The Unwelcome Warlock

“Did he?” Her tone made it clear that Alris was genuinely concerned for her brother’s welfare.

“Very much so,” Ithinia said. “Like all the Called warlocks, he didn’t age while he was in Aldagmor, so he isn’t any older than he was sixteen years ago —”

“Seventeen,” Alris interrupted.

“Seventeen, then. He looked a little tired and worn after his hardships in the wilderness, but he seemed to be healthy and in good spirits.”

“Tired?”

“Yes,” Ithinia said. She knew that since Hanner had been a warlock, Alris had not seen her brother tired in decades. “Tired. He’s free of the Calling, and no longer a warlock. But he’s fine.”

“Then why didn’t he come to see me?” Alris asked plaintively.

“He’s been busy,” Ithinia said, suddenly sympathetic. “And remember, for you it’s been seventeen years, but for him it’s only been a few days.”

“You don’t think he’s been avoiding me?”

“I’m afraid I really have no idea,” Ithinia said. “I’ve known him for decades, but we’ve never been close; I won’t pretend to know his thoughts. I think he’s found it somewhat unsettling to see how much things have changed in his absence; perhaps he doesn’t want to see how much you’ve aged.”

Alris stared at Ithinia for a moment, then shook her head. “That’s silly,” she said. “He’s my brother, not my lover.”

“You’re now a decade older than he is.”

“No, I’m younger...oh. Well, yes, but...” She hesitated as she thought it over, then shook her head again. “That’s not it,” she said. She frowned. “But that’s...you know, sometimes I really hate magic.”

Ithinia grimaced as she completed the elaborate pattern of gestures, and lowered her hands. “I’ll need to continue the spell when the lesser moon rises, but for now I can rest.” She looked up at Alris. “I love magic. Yes, it can do strange and unexpected things, but I love it. It gives the World flavor. I think I would love it even if I couldn’t work a single spell.”

“You can have it,” Alris said. “Magic killed my uncle, and snatched my brother away, and now it’s dumped my home out here, where I need the longest ladder we have just to get down from the front door, and I’d need to wade fifty yards to reach the Newmarket beaches. It makes everything dangerous and unpredictable — sooner or later it might kill us all just because some wizard mispronounced a word, or a demonologist said the wrong thing. Yes, it’s wonderful when it works, but it’s not worth it.” She turned away. “I’ll tell Lord Azrad what you said.” She headed toward the door.

“Please make it clear that I do apologize,” Ithinia called after her.

Alris didn’t reply.

Then Ithinia was alone in the room, the makings of her spell spread out before her.

Poor Alris, she thought. Poor Azrad. Poor Hanner. They were all caught up in this mess through no fault of their own. But that was the way of the World; as Alris had said, magic was dangerous. It had consequences and complications, and not just for its practitioners.

Ithinia certainly hoped it would have serious consequences for Vond. That damned fool was endangering everyone by meddling with those towers. Maybe she should have just told him that in the first place, and asked him to be careful, but she had feared he might not believe her, or worse, that he might consider it an opportunity for massive blackmail — let him do whatever he pleased, or he might smash the towers. But she hadn’t told him, and it was obviously too late now. He was in no mood to trust her ever again. She had sworn not to harm him, and she hoped that would be enough to prevent any further open conflict, but she knew better than to think she could talk him into anything.

Of course, she had sworn that she would not harm him — but she was not about to stop anyone else who tried to harm him, and she thought that his spectacular display of petulance, pulling the palace out of the ground, would probably attract others who would do it for her.

Just as she thought that, someone cleared his throat. She looked up, and there was the man in the brown robe who had been in her parlor. “Demerchan,” she said.

“Just Kelder,” he replied. “I am hardly the entirety of the cult.”

“Is Kelder your true name, then?”

“You don’t think I’m stupid enough to give a wizard my true name.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I suppose not. What brings you here, then?”

“A courtesy,” he said. “Nothing more.”

“Oh? And what courtesy would that be?”

“I thought you would want to know. The cult has decided not to remove His Imperial Majesty, the Great Vond. We would prefer to see the Wizards’ Guild make peace with him, as well.”

Ithinia had lived for centuries, and was not easily surprised by the foolishness of others, but this startled her. “Why?” she demanded. “He’s a threat to us all!”

“We do not believe he poses as great a threat as you assume.”

“But he’s interfering with the towers in Lumeth!”

Kelder shook his head. “We think you misjudge his situation.”

“He could make a thousand new unCallable warlocks!”

Kelder smiled wryly. “Do you think he will?”

“No,” Ithinia admitted. “But why risk it?”

“The cult has its own reasons.”

“As does the Guild.”

“Of course. Let me remind you, Guildmaster, that you swore not to harm him.”

“I am not likely to forget it.”

“Let me remind you also that wizards who break oaths die. If the Guild does not see to it, the Cult of Demerchan will.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“I am reminding you of the stakes.”

“I don’t need your reminder.”

“Nonetheless, I have given it. Here’s another reminder — the lesser moon will be rising in less than an hour. You should get something to eat.”

“I know that!” Ithinia snapped. “If you weren’t here with your nonsensical reminders, I would be on my way to the kitchens.”

“I won’t keep you, then.” He bowed, wrapping his brown cloak around himself, and vanished.

“We wizards aren’t the only ones he’s annoyed, you know!” Ithinia called at the empty air. “Sooner or later, someone’s going to cut his throat.”

There was no reply, and after a moment she turned and hurried toward the door. She really did want something to eat before beginning the next part of the spell.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Hanner wondered idly where Rudhira was hiding, and whether she had a specific plan in mind, or just didn’t want to cooperate with Vond. He had not seen her in hours. While it was possible she had slipped away into the woods, or somewhere else well away from the village, Hanner thought it was more likely she was still close at hand, watching and listening. She had been in the refuge for some time before Hanner himself arrived, and probably knew her way around better than anyone else; if there were safe hiding places to be found, she might well have found them.

He glanced at the sleeping figures lying all around, soldiers and refugees alike, taking up almost all the floor space in the three rooms of the house where the tapestry hung. There were enough of them that Hanner thought he could feel their accumulated body heat, and he knew he could smell them. None of them seemed to have noticed