The Unwelcome Warlock

They no longer had their own magic to protect them, should the wizard decide they were not showing the proper respect.

Ithinia considered the little redhead for a moment longer, then smiled and said, “Come in, both of you; you must be exhausted.” She stepped aside to let them enter.

“Thank you,” Hanner said, hurrying past her and into the parlor.

It had been refurbished since he last saw it — he was surprised at first, then remembered that it had been seventeen years. A small marble-topped table was familiar, but everything else was new. The predominant colors were red and gold, where the furnishings had been mostly white the last time Hanner visited. There was a faint odor of cinnamon, though Hanner could see no source for it.

Rudhira settled into a red velvet armchair without waiting to be invited; Hanner hesitated, and was still standing when Ithinia swept into the room and said, “Please, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Rudhira smiled at Hanner as he took a seat on a matching armchair.

“Guildmaster,” Rothiel said from the door.

Ithinia turned. “Yes?”

“Hanner suggests that the god Asham the Gate-Keeper might be able to send the other warlocks home. If I may, I’d like to see if I can find a theurgist who’s familiar with this deity.”

Ithinia said, “Asham?” Then she let out a wordless noise of dismay. “Of course, Asham! I must be getting old, to have not remembered sooner. The Sanctuary of the Priests of Asham is on Priest Street, north side, midway between Arena and Magician Street. It’s a very difficult summoning, so you may need to bargain.”

“Priest, between Arena and Magician? Thank you, Guildmaster!” The brown-clad wizard bowed, and hurried out.

That left Hanner and Rudhira alone with the woman generally believed to be the most powerful wizard in Ethshar of the Spices, and Hanner had no idea why they were there. He waited until Ithinia had closed the door and returned to the parlor, but then got straight to the point.

“Why did you want to see me, Guildmaster?”

Ithinia produced an expression that was not quite a smile, though it came close. “Would you like something to eat, before we get to business?” she asked. “A drink, perhaps? I had Obdur brew a pot of tea — it’s Luvannion leaf, the early harvest.”

“Tea would be lovely,” Hanner admitted; he had had nothing but water to drink, and not much of that, since being Called.

“And honey cakes? Sadra baked them this afternoon.”

Rudhira perked up. “Honey cakes?”

Ithinia smiled. She turned and called over her shoulder, “Obdur! Tea and cakes for our guests!”

“At once, Mistress!” a voice replied, though Hanner and Rudhira could not see the speaker.

Ithinia then sank into the last of the three velvet armchairs, straightened her robe, and said, “I want to reinstate you as Chairman of the Council of Warlocks.”

Hanner considered that for a moment. It made no sense that he could see. He asked, “What Council? What warlocks?”

“Vond,” Rudhira said, before Ithinia could reply.

The wizard nodded. “There’s Vond, yes,” she said, “but we don’t expect Hanner to deal with the emperor all by himself; that would be too much to ask of a man with no magic. No, we want him to deal with Zallin, and to help all the Called readjust to their altered circumstances.”

“Zallin?” Hanner asked. “Zallin of the Mismatched Eyes?”

“Yes, that Zallin. He was the last Chairman of the Council.”

“So I had heard,” Hanner said. “But again — what Council? What warlocks?”

“I’m afraid that Zallin has decided not to accept his fate,” Ithinia said. “He is determined to find a way to restore his magic, and thereby retain his position as chairman. I don’t think he’s the only warlock who is unhappy with the sudden change in his situation.”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Hanner said, “but I don’t see why that’s any concern of mine, or of the Wizards’ Guild.”

“Vond,” Rudhira said again. “If he still has his magic, so can others.”

“You’re a very astute young woman,” Ithinia said. “That’s exactly right. And there’s no Calling to restrain him, or anyone like him, now.”

“You think Zallin is going to find out how Vond kept his magic, and get his own magic back?” Hanner asked.

“We’re afraid he might try, yes,” Ithinia said. “We want you to do everything you can to discourage him, and anyone else who has the same idea.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are Chairman Hanner,” the wizard said. “Every warlock in the city who remembers you respects you. You created the Council and prevented Azrad the Sedentary from declaring war on all warlocks. You guaranteed that the Council would keep order among warlocks, and see that they obeyed the law, and you ran the Council effectively and fairly for seventeen years. From what I’ve heard, you also became the leader of all the Called, and took charge of getting them safely out of Aldagmor.”

“I didn’t...I was just one of several people!” Hanner protested. “Sensella of Morningside, and Rayel Roggit’s son, and Alladia of Shiphaven...”

“Morningside? She’s from Ethshar of the Sands? Is that where she is now?”

“Well...yes,” Hanner admitted.

“Then she’ll be no help here. And the others?”

“Rayel’s from Aldagmor,” Hanner conceded. “But Alladia...”

“She’s a theurgist,” Rudhira interrupted. Hanner turned to glare at her.

“You were the first chairman,” Ithinia said, before Hanner could argue further. “And you were a lord, and a student of magic, before that. You’re perfect for what we want.”

“I still don’t understand what that is,” Hanner protested.

“We want you to do everything you can to prevent anyone from seeking out Emperor Vond in hopes of getting back their magic. We want you to be a calming voice, a voice of authority, a fatherly friend helping former warlocks find places for themselves now that their magic is gone. We want you to serve as a go-between between the Called and the Wizards’ Guild.”

“I suppose I could try,” Hanner said, doubtfully.

“We’ll pay you for your services,” Ithinia said.

“How much?” Rudhira asked.

“Enough,” the wizard snapped.

Rudhira frowned, and slumped back in her chair.

Ithinia looked at her, then back at Hanner. “There’s something else,” she said. “I would have preferred to keep this between the two of us, but I won’t insist; would you rather have Rudhira hear it, or not?”

Hanner glanced at Rudhira. He did not want sole responsibility for anything.

“I’d rather have her here,” he said.

“As you please,” Ithinia said. “The other detail is this — if any other warlock does succeed in regaining his magic, we’ll kill him.” She glanced at Rudhira. “Or her.”

Hanner snorted. “Then what do you need me for? Just tell them that!”

Ithinia shook her head. “People can be stubborn,” she said. “If we say we’ll kill anyone who tries it, some will take that as a challenge, and we do not want to kill anyone. We would prefer you talk them out of it without bringing the Guild into the discussion. We don’t want to appear as if the Guild is exceeding its authority. We don’t want the overlord to think we are usurping his authority.”

“But you are.”

“Yes, but we don’t want to be blatant about it.” The not-quite-a-smile hardened.

Hanner grimaced. “So you want me to be the pretty frosting on a poisoned cake.”

“More or less, yes.”

It was at that point that Obdur appeared in the doorway with a large tray holding a teapot, three cups, and