Warlock

by Glen Cook

  I know, Marika. Perhaps we can get something for you in the settlement.

  I will not accept perhaps, Most Senior.

  This is not the time to —

  This is the time.

  This is what I feared. This is why I did not want to discuss this with you now. I knew you would be unsettled.

  When will this convention set the silth stamp of approval on the treacheries of the brethren?

  The first session will meet as soon as I reach TelleRai. I will take my saddleship south as soon as I have won your promise to support me.

  I cannot give you that, mistress. My conscience will not permit it. There is bloodfeud involved. You would betray all those sisters who have perished.

  Damned stubborn savage. Put aside your primitive ways. We are not living in the upper Ponath. This is the real world. Allowances and adjustments have to be made.

  Wrong.

  I did not want it to come to this, pup.

  Marika felt the otherworld stir. She was not surprised, nor even much frightened. The moment seemed destined.

  She did not try her loophole. It was too late for that. She did what silth never seemed to expect. She squeezed the trigger of the rifle she had not returned to safety. The entire magazine hammered the air.

  Gradwohl separated from her saddleship and tumbled toward the river.

  Marika! Damn you, Jiana! Then the sensing of Gradwohl vanished into a fog of pain. And then that spark went out.

  Marika circled twice, fixing the spot in her mind. Then she went on, composing herself for Maksche.

  II

  Marika had nothing left when she brought the saddleship down on the airstrip near Bagnel’s quarters, Kublin still limp across its neck. Someone came out, recognized her, shouted back inside. In a moment Grauel limped forth. She reached out feebly, far too slowly, as Marika slipped off and fell to the concrete. “You’re still here,” Marika rasped.

  “Yes.” Grauel tried to lift her to her feet, could not. More meth gathered around. Marika recognized faces she had not seen last visit. Somehow, Grauel had assembled some survivors. “The most senior told us to remain.”

  “Gradwohl. Where is she?”

  “She went looking for you.”

  “Oh. I got them, Grauel. Every one of them.”

  “Take her inside,” Grauel told the others. “Where did you find him?” She indicated Kublin.

  “With them. He may have been one of their commanders.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes.”

  “Give her the chaphe,” Grauel ordered as they entered the building.

  “Grauel...”

  “The most senior’s orders, Marika. You get two days of enforced rest.”

  Marika surrendered. She did not have the strength to resist.

  Several times she wakened, found Grauel nearby. She told the huntress about the brethren base in snatches. Grauel did not seem much interested. Marika allowed the enforced rest to continue, for she had stretched herself more than she had realized. But the third night she refused the drug. “Where is the most senior? Enough is enough. Things are happening and we are out of touch.”

  “She has not returned, Marika. I have become concerned. Sisters from TelleRai were here this morning, seeking her. I had thought she might have gone there.”

  “And?” Time to be cautious. Time to have a care with Grauel, who persisted in using the formal mode.

  “They flew west, seeking some trace. I believe they called for more darkships to join in the search. They were very worried.”

  “Why?”

  “The... You do not know, do you? A convention of the Communities has been called to bring the Serke and brethren to account. The most senior must be there. The Reugge are the principal grievants.”

  Marika struggled up from her cot. “That’s happening? Gradwohl is missing? And you’ve kept me drugged? Grauel, what...?”

  “Her orders, Marika.”

  “Orders or not, that’s over. Bring me food. Bring me fresh clothing. Bring me my weapons and prepare my saddleship.”

  “Marika...”

  “I have to go to TelleRai. Someone has to represent the most senior’s viewpoint. Someone has to be there if the worst has happened. If the brethren have slain her and the wrong sisters hear of it first, her whole dream will die. Get me out of here, Grauel. I’ll send for you as soon as I get there.”

  “As you command.”

  Marika did not like Grauel’s tone. She let it slide. “How is Barlog doing?”

  “Recovering. The most senior was able to save her.”

  There was an accusation behind those words. “I am sorry, Grauel. I was not myself that day.”

  “Are you ever, Marika? Are you now? Have you slaked your blood thirst yet?”

  “I think so.”

  “I hope so. They say this convention is an opportunity to end what has been happening. I would not want to see it fail.”

  “How are Bagnel and Kublin doing?”

  “Bagnel is recovering nicely. The most senior treated him, too, inasmuch as he seems to be the sole surviving Brown Paw Bonder from this enclave. Kublin is in chains. There were those who wanted to do him injury. I have protected him.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have. I’m not sure why I brought him in. When the darkship comes, bring him to TelleRai. He may prove useful during the convention.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What is the matter, Grauel? I feel...”

  “I fear you, Marika. Since you returned from this vengeance, even I can see the look of doom upon you. And I fear you the more because Gradwohl is not here to temper your ferocity.”

  “Be about your business, Grauel.” Marika stood. Her legs were weak. She ducked through her loophole to check her grasp of the otherworld, fearful she might not be strong enough to get to TelleRai in time.

  She would manage. She was not weak in her grasp of the dark.

