The Vondish Ambassador

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  "Oh. I thought that... well, isn't it used in some spells?"

  "What's your name, young man?"

  "Emmis of Shiphaven, Guildmaster."

  "Well, Emmis, I do indeed have honey in my possession, but why should I give it to you?"

  Emmis glanced at Lord Ildirin, then turned back to Ithinia. "To save time?"

  "Your time, not mine. I am not interested in giving you the idea that you can make yourself at home here, or impose on me at your convenience. You will have to find your own honey elsewhere."

  Before anyone could reply Ithinia thought she heard a faint growl. She remembered suddenly that the conjured assassin was almost certainly in the room, listening; it apparently didn't like being told it had to wait for its treat.

  But it was constrained by the enchantment, she knew; it couldn't act of its own choice outside very narrow limits. Until it had carried out its assigned task it couldn't deliberately harm anyone else unless they got directly in the way of its attack on its intended target, and once its task was performed it would be banished back to whatever other realm it had come from – or perhaps to nonexistence; no one had ever bothered to determine whether the thing had any independent reality outside Fendel's spell.

  For a moment she considered getting out a jar of honey and asking the assassin a few questions of her own, but this was clearly not the time or place.

  "So, my lord," she said, turning to Ildirin, "you want me to petrify this man, and see whether that's enough to protect him from Fendel's Assassin. And you said you had other concerns?"

  "Yes. I want his would-be killers found and apprehended. I want to know why they think it's acceptable to murder people here in Ethshar. I'm sure you have magic capable of that."

  "I'm sure I do. What I am not sure of is why you expect me to use it in your behalf. You know the Guild does not meddle in politics."

  "I know the Guild only meddles in politics when it suits you to do so," Ildirin retorted. "I remember well how the Guild meddled in my brother's handling of the Council of Warlocks some twenty-odd years ago. I came to you, rather than going to the Wizards' Quarter, in part because you were closer, and in part because I know you are an exceptionally powerful wizard and could almost certainly do everything I ask, but most of all, because this is political, and I suspect you have the authority to act where lesser wizards would not, and can meddle without worrying about being punished by your superiors in the Guild."

  "If you think I have no superiors, you're sadly mistaken," Ithinia retorted. "However, I am indeed granted considerable discretion. Explain to me, then, why it is in the Guild's interest to keep this Vondishman alive."

  "As a start, to maintain the overlord's goodwill," Ildirin said. "Remember that this assassin was sent by a wizard, so one of your Guild members is already meddling in politics, presumably for pay. You would merely be countering that meddling. We are not asking you to guard the ambassador from mere human assassins, but only from one provided by one of your fellow magicians."

  "You could buy a protective spell in the Wizards' Quarter. You wouldn't need to tell anyone why."

  "And is there a protective spell that works against Fendel's Assassin?"

  Ithinia smiled wryly. "I prefer not to answer that; the Guild sometimes finds Fendel's Assassin useful."

  "Well, then! There's your benefit to the Guild – do you think we couldn't coax an answer out of another wizard if we offered enough money?"

  Ithinia's smile broadened. "I remember now why I like you, my lord. Very well, I'll petrify your friend, for an appropriate fee, and when the assassin is gone I will restore him to life. Anything beyond that will wait; I'll have time to think while I perform the spell, and you'll have time to marshal your arguments."

  "Thank you, Guildmaster," Ildirin said, nodding in lieu of a bow.

  "You are welcome to wait here," she said. "I assume you all know better than to go anywhere in a wizard's home uninvited, but this room and the entry hall will be safe enough. If you prefer to leave my home, feel free, but be certain you have returned no more than two and a half hours from now – if the Vondishman is not here, the spell will be wasted. I'll make sure the door allows you back in."

  "Thank you, Guildmaster," Ildirin repeated.

  Ithinia nodded in reply, then turned and swept out of the parlor.

  She paused just out of sight, though, rather than proceeding directly to her workshop, and listened.

  She did not really know whether the assassin was in fact present, or for that matter, whether anyone had actually sent it after the Vondishman at all. Lord Ildirin was not above attempting some sort of complicated deception, and of course the others might have somehow fooled Ildirin. She would want to check a few things before working Fendel's Superior Petrifaction.

