The Vondish Ambassador loe-10

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Ithinia stared at him silently for a moment.

  “A source of magical power, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “The towers aren’t...” She stopped and frowned. After another moment of thoughtful silence she said, “If anyone asks, I cast a spell on you that forced you to tell me this. You resisted as best you could, but of course you were helpless against high-order wizardry.”

  “Of course,” Emmis quickly agreed.

  “I won’t deny it. Just as well if everyone thinks we have such a spell handy, and that we’re ruthless enough to use it on innocent bystanders.”

  Emmis blinked, hesitated, then asked, “Don’t you have such a spell?”

  “Not really, no. I wish we did. We have a few spells that could get answers to specific questions, but they aren’t entirely reliable. Witches are much better at that sort of thing, but I’m never going to tell anyone the Wizards’ Guild had to ask witches for help.” She sighed. “Though if you stop cooperating, I will ask a witch for help. Which would be awkward for all of us.”

  “I’m trying to cooperate, but I promised never to reveal certain things, and it’s understood that if certain people learn them my life is forfeit.”

  “Am I one of those people?”

  “No, but... no, you aren’t. But I’m not sure I want to trust my life to you; I hardly know you.”

  Ithinia smiled crookedly. “I can understand that. If you think about it, though, you’re already trusting your life to me, just by being here. I’m the senior Guildmaster in this city; if you died here, or simply disappeared from this house never to be seen again, nothing would be done about it.”

  Emmis bit his lower lip. The wizard was speaking the truth, and he knew it.

  “Is there anything more you can tell me? For example, why does someone think there’s a source of magical power in Lumeth in the first place?”

  “They know it’s there. It’s been used.”

  “I am clearly going to need to have some long conversations with His Excellency.”

  So much, Emmis thought, for his job as Lar’s aide. That hadn’t lasted long — four days [Note to self: check chronology for second draft], was it? Four very busy days, but still, just four days. He sighed. The lie about an enchantment might save his life, as he didn’t think Lar was a bloodthirsty man and Ithinia wasn’t a warlock, but his job was as good as gone.

  “So this magic — was it Vond who used it? Was that how he became so powerful before the Calling took him?”

  Emmis stared at her, not answering, not even refusing to answer, but just sitting on the bed.

  “And someone’s worried it will be used again? But why would the Empire be worried about that? They’re the ones who know how it’s done.”

  Emmis turned to look at the window, to make it harder for the wizard to read his expression.

  Ithinia leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head. “Ah, but the actual source is in Lumeth of the Towers, you said. Which Vond never conquered. So maybe whoever or whatever stopped him is still there, and the Empire is afraid it will emerge and undo everything Vond did. Maybe that’s it, and it wasn’t Vond’s power source at all.”

  The clouds seemed to be thinning, Emmis thought; the sky outside the window was brighter than before. The sun was starting to break through.

  “But... is it a war with Lumeth they’re worried about? Is that why the Lumethans are hiring assassins, because they’re expecting a war? That’s not what Ildirin told me.”

  Emmis decided he could respond to this. “The Lumethans think Lar came to Ethshar to hire magicians for the Empire to use against Lumeth, and they wanted him dead before he could do that,” he said.

  “Did he come to Ethshar to hire magicians for the Empire to use against Lumeth?”

  “No. At least, not that way; the Empire doesn’t want a war. But Lumeth and Ashthasa don’t believe that.”

  “The Small Kingdoms have a code against using magic to fight their wars. And Vond broke that code, so they think his Empire is outside all law and custom, even with Vond himself gone.”

  “I think that’s it, yes.”

  “How do you know Lar hasn’t lied to you, and the Lumethans aren’t right?”

  Emmis stammered, then turned up his empty palms. “I believe him,” he said.

  “But you have no proof.”

  “No. But everything he’s told me makes sense, more sense than the idea that the Empire wants to hire magicians to conquer all its neighbors.”

  “So the Lumethans think the Vondish are planning to invade with magical aid, while the Vondish think the Lumethans are going to use magic against them. Is that right?”

  “I... I think you should ask the ambassador.”

