The Unwelcome Warlock

Rudhira.on the steps; he doubted Vond or Zallin would bother to knock. If it was Rudhira she might need help with her purchases.

It wasn’t Rudhira, nor Sterren. There were half a dozen people standing there, all of them bedraggled and exhausted, several of them shivering, and all but one in nightclothes of one sort or another. It was a safe assumption that all of them were former warlocks; it would seem, Hanner thought, that the wizards had finally started delivering some of the Called back to Ethshar of the Spices.

“Chairman Hanner?” one of them said.

Hanner looked at the speaker; her face was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The rest he did not believe he had ever met. “Yes?” he said.

“May we come in?”

Hanner hesitated. He didn’t know these people. He was not particularly in a mood to welcome strangers into his home. Ithinia had told him to be a comforting friend to displaced former warlocks, to encourage them to go on without magic, so he should invite them in and hear them out, but she had also told him to keep former warlocks away from Vond, and Vond was not somewhere a hundred miles away in the Small Kingdoms; he was staying here.

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” a white-haired old man said, “and it’s cold.”.

That decided it. “Come in,” Hanner said. “All of you, come in.” He flung the door wide and stepped back to let them past.

A moment later the seven of them were seated in the parlor. “Now, tell me what’s happened,” Hanner said. “Who are you all?”

The middle-aged woman who had called him by name said, “I’m Edara of Silk Street, Chairman; we met shortly before I was Called, in 5211.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember,” Hanner admitted.

“I don’t suppose there’s any reason you should,” she said. “I was just one more frightened warlock hoping to avoid the inevitable.”

“Which turned out not to be as dreadful as we thought, didn’t it?” Hanner pointed out. “What brings you here?”

Edara blinked, as if fighting back tears. “We didn’t know where else to go!” she said. “We came through the gate, and it was wonderful to be back in Ethshar, but when I went to my parents’ house on Silk Street it was gone — there was a completely different shop there! No one knew what happened to my parents; hardly anyone even remembered them.”

“It’s been twenty-five years,” Hanner said gently.

“But they’re just gone, everything’s gone! The whole neighborhood is different.”

“Wasn’t there anywhere else you could go?”

She spread her hands. “I was an only child. I never married or had children — I didn’t want to leave any orphans when I got Called. Once I realized my home was gone, I came here to ask for your help.”

Hanner nodded. “And the rest of you?”

“The Night of Madness,” the old man said. “At least, that’s what they tell me. I went to bed one night, and had a nightmare, and the next thing I know I’m crawling out of a pit in Aldagmor, surrounded by strangers who tell me it’s more than thirty years later. I never heard of warlocks or the Night of Madness or any of this until I woke up out there!”

Hanner nodded. “Your name is?..”

“Bardec of Cut Street. I’m a cloth merchant — or I was. When I went home just now there were strangers living in my house, and my warehouse had been split into four different shops, and no one knew who I was. I’d met Edara while we were waiting to come through the gate, and we walked up Merchant Street together, and when we found out...what we found out, she said we should come here for help.”

“I see. And the rest of you? Much the same?”

The other four nodded. “I lived on the corner of Embroidery and Velvet,” one nightgown-clad woman began.

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Excuse me,” Hanner said.

This time there were only three unhappy strangers on the steps. Hanner ushered them in.

They had just gotten through the introductions when the next knock sounded. This time Hanner sent one of the others to answer it while he asked, “Several of you mentioned a gate; what gate? Didn’t the wizards send you here with a tapestry?”

“No,” several voices said.

“It wasn’t the wizards who did it,” Bardec said. “It was a god.”

“Asham the Gate-Keeper,” Edara said. “It took four theurgists to summon him.”

“It was...it was...” began a woman who had introduced herself as Gita. She groped for words, unable to complete her thought.

“It was a little overwhelming,” finished a woman who had given her name as Hinda. “I never saw or heard a god at all until this happened, and now I’ve heard two, Piskor and Asham.”

“Asham was scarier,” Gita said.

“He opened a gateway from that wilderness where the wizards found us right into the plaza in front of the overlord’s palace,” Bardec said. “We just walked through.”

“Hundreds of us,” Hinda said.

“They made us wait until most of the others had gone,” Edara said. “Because we’d been away so long.”

“It didn’t seem long to us,” Bardec said. “But it was.”

“Thirty-four years,” Hinda said.

“For most of us,” Gita said, with a glance at Edara.

“It was only half that for me,” Hanner said, “but the World does seem to have changed.” He remembered Mavi’s face. “It’s definitely changed.”

“We need help,” Edara said. “We need...we need a place to stay, and someone to tell us what’s happened, and —” She seemed at a loss for words.

“Everything,” Gita finished for her. “We need everything.”

“I can’t give you everything,” Hanner said, “but I can let you stay here until you can make new lives for yourselves. I’m not going to send you out to the Hundred-Foot Field, or let you be taken by slavers — but this isn’t permanent, it’s just until you can find your families, or make new places for yourselves. You understand that?”

“Of course, Chairman!” Edara said, relief plain in her voice. “Just until we find our footing.”

“And there’s a...complication,” Hanner said. “An important one.”

“What is it?” Bardec asked.

“You remember that warlock who called himself Vond, who somehow still had magic? He asked for volunteers, then flew off with them?”

“I remember,” Gita said. “How did he do that? Why does he still have magic?”

“I don’t know how he does it,” Hanner said. “Apparently he has another source, instead of the one we all used when we were warlocks.” He remembered who he was speaking to, and added, “At least, those of us who were warlocks, and weren’t just snatched away on the Night of Madness.”

“There’s another source?” Edara glanced around at the others. “Why can’t we all use it, then?”

“I don’t know,” Hanner said. “Apparently this one isn’t calling for help, and it may be different in other ways, as well. Personally, I don’t want to use it. I don’t trust it.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” Hinda asked.

“I didn’t,” Hanner said. “I brought up Vond.”

“All right, why did you bring up Vond?” Bardec asked.

“Because he’s living here, in this house. He’s declared himself Chairman of the Council of Warlocks, on the grounds that he’s the only real warlock left.”