once, after all, and I’m sure he’ll do it again.”
“Perhaps,” Karannin conceded. “But the third and most cogent question is what the Wizards’ Guild will think and do if we hire a demonologist to carry out an execution. You know as well as I that that violates their rules against the governmental use of magic.”
“Surely they’ll make an exception!”
“The Wizards’ Guild doesn’t make exceptions,” Ildirin said.
“And even if they might, you’d need to convince the demonologist of that beforehand,” Karannin said. “I never met a demonologist who didn’t consider himself more than the equal of a wizard, but I also never met one willing to take on the entire Guild. That’s my fourth question-if the Guildwould permit us to use a demon assassin, would the demonologist trust us-and them?”
“Surelyone demonologist would-”
“My lord brother,” Ildirin interrupted, “I think we’re getting distracted here. The mechanism for killing individual warlocks is not really that important-if we have the Guild’s approval we can simply letthem handle executions, without needing to bring the added risk of dealing with demons into it. And if wedon’t have the Guild’s approval, I doubt any other magicians will cooperate.” “Then we need their consent, and damn them all, why won’t theygive it?”
“They did agree we could hire wizards to aid in arresting warlocks,” Karannin reminded him, pointing at the door where Clurim had vanished a moment before. “That’s a start.”
“Not much of one,” Azrad grumbled.
“Azrad, you just sent Clurim out there with instructions to turn the entire city guard and every wizard we could hire to the task of removing Faran’s company from the city. Why don’t we wait and see what comes of that before we start worrying about involving the Guild more directly?”
Azrad glowered at him.
“Do you think it willwork}” he demanded. “After what we just saw out there?” He jerked a thumb at the window.
Ildirin grimaced.
“No,” he said. He hesitated, and added, “And I don’t know how Lord Faran will react to the attempt, either.”
The overlord froze for a moment, then frowned. He slowly said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Chapter Thirty-three
There were soldiers marching in the streets of the New City, but the warlocks ignored them and flew easily back to the garden behind Lord Faran’s mansion. Once they were safely back on the ground Hanner took the first opportunity to pull his uncle aside into an vacant room and talk to him privately.
“There’s something out there, somewhere in the north, that’s calling to your most powerful warlocks,” Hanner said.
“I’d noticed there was something odd about Rudhira’s behavior,” Faran said.
“Yes, well,talk to her. I think she’ll listen to you more than she will to me, and maybe you can get her to tell you something useful. And maybe get Manrin to do some checking-maybe he can do a divination and find out just what it is that she’s hearing. I think it might be the same thing that causes those nightmares. And it’s not just Rudhira-Desset’s starting to hear it now. I suspect Varrin and some of the others are, too.”
“You may be right, my boy.” Faran’s tone was reassuring, and he plainly intended to go on to say something more, but Hanner quickly cut him off. What he wanted to say was urgent; he couldn’t risk being distracted.
“Uncle, I think that whatever is calling them is the same thing that called all those people on the Night of Madness-the ones that disappeared. I think there’s something out there thatwants warlocks.”
“It’s possible,” Faran agreed calmly. “It may be the same thing that made us into warlocks in the first place. A mad wizard, perhaps.”
Hanner shuddered. “Could a wizard do all this? You saw Ru-dhira out there today.”
“There’s no known limit to what wizardry can do, Hanner. And from what I saw today I’m not sure there’s any limit on what warlockry can do, either.”
“But using it... well, when you get more powerful you start to get the nightmares and to hear that calling.”
“That’s a drawback,” Faran admitted. “It’s hardly fatal, though, and we may well find a way around it.”
“Ihope it’s not fatal,” Hanner said. “None of those people who disappeared has come back.”
Faran was about to reply when someone shouted, “Lord Faran! Lord Faran!”
“We’ll talk more later,” Faran said. Then he turned and called, “I’m here. What is it?”
“Soldiers!”
Faran smiled, an unpleasant expression that reminded Hanner of the one he had seen on Desset’s face half an hour before, over Spicetown.
“It would seem Azrad is trying again,” he said.
“And we still haven’t heard from the Wizards’ Guild,” Hanner said.
Faran’s smile broadened. “You know, my boy,” he said, “after what I saw Rudhira do today, I’m no longer concerned about the Wizards’ Guild. I think we can handle Azrad and his men without their help.”
Hanner opened his mouth, intending to say that he was not worried about the city guard but about the Guild itself, but Faran was already out of the room, striding briskly toward the front of the house. Hanner snapped his mouth shut and hurried to follow.
“Rudhira! Desset! Varrin!” Faran called as he walked. “Everyone, come with me! I think it’s time we demonstrated to Lord Azrad that his authority does not extend to us!” He reached the front door and flung it open, the other warlocks gathering behind him. Rudhira stood by the door, looking slightly dazed-clearly, whatever was happening to her, whatever was calling her, had not stopped.
Hanner hesitated. He wanted to see what would happen, but he didn’t want to get in the way-he wasn’t a known warlock, so he wouldn’t participate in whatever the warlocks did. And it might be dangerous.
Besides, there was such a mob of warlocks in the hallway and at the parlor windows that he doubted he could get a decent view in any case.
And there were questions he needed answered. Two of the warlocks were notable by their absence, and Hanner thought this might be a good time to talk to them.
And there were windows upstairs; he might wind up with a better view that way.
He turned and started up the stairs at a trot. His weight and general lack of conditioning caught up with him by the time he had reached the second flight, though, and he slowed to a walk.
On the third floor he made his way down the central corridor, listening at each door; at the third one he heard voices and knocked.
One voice stopped, and Hanner heard footsteps approaching. Ulpen opened the door and peered out at him.
“I’d like to speak to you and Manrin,” Hanner said. “May I come in?”
Ulpen swung the door open. “Don’t interrupt him,” he warned.
Hanner knew enough about wizards to not need the warning. He looked around the room with interest, being careful not to touch anything.
The room was lined with shelves and chests of drawers; several drawers stood open, displaying various powders and dried leaves. The shelves were jammed with jars, bags, boxes, and pots of various shapes and sizes. A table stood to one side, most of it covered with jars and boxes similar to the ones on the shelves; a large book lay open upon it next to an assortment of small tools. More tools were spread on the floor-two daggers, a wood- handled brush, a small iron tripod, a tinderbox, and three small metal implements Hanner couldn’t identify.
Manrin was seated cross-legged on a silk carpet before a small brass pot. Something in the pot was smoking and smelled absolutely terrible; Manrin was weaving his fingers through the smoke while reciting an
