“No, of course not,” Alris said, startled.“No one may enter! That’s why Uncle Faran can’t leave-the overlord isn’t lettinganyone in, not even him! Not the guards, not messengers-they have to call their messages through the door without stepping inside. No exceptionsat all.”
“Oh,” Hanner said, startled. “But then how willyou get back in?”
“I won’t,” Alris said. “I’ll be staying with you.” She smiled, the brightest smile Hanner had seen from her in months. “It’ll be an adventure!”
“Staying where?” Hanner asked.
“Oh, well, that’s why Uncle Faran sent me,” Alris said. She reached into the purse on her belt and produced an ornate black key. “He didn’t trust anyone but us with this, and Nerra refused to come, so I volunteered.”
Hanner had never seen the key before, but he knew immediately what it must be for. Lord Faran’s official residence was in the Palace, where he was easily available when Lord Azrad wanted him, but he was not, in fact, always available. He was only home in the Palace perhaps four nights in ten. Hanner and his sisters had long suspected thathe— maintained an unofficial residence as well, where he could indulge himself in interests that might not please the overlord and might not be welcome in the Palace.
None of them knew where this other residence was, though— or at least, none of them had until now. “He told you where it is?” Hanner asked.
Alris nodded. “It’s at the corner of High Street and Coronet Street. The northeast corner.”
That was about half a dozen blocks to the southwest of where they now stood, in the New City.
“Lead the way,” Scanner said. Then he raised his voice and called, “Yorn! Rudhira! Varrin! All of you! Follow me!”
Alris started and looked about nervously as the warlocks rose — some of them Veil into the air — and assembled. “Uncle Faran said we could stay there, Hanner,” she said. “You and me, not all these people.”
“They need to stay somewhere” Hanner replied. “I ordered them to follow me, back in the Wizards’ Quarter; that makes me responsible for them. They can sleep on the floor; I’m sure we can squeeze them all in.”
Hanner knew enough of his uncle’s tastes to be sure of that; Faran was not the sort: to settle for a mere furnished room for his trysts. Hanner expected a fair-sized apartment.
“I don’t-” Alris began.
“Alris,” Hanner said, cutting her off, “we’reall going. It’s my decision, not yours; if Uncle Faran doesn’t like it we can deal with that later. Now, lead the way.”
Reluctantly, Alris obeyed, and the entire party trudged out of the torchlit square into0the shadowy streets.
Chapter Ten
Kennan stood in the corner of the plaza, staring in frustration at the ranked soldiers.
They wouldn’t let himnear the Palace. When he had told them he had to speak with the Lord High Magistrate about his stolen son, they had told him that a hundred other people were in line ahead of him, and the overlord wasn’t lettinganyone see Lord Karannin.
And then when those people had come flying up Arena Street the soldiers hadn’t taken them prisoner or tried to kill them— instead they had just sent someone totalk to them. Kennan stood up on his toes, trying to see clearly, as the officer talked to the chubby young man in the fancy tunic.
As he watched, the officer turned and beckoned to another soldier. They spoke quietly for a moment, and then the second soldier began pushing his way toward the Palace.
Kennan watched, fuming-was that guardsman going to be permitted in, where he, an honest citizen with a legitimate grievance, was not?
But then the guardsman was stopped on the bridge, and his message, whatever it was, was relayed from there.
So even messengers weren’t being permitted inside.
Then he couldn’t hope to get inside the Palace tonight. He looked at the motley bunch of people gathered at the mouth of Arena Street —the young man in the fancy tunic, the flying whore, the worried-looking guardsman, and the rest.
If the guards could talk to them, Kennan decided, so could he. They might know what was going on, and where Aken had been taken. He began making his way around the side of the square.
By the time he reached Arena Street the others had retreated slightly, and it took a moment before he could locate them again. There were people scattered about, some standing, some sitting against walls, but he couldn’t tell which were magicians; no one was hanging in the air anymore.
At last he spotted the redheaded whore perched atop the wall surrounding a mansion on Aristocrat Circle. He walked up to her and called up,“Hai! I’d like to talk to you.”
She turned and looked down at him.
“Go away,” she said. “I’m not available.”
Kennan felt his ears redden. “I’m not a customer,” he snapped. “I need to ask you something, about my son.”
The redhead looked bored. “What name was he using?” she asked.
“He wasn’t a customer, either,” Kennan said, exasperated. “It’s not aboutyou.”
“If it’s not aboutme, then why are youasking me?” she demanded.
“I saw you flying,” Kennan said. “I thought you might know something.”
The whore sighed. “Then ask. But I probably don’t.”
“His name is Aken of the Strong Arm. He was taken from his bed earlier tonight, snatched out the window by magic.”
The woman turned up an empty palm. “I never heard of him,” she said. “Don’t know anything about anyone being snatched out a bedroom window. Sorry.” “Is there someone I could ask? Some magician?”
The woman turned up her palm again.
“Gods, woman, don’t you have any compassion?” Kennan shouted. “My son is missing, and I want to know who’s responsible!”
“None of usknow who’s responsible, old man!” the redhead shouted back. “We don’t know you and we don’t know your son, and in case you haven’t noticed, half the city has gone raving mad tonight, prancing about smashing shop windows and setting things on fire, and some of us have had this magic thrust upon us, and we don’t know any more about it thanyou do!”
Kennan stared up at her in silent anger, fists clenching and unclenching.
“Go away,” she said, and Kennan found himself forced back, against his will, toward the plaza.
He fought at first, but it did no good, so at last he turned and walked away under his own power. When he had rounded the corner, out of sight of the woman in red, he stopped, took a deep breath, and collected himself.
He didn’t know who those people were, but theyowed him an explanation.
Just then he heard a commotion behind him, and he turned to see a girl in her early teens step out of the lines of soldiers and call, “Hanner?”
Kennan turned and watched as the man in the silk-trimmed tunic appeared out of the shadows and spoke to the girl-who, Kennan realized, must have come from the Palace.
There was something going on here, definitely. All of these people were working together, he was sure of it. He watched them closely, trying to hear as much as he could of their conversation.
“Woone may enter!” the girl said. Kennan couldn’t make out her next sentence, but that was clear. He listened and heard her conclude, “No exceptions at all.”
Kennan didn’t hear the next exchange, but then the girl said, “It’ll be an adventure!” She reached into her purse and showed the man something Kennan couldn’t see.
More words Kennan couldn’t catch, and then the man raised his voice and called, “Yorn! Rudhira! Varrin! All of you! Follow me!”
