The Unwelcome Warlock

At last she spotted Zallin marching up High Street from the west, with perhaps a score of men at his heels. She saw no sign of a tailor; these all looked very much like the fighters Vond had wanted. She hurried toward them, trying to think what she would say.

Nothing came; she stopped at the corner of the fence and gripped the iron railing, trying to come up with something to tell or ask Zallin.

He glanced at her as he led his troops through the gate, but showed no sign of recognition. He crossed the dooryard, then turned on the doorstep and announced, “Wait here, while I inform his Majesty of your arrival.”

His followers stopped, about half in the dooryard, the other half still on the street outside the gate. Then Zallin turned, opened the door, and strode inside.

Edara studied the men, trying not to draw their attention. They were mostly young, and all looked reasonably strong and formidable. None of them had any visible weapons beyond the belt-knives that almost every Ethsharite carried, and Edara wondered about that; she had the distinct impression Vond had wanted swordsmen.

Then the front door opened again, and Zallin emerged. He stepped down into the dooryard as his men made way for him. Seconds later Vond emerged, flying, as always. He rose up and hovered over the men, who stared up at him with varying degrees of surprise. He looked down appraisingly, then spoke.

“Welcome!” he said. “I trust Zallin had made clear why I am hiring you?”

“Not entirely,” one of then men said.

“Your Majesty,” another quickly added, with a bow.

“I intend you to be my honor guard,” Vond proclaimed. “You will stand ready to defend me from any threat that I do not see, or any danger from which my magic cannot protect me. You will be treated with honor and respect. You will be housed here, in Warlock House, and fed at my table. You will be paid generously — has my aide Zallin named an amount?”

“Four rounds a day,” someone called.

“Done! Excellent! And a bonus will be paid for every incident in which you serve me well. Now, I do not see any weapons — are you armed?”

Several of the men exchanged glances. “No,” one replied.

“Zallin said you would provide weapons,” another said.

“Then so I shall! Go inside, and let Zallin assign you your rooms, and see that you’re fed; I will be back shortly with your arms and armor.”

“Wait, your Majesty,” Zallin protested. “Where are you going?”

Vond turned. “I am going to Camptown to get what these fine men need. Then you and I, Zallin, are going to direct my troops in evicting a bunch of trespassers from my home.”

“Trespassers?”

“Yes, trespassers! Including that Hanner who used to own it. I told him to send out all the squatters he invited in, but have they emerged? No, they have not! Apparently I can’t trust anyone else to handle this, so I will see to it myself.”

“You mean the tapestry?”

“Yes, I mean the tapestry! I wonder whether Ithinia somehow arranged for Hanner to have it. However it got here, though, I can’t have it in my home with all those people on the other side — Hanner tells me that they could emerge into my home at any time, and probably murder me in my sleep, if I don’t do something about it. Certainly, that one woman popped out of nowhere, just as Hanner had predicted. Simply destroying the tapestry apparently won’t solve the problem; I need to get all those people out first. So that’s what we’re going to do, and then I’ll destroy the damned thing.”

“I understand, your Majesty,” Zallin said with a bow. “Then we’ll await your return.”

“Do that,” Vond said. Then he shot upward, and vanished into the eastern sky.

Edara watched him go, then turned to see Zallin herding his new recruits into the house. She bit her lip, trying to think what she should do. She needed to warn Hanner and Rudhira and the others, but how could she get past all those men to get back to the tapestry? She could see no way to do it.

But maybe she could get a message to them, even if she couldn’t get there herself. If she could find a wizard and talk him into doing a spell on credit, and if Hanner was still asleep, there might be a way. She turned east, as Vond had, but instead of flying she simply ran up High Street, headed for the Wizards’ Quarter.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Hanner opened his eyes to see a completely unfamiliar ceiling overhead, and bright midday sun outside the room’s only window. He blinked, and sat up. Only then did he remember where he was. He was in the refuge, the village beyond the tapestry, and Vond had sent him here to chase everyone out.

“Feeling better?” Rudhira asked.

His head snapped around. She was sitting quietly on the floor in one corner. “I didn’t know you were here,” he said.

“Where else would I be?” she asked. “You’re in my bed.”

“I am?” He looked down at the collection of rags that had served as his mattress, and realized they were all either nightclothes or warlock black.

“When I brought people new clothes, I took the old ones,” Rudhira said. “Some of them might be wearable again, with a little care, but why bother? They’re all thirty years out of style. So I brought them in here and used them as bedding.”

Hanner nodded. “Sensible,” he said.

“So why are you here? I didn’t really expect you to come through the tapestry. In fact, I came here myself partly to get out of your way.”

“Vond sent me,” Hanner told her. “He wants everyone cleared out. He’s claimed my house, and he doesn’t like the idea of having dozens of people who could get into the attic without his knowledge.”

“It would be easy enough to block the exit, wouldn’t it?”

Hanner frowned at her. “It probably would, yes,” he said, “but I wasn’t about to tell him that! Then you’d all be trapped here.”

“That wouldn’t really be so dreadful,” Rudhira said. “I mean, look around — it’s pleasant here. Warm and sunny, and there are nuts and fish, and the water’s good.”

“Fine, but I wanted to make it your choice, not Vond’s.”

She smiled. “Generous as always,” she said. The smile vanished. “I’ll go tell everyone you’re awake, and when you’re ready you can come tell us all about it. We’ll meet in the village square.”

“There’s a village square?”

“Well, there’s an open area we call the village square, though I guess it’s really more of an irregular hexagon. You’ll see.”

“Thank you. Could you please try to get everyone?”

“I’ll try.” With that she clambered to her feet, and ambled out of the room, leaving Hanner alone.

He watched her go, then yawned, stretched, and stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his clothes, and otherwise did his best to make himself presentable and ready to face the day — or the next few hours; he supposed “day” wasn’t really the right word in this place where the sun never moved.

He realized he was ravenously hungry, but he did not see any handy food, and decided he could wait a little longer. Poking around the place seemed rude; it was Rudhira’s home, not his, even though in a way it was inside his own place.

He made his way out of the house, and found half a dozen people waiting for him. He recognized their faces, but could only put a name to one of them, Bardec of Cut Street. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello, Lord Hanner,” Bardec replied.

“I’m not a lord anymore,” Hanner protested. “I had to give up my title when I became a warlock.”

“Well, you aren’t a warlock any more, are you?” Bardec said. “Seems to me you should get your title back.”