  “I will. But I’d like to have it straight in my own mind first. It’s always more impressive if I already know the answers, and appearing impressive is part of my job as Guildmaster.”

  Emmis decided not to reply to that.

  “So the source of this dangerous magic is in Lumeth,” Ithinia continued, staring at her guest. “And the Vondish want to destroy it so it can’t be used against them, which seems to imply they can’t use it or control it themselves, while the Lumethans — they don’t know about it, do they? Or they would use it, and they wouldn’t be worried about the ambassador hiring a bunch of journeymen from the Wizards’ Quarter.”

  “I don’t know whether they would really use it,” Emmis ventured.

  “They’re hiring assassins here in Ethshar. They’d use it.”

  “Well, maybe.”

  “And you think the source of this magic is the Towers.”

  “Yes.”

  “So it could be sorcery. Maybe there’s a way to use the Towers as a weapon? Poison the air, perhaps?” She frowned. “I never heard of anything like that happening in Vond’s wars of conquest, though. So perhaps it isn’t sorcery. Wizardry, then? Is there some way of turning the spells protecting the Towers into a weapon?” She shook her head. “I can’t see how that would work.”

  “Fendel’s Assassin defended me from an attacker,” Emmis pointed out. “Spells can work in ways that aren’t obvious.”

  “You’re talking to a master wizard, boy. Don’t teach a fish to swim. I know most of the spells on the Towers, and I can’t see how any of them would apply.”

  “Oh.”

  “And of course, Vond was a warlock. He had other magicians with him in Semma, two wizards, three witches, and a theurgist, but he was a warlock. So was...” She stopped. She stared at Emmis for a moment, then lifted her gaze to the ceiling. She unfolded her hands and lowered her gaze again.

  “That’s what you can’t tell me, isn’t it?” she said. “That was how Vond became so powerful. He found a way to use some of the magic from the Towers for warlockry. So the Vondish are worried that if he could do it, other warlocks could, too. And they don’t have any way to control them. The certain people who mustn’t find out aren’t just the Lumethans — it’s the warlocks. Because if they didn’t go conquering empires and building palaces out of bedrock and tearing up the edge of the World, they could live there for years without being Called.”

  Emmis grimaced. “That enchantment you put on me — it’s a very powerful one, right? I never stood a chance.”

  “Oh, absolutely, my poor child. You couldn’t possibly have resisted.” Ithinia got to her feet. “Why didn’t the Empire just outlaw warlocks, then? Oh, because that wouldn’t look right when Vond, their founder, had been a warlock. It would just serve to notify Lumeth and Ashthasa that something was up.”

  “Guildmaster? Why do you keep secret what the Towers really are?”

  “Oh, it’s not exactly secret,” Ithinia said. “We just don’t advertise it. We don’t want people prying at them. Yes, I see the similarity — if you don’t want to draw attention to something, you don’t make it a forbidden mystery, you just don’t mention it. All the same, I think I’ll want to have a word with the chairman of the Council of
Warlocks, whoever it is at the moment, and remind him that the southern Small Kingdoms are a bad place for warlocks, and anyone fleeing the Calling should look to the west instead.”

  “That would be... I think the ambassador would appreciate that.”

  “I’m sure he would. I’ll tell him about it. Right now, though, I think you should go back to your place in Allston and pack a few things.”

  “Pack... what?” Emmis blinked. “Oh, I think Lar will give me time to find a new place back in Shiphaven.”

  “Shiphaven? We aren’t going to Shiphaven.”

  “What? Then... ’we?’ Where are we going? Who is ’we’?”

  “You, and Lord Ildirin as the representative of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, and His Excellency representing the Empire of Vond, and me, representing the Wizards’ Guild, and I think we’ll need to track down those spies you met, Annis the Merchant and the three Lumethans, and bring them along.”

  “Along where?”

  “To Lumeth of the Towers, of course.” She smiled at him, and touched the ancient dagger she wore on her belt. “And maybe to Ashthasa and Semma, as well.”

