again about to say the wrong thing.
But he wouldn’t. He would say theright thing this time.
He took a deep breath and continued, “Well, it doesn’t matter what you said. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He hesitated. He knew better than to approach her; she would bolt, he was sure. “You stay here and talk to Nerra,” he said. “I’ll go back with Bern. I hope I’ll see you again.” He bowed and headed for the door, beckoning to Bern.
Mavi watched him go, saying nothing.
Bern was frozen at first, then realized what was happening and hurried after Hanner.
When they were both in the corridor, Hanner closed the door of the apartments and said, “On the way you can tell me more of what’s happened since Uncle Faran’s death.” “Of course,” Bern said.
By the time they were out of the Palace Bern had described the disorganized remnants of Lord Faran’s little army returning in panicky disarray to the house, and explained how Ulpen and the others had talked Manrin into assuming leadership of the group.
By the time they reached High Street, Bern had explained Manrin’s plan to establish warlocks as just another sort of magician, with standard attire, apprenticeships, fees for service, and so on.
“That’s sound thinking,” Hanner said as they turned the corner. That would suit the Wizards’ Guild, he thought. If warlocks were a known quantity, bound by accepted rules, they would be less likely to stir up trouble.
Of course, it would also remove one of the warlocks’ current strengths-no one knew who they were, or how many of them might be out there.
On the other hand, that strength was one reason they were seen as a danger. If the warlocks operated from shops, in distinctive costumes, like other magicians, they wouldn’t seem anywhere near as threatening.
And nobody said thatall warlocks had to wear black and hang out signs, or that a warlock couldn’t change his clothes when the occasion arose.
But if the general populationthought they knew who all the warlocks were, that might be enough. The wizards had created the Guild to protect the World from wizards. Perhaps if warlocks were to create their own guild...
But they wouldn’t want to call it a guild; imitating the wizards too obviously might seem audacious, even presumptuous. A brotherhood or sisterhood, like the witches, might seem sinister-and besides, Hanner saw no reason to form two organizations rather than one. Something that would suggest peaceful discussion and openness, rather than secrecy or authority, would be good.
A council, perhaps.
That sounded right. The Council of Warlocks. Like Sardiron’s Council of Barons.
Just giving them a name and public identity wouldn’t be enough, of course. Those people in the street had not just been upset because a bunch of strangers had acquired mysterious new magic; they were frightened and angry because friends and neighbors and relatives had disappeared on the Night of Madness, and they thought the warlocks were responsible.
Somehow, the warlocks-the Council of Warlocks-would have to convince them otherwise.
And beyond that, even people who didn’t think that the warlocks were responsible for the disappearances, who didn’t think there was some vast conspiracy behind it all thought warlocks were dangerous. Warlockswere dangerous, as they had demonstrated under Faran’s leadership. The Council, once it existed, would have to convince everyone that danger was under firm control.
At this point, no one would believe anything warlocks told them. Hanner would need to find someone theywould believe, and convince that someone to speak up on the warlocks’ behalf. The obvious possibilities were the established powers of the Hegemony-the overlords, the city guard, the Wizards’ Guild, the Sisterhood of Witches, the Brotherhood of Witches, and so on. The overlord and the Guild in particular would be convincing, since both had acted openly against the warlocks. If Hanner could just convince Lord Azrad...
He stumbled over his own feet at the thought and realized that Bern had continued to talk, explaining how the warlocks had reacted to Manrin’s proposals, while he had been lost in his planning. He listened for a few seconds, decided that what Bern was saying wasn’t important and he could always ask Bern to repeat it later, and resumed his chain of thought.
If Uncle Faran hadn’t been able to talk sense to Lord Azrad, Hanner certainly couldn’t hope to. The Wizards’ Guild, though— the Guild wanted to minimize trouble. If they thought wiping out the warlocks was the way to do that, then Hanner and the others were as good as dead-though they’d take several wizards with them, he was sure.
But if they were convinced wiping out the warlocks would be more trouble than accommodating them, then the Guild would be the warlocks’ natural ally. Faran had talked about appealing to them as fellow magicians, but hadn’t really carried through. Hanner knew better than to try to appeal to their better nature or fellow feeling, but if he could present them with solid reasons that accommodation with the warlocks would be in their own best interests...
He thought he could.
“I need to talk to Ithinia,” he said, interrupting Bern’s description of how they had dealt with Desset’s nightmares.
“Now?” Bern asked, startled.
Hanner looked around, suddenly aware that they were nearing Warlock House, and the normal morning crowds that had surrounded them since leaving the Palace were no longer present.
The people in the street had been pushed back away from them; they were walking down a cleared path leading directly to the open iron gate. Desset stood in the dooryard, watching them— clearly, the path was her doing.
“But she’s already having nightmares!” Hanner said, breaking into a run.
Caught off guard, Bern took a moment to follow.
Hanner did not say anything, but inwardly he was seething. Didn’t these people realize how the Calling worked? Hadn’t they seen what happened to Rudhira and Varrin? The more magic a warlock used, the more powerful she became. The more powerful a warlock became, the more powerful the Calling was, until at last it became irresistible. The nightmares were a warning. Of the little group Bern had listed as still at the house Desset was the most powerful warlock remaining who had not been Called, with only Kirsha and maybe Ulpen coming anywhere close to matching her. That made her the obvious choice for big jobs like clearing a street so Hanner and Bern could get inside safely-but it also made her theworst choice, because at any moment the Calling might get the better of her and sweep her away.
“Get in here!” Hanner called as he pushed past her into the open doorway.
Startled, Desset and Bern hurried after him. He slammed the door behind them and turned to Desset. “What is it?” she said breathlessly. “What’s the matter?”
“Youdon’t use magic anymore,” he told her, shaking a finger in her face. “Not unless you absolutely must!”
“But Bern and Alris needed to get out, and you and Bern needed to get in,” Desset protested.
“I don’t care,” Hanner said. “It’s not your job! Get one of the others-or if one can’t handle the job, get two or three or four. But notyou. You’ve had the nightmares.”
Desset’s mouth opened, then closed.
“You’ll hear the Calling!” Hanner said. “Like Rudhira and Varrin. Unless youwant to go flying off northward in the middle of whatever you’re doing, and never come back!”
“Oh,” Desset squeaked.
“Oh,” Bern said. “I didn’t think...”
“Obviously,” Hanner said, turning to Bern-and realizing that they had an audience. The other warlocks were watching them.
Zarek had stayed, of course-he wouldn’t be in any hurry to go back to the Hundred-Foot Field. Kirsha- Hanner didn’t know much of anything about her background, but apparently she still preferred the mansion to her home. Her cousin Ilvin had stayed, as well. Hinda wasn’t allowed back in the Palace. Alladia, Sheila, Ulpen-their former lives as other sorts of magicians were gone. Yorn, outcast from the city guard, remained, as well as Mavi’s friend Pancha, and one other whose name Hanner didn’t remember at first.
Artalda, that was it. Artalda the Fair.
