order them out of the city, and that was when I realized I couldn’t stay in the city guard anymore, not until the lords change their minds. And I didn’t have anywhere to go but here.” He looked around. “Is everyone else gone?” He noticed the others and said, “I mean, besides these three.”
“No,” Hanner said, “they’re still here. But first, this is Sheila.” He told her, “This is Yorn of Ethshar. He’s a warlock, too.”
“Not much of one, really,” Yorn said.
“This is Mavi of Newmarket,” Hanner said. “She’snot a warlock, just a friend.”
Yorn bowed. “And I know Lady Alris,” he said.
“Sheila and I were just about to join the others,” Hanner said. He beckoned for Yorn and Sheila to follow, then opened the door to the dining hall.
The murmur of voices and the scent of crowded bodies spilled out.
“Gods, there are alot of them!” Yorn said as he followed Hanner into the crowded room.
“Thirty-two,” Lord Faran announced. “And the apprentice witch is thirty-three, and you, sir-are you a warlock?” “I am,” Yorn admitted. “Thirty-four,” Faran said. “Against a city of thousands,” Rudhira said. “Most of them won’t trouble us,” Faran said. “Just the guard.” “How many is that?” Othisen asked.
“Eight thousand,” Yorn replied, speaking up loud and clear. A horrified silence fell.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Eight thousand soldiers?” someone squeaked at last. “That’s what they tell us,” Yorn confirmed.
“It’s supposed to beten thousand,” Lord Faran said, “but Lord Azrad has never bothered to put in the money to get the guard to full strength.”
“There’s no reason he should,” Yorn said. “There are plenty of us as it is.”
“I didn’t know there were ten thousand people in the World” Othisen said.
“Oh, there arehundreds of thousands in Ethshar,” Yorn said. “Nobody knows the exact number.”
“The wizards might,” Rudhira suggested.
“My master says that if it weren’t for the wizards, there couldn’t be a city this big,” Sheila said. “It’s wizardry that keeps the water clean and keeps the food good through the winter and empties the privies where the sewers don’t go.”
“The theurgists do some of it,” an elderly woman Hanner didn’t recognize protested mildly.
“This is all very interesting,” Lord Faran said, “but if we could get back to business, there are thirty-four of us here, of varying abilities. All of us can move small objects by sheer force of will, but some of us can do more than that, and I think it would be wise to find out just who can do what, and how well. Now, who here can fly?”
A dozen voices spoke up, and hands were raised; Lord Faran shouted over the babble, “If you can fly, please go tothat end of the room!” He pointed at the windows. “If youcannot fly, go tothat end!” He pointed at the ballroom. “If you don’t know, please stand near the table!”
“I can lift myself off the ground,” said the woman who had mentioned theurgists, “but I can’t reallyfly so much asfloat.”
Faran looked at her, then said, “What’s your name?”
“Alladia of Shiphaven.”
“Alladia. Thank you. For now, just stand near the table.”
She obeyed.
Sheila also went to stand by the table, and Hanner accompanied her. He found himself standing next to Alladia.
“I’m Lord Hanner,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you.” “I could wish it were under other circumstances,” Alladia said, looking around as the others sorted themselves out.
“You’d rather not be a warlock?” Hanner asked.
“That’s right,” Alladia said.
This was interesting; Hanner wondered whether he could gain any insight into Alris or the others. “Is it just because of the overlord’s threats?” he asked. “Suppose no one knew-wouldn’t you like it then?”
Alladia turned to look him in the eye. “No, I wouldn’t,” she said.
“Why not? After all, you have magic now, without even serving an apprenticeship.”
“I had magicbefore” Alladia replied angrily. “I was a priestess!”
“A theurgist?” Understanding dawned. Warlockry interfered with witchcraft and wizardry; presumably it interfered with theurgy, as well.
“That’s right. And a good one, if I do say so myself. But ever since thisthing got inside my head, the gods won’t listen to me. The simplest invocation goes unanswered. I tried to consult Unniel to find out what was wrong, and evenshe ignores my prayers!”
“Unniel?” The name was vaguely familiar.
“Unniel the Discerning. She’s one of the easiest of all the gods to contact; any halfway competent apprentice can speak to Unniel. But since the night before last,I can’t! In the past I’ve successfully summoned Asham and Govet, and now I can’t even call Unniel!”
“And you think it’s because you’re a warlock?”
“Of course. What else could it be? Something’s put this curse on us, and it’s cut me off from the gods. Before I could open gateways to another world, heal the sick, reveal any secret; now I can send plates flying about the room. Doyou consider that a good exchange?”
“No,” Hanner admitted.
Before he could say any more, Faran called for attention.
“I count ten who can’t fly, thirteen who can, eleven who don’t know,” he announced. “Let’s see if we can sort out those eleven. Hanner, if you would step aside?”
Hanner glanced at Sheila and Alladia, but then stepped away from the table.
“In fact, Hanner,” Faran said, “if you don’t mind, would you wait in the parlor with Alris and Mavi? And if Manrin and Ulpen come back down, send them in.”
“You only want warlocks in here,” Hanner said.
“That’s right. No need to crowd things any more than necessary.” Hanner hesitated. This was a moment when he could admit that he was a warlock after all-and he really should admit it, shouldn’t he? Sooner or later the truth would come out.
But if it did, he would be either exiled or put to death, or would find himself caught in Uncle Faran’s schemes permanently, and he would never get back to his own bed, his own rooms, in the Palace.
He bowed, patted Sheila reassuringly on the shoulder, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
In the parlor, Alris asked, “What are they doing in there?”
“Sorting warlocks,” Hanner replied. “Seeing who can do what.”
Mavi shuddered. Hanner looked at her, startled.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know they’re just people, that they didn’task for this spell or power or whatever it is, but they make me nervous. Even your uncle, and poor Pancha. It’s just so...” She turned up her palms, unable to find the right word.
And here was another reason not to admit he was a warlock, Hanner thought. He did not want to make Mavi nervous, nor did he want her to find him repulsive.
He hadn’t realized she felt this way.
“The theurgist said Pancha wasn’t even human anymore,” Mavi said.
“Alladia said that?”
Mavi blinked at him. “No-who’s Alladia?”
“The theurgist turned warlock in there,” Hanner said, pointing at the dining-hall door. “Who didyou. mean?”
“The theurgist who tried to cure Pancha this morning,” Mavi explained. “He said the goddess he summoned didn’t even think Pancha was still human!”
That, Hanner thought, would indeed be a reason to find warlocks unpleasant to be around. He wondered
