The Wizard of Karres

by Mercedes Lackey

  In the distance, the captain could rell vatch. Still far off, but closer and more intense than before. This, he suddenly realized, was why they'd been brought here. This was the vatch's game. "I think we should all stay. I think the Nanite smell in here was why things smelled wrong when the wrinkled retainer offered to let us out—but I don't think it was just the smell of Nanites."

  The little man jabbered something in Sprite, again, and pointed frantically.

  Captain Pausert shook his head. "I don't think so, old fellow. I think what you're saying is hurry and go. I also suspect you'd get killed, pretty soon after our escape, to hide your boss' Nanite tracks. Come on, Hantis. Let's all go to your great council chamber."

  Hantis nodded. "I don't think we need a guide for that, either. I can find our way."

  It was just as well. The terrified servitor had obviously worked out that they weren't going, and had bolted.

  CHAPTER 29

  As she led them towards the Great Council Chamber, Hantis found herself trying again to deal with the conflicting emotions that had overwhelmed her since she'd found herself back on the motherworld. She'd traveled far and dealt extensively with humans. She and the witches of Karres had found much common ground. But . . . this was Nartheby, Aloorn. The place in her heart of hearts. And Castle Aloorn, to see it like this, lit with faerie-lights, gleaming and glorious—that was a treasure beyond her wildest dreams.

  She understood now that she might have come to destroy it. Or, at least, to lead to its destruction.

  The council chamber, the Hall of Stars, was the highest and largest room in Castle Aloorn. They came in through an upper door—the door of the accused, which, as she had been sure it would be, was open and led to an empty gallery. Looking out, she could see that the many tiers of the chamber were full, fuller than she had ever seen it.

  On her chair, the judgment seat of Aloorn, sat Arvin Warmaker. His head was bandaged, and he did not look particularly warlike. Actually, now that she was able to look at him slightly more dispassionately, he looked both sore and a little afraid.

  They had arrived at an interesting moment. A gold-clad Sprite was just giving Arvin the news that the prisoners had escaped from the Imnbriahn-des-sahrissa.

  "The destruction, my lord, is terrible! More than half of the precious crystals are shattered into dust."

  "My lord," said a Sprite standing at the side of the judgment seat. "Have patrols sent out! Release the gnyarl! We must capture these miscreants before they get back to Delaron."

  Arvin waved a hand in irritation. "Enough, Lord Nalin. I can deal with some things myself. Angbar. See to it."

  The gold-clad Sprite bowed and scurried out. Nalin spoke again. "Do you see how right I was now, my lord, to have them sent to the Imnbriahn-des-sahrissa? Delaron will stop at nothing to see our precious Aloorn destroyed."

  "Nonetheless, Nalin, it is customary for the accused to come before the seat of judgment before they are executed." Looking at him now, her fury gone, Hantis could see that Arvin was a very young Sprite. Young and probably unsure of himself.

  There was nothing unsure about Nalin. "My lord, it was necessary to take swift and decisive action against these criminals. You were incapacitated and their guilt was established beyond all doubt. They were spies from Delaron. Murderers and assassins."

  An elderly Sprite from one of the front galleries stood up. "My Lord Arvin. What rubbish is this? Assassins come in darkness, in secret and with stealth. They do not arrive at midmorning with a group of aliens and give the greeting words of the Clan Aloorn."

  "Treachery in our very midst!" proclaimed Nalin, pointing at the Sprite. "Now, my Lord Arvin, we know who betrayed the pass-phrase of the great Clan Aloorn! Look no further than Lord Laar, of sept-clan Aloorn-Taro."

  Lord Laar looked as if he might just leap over the edge of the gallery and seize the Lord Nalin by the throat. But young Arvin raised his hand. "Enough! There will be time enough for accusations and counteraccusation, when the prisoners are recaptured."

  Hantis decided this was as good a chance as she was going to get. "We are here, Lord Arvin! In the gallery of the accused, where we should have been brought to begin with. We await our hearing."