  She wished she had more servants around – not human ones, but magical – so that she could set them to spy on her guests, but at present the only ones she maintained were her four gargoyles. Little Kirna came in to help during the day, but she had gone home to her aunt well before these men showed up, and an eleven-year-old human girl might not make an ideal spy in any case.

  So Ithinia stood in the hallway, listening.

  "My lord?" she heard Emmis ask. "May I send one of the guards to buy honey?"

  "You would prefer sending my guard to making the purchase yourself?" Ildirin's voice replied.

  "I think that I should stay near Lar, my lord. We don't want to confuse or anger the creature, and it has business with both of us now."

  "That's reasonable," the Vondishman said. "And who would trouble us here, in a wizard's home?"

  "Good points all around," Ildirin agreed. "Very well, then, you may go ask one of the guards to buy honey."

  "I could go," said a deep voice Ithinia had not heard before. She assumed it was the guardsman; she would not expect the assassin to sound so human.

  "I want you here," Ildirin said. "Emmis, send Zhol – he probably wants to replace the candies he gave us, in any case. If he questions your authority, send him to me."

  "Yes, my lord." Ithinia heard the rustle of Emmis rising from his chair, and started retreating down the hallway; it would not do to be seen eavesdropping. She stepped through the workshop door, then turned for a final glance.

  Emmis had emerged from the parlor, but he had not gone directly to the front door; instead he was peering down the hallway, obviously looking for her.

  That was interesting. Ithinia opened the workshop door and stepped back into the hallway. She beckoned to the young man.

  Emmis glanced over his shoulder into the parlor, then hurried down the hall toward the wizard.

  "Guildmaster," he whispered.

  "Yes?"

  "There's something I'd really like to talk to you about. In private."

  "Oh? And this is more urgent than saving your friend from Fendel's Assassin, or keeping your own oath to the killer?"

  Emmis glanced nervously toward the parlor. "Maybe not," he admitted. "Could we talk later, then?"

  Intrigued, Ithinia nodded. "I think that can be arranged," she said. "But right now, you have honey to buy, and I have a spell to perform."

  "Thank you, Guildmaster." Emmis bowed deeply, then turned and hurried toward the door.

  Ithinia watched him go, and realized that she had no idea who the young man was, or why Lord Ildirin had brought him along. He was clearly involved in all this somehow, as his vow to provide the assassin with honey demonstrated, but just what was his role here? Was he working for Lord Ildirin? Had he been one of the would-be assassins who had changed sides?

  Well, she had promised to speak with him later, and her questions could wait until then. Right now she had Fendel's Superior Petrifaction to prepare, and that was a very enjoyable spell, with plenty of energy involved, but no nasty smells or especially ugly manifestations. Like any high-order spell it was dangerous – old Berakon had snapped off a couple of his own fingers when he fouled the Petrifaction up, many years ago – but it would be fun,
all the same. What was life without a little risk?

  And she really wasn't sure whether it would work to deter the assassin, or not. She would want to use a very hard stone, just in case the assassin tried to wring the Vondishman's stone neck; the usual recipe might only produce sandstone, which would not be safe. Granite would be good, or perhaps basalt...

  She closed the workshop door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emmis glanced uneasily out the parlor window. How long did it take to buy a jar of honey? Zhol had been gone for hours, surely. Even Lar and Lord Ildirin had apparently run out of things to say; in fact, Lord Ildirin appeared to have dozed off in his chair, though Emmis would not put it past the old scoundrel to be faking.

  Lar, of course, was still wide awake, with Ahan keeping a close watch to make sure he stayed that way.

  A sound from the hallway brought Lar, Ahan, and Emmis alert; Ildirin slept on, untroubled. Emmis rose and peered around the doorframe.

  The front door was still closed; he turned the other way to see Ithinia approaching, a crystal goblet in one hand and her wizard's dagger in the other.

  The wizard spotted Emmis. "Is the ambassador ready?" she demanded.

  "Yes, I think so," Emmis replied, glancing over his shoulder at Lar. The Vondishman was rising from his seat.

