“I think something called meboth times,” said Varrin the Weaver, the last of the three flyers, the other who had dreamed twice, and the one whose initial experience, destroying his entire bedroom, had been the most violent.
Just then another warlock, newly arisen from his borrowed bed, wandered in, to be immediately confronted by Rudhira.
“Didyou have any strange dreams last night?” she demanded.
Startled, the warlock-a youth named Othisen Okko’s son— said, “What?”
Rudhira repeated the question. The boy, a farmer’s son who had been in the city consulting a theurgist when the new magic appeared, looked around at the crowd staring at him.
“Sort of,” he said. “I don’t really remember.”
Rudhira looked ready to interrogate Othisen further, but Hanner interrupted.
“I don’t think it matters,” he said. “I think it’s clear that there is some common phenomenon at work here, something that happened last night that caused these nightmares and that gave you all this strange magic. And it’s clear that it’s affected different people differently, which is why some of you have much more powerful magic than others, some have more intense dreams, and so on. Finding out exactly which effect it’s had on whom isn’t important. Finding out what it was, and whether the effects are permanent, and whether there areother effects we don’t know about,might be important. So we know that the magic hasn’t gone away, and the dreams haven’t gone away-but not everyone had the dreams, and they do seem to be a little less intense the second time around. Now, has anyone noticed anything else out of the ordinary? Has the magic faded at all?”
The warlocks looked at one another. Rudhira ventured, “There was a lot of screaming last night, when it all first started.”
“That was because of the nightmares,” Zarek said. “I woke up screaming. So did some of the people around me. I was terrified and thought for a moment I was going mad.” “Maybe you did go mad,” someone suggested. “Maybe wetill did, and we’re just imagining this.”
“I don’t think so,” Hanner said, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of his hand. “Anything else?”
No one had any other observations to report.
“Fine,” Hanner said. “Then is the magic weakening with time?”
There was a sudden rustling, and a surreal flurry of motion as most of the warlocks began testing themselves by lifting up from the floor, levitating random objects, sliding furniture around, and so on.
Rudhira did not move, which Hanner found interesting; she merely watched.
Yorn rose gently from the floor until an upstretched arm reached the ceiling; he was the first to speak.
“If anything, my lord, it’s stronger,” he said.
There was a chorus of agreement.
Hanner nodded, considering what should be done next. He had no idea how long this warlockry would last or how widespread it was-and whether it was really his problem. He was here, rather than safely home in the Palace, because he had been outside when it all began and had taken it upon himself to try to do something, but was it really his responsibility?
“My lord,” Yorn said urgently, “I should go now. I was due to report for duty hours ago.”
“And I should go home,” Othisen said. “Once I’ve eaten,” he added hastily, eyeing the ham and bread.
“But you’re warlocks,” Hanner said.
“I’m a soldier,” Yorn said.
“And magicians are forbidden to serve as common soldiers,” Hanner said.
“But I’m not a magician,” Yorn protested. “I served no apprenticeship, I’m not a wizard or a witch or a sorcerer, I don’t summon gods or demons-I can just do a few things. Someone put a spell on me, but that doesn’t make me a magician!”
“And I’m not a magicianor a soldier,” Othisen said as he snatched a chunk of bread and a slice of ham.
“Are we prisoners here?” Rudhira demanded.
“No, of course not,” Hanner said. He had been thinking that the group he had gathered would stay together for as long as the warlockry and its mystery remained, but now he saw that was foolish-the magic mightnever go away, the mystery mightnever be solved. He had said the wrong thing again. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You’re free to go, all of you who choose to-and you’re also free to stay, for now. Thank you all for your help last night, and if any of you want to stay and help me handle the prisoners and try to figure out more about what’s happened, I would be glad of it. I promised those who aided me a reward, but since the overlord has refused us admission to the Palace, or any recognition of your efforts, all I can offer to fulfill that promise is food and lodging here.” “Thank you, my lord, but I have food and lodging elsewhere,” Yorn said. “If you have no objections, I’ll leave at once.” He suited his actions to his words and trotted out of the room; a moment later Hanner heard the front door open and close.
“I’ll go when I’ve finished eating,” Othisen said.
Hanner took a bite of ham, then a swig of beer, and looked around at the others.
“I’ll stay,” Rudhira said.
That was a comfort for Hanner; he had been beginning to worry that if all the warlocks left he would be unable to control the vandals they had captured the night before. He had a responsibility to keep them safe until they were properly delivered to a magistrate.
If not for the prisoners Hanner might have simply chased everyone but Bern out, locked up the house, and gone home himself, but as long as those four were locked in upstairs and he had no instructions as to what should be done with them, he was stuck here. And he had to keep them secure. Yorn was the only trained guardsman in the group, and his absence would be felt if the prisoners were to attempt escape or otherwise cause trouble, but Rudhira appeared to be the most powerful warlock of them all— though Varrin might be close-and could almost certainly keep all four in line.
“And the rest of you?” Hanner asked.
Zarek laughed. “If you think I’m going back to the Hundred-Foot Field when I can sleep in a mansion, you’re mad.”
“I’m going back to the Palace as soon as they let me in,” Alris said.
Hanner nodded. He assumed that Alris would be admitted, that the overlord’s panicky edict had been revoked by now, but it would not have surprised him if warlocks were still banned from the Palace. That was why he couldn’t just march the prisoners there.
“I’d appreciate it, Alris, if you could go see what’s happening there, then come back and tell me,” Manner said. “I need to know what to do with those four we have locked in upstairs, for one thing.” The sooner they were out of his custody, the better, so far as he was concerned, and Rudhira might not want to stay around indefinitely.
“If I go,” Desset said, “can I come back later? I don’t want my family to worry, but I want to find out what’s happened, and you people seem... well, you know.”
“You can come back so long as I’m here,” Hanner assured her. “If my uncle chases me out, or we all just get bored and go home, come to the Palace and see me there.”
Desset nodded.
In the end, everyone but Rudhira and Zarek decided to go— but several promised to return.
And Othisen, after he had eaten, changed his mind.
“No one in my village is expecting me back for a few days anyway,” he said. “If I canfly home, I can be there in plenty of time even if I don’t leave until tomorrow or even the day after, and... well, I want to see what happens.”
“Canyou fly?” Hanner asked. “You didn’t fly last night that I saw.”
“I did a little,” Othisen said as he sawed at the ham. “And I’m learning to do it better, I think.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Hanner assured him, “but if you’re going to practice flying, please do it in the garden, not the house.”
Othisen smiled and nodded, his mouth too full of ham to reply in words.
Well beforemidday the others had gone, and Hanner had finished his breakfast. The three remaining warlocks-Rudhira, Zarek, and Othisen-helped Bern in clearing away the remains of the meal and tidying up the dining room, while Hanner sat there, thinking.