  Pandemonium was the right word for what followed.

  * * *

  Captain Pausert wished he could understand what was being said. The huge hall that Hantis had led them to was an amazing place. It was several hundred feet from the floor to the ceiling, for a start. The ceiling itself was a semitransparent dome-roof. Pausert could now understand why the council chamber was called "the Hall of Stars." Around each star in the night-sky the ceiling glowed, as if magnifying their light. Although he could see no other form of lighting, the chamber was nonetheless quite bright. Perhaps the light came from hidden globes in the hanging translucent galleries that studded the walls like so many bracket-funguses. All of the galleries, but for the one they stood in, were jam-packed with Sprites.

  Until Hantis spoke, that is—when, like great flocks of angry birds, they all headed for the hanging balcony.

  "Don't do anything. Don't fight!" said Hantis, urgently, as the Sprites levitated towards them. With the numbers of Sprites coming up, Pausert realized a fight would have been futile, anyway.

  So, for the second time that day, but this time with his cooperation, the captain allowed himself to be bound. He consoled himself with the thought that, after all, he could always get loose again. Vezzarn still had his vibro-razor and Goth could still teleport objects.

  Hantis said something, and the Leewit squawked. "I am not a little child! Come closer, you! I'll pull your pointy Sprite nose!" She then said something that caused the Sprites to gape. Pausert was glad he didn't understand. It saved him having to go through the fight to wash her mouth out with soap, again, and he had enough trouble already.

  Besides, he wouldn't have minded saying it himself, whatever it was, if the Leewit and Goth hadn't been listening.

  Soon Pausert found himself being carried away. This time the chamber he was taken to had a far greater resemblance to a prison cell. At least it was clean.

  He was also alone in it.

  He had plenty of time to examine the bare room, he decided, and to wonder just why Hantis had told them not to resist.

  Eventually the door would open.

  * * *

  While she waited in her own prison chamber, Hantis had plenty of time to doubt the wisdom of her actions. She'd had time to realize that perhaps she'd been a bit too imperious herself. It was indeed her castle. But how would she have felt if some stranger had turned up, without warning and without an appropriate escort, and used the words she had?

  But she would put it right, and somehow she would deal with the plague that had infected her people. After all, she knew the laws and customs of Aloorn: none better. She would be taken back to the Hall of Stars and would address the seat of judgment and explain.

  Then the door to her holding room opened and she realized that she'd missed one possible scenario. The Sprite who stood there was not going to listen. That would not suit Lord Nalin, advisor to High Lord Arvin. Or, rather, it would not suit the Nanites that populated him, who had taken over his body and mind.

  Her flesh crawled with horror, realizing he had probably not come to kill her. Killing her would serve his purposes less well than infecting her.

  Hantis screamed. And screamed with her mind too.

  And this time that was enough. A group of seven Sprites came running into the room.

  "What is it, My Lord Nalin?" one of them asked.

  Lord Nalin gestured in irritation. "Nothing. Go. I wish to question the prisoner alone."

  If the Nanites could lie, so could she. "He assaulted me! Look at my face." She knew that her face was bruised from the earlier encounter. "Is this how the people of Aloorn use prisoners?"

  The leader of her guards drew himself up. "My lord, I cannot allow you to assault the prisoner," he said stiffly.

  "What nons
ense," said the High Lord's Advisor haughtily. "I did nothing to her!"

  The guard looked doubtfully at Hantis, who cowered away into the corner. There was no need for her to pretend fear. That was real enough. "Don't let him touch me," she whimpered.

  The guard commander nodded reassuringly. "We do not allow prisoners to be tortured or hurt, lady. You will face High Lord Arvin for justice. He is good and fair, if young."

  "Did High Lord Arvin order us killed without a hearing?" demanded Hantis, forgetting to be humble and cower.

  The guard commander gave a hard look at her, then at Lord Nalin. "No," he said. "As a matter of fact, the order was issued by Lord Nalin. My lord, I shall have to ask you to leave. And do not attempt to visit the prisoners again. Escort Lord Nalin away, Fotri."

