The Unwelcome Warlock

best to do nothing.”

“Not everyone would agree.”

“No, but ask your overlords back in Ethshar some time. I think they would.”

Sterren had never paid much attention to government in his youth, back in Ethshar, but he suspected Kalira was right. “Well, then it shouldn’t be hard for you to be regent,” he said. “You’ve just told me the secret of good government; all you need to do is apply that knowledge.”

She glared at him.

“Can you suggest anyone better?” Sterren asked. “There might still be time to change Vond’s mind.”

“Lord Algarven, perhaps?”

“How old is he? And I don’t think Vond likes him.”

“Those are not the most important qualifications.”

Sterren turned up an empty palm. “I suggested you. If you want to argue with the Great Vond about it, I won’t stop you.”

“If he comes back, maybe I will.”

“As you please.” Sterren glanced past Lady Kalira at the cluster of Called warlocks; he had gathered twenty-six of them, but there were no longer that many. Some of them had clearly decided they didn’t want to ask about being carried to Ethshar after all.

He had only been able to find about thirty of the eighty or more who had originally accompanied Vond; the rest had presumably either believed the rumors about Vond’s power being demonic, or had been so beset by headaches they fled, or had simply gone about their own business. A few of the thirty had said they were happy staying on as guests of the empire, leaving the twenty-six who had been waiting on the plaza with Sterren.

Some of them admitted to having headaches; others reported a nagging buzz or hum; others claimed not to perceive anything out of the ordinary. Sterren guessed that even though they were all warlocks, there were variations in their brains that affected how they reacted to the Lumeth source — if they reacted at all.

So far, none showed any signs of being able to exploit the Lumeth source to power magic, as Vond did. That was good. Sterren had made sure that they all knew the Wizards’ Guild had forbidden warlocks to enter the empire, or several of the other southern kingdoms, which he hoped would temper any interest in regaining their magic.

He wondered what the Wizards’ Guild would do about Vond — or what they had done about Vond, if that was why he was so late. If Vond was dead, would his subjects blame Sterren? Would they consider him a traitor?

Or would they celebrate? Yes, Vond had created the empire, overthrown the old kings and removed the worst of the old aristocracy, built the palace, built the roads, and brought peace to the region, but he had also killed anyone who got in his way, gathered a harem, and generally treated the empire as his personal playground. Sterren had not been able to get a good feel, as yet, for how Vond’s return was received.

And how would the Wizards’ Guild look at Sterren? As regent he had agreed to keep warlocks out, but he had welcomed Vond back; the wizards might not appreciate that.

Sterren looked up to the east again, then blinked. At first he thought he might be imagining it, but no — that black shape in the distance was Vond, approaching quickly. He let out his breath.

“There he is,” he told Kalira, pointing.

“What?” She turned, startled. “Oh, yes!”

“Are you going to ask him to choose someone else?”

Kalira hesitated, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “Maybe after I see how it goes.” She squared her shoulders and stood up straight, awaiting her emperor.

A moment later Vond swooped down to hang a foot or so above the plaza, facing Sterren. He was smiling cheerfully as he approached, but once he stopped, his expression turned serious. “Are you ready?” he demanded.

Sterren gestured at his baggage — two large bundles and a trunk. “I am, your Majesty.”

“Good! Then let us...” Vond began. Then he stopped.

Sterren had felt himself tugged upward, but he used his own feeble magic to resist, to pull himself back down, keeping his toes, if not his entire feet, on the ground. He had no doubt at all that Vond could easily overcome his opposition, but this would at least get the emperor’s attention.

“Was there something else?” Vond asked.

“Two things, your Majesty,” Sterren replied. “First, would you please confirm Lady Kalira as the new regent, if such is your pleasure?”

Vond glanced at the woman in question, then turned his gaze back to Sterren. “And the second?”

“Second, some of the people you brought from Aldagmor would like to accompany us to Ethshar.” He gestured at the waiting Called. “I understand they do not feel comfortable here.”

“Ah,” Vond said, looking over the former warlocks thoughtfully. They were a worried and tired-looking group, about evenly split between male and female, all watching Sterren and the emperor nervously. “Headaches, ringing in the ear, perhaps? That sort of thing?”

“Exactly, your Majesty.”

“Then by all means, they should come with us! Well done, Sterren, thinking of that.”

“And the regency?” Sterren prodded gently.

“Yes!” Vond rose a foot or so and amplified his voice, so that the entire square echoed with his words. “Lady Kalira, I hereby name you regent, and appoint you to administer the empire in my absence! Rule wisely until I return!”

Lady Kalira curtsied deeply in response, and by the time she rose once more to her feet, Sterren and the former warlocks — Sterren counted nineteen, nine men and ten women — were rising upward into the air.

Some of them were muttering or calling questions, which Vond totally ignored. He had his attention focused to the northwest, toward Ethshar of the Spices.

Sterren watched the plaza fall away, then turned to the south to see Semma Castle receding as he was pulled upward and northward. Within a few seconds of Vond’s final word, Sterren and the others were passing over the red tile roof of the imperial palace, leaving behind the marble walls and tile roofs of New Semma, and the half- timber and thatch of Old Town.

Once they were well clear of the buildings, Sterren glanced back and down, and saw that his luggage was following them.

The former warlocks, of course, had no luggage; they still had only what they had brought with them when they were Called. They did not look very happy, which struck Sterren as slightly odd — they were being given a free ride back to Ethshar, after all. Shouldn’t they be pleased?

Vond, unlike the others, seemed quite cheerful. He was smiling, and his movements were calm and easy.

Wind whipped at Sterren’s hair and whistled in his ears, so he had to shout to be heard. “You seem to be in a good mood,” he said to Vond. “Are you so pleased to see the last of the town you built?”

Vond turned his smile on Sterren. “I had a pleasant night,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to seeing Ethshar again — it’s been almost a year!” Then he blinked, and said, “Or fifteen years, from your point of view.”

Sterren nodded, and did not try speaking again; it wasn’t worth the effort to be heard over the wind.

By now they were sailing over mile upon mile of small farms and scattered villages; the fields were mostly brown, the harvest in. The names of the months were not even remotely accurate this far south, but even so, by this late in Newfrost most of the crops had been brought in.

Sterren felt a certain pride at the landscape below. Sixteen years ago, when he first came to Semma, this land had been far less productive, the population far smaller. The roads Vond had built had something to do with that, but as regent Sterren had made sure that the roads were maintained and extended, irrigation canals built, and the peasants allowed to work the land as they chose, undisturbed by wars or the sometimes ruinous whims of the nobility.

There was no way to tell when they left the province of Semma and entered Ksinallion; the once-fortified border was gone without a trace. Again, when they passed from Ksinallion into Thanoria, Sterren was only aware of the distinction from years of studying the empire’s maps and learning the relevant landmarks.