The Unwelcome Warlock loe-11

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Hanner was almost to the second floor, lifting a foot toward the landing, when the door of Vond’s chamber opened and the warlock drifted out.

  “Oh, there you are!” he said. “I’ve been waiting.”

  Hanner lowered his foot and blinked stupidly at Vond from the top step. “What?”

  “You were going to show me that tapestry,” Vond said impatiently. “You should have been back here hours ago!”

  Hanner glanced back down the stairs, and along the corridor, hoping to find someone else who might distract the emperor, but no one else was in sight. “My apologies, your Majesty,” he said. “I’m afraid I was so distracted by your...your demonstration that I completely forgot.”

  “Demonstration? Oh, you mean the overlord’s palace?” Vond grinned happily. “Isn’t it magnificent? I’m holding it up right now, and it’s no more trouble than wearing a hat.”

  Hanner stared dumbly at the warlock, trying to comprehend what it would be like to possess that level of magical power.

  “I told you to bring Zallin,” Vond said, the grin vanishing.

  “I...I did try to, but then I went out...”

  Vond waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I talked to him earlier. He claims to know nothing about your magical picture, but he agreed to serve as my aide.”

  “He...he never saw the tapestry, your Majesty. It was my own project, not anything the Council did.”

  “That’s fine. Show me.”

  Hanner wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a day or two, but he could think of no way to safely refuse the emperor. Perhaps if he were not so muddled by exhaustion, he thought, he might have managed to talk his way out of it, but as it was he simply said, “Yes, your Majesty. This way.”

  His legs did not want to carry him up the two additional flights, but he managed it, with Vond sailing happily along at his heels, until the two of them stood in the fourth-floor bedroom, looking at the tapestry.

  “How does it work?” Vond asked. “Is there some ritual, or a magic word?”

  For a moment Hanner considered lying, and luring the warlock into touching the tapestry. Then he could run up to the attic and do something to block the exit, trapping Vond in the other world, and putting an end to the threat he posed.

  But if he did that, the palace would fall out of the sky and smash several blocks of the New City. People might die, and even if everyone had been safely evacuated, which Hanner did not believe to be the case, the property damage would be immense.

  It might be worth it. It might be. But Hanner did not feel he had the right to decide that, and in his current bone-weary state he did not trust himself to make so important a choice. Perhaps later there would be a time when tricking Vond into the golden village would be a good idea, but right now — no.

  “No,” Hanner said. “The spell is active — if you touch it, you’ll instantly be transported to the place in the picture. And if you do that, your Majesty, the overlord’s palace will fall, so please be very careful to stay well clear.”

  “Ah,” Vond said. He nodded, and moved back a few inches. “So anyone can just step through into that place?”

  “Yes, your Majesty. I’ve sent fifty or sixty people there.”

  Vond turned. “You mean they’re in there now?”

  Startled, Hanner stepped back, blinking. “Yes, of course, your Majesty. That’s why it’s here.”

  “And they can come back out whenever they want?”

  “Ah...yes, your Majesty.” Hanner did not see any reason to explain the existence and nature of the return tapestry.

  “Here in my house?” Vond demanded.

  Hanner swallowed his resentment at Vond’s casual appropriation of the house Uncle Faran had built. “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Vond turned to stare at the tapestry. “If I tore this thing to shreds, would the people in there still be able to get out?”

  “Yes, your Majesty — but no one else could get in. Please don’t do that. The spell was very expensive.”

  “So anyone who gets into that pretty little world of yours can just reappear here in my home, whenever they want?”

  “More or less, yes, your Majesty,” Hanner answered wearily.

  “Is there any other way to get there, other than touching this hanging?”

  Hanner blinked. “I...I don’t know, your Majesty. I don’t think so.”

  “But you don’t know?”

  “No, your Majesty. I suppose some wizard might have made another tapestry just like this one, that would go to the same place.”

  “And if someone went through that tapestry, could they still come out here?”

  “In this house? Yes, your Majesty.”

  Vond shook his head. “That won’t do. People could just pop in here undetected?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so.”

  “I can’t allow that,” Vond said. “That’s completely unacceptable. We need to get everyone out of there and seal it off somehow — destroy the tapestry, or get it out of the house.”

  “If it troubles you to have it here, we could move it to my sister Nerra’s house, your Majesty,” Hanner said. “Or simply roll it up and put it away; it won’t work if it isn’t spread flat.”

  “What would happen to the people inside, if we moved it or rolled it up?”

  “Nothing, your Majesty.”

  “Could they still come out in this house, even if the tapestry was somewhere else, or not working at all?”

  Hanner hesitated. He was unsure exactly where this was going, but he was becoming more and more certain that he did not want Vond to understand how the tapestries really worked. “That would depend, your Majesty,” he said. “The magic involved is complicated.”

  “Depend on what?” the warlock demanded.

  “Well, there is a second part to the spell, your Majesty, in there,” Hanner said, pointing to the tapestry. “That determines where users return to our world.”

  “So if someone changed that, people could use this to come out anywhere?”