  As the Nanite-controlled Sprite was ushered away—politely, but the guards were making very clear that they'd brook no nonsense—Hantis relaxed. "I am willing to talk to anyone, as long as the guard watches, except for Lord Nalin." The news of the Nanite plague had plainly not reached Nartheby. "I think he is in the pay of Delaron."

  The guard blinked. "But he is advisor to the High Lord himself!"

  "Exactly. Now, can I explain why we are here and from whence we have come? We traveled far and in great peril to bring this word to the Clan Aloorn."

  The guard commander shook his head. "The High Lord himself will hear you. You must wait for him."

  "Will you at least keep Lord Nalin away from me—and my companions?"

  "The order will be given," said the guard commander.

  And with that, Hantis had to be content.

  But a little later her door was opened by a very worried looking guard. "The prisoner that you told us was a young girl child, of a species from the outworlds. She has disappeared!"

  Hantis felt herself go cold with fear. The Nanites would take some hours to assume control, and in the meantime the victim's body would be wracked with spasms and rigors. Once the Nanite infection had begun, all you could do for the victim was to incinerate them. The only thing that slowed the plague at all was that after taking over a new victim the Nanites required several weeks to build up their numbers to the point where they could send out breeding colonies. But the mind of the victim was destroyed within the first hour.

  Hantis had known Goth and the Leewit since their birth. Now she was desperately afraid for the littlest witch.

  "How?" she croaked.

  "A hole was cut from storage chambers through the wall and into her holding chamber. Or the other way around. We are not sure if she cut her own way out."

  Hantis shook her head. "I doubt it. She wouldn't leave us. She is still very young. Please. Put us all together and set loose my grik-dog Pul. He will defend us."

  The guard looked worried. "I cannot do that. I have strict orders to keep you apart."

  "Well, then, please put Pul in with Goth. The next youngest alien."

  The guard considered, then nodded. "I suppose, precisely speaking, the grik-dog is not a prisoner, but more in the way of a caged animal. The High Lord has several. He breeds them. Very well, I will do as you wish." He smiled thinly. "I have heard they have a nasty bite to them."

  Hantis realized that grik-dogs, in the here and now, had not yet been bred to sniff out Nanites. Their toxin was simply a general one. They weren't very intelligent yet, either. "And tell the others to scream if anyone comes in. Oh. They won't understand you. Only the littlest one can speak our language." She sighed. "I don't suppose you'd let me speak to them."

  "No, milady," said the guard. "Not without asking the High Lord."

  "Can he be asked? You must send word that the Leewit is missing."

  "He has already been told. Extra guards have been detailed."

  CHAPTER 30

  The Leewit had been a good three parts asleep when she saw the blade coming through the wall. It was a blur of blue-white energy, and was steadily cutting a circle out of the back wall of the room where she was confined. She'd had a long, tiring day—more exhausting than she'd been willing to admit. She'd been very glad of the piggy-back on the captain's back.

  She wished that he were here now. Was this a dream? Was this a rescue or was it more trouble? She wanted Goth, or she wanted the captain or, preferably, both. Her older sister could be annoying, although Goth didn't fuss the way Maleen did. And the captain made her wash her neck and behind her ears. But she liked having them around, especially when things were unfamiliar, although she'd never have admitted that to anyone.

  The shimmering light-blade finished cutting its circle out of the wall. Long slim fingers pulled the piece of wall backwards into the darkness and three furtive-looking Sprites came through the hole. Before the sleepy Leewit had a chance to even whistle, one of them clapped his hand over her mouth. She was carried to the hole and out, into the darkness beyond. A hand was kept firmly clamped over her mouth, as they carried her away. The Leewit was unsure if she was being rescued or kidnapped. If it was a rescue, she wished they'd tell her so.

  They wrapped her in a heavy, smelly cloth. Now, the Leewit was sure she was being kidnapped. So she bit the fingers, hard.

  "Yeeow!"

  "Be still. Keep her mouth shut."

