The Unwelcome Warlock

“Five, I think.”

“Fourteen in all, then.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t want to use the upper floors, not until I have a chance to see what’s up there, but we can fit fourteen on the second floor. They won’t all get individual rooms, but if the furniture is still what it used to be, they can all have their own beds.”

“Are you counting Sterren and Zallin?” Rudhira pulled two heads of cabbage from a bag and studied the cabinets, trying to decide where to put them.

“And the two of us, yes. Eighteen. Not counting Vond — I don’t think anyone’s going to share his room.”

“Not unless she’s pretty.”

Hanner grimaced.

“It’s not so bad,” Rudhira said, pushing the cabbage into a tin-lined bin. “After all, you had thirty or forty people staying here when I was Called.”

“Did we? I’d forgotten. That was seventeen years ago for me.”

“It was only a few days ago for me.”

Hanner had not really thought about that, and was not comfortable with the idea. “I think we can manage, then,” he said, sliding a wheel of cheese onto a shelf. “Especially once I make sure the third floor is safe.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Hanner didn’t have a good answer for that. Uncle Faran had kept the top two floors closed off for his own exclusive use, and had stored his magical devices up there, but Hanner had long ago disposed of most of the arcane paraphernalia and moved the remainder to the back rooms on the fourth floor. The third floor, and most of the fourth, should be perfectly suitable for guests.

“No reason,” he acknowledged. “We should be able to fit everyone easily.”

“For now,” Rudhira said. “But what if they keep coming? There were thousands who disappeared on the Night of Madness.”

“I don’t know,” Hanner said. “We can’t fit that many. They’ll need to find refuge somewhere else.”

“Where?”

That was an excellent question, and for a moment Hanner’s mind was completely blank, but then a thought struck him. He blinked. “I...might have an idea,” he said. “I’ll need to see if I can find a wizard named Arvagan the Gray.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know him,” Hanner said. “I don’t think he came to the city until after you were Called. I met him about ten years after you left.”

Rudhira cocked her head to one side, sending a wave of red hair rippling across her shoulder. “So you think this Arvagan can do something other wizards can’t? If you need a wizard, couldn’t you just talk to Ithinia?”

“Well, she might know where he is, but no, I don’t want a wizard, exactly. I want something I last saw in Arvagan’s shop. I’m assuming he’ll know where it is.”

“If it still exists, whatever it is.”

“If it still exists,” Hanner agreed, as he stuffed a final bag of turnips into a bin. “Now, let’s go get our guests settled in.”

They were crossing back through the dining room when another knock sounded at the front door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sterren stepped into Warlock House and found half a dozen strangers sitting in the parlor in their nightclothes. They seemed to be deep in discussion, so he decided not to interrupt them, and instead turned right, into the grand dining room. It was empty, but he could hear noise from the kitchen, so he made his way there and found the little redhead — Rudhira, that was it — shelling peas.

“Hello,” he said.

She nodded a silent acknowledgment as she popped open the next pod.

“Who are those people in the parlor?”

She looked up. “Warlocks,” she said. “Or former warlocks, anyway.”

“Why are they here?”

She cocked her head. “You’re asking why warlocks would come to Warlock House?”

Sterren felt momentarily foolish. “Well — yes,” he said.

She set down the bowl of peas and turned to face him. “Because they have nowhere else to go. Most of them were Called on the Night of Madness, and have no homes or families left after thirty-four years. Some were Called later, but still have no homes. So they came here.”

“You let them all in?”

“Hanner did. It’s his house. He told them they could stay until they find places.”

“Stay?”

“He doesn’t want them to have to go to the Hundred-Foot Field.”

Sterren pursed his lips, then asked, “What does the Great Vond think of this?”

“He isn’t back yet.”

“I doubt he’ll approve.”

“You would know better than I.”

“What do you think of it?”

She turned up a palm. “I am here because I had nowhere else to go, and Hanner took me in. How can I object when he offers others the same?”

“Well, you... Aren’t you a friend of his, while they’re strangers?”

“We knew each other for a few days, more than thirty years ago. I have no special claim on his affections.”

Sterren’s eyes narrowed. “I had thought there was rather more than that between you.”

“No,” she said flatly.

Sterren did not argue, but something about her attitude had him wondering whether perhaps she would have preferred there to be more.

“Where is Hanner?” he asked.

“He’s out looking for a wizard he knew seventeen years ago, to find something he left in the wizard’s shop.”

“To find what, exactly?”

“He did not see fit to tell me that.”

“Did you ask?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

She glared at him. “I told you,” she said. “I am here on Lord Hanner’s sufferance. I am not in a position to make any demands, for information or anything else.”

Sterren noticed the glare, and the title. “He brought you here, didn’t he? Did you beg him to save you, or did he volunteer?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “I am still a guest.”

There was clearly something going on here between Rudhira and Hanner that Sterren didn’t entirely understand, but it wasn’t any of his business — at least, not unless it upset Vond. Sterren did not pry further.

This did complicate his own plans, though. He had just spent an hour talking to Emmis of Shiphaven, the overlord’s customs inspector responsible for overseeing all traffic between the Vondish Empire and Ethshar of the Spices. It was Emmis’ specific charge to ensure that no forbidden magic was transported from Ethshar to the empire, and most particularly that no warlocks took passage for any of the empire’s eight ports. Sterren had informed Emmis, among other things, that several former warlocks were on their way, and that any who had no family or other accommodations should be sent to Warlock House. Convincing Vond to accept them should not be