Then they were flying back through the hole in the wall of Warlock House, into the lamplit corridor. Behind them the lath and frame were bending themselves back into place, and the plaster was flowing back to heal the wall. Kolar’s boots thumped down onto the floor.
“This way,” the warlock said, beckoning. As Kolar had thought, they were heading for the tapestry. “Your Majesty, do you really think this is wise?” he asked.
“Maybe not,” Vond said, “but I think it’s necessary. My men have defied me, and stopped sending out those trespassers.”
“Maybe they can’t,” Kolar suggested. “What if we get trapped there?”
Vond shook his head. “I sent Hanner through there to chase people out, and he didn’t, and I thought maybe he couldn’t. Then when I sent Gerath and the others, they started chasing people out with no problem, so the magic is working fine, whatever it is. But then they stopped, so there must be something over there making people disobey me. Maybe there’s some strange magic involved, or maybe something’s just persuaded them to ignore my instructions, but whatever it is, I can’t allow it. I can’t tolerate disobedience, whether I’m present or not. If I can’t trust anyone else to clear them out, I’ll do it myself.”
“How do you know what’s happening there, though?”
“I don’t. That’s why I’m going, and why you’re coming with me.” He smiled. “Besides, I want to see this other world. I admit it, I’m as curious as anyone, and it might be useful. Even if I don’t have any magic there, I have you and Gerath and the rest.”
“But what if something’s happened to them?”
“Then I need to know about it!”
“Couldn’t you hire a wizard to find out?”
Vond turned to glare at him. “No, I can’t hire a wizard! The wizards are my enemies; I need to do this myself. I need to prove I’m not afraid, that even without my magic I can still control the situation.”
“But your Majesty, what if you can’t?”
“I can,” Vond insisted. “You and the other swordsmen will obey me because you know I’ll pay you when we get back, and some of the former warlocks will obey me because they want their magic back. That should be enough. Now, unless you want me to smash you, come on!”
Kolar still wasn’t convinced, but he did not dare argue with the warlock any further. Reluctantly, he trudged toward the tapestry.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Hanner watched as person after person vanished into the attic tapestry — men, women, and children snatched back to the World. Some went willingly; some had to be dragged, screaming or crying, and flung at the hanging. So far, none of the soldiers had tried to push him through, but he supposed that they would get to him eventually. There weren’t very many of the former warlocks left. Most of the soldiers were out looking for stragglers, to make sure they had not missed anyone; about a dozen refugees were clustered in or near the house.
Hanner had noticed that Rudhira was not among them, but he was not about to mention that to anyone. If she preferred to remain here, Hanner had no objection. There might be others missing, as well, but since he had never kept track of who was in the refuge to begin with, Rudhira was the only one he was sure of. Everyone else he knew had been there was accounted for.
He had also noticed that no one seemed to be reappearing. Apparently the other tapestry was being guarded, or had been rolled up, or destroyed, so that the exiles sent through to the attic were not able to return. Hanner winced inwardly at the thought that Vond might have vaporized that very expensive hanging.
Then two of the swordsmen gave one woman a shove, her hand touched the cloth — and nothing happened. She stood there, hand on the tapestry, hair awry, blinking in surprise.
“Hai!” Tesra called, raising a hand of his own. “Something’s wrong.”
The three other swordsmen in the house stopped and turned to see what was happening, while the woman stood where she had been shoved, running her hands over the fabric. She spread her fingers wide and pressed both palms on the tapestry.
“What’s going on?” asked one of the swordsmen whose name Hanner had not learned. “Why is she still here?”
“Maybe she’s under some kind of spell,” Tesra said. “You try it, and if it works, you can tell the emperor we may have a problem.”
“Seems to me we have a problem if it doesn’t work,” the other said.
“Yes, I know,” Tesra agreed, “but you won’t be in a position to tell him that, will you?”
“We’d be stuck here!”
“Well, try it, and see if we are,” Tesra said, pointing at the tapestry.
The other man frowned and said, “Pass me another warlock first, and we’ll see if he goes through.”
While this conversation was taking place Hanner had moved in for a closer look, while most of the other refugees in or near the house had retreated; therefore it was Hanner’s arm that Tesra grabbed, while the other swordsman pulled the woman away. “Here, you,” Tesra said to Hanner. “Put your hand on that thing.”
Hanner obeyed, not sure what to expect. He could think of a few reasons the tapestry might have stopped working; in fact, he was surprised that there had not been any previous interruptions. He would have expected delays after each transition, while the most recently transported person got out of the area depicted on the tapestry, but until now that had not happened — apparently this tapestry was not as particular about that as were most of the others Hanner had heard of.