  Hanner blinked again. He had not really thought about this himself. If someone brought other tapestries into the village, then his refuge could have more exits, coming out anywhere the tapestries depicted. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said.

  “That could be valuable,” Vond said. “You could send armies right inside an enemy’s walls. You could send spies into your enemy’s home. I wonder why no one’s done that? Or maybe they have, and we just don’t know about it.”

  “I don’t know, your Majesty,” Hanner said.

  “That could be useful,” Vond said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But no, it’s too dangerous. Is there some way to ensure that no one can get into this house through that magical village?”

  “I don’t know what wizardry can and can’t do, your Majesty,” Hanner said. “I’m not sure anyone does.” He hesitated, then said, “Perhaps you should move elsewhere, if this concerns you so.”

  Vond waved the idea away. “No, no. This is Warlock House, and I am the last warlock. The symbolism is important. Besides, I mustn’t look weak. I am staying here, and that tapestry cannot be allowed to remain as it is. The spell as it is now, the way you bought it — can it be changed so that no one can emerge in this house?”

  “I don’t know,” Hanner said, hoping that Vond would not notice any of the physical indications that this was his first outright lie. Up until now he had managed with misleading answers and half-truths, but he knew perfectly well that the return tapestry could easily be blocked or even destroyed.

  “But right now, there are fifty or sixty people in there who could walk back out into this house at any moment?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “If we got them all out, and then rolled this tapestry of yours up, would there be any way anyone else could use this village as a path into my home?”

  “Not with any magic I know, your Majesty,” Hanner said.

  “Then I want you to get in there and get them all
out, Hanner.”

  “I’m sure that we —”

  “Now.”

  “What?”

  Vond pointed at the tapestry. “I want you to go through that thing right now, and get all those people out of there. I will not tolerate having them in my house, in a place I cannot go.”

  “But your Majesty, I don’t —”

  “Now.”

  “Of course, your Majesty,” Hanner said, taking a step toward the tapestry, “but you understand, it may take awhile. I don’t know how big that...that place is; I was only in there very briefly. They may have spread out. There may be hiding places.”

  “Get in there and get them out!”

  Hanner bowed. “Yes, your Majesty!” He turned, took a deep breath, and stepped through the tapestry.

  Warlock House vanished, and he was standing on a grassy slope, looking down at the golden village. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and the sea, and he heard happy voices somewhere in the distance.

  Then someone exclaimed, “By all the gods and the stars! It’s Hanner!”

  Hanner turned to look back the way he had just come, but instead of the tapestry and the dusty bedroom he saw half a dozen people sitting cross-legged in a circle on the grass, surrounded by half-finished baskets and crude tools. They were all wearing either worn nightclothes or warlock black, but most appeared to have washed out the worst of the grime they had accumulated on the journey back from Aldagmor.

  They were staring at him. He recognized them as people he had sent through the tapestry, but could not remember any of their names. He was not sure he had ever learned any.

  “Hanner the Generous!” a woman said.

  “Welcome to the Refuge, Hanner!”

  “Go tell Rudhira.” The woman who said that nudged the girl next to her, who sprang up and dashed past Hanner, down the slope toward the village.

  “Rudhira’s here?” Hanner asked, startled.

  “She has been for hours,” said the young man who had welcomed him. He got to his feet, brushing bits of something from his tunic.

  “Maybe days,” called the woman who had sent the girl running.

  The young man grinned. “Maybe days,” he agreed. “We can’t tell time here.”

  Hanner blinked, and looked up at the sky, and at the sun that hung there.

  “It doesn’t move,” the woman said, following his gaze. “At all. It’s always exactly where it is now.”

  “There’s no night,” an older man said.

  “At least, there hasn’t been one yet,” the young man said. “How long have we been here?”

  Hanner tried to think. So much had happened, and he had been so busy and gotten so little sleep...

  “A day or two,” he said. “I think.”

  The others exchanged glances. “That sounds about right,” the older man said.

  “I thought it was more,” another man said.

  “Time may not pass at the same rate here,” an older woman suggested.

  “It doesn’t matter,” the young man said. “Hanner, why are you here? You don’t need somewhere to stay, do you?”

  “Vond sent me,” Hanner said. “It wasn’t my idea. I just wanted to get some sleep.”

  A woman laughed. “Well, you can sleep here,” she said.

  Hanner started to protest, to say that he couldn’t spare the time, that Vond was in a hurry, but then he stopped. Why should he care what Vond wanted? He was in the one place he knew of where Vond was absolutely powerless to harm him, and he could stay here as long as he chose. He had told Vond it might take awhile to evict his guests; why should he rush?

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said. “Where should I go?”

  This time all of the other smiled, and two or three laughed. “Wherever you want,” the woman said. “Right here on the grass, if you like, or in one of the houses.”

  “We don’t think we need to worry much about shelter,” the young man told him. “The sun hasn’t moved, the temperature hasn’t changed, and we haven’t seen a cloud since we got here. The breeze does rise and fall a little, but not enough to matter.”

