“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.”
“Maybe I will someday, but that’s up to the overlord, and it hasn’t happened yet. So it’s just Hanner.”
Bardec turned up a palm. “If you insist. Whoever you are, Rudhira and some of the others are out gathering everyone they can find, to hear what you have to tell us.”
“Good,” Hanner said. “How long will that take?”
“Who knows?” Bardec pointed at the sky. “They’ll be back before the sun’s moved an inch.” He grinned.
Hanner was in no mood to grin back. “Vond must be getting impatient by now. We need to get started before he loses his temper.”
One of the other men, who had been leaning against a wall, straightened up. “Correct me if I’m wrong, no-longer-a-lord Hanner, but isn’t this the one place in Ethshar where the emperor can’t hurt us?”
“Well, he can’t touch us here directly, but he can make things difficult. We won’t be able to bring in any more food or clothing, or tools.”
The people exchanged glances. “That could be inconvenient,” a woman admitted.
“We could manage,” the man who had been leaning on the wall said.
“Could you?” Hanner said.
“Oh, I think so. We’ve already brought in copper and iron cook-pots, and there’s clay to make pottery once we can build a kiln. Of course some of us have knives, so we can probably get by without any more tools. We have wood and reeds and grass — you must have seen the basket-makers when you first arrived.”
“I did,” Hanner admitted.
“They’re up there as much to watch for new arrivals as to make baskets, but they are making baskets. We can make fish traps, too. We can manage.”
“I hope you’re right — and I must ask, whoever you are, if you’re so eager for self-sufficiency, why didn’t you settle on that land up near Aldagmor?”
“Out on the edge of the wilderness, with mizagars in the woods, and snow likely to fall any minute?” He shook his head. “It’s warm and sunny here, and these houses were already built, and if there’s anything dangerous around, we haven’t seen it yet.”
Hanner had to admit that the man had a point.
“Besides,” Bardec said, “we’re just a few steps from the city here, rather than dozens of leagues.”
“When the magic is working and the emperor allows it,” Hanner said.
“Why wouldn’t he allow it?” Bardec asked.
“Well, that’s what I came to tell you,” Hanner said. “He wants everyone out of here.”
As he said that another handful of people came around the corner of a neighboring house. “Who wants us out of here?” one of them asked.
“Emperor Vond,” answered one of the women in the original group.
“Why?”
“I’ll explain that when everyone’s here,” Hanner called.
“Rudhira said to gather in the square,” someone said.
“Where is that?” Hanner asked.
Several fingers pointed, and several voices said, “Over there,” or “That way.”
Hanner walked in the direction indicated, and found the vaguely-hexagonal space that Rudhira had mentioned, a pleasant area surrounding a stretch of stream, shaded by four large trees and equipped with some boulders of suitable size and shape to serve as crude benches. Hanner settled on one of the rocks to wait, and chatted idly with some of the others, asking questions about the refuge.
There was, he learned, much more to it than the grassy slope and the village. There was a broad beach below the village, where a fairly calm sea extended to the horizon. At the top of the slope, on the far side of where the tapestry delivered new arrivals, there was a fair-sized meadow, and beyond that was a forest of unknown size — as yet, no one had ventured more than a mile or so into its interior. One boy had climbed the highest tree he could find, and reported that he could see mountains in the distance — two peaks for certain, and possibly a third. There were several groves of nut-bearing trees; as yet the only variety anyone had gathered in any quantity appeared to be walnuts of a tasty but unfamiliar sort, but people were optimistic about others that had been seen in passing.
As yet no fruit had been found, but there were trees in blossom that looked as if they would bear fruit in time. No one knew whether this place had any seasons, let alone which season it was at present, so they could only guess when that might happen.
The largest animal anyone had yet seen on land was something the size of a large cat or a small dog, with gray and black fur, that lived in the woods; none of the three people who had caught a glimpse of it could identify it as any known species.
There were various birds, but no one had yet managed to catch any, and there was some disagreement about just what varieties had been spotted.
The streams and the sea both held plenty of fish of various sizes, and half a dozen people thought they had seen something much bigger than any familiar fish break the surface of the sea a couple of hundred yards from shore, but all they could agree on was that it was big, smooth-skinned, and dark gray or black, moving very swiftly indeed.
In short, this refuge was not merely a village, as Hanner had thought, but an entire world in its own right, though probably much smaller than the World.
As yet, no one had done much serious exploration; no one saw any need to rush. They were still settling in, and the village was large enough to fit everyone comfortably. The supplies Hanner and Rudhira had sent had been divided up and stored away safely, so that they had plenty to eat for a few days, and the hope was that by the time the delivered food ran out, they would be producing their own, in the form of fish, nuts, and possibly game. Growing grain would take awhile, but that, too, might come in time.
