A red-robed wizard at the far end of the table said, “We will see that Manrin’s remains are transported to his family in Ethshar of the Sands for a proper funeral. You need not worry about that further.”
That was a small relief. “And the information about warlocks?” he said.
None of them moved or spoke but Ithinia. “What information might that be?” she asked.
“I don’t know how much you have already learned,” he said. “Forgive me if I repeat what you already knew.”
“Go on.”
“Do you know about the Calling?”
“The summons to the source-point of warlockry, in southeastern Aldagmor? We are aware of it. We saw Varrin the Weaver and Rudhira of Camptown drawn away, and have observed dozens of others departing, though usually under less dramatic circumstances.”
“Southeastern Aldagmor?”
Ithinia sighed. “It would seem thatwe are the ones providing information, not you!”
“An exchange is certainly welcome,” Hanner said, smiling— he desperately needed to keep this discussion on friendly terms. “We only knew that they were going north; we didn’t know their destination.”
“Aldagmor. The phenomenon that began on the Night of Madness is centered there, and the closer one goes to that point, the more powerful it is, even now. Most of the Barony of Aldagmor has been depopulated, in fact-themajority of the population there vanished on the Night of Madness, and another large percentage has become warlocks, many of whom have since been summoned. That land is in chaos, and the only comfort we find in the situation there is that it was thinly populated to begin with. We do not wish to see anywhere else similarly transformed.”
Hanner shuddered. “Neither do we,” he said. “We have ereated a Council of Warlocks, and one purpose of our Council is to control the spread of warlockry and to stave off any further Callings.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you know where these warlocks are going? I mean, what’s in Aldagmor that’s attracting them?”
“No, we don’t know,” Ithinia said. “The Aldagmor source is like the core in a warlock’s brain-wizardry cannot affect it, cannot see into it. Anyone who ventures too close-anyone, wizard, warlock, or otherwise-is drawn into it, and does not emerge.”
Hanner nodded. He had pessimistically assumed as much. This confirmation was no surprise.
“You presumably came here to convince us not to destroy you all,” Ithinia said. “I think you might do well to stop asking questions and start making your case.”
“Yes, I know.” Hanner took a deep breath, then said, “You’re concerned with warlocks because you fear we’re going to cause trouble. You think we might disrupt everything. The Guild exists to prevent magic from spreading chaos-you created it to keep yourselves from doing that.” He suddenly realized that since wizardry could extend life or restore youth, that “you” might be more literal than he had thought-the very wizards who had created the Guild two hundred years before might well still be alive and seated before him. The idea staggered him for a moment, and he paused in his speech. “Go on,” Ithinia said.
“You had to put an artificial limit on your own power,” Hanner said, “because there is no natural limit- wizards can live forever, learning more and more magic. If two of your mightiest members went to war, you could probably lay waste to the entire World.”
“As the demons did to the eastern provinces, and the gods did to the Northern Empire’s heartland,” a gray-robed man said, startling Hanner. “They, too, have bound themselves now.”
“Yes,” Hanner said. “Yes, exactly. So you want warlocks removed, lest we become equally dangerous. But wecan’t. Wedo have a natural limit.”
“The Calling, as you’ve named it,” Ithinia said.
“Yes,” Hanner said. “Exactly.”
A white-haired man stirred in his seat and said, “We do not bother ourselves about witches, whose magic is limited to the energy of their own bodies, nor with sorcerers, whose talismans are not sufficiently powerful or long-lasting to seriously concern us. You warlocks, though, can reach a frightening level of power before the Calling takes you. Your Rudhira demonstrated that.”
“Frightening, yes,” Hanner admitted. “But still limited, and your own people can wreak considerable havoc before drawing the Guild’s attention. I don’t know whether the legendary Tower of Flame in the Small Kingdoms is real-”
“It is,” the white-haired man interrupted. “It still burns.”
“You see? The World is full of dangerous magic, yet it survives. And a powerful warlock who goes rogue can easily be handled.”
Some of the wizards exchanged glances.
“Not so easily,” Ithinia said. “Warlocks resist wizardry. It’s as if you all bear powerful protective spells at all times. We have had some unfortunate incidents already. You know of one of them; the spell we used on your uncle, Lord Faran, was the strongest petrifaction spell we know, and should be utterly instantaneous, yet it took a second or two to work, and he had time to retaliate. And Lord Faran was not a terribly powerful warlock, nowhere near Rudhira’s level.”
“It was not Faran who stopped his killer’s heart,” Hanner said. “I was able to see that, using a warlock’s added senses. I hope you’ll understand if I don’t tell you who did perform the deed.”
That created a stir, but before anyone could speak Hanner continued, “But that wasn’t what I meant, in any case. Yes, you could destroy powerful warlocks with your spells, at some risk to yourself-but you could also slit their throats while they sleep.Manrin knew you far better than my uncle did, yet he didn’t manage to take anyone with him.”
Hanner paused for breath and heard someone mutter, “Elken, too.”
He ignored that, and continued. “Even that isn’t what I meant, though. Don’t you see? You can use the Calling to do your work for you!” Again, his words triggered unrest; the wizards shifted in their seats and looked at one another.
“If you keep throwing things at a dangerous warlock, it doesn’t matter whether any of your attacks succeed,” Manner said. “He’ll use his magic to defend himself. The more magic he uses, the more powerful he becomes. And the more powerful he becomes, the stronger the Calling becomes. Rudhira destroyed herself by lifting those ships-after she did that, the Calling was always there for her, growing steadily stronger.”
For a moment the place was silent; then Ithinia said, “An interesting point.”
Hanner knew he had said the right thing, finally. He was swaying them.
“That’s one side,” he continued. “Warlocks cannot cause the same level of destruction you fear, so there’s no real need to destroy us. But there’s another side. Wecan make any attempt to destroy us very costly.”
“Go on,” Ithinia said.
Hanner knew he had to phrase this carefully. He did not want to anger these people by seeming disrespectful or by threatening them openly. “You know we can kill you without touching you. You’ve seen us be obvious, smashing doors and so on, but we can be subtle. We can hide. We don’t need to look like anything but ordinary people-did you knowI was a warlock before this morning?”
“No,” Ithinia said, “but we do have ways of finding out.”
“And if a wizard’s heart suddenly stops in the street one day, can you find out which of the dozens of people in the area is responsible?”
Ithinia frowned and glanced around at the others. “Go on,” she said.
Hanner thought he heard someone whisper something faintly. He ignored that, as he had the earlier muttering, and went on. “You may think that there are only so many warlocks, and that once you’ve disposed of us all you’re rid of the problem-but we can make others into warlocks. It’s very easy, very subtle-the person altered wouldn’t necessarily even know it at first.”
“Wait a minute,” the white-haired wizard said. He drew a dagger and placed it on the table, then fumbled with a pouch on his belt.
“What are you doing?” Ithinia asked.
“The Spell of Truth,” the other replied. He mumbled something, gestured with the dagger, and did something Hanner couldn’t see with his other hand. Then he pointed the knife at Hanner and said, “Repeat what you just told us.”
“I said that we can make more warlocks. We can makeanyone a warlock, easily, with or without their
