And what of our chancellor?” Lady Kalira asked. “What will you do?”
“Retire, if you’ll let me,” Sterren said. “I’d like to settle down quietly, find some sort of honest work — though I certainly wouldn’t mind if you want to vote me a pension, or maybe even an appointment of some sort.”
Lady Kalira rose and glanced at the other councillors. “I think,” she said, “that we need to discuss this by ourselves.”
Sterren bowed. “As you wish, my lady,” he said. “If you need me, I expect to be at Semma Castle.” She bowed in return, and Sterren left the room. As he strolled down the hill on one of Vond’s fine paved roads, he whistled quietly to himself.
It was over. He had discharged his responsibilities. He had cleaned up the mess he had created. He had won Semma’s war, but in the process of winning it he had unleashed Vond and destroyed Semma. Now he had removed Vond, but had kept his good works, his empire, intact. He could not be warlord of Semma, since Semma was gone, and now he was no longer chancellor of Vond.
He was free, he could go home to Ethshar if he wanted, or he could stay where he was. He was crossing the market before the castle gate when a soldier spotted him and waved. He waved back.
“Lord Sterren,” the man called in Semmat. “What about a game of three-bone?” Sterren looked over, thinking of the feel of the dice in his fingers. At that thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a faint silent buzz, or perhaps even a whisper.
He shuddered.
“No, thanks,” he called. He turned his gaze away, up toward the castle.
He saw Princess Shirrin standing on the battlements, watching him approach. He waved. She smiled, and waved back. Startled, he stumbled and almost fell, then caught himself and walked on.
She must finally have forgiven him for allowing her father to be deposed, he realized. She could not possibly know yet that Vond was gone.
He could explain it all to her now, explain how he had known Vond was doomed and that to resist him would only lead to disaster. She would welcome this explanation, he was sure. She would welcome him. He thought he just might stay in Semma after all.