Arvagan had always said they varied. Nervously, Hanner put his hand on the fabric.
Nothing happened. The material under his fingers felt like ordinary silk. It was wonderfully smooth, but silk usually was.
“So it’s not just her,” Tesra said.
The other swordsman, seeing that no harm had befallen Hanner or the woman, also reached out to stroke the cloth. Again, nothing happened; there was no sign of any magic.
“What’s happening?” a new voice asked. Hanner turned to find Gerath standing in the doorway, looking annoyed.
“The tapestry stopped working,” Tesra said.
“It what?” His head snapped around to stare at the tapestry. “Blood and death, are you serious?”
“Yes, sir,” Tesra said, stepping aside.
Gerath strode to the tapestry and put his hand on it, between Hanner’s and the other swordsman’s. He, too, failed to disappear. “Damn!” he muttered. Then he recognized Hanner. “Do you know what’s gone wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Hanner said. He was stalling, trying to decide what he wanted to tell these people.
“You have a theory?” Gerath demanded. “This tapestry was yours originally, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s mine,” Hanner said.
“So what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, so far as I know,” Hanner said. “It’s more likely something’s changed on the other side, so that the image doesn’t match the reality closely enough. When that happens, the tapestry won’t work.”
“Changed? What could have changed?”
Hanner stepped back, and gestured at the tapestry. “Several things,” he said. “You see that the image shows an empty attic; if there’s something in the real attic now that isn’t in the picture, that would explain it.”
“But it didn’t stop working when we sent people through,” Tesra said. “Wouldn’t they have been there?”
“Yes, they would,” Hanner said, impressed, despite himself, with how quickly Tesra had figured this out. “With some tapestries, you have to wait until the first person moves out of the way before you can send another. Apparently this one isn’t that picky.”
“Or it wasn’t,” Gerath said. “Maybe it wore out a little, and got picky.”
“Maybe,” Hanner conceded. “Or…well, when I first tested this tapestry, a couple of sixnights…I mean, seventeen years ago, when I was still a warlock, I smashed a hole in the attic roof. I think that must have stopped the tapestry from working until the damage
was fixed. If Vond, or some wizard he’s angered, broke something — snapped one of those beams, or tore open the roof — then the tapestry won’t work until the damage is repaired.”
“That could be bad,” Tesra said.
“It could,” Hanner agreed.
“Why would Vond smash anything?” one of the other soldiers asked, but everyone else ignored him.
“Any other possibilities?” Gerath asked.
“Well, yes,” Hanner said. “I don’t think either of those is the most likely, actually. If you take a look at the image, I think you’ll see what I mean.”
“I don’t,” Tesra replied, annoyed.
“It’s daylight in the picture,” Hanner explained.
“So? It’s daylight here, too,” Gerath said.
“It’s always daylight here,” Hanner said. “The sun doesn’t move; hadn’t you noticed?”
Gerath frowned. “I’ve been busy,” he said, a bit defensively. “So it doesn’t necessarily match what’s happening in the real World?”
“It doesn’t match,” Hanner said. “None of the people here had any way of telling time, because it’s always midday.”
“But it’s after dark in Ethshar,” Tesra said. “It was late afternoon there when we came through the tapestry — it must be night by now.”
“This tapestry doesn’t work at night?” Gerath demanded.
“That’s my theory, yes,” Hanner said.
“So we just need to wait until morning?”
“That’s my theory,” Hanner repeated.
“We’re stuck here all night?” Tesra asked. “There’s no way to speed it up?”
“Well, I don’t know of any,” Hanner said. “I’ve heard of tapestries where if the time of day or some other detail doesn’t match, you can still step into them, but you don’t come out on the other side until the conditions are right. This one doesn’t seem to do that, so yes, I think we have to wait for daylight.”
“Is there any way to get a message to the emperor, and let him know what’s happening?” Gerath asked.
“Not that I know of,” Hanner said, turning up a palm.
“Then we wait,” Tesra said.
“Since we can’t tell what time it is in Ethshar, we’ll keep testing it every few minutes,” Gerath said, pointing at the woman who had first failed to go through. “With her.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the swordsmen said, catching her arm.
“Hanner, is there any other way out of here?” Gerath asked.
Hanner shook his head. “No,” he said.
“You’re sure of that?”
“No,” Hanner repeated. “Nobody really knows much about this place. I know I didn’t provide any other way out, but I suppose there might be a natural one somehow.”
Gerath considered that, then ordered Hanner, “Out. You’re coming with me.”
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.
The Unwelcome Warlock Page 36
