The Unwelcome Warlock

Hanner had no objection, and followed Gerath out into the street, where half a dozen swordsmen and the last dozen or so refugees were standing idly, awaiting word on their situation.

“You know everyone who was here, don’t you?” Gerath asked, jerking a thumb toward the former warlocks.

“Not really,” Hanner said.

Gerath glared at him. “You’ve been watching people go through the tapestry, and you see everyone we have left here. Is anyone missing? Is there anyone you know was here who’s unaccounted for?”

Hanner looked over the cluster of the Called, then shook his head and lied. “No,” he said.

The only one missing, so far as he knew, was Rudhira, but she was definitely missing. He wondered how and when she had slipped away. He also wondered whether there really were any others. He had no way to tell; half a dozen people might have escaped to the woods.

Gerath beckoned to Sidor, and the two of them marched off to one side to converse quietly. Hanner could not make out what they were saying, and the other swordsmen made it clear he would be unwise to try too hard. He and the other refugees, except for the one woman still in the house, were kept gathered in a circle in the street.

Hanner looked the others over, trying to judge their spirits and health. None of them looked happy, but none seemed on the verge of collapse, either. “Hai,” he called to the swordsmen. “It’s going to be hours; couldn’t we all get something to eat, and maybe get some sleep?”

Gerath looked up, considered for a moment, then called, “Yes, go ahead. You men, each of you take one or two of them, and see they’re fed.”

“But you don’t sleep,” Sidor added. “We don’t want anyone deciding to play hiding games.”

“There’s food?” one of the swordsmen asked.

“I’ll show you,” a refugee said. “My place is just up the street.”

With that, the little group quickly dispersed, until only Hanner, Gerath, and Sidor were left standing in the street. Tesra and two other soldiers were still in the house, periodically testing the tapestry’s magic, while everyone else had scattered in pursuit of food and rest.

Hanner wondered if there might be some way to arrange a rebellion, now that Vond’s hirelings were separated and off-guard, but he could not see how to organize it. The soldiers were still armed, and instead of being outnumbered five or six to one, as they had been at first, the numbers were now more or less even.

Hanner also wondered where Vond had gotten his little army on such short notice. They gave every appearance of being trained and formidable — though thinking about it, Hanner now wondered whether that was really the case. He had not seen any of them actually use their swords to do anything but threaten.

But then, none of the refugees were trained warriors, either; they had been magicians, not fighters. What’s more, they didn’t have any swords, which made a difference even in untrained hands.

After what seemed a surprisingly long discussion, Gerath and Sidor finally looked at Hanner. “You’re still here?” Sidor demanded.

Hanner turned up a hand. “Everyone seemed to think I was your responsibility,” he said.

“That’s probably just as well,” Gerath said. “We’re going back up the hill to see if maybe the tapestries are working in the other direction now. Tesra and Thellesh and Kelder will let us know if someone comes through the attic one, so we’re going to check the other. You’re coming with us.”

Hanner started to say something, to point out that the tapestries never reversed direction or worked both ways, that the idea was ridiculous, but he caught himself. He had no reason to tell these men anything. “All right,” he said.

Gerath took the lead, with Hanner following, and Sidor in the rear, his sword drawn and pointed at Hanner’s back, as they made their way up out of the village and across the grass. They were about halfway up when another swordsman abruptly appeared atop the slope.

Gerath stopped dead, and drew his own blade. “What?..”

“It’s Kolar,” Sidor said. “I remember him from Shiphaven.”

Before Gerath could reply, a second man appeared, a tall, thin man in black, holding a sword awkwardly, but with no breastplate or helmet. But where the first man, the one Sidor called Kolar, had been steady on his feet, and was now looking around at his surroundings with interest, this new arrival stumbled, dropped his sword, then fell to his knees, gasping.

Kolar immediately turned to help him, and Gerath broke into a run, bounding up the hill. Sidor stayed where he was, but Hanner felt the tip of his sword press against his tunic. They all knew who this latest visitor was. Even at this distance, there could be no mistaking him.

It was Vond. Even though it had meant giving up his magic, the emperor had come through the tapestry. Hanner stared in wordless astonishment.

If Vond was here, what had happened to the overlord’s palace? Vond’s magic clearly did not function here; had the palace plummeted to earth? Hanner desperately wanted to ask, but did not dare — knowing the answer would not change anything.

The loss of his magic had obviously hit Vond hard, probably much harder than he had expected. Hanner remembered his own first visit to this place, when the change had been almost overwhelming. It was probably even worse for Vond.

A third man appeared, another of the uniformed soldiers, who also rushed to Vond’s aid.

A moment later the warlock was back on his feet, unsteady but brushing aside the three swordsmen. “I’m fine,” he said — Hanner could just barely hear him. “I was caught by surprise, that’s all.” He looked around, and spotted Hanner and Sidor. He started stumbling slowly down the slope, moving like someone who had forgotten how to walk.

“Hai!” Vond called, his voice oddly weak. Hanner realized he must have used his magic to amplify his voice so often that he had trouble speaking loudly without it. “Hanner! Is that you?”

Hanner called back, “Yes, your Majesty!”

“Why are you still here? I told you to get everyone out of here!”

“And I told you, your Majesty, that it might take awhile! I had only just gotten everyone gathered when your hired bullies arrived.” He saw no need to mention that he had slept for several hours.

“Really? What took you so long?” Vond demanded.

“I am not sure how long it was; time may be different here. And there is much more to this place than just the village, your Majesty!”

Vond looked from side to side, as if only now noticing the truth of Hanner’s words. “Ah,” he said. Then he turned to the hirelings walking down the hill with him. “Gerath, why did you stop sending people back?”

“The magic stopped working, your Majesty,” Gerath replied. “Hanner thinks it’s because it doesn’t work at night.”

Vond blinked up at the bright midday sun. “It’s not night here,” he said.

“It never is,” Hanner called. “But it is in Ethshar, isn’t it?” He tried to think what he should do about Vond’s unexpected appearance, and obvious lack of magic. This was surely an opportunity to be seized. Vond was powerless here — magically, at least. He still commanded his soldiers, and with the latest arrivals the swordsmen probably outnumbered the remaining people of the refuge. Still, this might be the best chance they would ever have to dispose of Vond before he killed anyone else, or further disrupted the peace of the World.

But at least half the remaining handful of refugees were women, or men too old to fight, and they were scattered, completely unprepared, with no leaders or organization, and unarmed. If it came to open battle several people would be hurt, maybe killed, and Vond’s men would probably win. Immediate open resistance was not the way to go, then; instead Hanner resolved to watch how the situation developed, and see whether he could find a better resolution.

“What kind of magic is it?” Vond asked. “Why wouldn’t it work at night?”

“It’s another tapestry,” Gerath said. “It shows the attic of your house in Ethshar.”

“The attic in daylight,” Hanner added.

“Another tapestry? Oh, for...” He turned to glare at Hanner. “You might have told