Hanner had assumed when he allowed these people to use the tapestry that this place would be no more than a temporary shelter, but at least half the people he spoke to seemed to think they wanted to stay permanently. That made what he had come to do even more unpleasant, but it also changed what he intended to say.
More and more people arrived in the square as he talked, more than Hanner remembered actually sending through the tapestry; he wondered whether Rudhira or Zallin might have sent along more when he himself was otherwise occupied. Finally, though, Rudhira brought up the rear of a final group, then crossed to where Hanner sat and said, “I think that’s everyone. There might be one or two out in the hills somewhere.”
“Thank you,” Hanner said. He stood, then climbed up to stand on the boulder and announced, “My friends! I have important news!”
The murmur of conversation died.
“The Great Vond, self-proclaimed emperor, has now proclaimed himself master of Warlock House,” Hanner said. “He wants no one inside its walls but those who have sworn total loyalty to him. As far as he is concerned, everything we see around us, the entire wor
ld on this side of the tapestry, is inside those walls. He finds the idea that someone can pop out of this village into his attic uninvited to be unacceptable. He has sent me to get all of you out. Those of you willing to swear fealty to Vond will be allowed to stay in Warlock House — maybe here, maybe back in the World — while the rest of us will be cast out to fend for ourselves on the streets of Ethshar.”
A surge of muttering began to rise, but Hanner raised his hands for silence.
“The situation has become complicated,” he said. “A group of magicians led by the wizard Ithinia of the Isle attempted to trick Vond into thinking that his new magic was accompanied by a new Calling, but the ruse failed, and made Vond very, very angry — so angry that he picked up the overlord’s palace, the entire palace, and is holding it suspended a hundred feet over Ithinia’s house. If Vond is harmed, or his magic is blocked, the palace will fall and crush a significant portion of the New City. The overlord’s guards have evacuated the inhabitants of that part of the city, and found them places to stay, for now, in various garrisons and defensive structures. Those of you who leave here can probably join these refugees, rather than being forced to sleep in the Hundred-Foot Field — but still, you will be living in a city where the most powerful warlock in history is feuding with pretty much everyone else. Right now, Ethshar of the Spices is not a safe place.”
“It never was!” someone called.
“True enough,” Hanner acknowledged. “Still, right now it’s worse than usual. So, that’s the situation. I’ve been ordered to get everyone out of here — but Vond doesn’t know how many people are in here, and since he can’t come here himself without losing his magic and dropping the palace, he won’t be able to check. So if some of you leave, we can tell Vond that it’s everyone, and the rest can stay here undisturbed. You probably won’t be getting any more people or supplies coming in unless and until someone finds a way to remove Vond, and anyone who goes back through the tapestry into the attic of Warlock House after we tell Vond everyone’s out will be doing so at the risk of his own life, but other than that —”
He never finished the sentence. He was interrupted by a woman’s startled scream. Like everyone else, Hanner turned to see who was screaming, and why.
It was an old woman, who was pointing up a street that led out of the village and up the slope toward the arrival point. “Soldiers!” she said.
Everyone turned to look, and there were more screams and shouts. Hanner jumped down from his rock and ran to see for himself. He had to push his way through the crowd, but after a moment’s effort he had a clear view.
Half a dozen men were marching down the slope toward the village, swords bare in their hands. They were not wearing the yellow and red of the city guards, though; instead they wore black tunics, black kilts, and black boots, as well as gray metal breastplates and helmets. For a moment Hanner wondered whether these might be the natives of this world, come to reclaim their village from the invading Ethsharites. But then he looked up at the top of the hill and saw another one appear out of thin air, followed by another. They were definitely coming through the tapestry from Warlock House, then.
But who were they? They weren’t the overlord’s guards, not in those colors. They weren’t any military Hanner had ever seen before — soldiers didn’t wear black!
More appeared, and the nearest had stopped advancing. A dozen or so were spread across the slope now.
“Hai!” Hanner called. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“The emperor sent us,” one of the nearest replied. “We’re here to get you all out of here, and back to Ethshar.”
“I was just telling them —” Hanner began.
“You’re Hanner?” one of the swordsmen interrupted.
“Yes,” Hanner said, a trifle warily.
“His Majesty is not pleased with you, Hanner. You should have had all these people out of here hours ago.”
“I’ve been doing my best, whoever you are! There’s a lot more to this place than just the village, and it took me awhile to find everyone.”
The swordsman looked past Hanner at the crowd, then called to his own men, “Keep them all in the village. If anyone tries to leave, kill him.”
“Yes, sir,” three or four of the other swordsmen replied, more or less in unison.
“Wait a minute,” Hanner said. “Who are you? What gives you any right to give orders?”