  She visited Bagnel briefly. He apologized again. “It was despicable,” she agreed. “But I think we’re about to conclude that era. Keep well, Bagnel.” Outside, as she prepared to mount her saddleship, Marika told Grauel, “Bring Bagnel, too.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Marika looked at Grauel grimly. She did not like it when the huntress took the formal mode. It meant Grauel did not approve.

  Irked, she lifted the saddleship without another word.

  She sped southward, paused briefly where Gradwohl had gone down. She found no trace of the most senior’s body. She did find Gradwohl’s saddleship, broken, in a tree. She dragged it out, dismantled it, threw the pieces into the river. Let them become driftwood, joining other flotsam come down from the dying north.

  The sisters at TelleRai were not pleased with her advent. Many had hoped she had perished in the raid. More feared the most senior had perished sometime afterward. They dreaded the chance the savage northerner would lay claim to the most senior’s mantle.

  As strength goes. They were convinced none could challenge the outlander.

  “I will not replace the most senior,” Marika told anyone who would listen. “It has never been my wish to become most senior. But I will speak for Gradwohl till she returns. Her mind is my mind.”

  Word of what had happened at the enclave in the wilderness had reached TelleRai. Though Marika did not claim responsibility and no one made direct accusations, there were no doubts anywhere who had been responsible for the slaughter. Terror hung around her like a fog. No one would dispute anything she said.

  Grauel and Barlog, Kublin and Bagnel arrived a day after Marika, near dawn, with the first group of survivors brought out of the ruins of Maksche. Marika had insisted that every survivor, including workers and Reugge bonds, be evacuated south. That earned her no friends, for it would strain the resources of the TelleRai cloister.

  Barlog was somewhat recovered. She was not pleasant at all when Marika visited her.

  There was a small fuss when Marika insisted Bagnel be assigned guest quarters. S
he had Kublin imprisoned. She did not visit him.

  Grauel and Barlog retired to their new quarters to rest, or to hide. Marika was not certain which. They were attached to Marika’s own, where she paced outside their door, wondering what she could do to recover their goodwill.

  Someone knocked on the apartment door. Marika answered it, found a novice outside. “Yes?”

  “Mistress, second Kiljar of the Redoriad wishes to speak with you.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No, mistress. She sent a messenger. Will there be any reply?”

  “Tell her yes. The second hour after noon, if that is convenient. In the usual place. She will understand what I mean.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Shortly after the novice departed, sisters Cyalgon and Tascil, the order’s sixth and third chairs, in TelleRai for the convention, came calling. Marika knew Cyalgon. She had been with the party that had gone to the Redoriad museum. She presumed upon that now. After the appropriate greetings, Marika asked, “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Cyalgon was direct. “First chair. You say you would refuse it. We wish to know if this is true or just a ploy.”

  “I have made no secret of the fact that I have no wish to bury myself in the petty details that plague a most senior. But for that I would not mind having a Community behind me.”

  “Perhaps something might be arranged.”

  “Oh?”

  “Someone might assume the weight of detail.”

  “I will not become a figurehead in any task I assume. In any case, I would prefer being the power behind. I am young, mistress. I still have dreams. But this whole discussion is moot. The Reugge have a most senior.”

  “It begins to appear that Gradwohl is no longer with us.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Even experts at the long touch cannot detect her.”

  “Perhaps she is hiding.”

  “From her own sisters? At a time like this? She would have responded if she could. She must be dead.”

  “Or possibly a prisoner? Suppose the brethen captured her. Or the Serke. They could have lifted her off-planet. She could be alive and there be no way to touch her.”

  “Amounts to the same thing.”

  “I fear it does not. I fear I do not want to be party to what could later be interpreted as an attempt to oust a most senior who has been very good to me. I think I would like stronger proof that she is not with us. But I will give the matter some thought. I will speak to you later.”

  They had not gotten what they wanted. They departed with shoulders angrily stiff.

  “Starting to line up for a grab-off,” Marika snarled after they departed. “I suppose I will hear from them all. I wish I knew them better.”

  She was speaking to herself. But a voice from behind said, “Perhaps if you had paid more attention to your duties here...”

  “Enough, Grauel. I am going out. Take the names of any who ask to see me. Tell them I will contact them later.”

  “As you command, mistress.”

  Irked, Marika began assembling her saddleship.

  III

  Marika swept in over the Redoriad cloister as fast as she dared, hoping to remain unnoticed. Vain hope. There was an inconvenient break in the cloud cover. Her shadow ran across the courts below, catching the eyes of several Redoriad bonds. By the time she reached Kiljar’s window, meth were running everywhere.

  “You came,” Kiljar said.

  “Of course. Why not?”

  “I received your message but doubted you would make it. My sources suggested there is a lot of maneuvering going on inside the Reugge.”

  “I have been approached,” Marika admitted. “But only once. I will tell them all the same thing. First chair is not open. If it were, I would not take it. Though I do want someone philosophically compatible to be most senior. I am busy enough with the brethren and Serke.”

  “That is what I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Do not become defensive, Marika. It is time you assessed your position. Time you shed this hard stance.”

  Marika’s jaw tightened.

  “Were you not satisfied with what you wrought at that brethren enclave?”

