Hanner was on the third floor, going through the drawers of magical paraphernalia Faran had accumulated, trying to decide whether he should try to sell the entire collection as a lot or piecemeal, when he heard shouting.
He hurried to a front window and looked out at the street.
“Blast,” he said.
Soldiers were marching up High Street toward the house, for the third time since the Night of Madness.
“Doesn’t helearnt” Hanner muttered. Then he turned and headed for the stairs.
When he reached the parlor he found Sheila, Ulpen, Hinda, and Desset crowded at the front windows, watching the guards’ advance. “What’s happening?” he asked. “Are you pushing them back?”
“No,” Ulpen said. “How can we? There arehundreds of them!”
“I could,” Desset said uncertainly.
“No,” Hanner immediately replied. He looked at the others.
Ulpen was the most powerful of them, Sheila next, then himself, and finally poor little Hinda-and none of them were especially powerful; of the five warlocks in the room only Ulpen and Desset could fly reliably, and letting Desset fly might mean watching her fly off northward, toward Aldagmor. Hanner and Sheila could get themselves off the ground, rather unsteadily; Hinda couldn’t even manage that.
“Who else is in the house?” Hanner asked.
“Bern,” Sheila said.
“That’sam”
“The others are out recruiting,” Ulpen said. “You told them to go.”
Hanner could not deny that. He realized that he might have made a fatal error in allowing the group’s little remaining strength to be so spread out.
But he hadn’t thought Azrad would try again! Hadn’t he hadenough, having his doors smashed in?
And as he thought that, he looked out the window and saw the battering ram being brought into position. “This is stupid,” he said. “There’s no point in letting them wreck the house!” He hurried back into the hallway and opened the front door.
“Hai!” he called, using his magic to amplify his voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The soldiers stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.
“Who’s in charge here?” Hanner bellowed.
Captain Naral stepped forward, up to the iron gate; Hanner waved a hand, and the gate swung open.
Naral watched this display of magical power expressionlessly, then stepped into the gateway and said, “I am in command of this party, Lord Hanner.”
“I’m not Lord Hanner,” Hanner replied, exasperated. “I am Hanner, Chairman of the Council of Warlocks.”
“The overlord does not recognize any such title,” Naral replied. “In fact, he now rejects the very word ’warlock.’ He has ordered that all the madmen wielding power given them by the spell that struck the World on the Night of Madness be removed from the city immediately, and from the Hegemony of Ethshar as soon as practical. Any who resist this order will be summarily executed.”
“If anyone’s gone mad around here, it’s Lord Azrad,” Hanner replied. “I knew he could be reluctant to face reality, but this is absurd!”
Naral’s rigid expression softened slightly.
“I think your uncle’s betrayal and death struck him hard, my lord.”
“I am not your lord!” Hanner said. “I know you mean well, Captain, but I cannot allow you to call me by that title. The Wizards’ Guild does not allow magicians to hold high office, and that includes warlocks.”
“The Wizards’ Guild has been notably silent on the subject of warlocks,” Naral replied. “The overlord has been trying to communicate with the Guild since the Night of Madness, and has received nothing but silence and vague promises of a later agreement. It hasn’t helped his temper, my... sir.”
“It hasn’t helped mine, either,” Hanner said. “I am trying to control it, Captain, but this is the third time Lord Azrad has sent troops to remove loyal citizens of Ethshar from this house. I would think he would have learned better by now.”
“Lor... um, Hanner...”
“Address me as Chairman, if you need a title,” Hanner said. He had not been using a title, but clearly Captain Naral would be happier with one.
“Chairman, then,” Naral said. “Lord Azrad is not the fool you seem to think him. We know that Lord Faran is dead, and that your most powerful magicians have flown off northward-though we don’t know why. We know that most of the others have scattered through the city, trying to recruit more people into your outlaw band.”
“Outlaw?” Naral refused to be interrupted; he continued, “You have only a handful of people here at present. I have three hundred men and a dozen assorted magicians with me. I believe that we can take you by force, if necessary. My orders are to destroy this center of insurrection once and for all, burn the house and smash the walls — the overlord sees it as a center of rebellion and demands that it be removed.”
“Rebellion?” Hanner said. “You clearly have people watching us-magicians, presumably. You know we’ve been recruiting warlocks to join us. Has anyone told you what terms we’ve been offering those recruits?”
He waited a second or two, but Naral plainly did not intend to answer.
“We’re requiring them to swear to obey the overlord’s laws, Captain! What sort of rebellion is that?”
“I have my orders, Chairman Hanner,” Naral said. “I am to remove you if possible, kill you if not, and then destroy this house.”
Hanner’s temper got the better of him; he reached for the captain’s throat, not with his hands, but with warlockry, and squeezed gently.
Naral’s breath stopped, and his eyes widened. His hands flew to his throat. Behind him, a dozen soldiers raised their weapons.
“I could kill you before you could touch me, Captain,” Hanner said. Then he released his hold.
Naral gasped, swallowed, then said, “And this is how you obey the law, Chairman?”
Hanner started to respond, then stopped.
Naral was right. Hanner had said that warlocks would obey the city’s laws, and the overlord made those laws. The whole point of his Council of Warlocks was to convince everyone that warlocks would be law-abiding citizens.
But if they were to be exiled anyway, what was the use of it all?
Still, he saw no ethical way out. He had said they would obey the law, and obey it they would.
Perhaps, if they were obedient enough, even Azrad would be ashamed and revoke his sentence of exile.
“Captain,” Hanner said, “you’re right. We will accept the overlord’s judgment. However, I want to make a few things clear first.” He raised his voice, putting his magic behind it.
“If we chose to fight,” Hanner said, “you might defeat us, but many of you would die in the process. We have the same right to defend ourselves and our home as any other citizens of Ethshar. Be grateful that we donot choose to fight-and tell the overlord so. We have sworn to behave as peaceful citizens, and we will abide by that oath-tell the overlordthat, as well. We will accept the overlord’s commands-but we ask him to reconsider. And we ask for a few moments to gather our belongings from our home before you destroy it. I would point out that my uncle spent much of his fortune in furnishing this house, and the overlord now proposes to simply throw away this wealth in his foolish fear of warlocks. Furthermore, he is acting against his own best interests-with the Council driven from the city, the warlocks who remain in hiding will be free to kill and steal, unhindered by any oaths or the oversight of their fellow warlocks. May he enjoy this unjust and wholly avoidable disaster he has brought on himself!”
Captain Naral hesitated. Then he said, “You’ll come peacefully?”
“We will,” Hanner said-though he could feel a mental pressure that he knew was the other warlocks, watching him and disagreeing. “May we fetch our belongings?”
“You have a quarter of an hour,” Naral said.
“Thank you.” Hanner bowed slightly, then turned and marched back into the house.
The others met him in the hallway.