  "I'd prefer he not be sitting when I do this; I'm not sure how much he'll weigh, and I don't want him to break my chair."

  "I'll tell him," Emmis said, turning.

  "I heard," Lar said. "Ahan, would you please wake Lord Ildirin?"

  Emmis stepped aside and let Ithinia pass by him into the parlor; as he did, he glanced at the front door.

  What had happened to Zhol and his honey? If the petrifaction spell was ready, then it must have been almost three hours since the guardsman headed off toward Cut Street Market, and it couldn't be more than a dozen blocks away!

  But right now, he wanted to see the spell. He had never seen anyone turned to stone before. There were statues here and there around the city that were rumored to have been alive once, the work of a magician rather than a sculptor, but Emmis had no idea whether any of those stories were true, and he certainly hadn't observed any of the transformations.

  And he wanted to see what Fendel's Assassin did. He wanted to be there to help if something went wrong.

  So he turned away from the door and followed Ithinia into the parlor.

  Lord Ildirin was blinking in his chair, still a bit fuddled; Ahan was standing beside him with his bandaged hand on the hilt of his sword. Emmis would have thought the truncheon would be more appropriate, as Ozya, the guard on Games Street, had explained, but Ahan seemed to think otherwise. Perhaps Lord Ildirin's special guards followed different rules.

  Lar was standing in front of his chair, looking pale – the long wait, the knowledge that the invisible assassin was after him and probably in that very room, the prospect of being petrified even temporarily, obviously had the Vondishman scared. Still, he stood straight and unflinching, facing the wizard. He had left his hat on a small table, though; he was probably worried that the plume would shatter if turned to stone, Emmis thought.

  Then he grimaced at his own foolishness. The man had taken the hat off hours ago, not long after they first arrived, because there was no reason to wear it in Ithinia's parlor. Worries about the plume had nothing to do with it.

  Guildmaster Ithinia was standing facing the ambassador; her fine white robe had acquired gray smudges here and there, especially on the lower part of each sleeve, but still looked quite elegant. She stood as tall as Lar, Emmis noticed – tall for a woman.

  In her right hand she held a dagger, point down – an old dagger, the blade darkened with age, the edges shaped into odd, subtle curves by countless sharpenings, the leather grip visibly worn and shaped by use to fit Ithinia's hand. The dagger had been elegant once, if not extravagant, after a fashion Emmis had seen occasionally in family heirlooms at least a century or two old. This knife had clearly been around for a long time, and seen heavy use; Emmis wondered if it was a legacy from some beloved ancestor, or whether its age gave it special potency.

  In her left hand was a crystal goblet that held perhaps half a cup of something brownish. The goblet was of good quality, but appeared new and unremarkable; Emmis knew he could find a hundred like it in the Old Merchants' Quarter.

  "Are you ready, Lar Samber's son?" the Guildmaster asked, in a loud, carrying voice.

  Lar swallowed. "I am," he said.

  "Then let us see what Fendel's Assassin makes of this!" She swung her arms together, the left dropping below, the right rising above, and plunged the dagger into the goblet.

  The instant the tip of the blade touched the brown liquid Lar straightened up as if stung. His pale face turned unnaturally gray – not the gray of terror or ill health, but the gray of stone. His hair followed a split second later, and then his clothing, and then Lar was gone, transformed into a lifeless statue.

  The transition was soundless, and for a moment the room was silent as Emmis, Ithinia, and Ildirin all stared at the petrified foreigner.

  Then Ithinia pulled the dagger out of the goblet. She turned and set the crystal vessel down, very carefully, on a table, then pulled a cloth from her sleeve and wiped her dagger clean. She looked around the room.

  "Is he... Is the creature still here?" Emmis asked.

  "Yes," Ithinia said. She held up the dagger, and Emmis could see that the tip was glowing faintly blue, as if catching blue light from some unseen source.

  "Why?"

  "Did you give it the honey you swore you would?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Perhaps it wants its honey, then," Ithinia said. "Or perhaps it doesn't think he's dead."

  "But – but he's stone!"

  "Granite, to be exact." She eyed the statue thoughtfully. "But he's not really dead, and I'd guess the killer knows it."

  "Well, it does now," Lord Ildirin said, annoyed. "You just told it!"