  “No, mistress. That was not sufficient at all. That was an insect’s sting. I am going to devour them. They destroyed a city. Without cause or justification. They will pay the price.”

  “I do not understand you, Marika. Victory is not enough. Why do you make this a personal vendetta?”

  “Mistress?”

  “You are not killing for the honor or salvation of your Community. You are more selfish than the run of silth. No! Do not deny it. For you your order is a ladder to climb toward personal goals. Gradwohl was crafty enough to use you to the benefit of the Reugge. But now Gradwohl is gone. We all fear...”

  “Why does everyone insist that? For years Gradwohl has been in the habit of disappearing. Sometimes for months.”

  “This time it is for good, Marika.”

  “How can you know that?” A blade of ice slashed at her heart.

  Kublin might know what had become of Gradwohl. That had not occurred to her before. Suppose he had not been unconscious throughout the whole flight? Indeed, all he needed to know was that she and Gradwohl had met.

  “Come.” Kiljar led her to another room. “Look.” She indicated fragments of wood. Some retained bits of gaudy paint. “Parts from a saddleship not unlike yours. Some of our bonds found them drifting in the Hainlin yesterday. I have heard of only one saddleship other than yours. The one Gradwohl was flying when last seen.”

  Marika settled into a chair uninvited. “Does anyone else know?”

  “My most senior. Do you accept this evidence?”

  “Do I have any choice?”

  “I think it is close enough to conclusive. It seems obvious Gradwohl went down in the Hainlin. How we may never know. What stance will you take now, Marika? Will you think of someone besides yourself?”

  “Oh. I suppose. Yes. I have to.” Was Kiljar suspicious?

  “You had best reconsider your position on the Serke, the brethren, and the convention, then.”

  “But...”

  “I will explain. I will show you why it can be in our interest to see the convention through to the conclusion you abhor. Let me begin with our passage near Starstalker.”

  “Mistress?”

  “We were attacked. Without provocation. Unprecedented. Have you not wondered why? And the how was so startling.”

  “Those ships.”

  “Exactly. Nothing like them has been seen before. Yet they could not have been created overnight. And, sneaky as they are, the brethren could not have built them without the project having come to my attention.”

  “The brethren have done many things without attracting attention, mistress. Including putting satellites into orbit without the help or license of any Community.”

  “Yes. I know. They used rockets half as big as TelleRai, launched from the Cupple Islands. For all the organizing you have done, I have resources that you do not. The brethren are not monolithic. Some bonds can be penetrated with the wealth at my command. There are no secrets from me in TelleRai.”

  Kiljar paused. Marika did not care to comment.

  “The brethren did not build those ships here. They came here aboard Starstalker. We were not supposed to see them because the brethren did not build them at all.”

  Startled, Marika asked, “What?”

  “The brethren did not build them. It took great pressure upon my contacts and the spreading of much Redoriad largess, but I wormed out an amazing truth. A truth which has been before us all for years, unseen because it was so fantastic.”

  “You are toying with me, mistress.”

  “I suppose I am. Marika, the fact is, Starstalker crossed starpaths with another dark-faring species fifteen years ago. A species without silth. They are like the brethren, only more so. The Serke were unable to c
omprehend them, so they enlisted the help of those bonds with whom they had operated closely before. And the brethren took control. Much as you have claimed.”

  Marika could not keep her lips from peeling back in a snarl.

  “At first only a few dark-faring bonds were in it with the Serke. Thus, overall brethren policy was inconsistent. The Serke began trying to seize Reugge territories because of advantages they hoped to gain from these aliens. Their ally bonds helped. At the same time the Brown Paw Bond, being uninformed, were battling the nomads the Serke and other brethren had armed. Do you follow?”

  “I think I see the outline. Bagnel once said —”

  “After Akard and Critza fell, but before you defeated the force near the ruins of Critza, the dark-faring bonds gained ascendancy over all the brethren. A smaller faction inimical to silth controlled them. Though you Reugge suffered, there was much quiet feuding among the bonds in private. Increasing bitterness, failure of communication, and outright disobedience on the part of a few highly placed individuals resulted in the ill-timed, ill-advised, much too massive attempt to kill you at Maksche.”

  “To kill me? They destroyed an entire city just to get me?”

  “Absolutely. There was one among them who was quite mad.”

  “The warlock. We have been hearing about him for some time.”

  “The warlock. Yes. He engineered the whole thing. My contacts say he had an insane fear of you. Insanity bred insanity. And when it went sour it all went sour. His madness caused the overthrow of the dark-faring brethren. They have been replaced by conservatives who favor traditional relationships with the Communities. Now.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Now is the time you must listen and hear. Timing is important now. If the convention moves fast the rogue faction can be disarmed forever. What the Serke found, and hoped to use to our detriment, can be exploited for the benefit of all meth. If we do not move fast the dark-faring brethren may regain their balance and attempt a counter-move. I have gotten hints that they received fearsome weapons and technologies from the aliens.”

  Marika left the chair, began to pace. She recalled once naively telling Dorteka or Gradwohl that the Reugge ought to try creating factions within the brethren.