  “Oh,” Hanner said. He started to say something else, but then a familiar voice knocked the words out of his head.

  “Hanner!” Rudhira called. She was trotting up the slope from the village.

  “Rudhira!” Hanner called back, smiling broadly. “I didn’t know you had come here.”

  “I thought it was the best way to stay out of Vond’s path,” Rudhira said. “I had put Pirra in the room across the hall, and I didn’t see any reason not to come here and get warm. It’s lovely here, isn’t it?”

  Hanner looked around again, and admitted, “Yes, it is.”

  He had designed it to be, of course, when he commissioned the tapestry. He had expected to spend the rest of his life here, and had tried to ensure that it would be as pleasant as possible — though Arvagan had warned him that wizardry had no guarantees.

  “We’ve been working on fishing nets,” Rudhira said. “And we’ve been planting seeds from the fruit you sent, and those trees over there — I don’t know what kind of nuts those are, but they taste good and haven’t made anyone sick yet.”

  “The water is good?”

  “Oh, the water is lovely! Cool and clean. We could use more pitchers, though, if you’re planning to send more supplies.”

  Hanner remembered why he was there. He shook his head. “There won’t be any more supplies,” he said. “Vond wants us all out of here.”

  That triggered a storm of protests. “What business is it of his?”

  “Why does he care?”

  “Why should we care what he wants?”

  Hanner raised his hands. “Please, please!” he said. “I’ll explain it all. But...but I need to rest a little, first. I was up all night. Let me take a little nap, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Rudhira and the basket-makers exchanged glances, and then Rudhira and two of the others hurried to escort Hanner.

  “This way,” Rudhira said. “There’s a bed waiting.”

  She led him to the village, and into one of the houses, where a pile of old clothes had been made up into a crude bed. Hanner sank down onto it gratefully. He lay back and closed his eyes.

  “Are we really going to wait until he wakes up to find out what’s happening?” someone whispered; Hanner barely heard it. The speaker probably thought he was already asleep, Hanner told himself.

  “We don’t have to,” someone else replied. “We can go look for ourselves.”

  “Hush!” Rudhira said. “Let him sleep!”

  Then they left him alone, and Hanner was finally able to drift into deep, peaceful slumber.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Edara of Silk Street crept down the attic stairs as stealthily as she could, but she knew she was no spy or thief, no expert at moving silently. She expected at any moment to find herself facing a guard of some sort, or even worse, Vond himself. She opened the door at the foot of the steps and crept out into the fourth-floor corridor.

  No one was there. Sunlight spilled in from the window above the stairs at the southern end of the hall; she was slightly surprised to realize that it was early morning here. She hesitated, then hurried across and peeked in the door of a bedroom on the other side of the hall.

  The tapestry was still there, hanging undisturbed and unguarded. She was tempted to go touch it, and pop back into what the inhabitants were calling Hanner’s Refuge, but she steeled her nerve and closed the door again. She took a deep breath, told herself that no one had any reason to hurt her, and started cautiously down the stairs.

  The third floor was as deserted as the fourth, and that didn’t seem right. Where Hanner had kept the fourth floor vacant, there had been people staying in the rooms on this floor. Had they all gone out for the day? If so, where? The whole reason they were here in the first place was that they didn’t have anywhere to go!

  Maybe they had all gathered downstairs for some reaso
n. She frowned, and started down the next flight.

  On the second floor she once again saw nobody, but now she could hear voices from below, so she knew the house was not entirely abandoned. She leaned over the rail to listen.

  “...need some trustworthy men,” a man’s voice was saying. “I can’t be everywhere.”

  “If you let us use your magic, we could do it,” someone replied.

  “You have not yet convinced me you are that trustworthy, Zallin. If I let you use the remaining source, you will instantly be as powerful as you were before the Aldagmor source departed, and that might make you strong enough to defy me.”

  “Your Majesty, I was never Called! I would be well below your own astonishing level.”

  “A little practice would take care of that, wouldn’t it? Your turn will come, Zallin, I promise you that, but only when I know I can trust you. It’s been less than a sixnight; give me a month or two to get to know you.”

  “A month or two?”

  “Is that so very long? You have your whole life ahead of you! You served at least three years as an apprentice, didn’t you?”

  “But I was given my magic on the third day!”

  “Have I known you for three days?”

  “Well...almost.”

  “At any rate, I’m not looking for more warlocks. I want some men who can fight without magic.”

  “Why?” This was a new voice, one Edara did not recognize at all.

  “Because there may be times and places I can’t use my magic! You know the wizards are trying to stop us from resuming our rightful place in the World; what if they find a way to block my source of magic? What if they destroy it outright?”

  “If they destroy it, then we’re all done,” a fourth voice said. “That’s the end of it, and we can all go back to being nobody.”

  “I won’t!” Zallin protested. “I don’t care what the wizards want — I’m a warlock!”

  “You don’t have any magic,” the third voice said.

  “Nonetheless, I am a warlock!”

  “You’re a fool,” someone muttered — Edara could just barely make out the mumbled words, and could not be sure whether this was a new voice, or one she had already heard.