“My name’s Gerath Gror’s son,” the swordsman replied, “and his Imperial Majesty the Great Vond appointed me commander of this cohort. He wants everyone out of here.”
“Why should we care what he wants?” Hanner demanded. “This isn’t his property, it’s mine! I paid good money for that tapestry.”
“It’s in the emperor’s house, and he doesn’t want all of you people trespassing.”
“It’s my house, not his!”
Gerath looked both amused and annoyed. “Hanner, if that’s who you are, do you really want to argue with him?”
“Why not? You do know his magic doesn’t work here, don’t you?”
For the first time, Gerath’s confidence faltered. “It doesn’t?”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s what this is all for — a place warlocks could go that the Calling couldn’t reach. He can’t touch us in here.”
Gerath considered that, turned up his empty hand, and raised his sword. “Well, even if he can’t, we can, and we have our orders. Everyone out!”
Hanner stared at him, groping for some response. He instinctively resisted simply doing as he was told — this was his place, no matter what Vond might say. The people of the refuge outnumbered the swordsmen four or five to one; they could resist, refuse to go…
But many of the refugees were women, children, and men too old to fight, and they were unarmed, while those swordsmen looked like they knew their trade. The refugees were completely unprepared, with no leaders or organization. If it came to an actual fight several people would be hurt, maybe killed, and it was not at all clear who would win.
For that matter, maybe some of the refugees wouldn’t want to fight; they might be happy to go back to Ethshar. That would further weaken any opposition the emperor’s swordsmen might face.
Immediate open resistance was not the way to go, then.
“You, Hanner,” Gerath called. “How do people get out of here and back to Warlock House?”
“Ah?” Hanner blinked. “Oh, yes. Of course. This way.” He turned toward the house where the tapestry hung.
“Wait a minute!” Gerath said. “Where are you taking us? Don’t we need to go back up the hill, where we arrived?”
Hanner glanced up the slope to where two men were guarding the hilltop. “No, no,” he said. “That tapestry only works in one direction. Come this way, and I’ll show you the way out.”
“Hanner, are you sure…?” someone muttered by his ear.
“They’d find out soon enough. If we try to trick them, someone will get hurt,” Hanner murmured in reply.
“It’s not a spell?” Gerath called.
“Of course it’s a spell!” Hanner shouted back. “And it’s over there.” He pointed.
Gerath muttered some instructions to his companions, but Hanner could not make them out. Then Gerath and three others came marching into the village, following Hanner, while the other swordsmen remained on the open ground of the grassy hillside.
It occurred to Hanner that he had seen more of these soldiers appear while several were on that slope, and that some of them would have been in the area shown in the tapestry image. There were no swordsmen in the picture, but there had been swordsmen in the place depicted; weren’t such things supposed to block a tapestry from functioning? Didn’t the recent arrivals need to move out of the way before more could come through?
Arvagan had said that tapestries varied in how they behaved; apparently the one that led to this world wasn’t as finicky as some. In fact, it didn’t seem finicky at all. That was interesting. Hanner wondered ho
w picky the one leading to the attic really was.
He looked around at the crowd of refugees, and realized that it was smaller than it had been, and that he was by no means the only one heading for the house where the Transporting Tapestry hung. It would seem that some people were not waiting to be forced to return to Ethshar.
Then he was at the door of the house. He stepped inside, from bright sunlight into pleasant shade, and stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust. As he did, he saw a woman vanish — he had barely registered her presence when she touched the tapestry and disappeared.
Yes, some people were cooperating. Hanner grimaced.
Gerath and his three companions arrived close behind him; Hanner stepped aside to let them into the house, where they could see the enchanted hanging.
Gerath stopped and stared at it. “Another tapestry,” he said.
“That’s right,” Hanner replied.
“I should have guessed.”
Hanner turned up a palm.
Gerath frowned. “Well, that’s simple enough, then,” he said. He stepped backed out into the street and called, “All right, all of you, go through it. Starting now.”
Hanner could not see the crowd’s reaction, but he leaned over and called out the door, “If you have any belongings, fetch them. I don’t think you’ll have a chance to come back.”
“Sidor,” Gerath said, addressing one of the three who had accompanied him to the house, “Go tell the others to get everyone into this house at once. Tesra, grab someone and throw him at the tapestry — let’s get this started.”
Sidor raised his sword in salute, then marched back out of the house, while Tesra grabbed the arm of a girl who had gotten too close, and dragged her into the room where the tapestry waited. She struggled in his grip, trying to dig her heels into the tile floor, but Tesra was too strong for her; he flung her at the tapestry. She instinctively reached out to catch herself, and was gone.
Hanner watched, horrified. He knew she probably wasn’t hurt, but the swordsman’s crude violence was appalling.
Then Tesra grabbed someone else and shoved him toward the tapestry.
The Unwelcome Warlock Page 34