  “But — why? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple enough,” she said. “The Wizards’ Guild guards the Towers, and the enmity between Vond and Lumeth threatens them. Therefore, the Guild will put an end to that enmity, even if it means wiping out every living soul on both sides.”

  Emmis’s mouth fell open.

  “Come downstairs now. We have an ultimatum to deliver.” She opened the door and stood waiting for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The preparations took longer than Ithinia’s words had led Emmis to expect — and probably longer than Ithinia herself had expected.

  The afternoon’s meetings with Lar and Ildirin went smoothly, so far as Emmis could tell; he was sent off while they were taking place, and did as Ithinia had suggested, packing a bag for a few days’ trip to the Small Kingdoms.

  Or rather, what he thought might be appropriate. He had never been to the Small Kingdoms. He had never wanted to visit the Small Kingdoms. Ithinia, however, did not offer him a choice. “You started this,” she said. “You’re coming.”

  When Lar returned to the house on Through Street that evening, accompanied by four guardsmen, Emmis met him at the door. “What happened?” he asked.

  “We’re going to Lumeth,” Lar replied, bemused. “Ithinia insists. She says that if Lord Ildirin wants the assassination attempts to stop, they must be stopped at the source. She’s planning to leave in a day or two.”

  “That’s... interesting,” Emmis said. “Do you think she knows anything about...” He glanced at the guards. “...about who’s behind the assassins?”

  “We’ll talk upstairs,” Lar said.

  A few minutes later, after posting the guards at the doors, they did exactly that, taking seats in the ambassador’s study.

  “Did you ask the Guildmaster about the source of the hum?” Emmis asked.

  Lar shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I want her to know anything about it; she frightens me. She isn’t anyone’s hireling; she has her own goals, and they may not match ours. But Lord Ildirin has brought her in to stop the assassination attempts and keep peace between Vond and Lumeth, and I think she can help with that.”

  “I see,” Emmis said, hiding his unhappiness. He had hoped that the ambassador had brought Ithinia into his confidence; it would have simplified matters.

  “Lord Ildirin had that man Kelder questioned this morning, by a magistrate and two witches,” Lar continued. “He’ll hang tomorrow, but in exchange for his cooperation Lord Ildirin let a warlock heal his arm, and the witches calmed him. He’ll be burned on a proper pyre, not left to rot.”

  Emmis shuddered.

  “He named his partner, Tithi Salman’s son,” Lar added. “Ildirin has magicians and soldiers tracking him down now, as well as those three Lumethans and the Ashthasan merchant.”

  “That’s good,” Emmis said. “Isn’t it?”

  “I think so,” Lar said. “But Lumeth and Ashthasa are going to be our neighbors for a long time; we need to be careful how they see us.”

  Emmis nodded.

  After a moment, Lar asked, “That theurgist you visited — the one who told you about Fendel’s Assassin. Did he tell you where the hum came from?”

  Emmis hesitated. “Not exactly,” he said. “He said the Towers are gigantic sorcerous talismans, so it might be from those, but he didn’t say definitely.”

  “The Towers.” Lar nodded. “I thought so. Sorcery, is it? That might be it. Interesting.”

  Emmis waited for Lar to ask the next question, to give him a chance to say more, to explain about the Towers and why he had spoken to Ithinia, but the ambassador said nothing more.

  And then the moment had passed, and Emmis couldn’t bring himself to say anything more about it. The rest of the evening was uncomfortable; Emmis had to watch everything he said, lest he reveal some part of his conversation with Ithinia best left unspoken. He went to bed early, claiming to still be tired from the previous night’s adventures.

  And in the morning there was Zhol’s funeral, which Emmis and Lar attended as Lord Ildirin’s guests. Because Zhol had served honorably in Lord Ildirin’s escort the ceremony was held not in Camptown, as most city guard funerals were, but on a terrace overlooking the Grand Canal, between the Palace and the Old City. The pyre was built right on the edge, where the flames reflected in the murky water of the canal, and the event was well attended — not only were dozens of guards present, and a score of Zhol’s kin, but much of the city’s ruling elite; Lord Ildirin had seen to that. The overlord himself, Azrad VII, plunged the torch into the waiting kindling to light the blaze that would free the dead man’s soul to ascend to Heaven.

