The Unwelcome Warlock

hundred leagues away.”

“But it worked?” Corinal asked.

“No, it didn’t,” Teneria said. “Because even though we were blocking the Call, it grew stronger and stronger, and harder and harder to block — a Called warlock is so receptive to the Call that he doesn’t need to use any perceptible magic to become even more receptive. It’s like a hole in a dike — a dike may hold back the sea indefinitely, but if a hole is made, then the water rushes through it and enlarges it until the entire dike washes away. We tried drawing on the warlocks’ own power to strengthen our witchcraft, but then the warlock’s susceptibility to the Calling increased even more quickly. We tried adding more witches, and that helped for a time, but...well, that was when we discovered the real problem with our efforts.”

“And what was that?” Corinal asked.

“We started to hear the Call,” Teneria said. “Our connection to the warlocks’ minds became so strong that the Calling began to draw us, as well.” She shuddered. “Fortunately, the moment the connection was broken, we could no longer hear it, any more than anyone else could. None of us were drawn all the way to Aldagmor — Called warlocks don’t take other people with them, and a witch can’t fly that far under her own power — but three or four of us had some very unpleasant experiences.”

“So you couldn’t save any warlocks?” Corinal asked.

“The longest we ever managed to block the Calling was about a month and a half, and that very nearly killed two witches.”

“Why have we never heard about this before?” Arvagan demanded.

“Because it didn’t work, and it wasn’t any of your business,” Teneria said. “We told Ithinia, but we kept it very quiet otherwise. We didn’t want hundreds of desperate warlocks coming to us hoping to be saved.”

“You all know we magicians are accustomed to keeping secrets from each other,” Ithinia said. “Warlocks weren’t very inclined to trust any of the rest of us, either; they remembered the Night of Madness and the days immediately after, when half the city wanted them all killed. It wasn’t hard to make sure they didn’t find out about this. After all, every warlock who was involved in the experiments was in Aldagmor.”

Teneria nodded. “Exactly.”

“So you know what the Calling felt like,” the other theurgist — Samber, that was his name! — said to Teneria. It was not a question.

“Yes.” Teneria shuddered again. “It’s not something you forget. I still have nightmares sometimes, and I’m sure the others do, too.” She glanced at Kirris, who nodded.

“So you can make Vond have those nightmares again, can’t you?” Ithinia said.

“Yes,” Teneria said.

Ithinia saw the witch’s expression, and started to say something else, something sympathetic and encouraging, but Arvagan interrupted her. “But you’d need to be very close to do that, wouldn’t you? Why don’t we wizards use the Lesser Spell of Invaded Dreams to send Vond this false Calling, instead? We don’t need to be nearby.”

“Because it won’t work,” Ithinia said, annoyed. She had seen this instantly, and was irritated that Arvagan had not. It did not make the Guild look good in front of these outsiders when a wizard made stupid suggestions. “You forget — warlockry blocks some spells, including that one. Besides, we would need to relay the images from Teneria’s mind, or the mind of one of the other witches who had been involved, and we’d lose much of the authenticity in the transfer. No, it must be a witch — though we can certainly help her to get close, and provide protective spells while she’s there.”

“You intend to deceive the emperor?” Samber asked.

“I think it would be our best course,” Ithinia said. She smiled. “Unless our uninvited friend kills him.” She gestured toward the corner where Demerchan’s representative had sat.

All that was there now, though, was an empty chair.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The tapestry rippled slightly as it settled into place, and then stilled, and suddenly it no longer looked like a mere piece of cloth, but like an opening leading out of the fourth-floor bedroom onto a grassy, sunlit slope. Hanner quickly pulled his hands away from the rod he had just set into brackets, and then climbed carefully down from the chair he stood on.

“It’s beautiful,” Nerra said, staring at the image. “Where is it?”

“Nowhere,” Hanner said, kicking aside the dusty old tapestry he had replaced. “It’s not in the World at all.”

His sister threw him a look. “Really?”

“Really. When I was in there, I couldn’t hear the Calling at all, not the faintest, most distant whisper.”

“Then why did you go flying off the instant you came out?”

“Because I came out a mile north of where I went in, for one thing, and for another — you know how when you step out of a dark room into the sun, it seems much brighter than when you went in? My mind had adjusted to not hearing the Call, and wasn’t ready when it suddenly came back as strong as ever.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much after that, but I remember the shock of stepping back through into the attic and being hit by the full force of it.”

“We had a lot of theories,” Nerra said. “That maybe the Calling was stronger in there, or that the return tapestry focused it somehow. I don’t remember whether anyone suggested the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hanner said. “There isn’t any Call anymore.”

“Are you going to test it?”

Hanner hesitated. “Is the attic... It looks the same...”

“After you smashed your way out,” Nerra said, “the other warlocks put it back exactly the way it was, down to the smallest particle of dirt. That was before they decided the tapestry was too dangerous to try again — or before they discovered no one would volunteer to try it, anyway.”

“Then the return tapestry ought to work.”

“Are you going to test it?” Nerra repeated.

“I’m not sure I should,” Hanner said. “I mean, if something goes wrong, I might be stuck there, and I don’t want to be. I haven’t even seen how my children turned out yet. I haven’t talked to Alris.”

“Well, I’m not going to test it,” Nerra said. “I have a husband waiting for me, and two children of my own.”

Hanner nodded. “Of course,” he said, gazing thoughtfully at the tapestry.

“Maybe one of those people from thirty years ago would risk it.”

“Maybe,” Hanner said quietly. Then a little more forcefully, “Maybe, yes. Come on.” He turned, and led the way downstairs.

Rudhira was waiting for them on the second floor. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

Hanner looked at her for a moment before replying, “Yes, we did.”

“That’s good. There are more people downstairs who want help.”

“They can wait,” Hanner said. “Rudhira, do you have anyone to stay with? Anywhere to go?”

“You,” she said. “And here.”

Hanner blinked. “No one else?”

She glared at him. “Hanner, it’s been more than thirty years, and I didn’t have much of anything back then, either. I had some regular customers back in Camptown, and some friends among the other girls, and I got along well enough with the guards and the local tradesmen, but none of them were all that close. I didn’t have any sisters, the way you do, or brothers. I didn’t have a husband, or parents, or children, and except for you and the other warlocks, everyone I knew is thirty-four years older now. They probably don’t even