The Unwelcome Warlock

back into the magical fissure.

Once he had the proceedings moving smoothly, Rothiel turned his attention back to Hanner. “You shouldn’t feel responsible,” he said. “Unless you had an apprentice or two, you didn’t turn anyone into a warlock, and you certainly didn’t lure them all out to the middle of nowhere and strand them there with winter coming on. You aren’t any more responsible than anyone else here. It seems to me you’ve already done more than your share.”

“Nonetheless, I wouldn’t feel right, abandoning them.”

Rothiel glanced out at the throng. “Chairman Hanner,” he said, “let me put it this way. You are no longer a magician. Do you really want to antagonize the most senior master of the Wizards’ Guild in Ethshar of the Spices?”

“Um,” Hanner said.

“Do you really want her to reconsider her plans to help all these people, which were based largely on your cooperation, when I spoke to you in your dream?”

“I don’t,” Hanner said.

“Then when these merchants are done, and the last of them starts down these stairs, you will follow him — or her, as the case may be. I will be right behind you, and the fissure will close behind us when we emerge back in Eastgate Market, but further assistance will be sent as soon as practical, possibly including theurgists who can invoke this gate-keeper you mentioned. Agreed?”

“Eastgate Market?”

“It has the least normal traffic of any market in the city, so using it caused the least disruption.”

That made sense; in fact, his surprise had been because Eastgate Market saw so little use that he had almost forgotten it was there. It was still the best place to get fresh shellfish, as well as oranges and dates in season, but other than that it could not compete with the city’s other markets. “I see,” he said.

“Then you’ll come?”

Hanner looked around, saw Rudhira listening at his side, and said, “Only if she comes with us.”

Rothiel looked at the slender redhead. “And who is this?”

Rudhira did not answer, but looked up at Hanner expectantly.

“Rudhira of Camptown,” Hanner said. “A very old friend I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Called before you?”

“Years before me. Is that a problem?”

“You’re taking responsibility for her? I don’t want her to wind up in the Hundred-Foot Field.”

“I can take care of myself,” Rudhira said, before Hanner could speak.

“If she doesn’t go, neither do I,” Hanner said.

He knew this was irrational; Rudhira really could take care of herself, and it wasn’t as if the two of them had ever been very close. They had only known each other for a few days — but they had been very important days, from the Night of Madness to Rudhira’s Calling, and then from the moment they awoke in Aldagmor to now.

It occurred to Hanner that while he hoped Mavi was alive and well and would welcome him back, she would probably not appreciate having him show up with a streetwalker at his side. Mavi was not particularly prone to jealousy, but she was his wife.

But he had stated his position, and he was not going to back down. Rothiel was right in saying that he wasn’t responsible for all the thousands of the Called, but he could at least take responsibility for one of them.

“All right,” Rothiel said. “You can bring her along. If anyone objects, you can explain it.”

“That’s fine, then,” Hanner said. That settled, he stepped aside to make more room for the peddlers.

He was startled to feel the touch of Rudhira’s hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her.

“Thank you,” she said.

Uncomfortable, he murmured an inaudible reply.

Almost half an hour later the last candle was sold, the last peddler’s pack folded, and the last merchant had started down the steps. Rothiel gestured for Hanner to follow.

He hesitated, then gestured for Rudhira to precede him. She smiled, and obeyed.

He followed her, and heard Rothiel call a few final instructions to nearby apprentices before the wizard, too, started down the steps.

Hanner took a final look around as his head reached ground level, then took the next step down into the earth, in the narrow space between two stone walls, with nothing to see ahead of him but the brightly-colored top of Rudhira’s head.

Chapter Fourteen

Sterren grew steadily more nervous as he waited in the plaza, between the doors of the imperial palace and the fountain in the center of the square. Vond had said he would be here an hour after noon, and by Sterren’s reckoning it was now half an hour beyond that. The little crowd Sterren had gathered was growing restless.

“Lord Sterren,” Lady Kalira said, “is there a problem?” She still spoke Ethsharitic with a slight accent, even after all these years.

“I don’t know,” Sterren replied. “He said he would be here.”

“I think I’ve changed my mind,” said one of the former warlocks. “I’ll find another way to Ethshar.”

“That’s your choice,” Sterren told her. “I don’t even know whether the emperor would take you, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“It might hurt, though,” another of the “honor guard” said. “I’ve heard stories about his temper. He might think we’re getting above ourselves.”

“But he said we would have positions of authority!”

“He said we’d have them here, not in Ethshar.”

Several of them began speaking at once, and Sterren stepped away.

Lady Kalira followed him, and whispered, “Do you still think he’s coming?”

“I don’t know,” Sterren said. “Honestly, he said he would.”

“The wizards may have trapped or killed him.”

“I thought of that,” Sterren admitted. “If they did, wouldn’t they tell us?”

“They might not bother.” She glanced back at the arguing warlocks. “Could something else have happened to him? Maybe there is something even worse that happens to warlocks, something that the Calling had protected him from.”

Sterren grimaced; that possibility had never occurred to him, and while he didn’t think it was likely, it was not a pleasant idea. After all, he was technically a warlock himself. “I don’t know,” he said. “Nobody knows much about how warlock magic works, and they know even less about Vond’s version.”

“If he never comes back, you’re still regent.”

“No, you are!” Sterren protested. “He appointed you regent last night!”

“He didn’t tell me that; I have only your word for it.”

“Are you doubting my word, then?”

“As a matter of fact, Lord Sterren, I often doubt your word. In this case I think you were probably telling the truth — but I also think I will deny I ever said that. I’m not interested in this sort of responsibility; I don’t want to be regent.”

“I never wanted to be regent. That was the council’s idea.”

“That’s why you were good at it!”

“I did as little as I could; that was good?”

“That was excellent. The secret of good government is to let people go on about their own business. Oh, there are times you must act, but unless your people are asking for your help, usually it’s