  Emmis did not dare approach Azrad, but he did take a good look at him. The overlord was a heavily-built man in late middle age, his hair gray and thinning, but his face still relatively smooth, his stance still strong and upright. Although he must have weighed fifty pounds more than the slender Ildirin, the family resemblance was plain.

  “I didn’t expect to see him here,” Emmis whispered to Lar, as they watched the flames spread across the pyre. “Even if Zhol was chosen for Lord Ildirin’s escort, he was still just a guardsman, after all.”

  Lord Ildirin, on Lar’s other side, heard; he leaned over and replied, “The man served honorably, and died performing that service. His family deserves to see that my family respects him for it. My nephew understands that.”

  Chastised, Emmis said nothing more.

  And that afternoon there was the hanging. Emmis talked his way out of attending that, but Lar and Ildirin did not. That left Emmis sitting alone in the makeshift embassy on Through Street, and he busied himself cleaning and straightening — though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was bothering. He was fairly sure that after this planned trip to Lumeth, if it happened, he would no longer be Lar’s aide and guide. The truth would come out, that he had given Ithinia the hints she needed to guess Lar’s secrets.

  Still, hauling furniture around was a good way to keep himself occupied.

  Once again, the evening was uncomfortable. Emmis found Lar giving him puzzled looks every so often during the awkward silences, as if wondering why his aide had suddenly turned sullen and uncommunicative.

  Emmis wished he could just tell Lar everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to begin. If Lar had asked questions Emmis thought he would have eventually worked his way around to a confession, but the Vondishman did not seem to have any questions to ask.

  The following day Emmis removed himself from the house at the first opportunity and spent every daylight hour roaming the city and talking to tradespeople, seeing that the Vondish embassy would be properly furnished and the kitchen well-stocked. He resisted the temptation to visit the Wizards’ Quarter or Camptown; he had passed that responsibility on to Ithinia.

  Of course, Corinal pr
obably still had several answers to questions that were purely personal, but Emmis was in no mood to deal with those, not when the Guildmaster intended to ship him off to the Small Kingdoms at any moment,

  That night Emmis dreamed he was back in Ithinia’s home, where the wizard instructed him, “This is the Spell of Invaded Dreams. You and your master are to be at my door by noon tomorrow; if you aren’t here on time, I will send my gargoyles to fetch you, which will not be pleasant.”

  He awoke with a start, unsure whether the dream had really been a magical message or not. At breakfast, though, Lar said, “Did you have a dream about Ithinia last night?”

  “Yes,” Emmis admitted.

  “Her door at noon?”

  “Yes.” He was relieved; if they had both dreamt it, then it had been a sending.

  “She could have just paid a messenger two bits.”

  Emmis turned up a palm. “She’s a wizard,” he said.

  Lar nodded, and took another bite of cheese.

  Noon found the pair turning the corner from Arena onto Lower Street, with the guards Ildirin had posted surrounding them. Emmis had expected to see the street much as usual, with a handful of people going about their business, but instead he found a throng already waiting at Ithinia’s door.

  Lord Ildirin’s coach was there, with Lord Ildirin and several others still in it; a dozen guardsmen were gathered around it. Standing between the coach and the door were a handful of strangers; three of them were wearing elaborate robes and were presumably wizards, while one wore the white and gold garb of a priest, another the red and black attire of a demonologist.

  Above, on the eaves, two gargoyles were moving about, staring down at the crowd, though neither appeared threatening.

  “That’s a lot of magicians,” Emmis said.

  “And a lot of guards,” Lar agreed, glancing at his own nearest escort.

  Then the doors swung open and Ithinia appeared, resplendent in a blue and white robe far more ornate than the relatively plain robe Emmis had seen her wear before. “Welcome to you all!” she called, her voice seeming unnaturally loud and clear. “If you will all follow me, please?” She stepped out into the street, closing the door behind her, and led the way around one side of the house and along a narrow passage — a passage open to the sky but too clean to be called an alley, the walls gleaming with fresh yellow paint and the floor paved with brown bricks.