Hanner nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. He resisted the temptation to add that that made it all the more surprising Lord Azrad had agreed to it. “If you heard about my uncle’s death, did you hear anything about who is to replace him as the overlord’s chief advisor?”
The two soldiers glanced at each other. “There’s talk that Lord Ildirin will be promoted,” one said.
“Or Lord Karannin,” the other added.
“Or even Lord Azrad the Younger,” said the first.
“So he intends to keep it in the family, then?”
“I don’t think he trusts anyone else anymore.”
“Except us, of course, but we aren’t courtiers.”
Hanner grimaced. “Of course,” he agreed. “And do you know what Lord Azrad intends to do about the warlocks?”
The soldiers looked at each other again.
“I don’t think we can talk about that,” one said. “After all, you were with those warlocks, and they might be listening in with their magic.”
Hanner smiled. “Warlocks can’t do that,” he said. “Their magic doesn’t work that way.”
The guardsman turned up a palm. “I wouldn’t know, my lord. I’m not sureanyone really knows what a warlock can and can’t do, when they’re so new.”
“Better to be safe,” the other added. “Has anyone said anything about me?”
“Not that I’ve heard, my lord.”
The other didn’t answer with words, but raised an empty hand.
“Well, thank you,” Hanner said. He could see Alris looking angrily impatient, and Bern looking worried. He pointed at Bern. “I can attest that this man is Lord Faran’s housekeeper, and at least as of yesterday he wasn’t a warlock. Unless someone turned him into one overnight, I assume he still isn’t.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The guard glanced at his companion. “I suppose we’ll be going, then.”
“Good enough,” Hanner said. “Thank you for escorting them here.”
The two soldiers both essayed quick little bows, then turned and marched off while Hanner unlocked the door to the family’s rooms.
“You heard about Uncle Faran?” Nerra asked.
“Yes,” Alris said. “It soundshorrible! Poor Uncle Faran!”
“It was quick,” Hanner said as he swung the door open and stood aside to let the others in.
When they were all inside, and the door closed, Hanner said, “I assume you’re here, Alris, simply because you wanted to come home-but, Bern, why areyou here? Are the warlocks throwing out everyone who isn’t one of them?”
Alris and Bern exchanged glances. “No, my lord,” Bern said. “I’m afraid we’re here with bad news, and... well, we need your advice.”
Hanner’s stomach began to hurt. “More bad news?” he said. “It isn’t enough that Uncle Faran and Rudhira and Varrin are all gone?”
“It’s about the wizard,” Alris said as she settled onto a chair.
“Ithinia?”
“No, no,” Bern said quickly. “Manrin the Mage.”
“What about him?”
“We found him dead in his bed this morning,” Bern said. “That apprentice wizard, Ulpen, says that he was killed by wizardry for refusing an order from the masters of the Wizards’ Guild.”
Hanner considered this for a moment, then asked, “And how does Ulpen know this?”
“The Guild sent him a dream,” Alris said. “With the same order. Only he obeyed.”
That more or less made sense; Hanner had heard the Spell of Invaded Dreams described, though he had never experienced it directly. “What was the order?” “He won’t say,” Bern replied.
“But he says he’s not a wizard anymore,” Alris added. “Not even an apprentice. He’s just a warlock.”
Hanner’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
Alris turned up a palm. “That’s what hesaid.”
Hanner nodded. It made sense. The Wizards’ Guild was enforcing its rules, as they had with Uncle Faran-no hereditary nobles could use magic, and no one could use more than one kind of magic.
Manrin and Ulpen hadn’tasked for a second kind of magic, so the Guild had offered a choice-give up one, or die. And there was no way to give up warlockry.
Apparently there was a way to give up wizardry. That was interesting, if not particularly useful information.
And while news of Manrin’s death was also interesting, and somewhat distressing, Hanner had hardly known the old man and did not quite see what it had to do withhim. He was about to say so when there was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Alris said, bouncing up from her chair.
She opened the door, and Hanner heard a familiar voice say, “Alris? You’re home?”
“Mavi!” Nerra said, rising from the window seat. “Come in!”
Alris ushered Mavi in, where Nerra embraced her. Hanner smiled at the sight of her, but did not touch her.
“Good morning, Mavi,” he said.
“Hanner!” She smiled a broad, bright smile at him. “It’s good to see you back where you belong. I heard they were letting people into the Palace again, so I came to see how Nerra was doing-I should have realized you’d be here, too!” Then she noticed the other man and looked questioningly at Hanner.
“Bern was about to explain why he came,” Hanner said. He looked at the servant expectantly.
“Oh,” Bern said. He glanced at Mavi, then said, “It’s simple enough, my lord. With your uncle’s death, you are now the owner of the house at the corner of High Street and Coronet, and therefore my employer. I came to discuss the nature and terms of my further employment there, if any, and your plans for the property.”
“Lord Faran is dead?” Mavi asked, clapping her hands to her mouth in horror.
“He died yesterday,” Hanner said. “The Wizards’ Guild killed him for meddling in magic.”
“But he killed the wizard they sent,” Alris added. Hanner did not contradict her; the weight of that unknown wizard’s death was on his own soul, and he thought he might well have to deal with it eventually, but for now it would do no one any good to reveal the truth. “That’s terrible!” Mavi said, falling onto a chair. Nerra patted her hand comfortingly.
“Please forgive the interruption, Bern,” Hanner said when Mavi was settled. “You were saying?”
“I was saying, my lord, that you are the eldest surviving member of Lord Faran’s family, and are therefore his heir-he named you as his heir in papers he left in my care, to remove any possible question.”
It was Hanner’s turn to feel unsteady on his feet, but he remained standing. He had not thought Uncle Faran had thought highly enough of him to have made out such papers.
“He did?”
“Yes, my lord. Where his ownership of that house had been kept secret, he wanted to be certain there would be no confusion on this point.”
Manner glanced at his sisters.
“Well,” he said, “at least we’ll have somewhere to live if Lord Azrad evicts us.”
The legacy meant rather more than that, Manner knew. While he was unsure how much money Uncle Faran had left, he had seen the furnishings of that house, in particular the magical materials and devices on the upper floors, and he knew that he could sell them off for enough to live on for a long, long time. His future, and the future of his sisters, was suddenly far less uncertain.
“That’s assuming the warlocks let you in,” Nerra said. “Haven’t they taken over that place?”
“Uncle Faran invited them,” Alris said. “We can uninvite them, if we choose. Besides, most of them have already left-they got scared by what happened yesterday, with Rudhira and Varrin being Called, and then Uncle Faran dying, and then Manrin.”
“They have?” Hanner asked Bern.
“Yes, my lord,” Bern said. “I believe only eleven warlocks remain in residence.” He cleared his throat. “Which brings me to another reason I have come. We need to know your intentions toward those who remain and