  "Oh, it never believes anything a human says about such matters," Ithinia said, unconcerned. "That's to prevent anyone from tricking it, from talking their way out of assassination. It has its own standards."

  "But he's stone!" Emmis protested. "It must just be waiting for the honey I promised it."

  Ithinia shook her head. "Let me try something," she said. She reached into a pocket of her robe and brought out something Emmis couldn't see, pinched between thumb and forefinger. She stepped up to the statue that had been the Vondish ambassador.

  Emmis wanted to shout at her to get away, lest she break it, but he knew that was absurd. She was a wizard – not just a wizard, a Guildmaster, whatever exactly that meant. She surely knew what she was doing.

  And Lar was stone now, anyway – what could hurt him?

  Ithinia flung the pinch of whatever it was into the statue's motionless face and said something, words that not only weren't Ethsharitic, but didn't sound as if they should be coming from a human throat at all. She gestured, an odd twisting motion that ended with her fingers spread wide, palm up, then said one final alien word.

  Again, silence fell, as everyone stared at the statue.

  Then they all heard, very clearly, the sound of claws scraping on stone.

  The scratching continued for what seemed to Emmis like an eternity; he stared at the statue's throat, watching worriedly for a mark on the hard gray stone.

  He had thought the creature would consider Lar to be dead, but obviously that hadn't happened. It hadn't even thought he was sleeping, but now it did, now that Ithinia had done whatever it was she had done, and in accord with its instructions the monster was trying to wring Lar's neck.

  Just one attempt, Lord Ildirin had said – but how determined an attempt? Would the thing keep trying until it did gouge the stone? What would that do when Lar was restored to life?

  Then at last the scratching stopped, and Emmis let out his breath. He hadn't realized he had been holding it.

  "There," Ithin
ia said. "It's done." She held up her dagger again, and frowned.

  The tip was still glowing blue.

  "It wants the honey Emmis promised it," Ildirin said.

  "So it appears," Ithinia agreed. "That's inconvenient. I don't think it would be wise to turn Lar back to flesh while the assassin is around. Ordinarily it would only try to kill him once, but ordinarily it would vanish if that first try failed."

  "What if it succeeded?" Emmis asked.

  "Oh, then it would report back to the wizard who summoned it. Then it would vanish."

  "How can you tell whether it's vanished?" Ildirin asked. "It's invisible!"

  "There are ways," Ithinia said, gesturing with her dagger. "I'm not the only one who knows simple detection spells. Fendel's Assassin has been in use for centuries, and there's been plenty of opportunity to experiment with it, and learn just how it does and doesn't work."

  "Then why hasn't anyone ever tried petrifaction before?" Ildirin demanded. "Emmis is a clever lad, but surely there have been other clever people involved in all that experimentation!"

  "Of course there have," Ithinia retorted. "Someone may have tried Fendel's Superior Petrifaction before, and I just hadn't heard of it. Or it may be that the particular combination of circumstances we have here has never arisen when someone clever was around, or it may be that the victims found equally clever and more effective ways to deal with the killer. As I said, there are no certain defenses against Fendel's Assassin, but there are a dozen ways around it if the wizard casting the spell hasn't been careful in his instructions. The Cloak of Ethereality, for example, would probably be more useful than petrifaction under most circumstances."

  Emmis turned to stare at the wizard. "Then why didn't you use that?" he said.

  "You didn't ask," Ithinia said. "Lord Ildirin wanted me to use Fendel's Superior Petrifaction, so I used Fendel's Superior Petrifaction." She turned up an empty left palm. "Besides, there would be difficulties with the Cloak of Ethereality in this case; the circumstances are not quite the usual situation. And just for my own curiosity, I wanted to see whether the Petrifaction would work – which, as you saw, it didn't, until I also cast a simple sleep spell, Felshen's First Hypnotic. You should be glad that the assassin wasn't told to smash in your friend's head with a sledgehammer – I doubt even granite would hold up to that. And you might want to thank me for taking the trouble to use granite – white marble is the standard stone for this spell, and it's not clear whether that would have survived. Sandstone is even easier, and the Vondishman's head would not still be attached if I had used that."