  "She bit me!"

  Another hand clamped over her mouth. "Bite me and I will stick a knife into you." This person sounded like he meant it. After a moment, she was picked up and carried off.

  * * *

  When they removed the heavy cloth, the Leewit found herself in a small chamber with a large balcony. Like all the Sprite places she'd seen, it was full of translucent glass.

  The hand was pulled away from her mouth. She finally got to that scream she'd been saving up.

  "Scream all you like," said the Sprite that had had his hand clapped over her mouth. "No one can hear you here, alien thing. Although Luwis may decide to punish you for biting his fingers."

  "Who are you?" demanded the Leewit, looking around the room. It had a very high ceiling and was full of beautiful and delicate ornaments.

  The Sprite's slanted eyebrows went up. "I would have thought it was quite obvious, small alien. We are spies from Delaron. We want to know what you're doing here, and just where you're from."

  The Leewit rolled her eyes. "Clumping stupid!" She gave the Sprite an accusing glare. He seemed a bit befuddled.

  That mollified the Leewit. A bit.

  Of course, it didn't mollify her enough to be cooperative. She was the Leewit, after all.

  So she did what she normally did when she was in trouble. Went straight up. She still weighed a lot less than the Sprites, and she'd spotted a high shelf full of obviously very precious bric-a-bracs. Before her three captors knew quite what was going on, she was on the shelf. Of course, most Sprites could levitate also. But there wasn't going to be any of that fragile glass and crystal stuff left by the time they caught her.

  "Hey! Come down! Come down or you'll be sorry!" said the one with the bitten fingers. "Here, Wellpo. Make her come down before she bumps anything off there."

  The Leewit shaped her lips into a whistle. One of her best and favorite.

  It worked even better on the Sprites than on the people she'd tried it on before. Bones in the ears weren't . . . what was the word—flexible. They wouldn't shatter in there, but they did hurt.

  The three doubled up, holding their ears. Just to keep in practice, she blew a beautiful shatterer at a display of rose and amethyst crystals on the table. It exploded very nicely.

  But when the Leewit saw the look of fury on the face of the one who had threatened to stick a knife into her, she realized she wasn't high enough. There was a narrow chimneylike opening in one corner of the ceiling. It was made up of mirrors and had a skylight, and there was a small sill at the top that she could perch on. Best of all, even if they could levitate, none of the Sprites were going to fit into the mirror-chimney.

  The Leewit scooted up. It was a tight fit even for her and it wasn't very comfortable. But then, from the ang
ry sounds the Sprites were making, it would be a lot less comfortable down there.

  A questing arm came feeling upwards. When it found the ledge, the Leewit stepped on the fingers as hard as she could.

  "Oww!" The fingers vanished.

  "Leave her, Luwis," said one of the other kidnappers. "She'll have to come down sooner or later."

  "That's well enough for you, Wellpo. Why did we not take her to your chambers? You don't have skylighting."

  "For two reasons, as I already explained to you. First, it's too far away. Secondly, it is near that stiff-necked old Laar's chambers. Given what that ass Nalin accused Laar of, that area of Aloorn is almost bound to be searched."

  "But she has smashed my precious crystal sculpture-work. Smashed it!"

  "She'll come down in time."

  "I'll murder her!"

  The Leewit giggled and whistled again. It was hard to be directional from here, but by the howl of anguish . . . she'd gotten lucky. And once the howl died away, she could hear the tinkling sounds of a glass ornament raining little pieces of its former self onto the floor.

  Still, they were quite right. She couldn't stay up here forever. She was pretty tired, and starting to get hungry. She looked at the tiny chimneylike space she was wedged in. It was nothing more than a long tube with a window at the top. She peered out the window, but there wasn't much that she could see. It was dark out there.

  But she knew they must be high up. Going out, this high off the ground, was scary. But . . . not as scary as going down, or trying to stay here until she fell.

  So she whistled at the window.

  All that did was make her ears ring. Angrily, the Leewit struck the window with her little fist.