Most of them were wearing black now, he noticed-not their own clothes dyed, as Manrin had suggested, but assorted mismatched garments apparently pilfered from Uncle Faran’s wardrobes, most of them ill-fitting, since only Yorn matched the late Lord Faran’s height.
They were not an impressive bunch, but they were what he, and all the warlocks of the World, had to start with.
And the time had come to start. If he was going to be their leader, he knew he had to establish his authority at once.
“Good morning, all of you,” Hanner said. “Just to reassure you, you are all still welcome in this house. As you see, I’ve chosen to accept your invitation to return and lead you.”
Saying it openly felt oddly pleasant. It feltright. All his life he had carefully stayed in the background, in his uncle’s shadow, doing as he was told no matter what he thought of it. He had always refused to take on any real authority because he had always thought there was someone better, someone more qualified.
Now, here, at last, he did not think there was. The time had come to assert himself. “My lord,” Yorn said, bowing. The others followed suit with varying degrees of awkwardness.
“Don’t call me ’lord,’ ” Hanner said. The term reminded him of his old life, where it had been almost a mockery-he had never been lord of anything, despite the title. “If I’m leading you, instead of serving the overlord, then I can no longer bear that title.”
Yorn straightened up. “Then how should we address you, uh... sir?”
“ ’Sir’ is perfectly acceptable,” Hanner said. “I believe my actual title ought to be Chairman, though.”
“Chairman?” Kirsha asked.
“Chairman of the Council of Warlocks,” Hanner said.
“There’s a Council of Warlocks?” Zarek asked.
“There is now.”
“Where?” Sheila asked.
“Here,” Hanner said. “The twelve of us.” He glanced at Bern. “I’m afraid you don’t qualify for membership, Bern, unless there’s something you haven’t told us.”
“No, I do not, my 1... sir,” Bern said, stepping back toward the dining hall.
“We could do something about that, if you like,” Hanner said. “Sheila, here, taught us. We could take you on as an apprentice.”
“No, sir.”
“You said earlier that you wanted to discuss the terms of your employment,” Hanner said. “We never really did. I think I should make it clear that this house is now the headquarters of the Council of Warlocks, and if you stay on-which you’re quite welcome to do-it will be as an employee of the Council rather than working for any individual.”
“I... I can accept that, sir, but I do not wish tobe a warlock.”
“I don’t blame you,” Hanner said. “We have formidable enemies, several weaknesses... it’s hardly a life you’d choose, eh?”
“Exactly, sir,” Bern said, visibly relieved.
“Well, I hope to improve that,” Hanner said. “And when I have, perhaps you’ll reconsider.”
“Or perhaps not. Please, sir...”
“We’ll leave it for now, Bern. Thank you for staying on.” Hanner turned back to the others. “Now, as I’ve just said, we are the Council of Warlocks. We are going to be the organization that warlocks answer to, as wizards answer to their Guild. We are going to make rules and enforce them, and establish just who and what a proper warlock is. If this isn’t what you want, then leave now.” The warlocks glanced at one another. Then Ilvin said, “Excuse me, sir-perhaps I’ve misunderstood something, but if Bern doesn’t qualify for membership, how canyou, appoint yourself as Chairman?”
Hanner smiled. He had expected that question. He pointed, and a lamp lifted from a table.
“I’m qualified,” he said. “I didn’t mention it before because my uncle was running things, but now that he’s gone the time to hide is past.”
“Iknew he was a warlock!” Sheila said proudly.
“Yes, you did,” Hanner agreed. “Now, we will begin with rules on attire and deportment, then discuss the nature of the nightmares and the Calling, and how this affects us. I want to get through this quickly.”
“Why?” Sheila asked.
“Because we have several things to do, and we don’t know how much time we have to do them. The guard could make another assault, or the Wizards’ Guild might reach a decision and attempt to act on it,” Hanner said. “I want to get a few basics established and learn exactly what the situation is here-for example, what’s been done with Manrin’s body?”
“It’s still upstairs,” Bern said.
“Well, it must be dealt with eventually. At any rate, once the essentials here are settled, I’ll go talk to the Wizards’ Guild.”
“About Manrin?” Ulpen asked.
Hanner smiled.
“Among other things,” he said. “There are also a few things I need to explain to them about warlocks.”
Chapter Forty-one
Demonologists usually wore black robes as their formal garb and trimmed them with red. Therefore, to prevent confusion, warlocks would never wear robes-they would wear black tunics, but not full robes-and they would avoid red trim. Gold or white trim would be acceptable, to make their appearance less forbidding. Warlocks would be polite but aloof in public, as befitted respected magicians.
The most powerful warlocks were most susceptible to the Calling. Therefore, they would use their magic as sparingly as possible. For any specific task, the weakest warlock who could handle it safely would be given that duty.
Warlocks would obey the law, so that the overlord would have no valid grounds for exiling or killing them. Any Council warlock who found another warlock breaking the law must stop him immediately, by any means necessary, up to and including stopping his heart. If the criminal was more powerful than the Council member, then aid should be called in at once-Hanner’s group had demonstrated, on the Night of Madness, that warlocks working together could overcome a single warlock more powerful than any of them.
If any of them came across damage done by a warlock, they would offer to help repair it, but they would not force their aid on anyone who did not want it.
Those were the rules Manner set forth. He had gathered the entire group in the dining hall; though Ulpen was posted at a front window, ready to ward off anything thrown at the house, the rest were seated around the table.
Hanner also explained everything he knew about the Calling, including his theory that it was responsible for the disappearances on the Night of Madness.
And when that was done, he said, “Now I need to talk to the wizards. Ulpen, how can I contact the Guild?”
“Uh...” Ulpen had not been expecting the question; he stared stupidly across the dining table at Hanner for a moment before collecting his wits.
“I don’t know,” he said at last.
Hanner frowned. “You don’t have any idea?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then we’ll have to improvise.” Hanner thought for a minute, then looked around at the others.
Desset was there, looking oddly distracted; she glanced northward. Hanner was not about to ask her to doanything. He wondered if sending her farther south, farther from whatever was calling her, might help. The peninsula that separated the Gulf of the East from the Ocean only extended for a few leagues south of the city,
