The Unwelcome Warlock

Chapter Ten

Ithinia of the Isle slumped in the wicker chair, drumming her fingers on its woven arm as she considered the reports she had just received. She had the latest accounts from the wizards she had assigned to investigate various matters, from her agents in the city guard and the overlord’s palace, from the network of spies the Guild maintained throughout the city and the Small Kingdoms, and from the witches and theurgists she had consulted. They all confirmed the simple, obvious truth.

The source of the warlocks’ magic was gone.

She supposed she should have expected this. That thing in Aldagmor had been calling for something for more than thirty years; was it really such a shock that it had finally been answered?

But who would have expected it to be so sudden?

Most of the mess wasn’t really significant. Ethshar had gotten along without warlocks for centuries, and it could get along without them again. Having a bunch of suddenly-powerless magicians around was a nuisance, but most of them would probably find places for themselves eventually. The ones who hadn’t yet been Called should be no problem at all.

That huge mob working its way south from Aldagmor, on the other hand, was more awkward. By wizardly standards most of them were young, and thanks to their now-vanished magic most of them were disgustingly healthy, so they should manage well enough, but Ethshar’s economy hadn’t had to absorb so many people all at once since the end of the Great War, and there would inevitably be some disruption.

She sighed. There would undoubtedly be some unfortunate results – more crime, more beggars, more slaves taken. A few decades, though, and it would all be out of the way. Wizards as old and powerful as Ithinia tended to take the long view.

Besides, if this sudden flood of people was too inconvenient, some of them could be removed. There were any number of spells that could trim excess population. Killing them would be ugly, and should be avoided if at all possible, but petrifying most of them until the situation improved wouldn’t be so very terrible; many of them were already decades out of their own time, and a few more years would scarcely matter. If anyone could perform Llarimuir’s Mass Transmogrification, they could be turned to trees or some other relatively inert creature; that might be preferable to petrifaction. Ithinia didn’t know the spell herself, but there were wizards far more powerful than she.

Those former warlocks in Aldagmor could be handled.

Vond, on the other hand, might be real trouble. According to every source that mentioned him, he still had his ability to draw warlock-like power from the towers in Lumeth. Details, unfortunately, were scarce; scrying spells directed at him had failed. This might be because no one knew his true name, and divinations directed at an individual were never reliable without that, or it might be that his new magic blocked wizardry just as much as true warlockry had. Certainly, every manifestation of his power to date had behaved exactly like warlockry.

Ithinia blinked as she considered that. The towers were sorcerous in nature – an ancient high sorcery that was long lost, not the feeble sort of thing modern sorcerers could do. Did that mean the Warlock Stone had been sorcerous in nature?

But everyone knew that warlockry was somehow related to witchcraft; then was witchcraft related to sorcery? It certainly didn’t appear to be.

She shook her head. This was not the time to ponder some grand theory of unified magic. She needed to decide what to do about Vond. He was reported to be on his way back to his empire, if he had not already reached it. The Wizards’ Guild could not simply ignore him if he had indeed returned to Semma; they had issued an edict that no warlocks were permitted within twenty leagues of Lumeth, and they could not allow Vond to defy that edict. The Guild did not assert its authority in such matters very often, but when it did, it had to be absolutely ruthless, giving not the slightest hint of weakness.

They would probably need to kill Vond. If it came to that, it had to be done quickly and effectively. That affair with Tabaea and her enchanted dagger had not done the Guild’s reputation any good at all, and they could not afford a repetition. If they did decide to kill Vond, it needed to work cleanly on the first attempt, and it needed to be very clear that this was the Guild enforcing its ultimatum.

The problem was, of course, that wizardry didn’t work properly on warlocks. Every warlock, no matter how feeble, was effectively guarded by powerful protective spells simply by being a warlock.

But that had only really been tested on ordinary warlocks; it was not clear whether it would hold true with Vond. He might be just as well protected as any other warlock, or he might be completely unguarded, or he might be totally immune to wizardry – no one knew, and there was no safe way to test it without his cooperation.

Somehow, Ithinia doubted that the Great Vond, self-proclaimed emperor, would agree to help wizards test his vulnerabilities. The question then became, what spell could be absolutely certain to kill Vond on the first attempt?

The Seething Death had worked on Tabaea, but it had done significant damage in the process, and stopping it had required the use of forbidden magic; Ithinia had no desire to see anything like that used against Vond.

The Call of Celestial Debris might work, but it would probably flatten half of Semma in the process. Since it involved purely physical projectiles, Vond’s magic shouldn’t interfere with the spell itself.

But on second thought, Ithinia realized, if he saw the meteors coming, he was probably powerful enough to deflect them. That wouldn’t do.

The Devouring Earth wouldn’t work; Vond could fly. He wouldn’t fall when the ground opened beneath him.

The Spell of the Smoke Noose would probably just evaporate when it hit his magical barriers, and from what Vond had done during his first reign it was possible he no longer needed to breathe, so even if it didn’t collapse, it might not kill him.

Zil’s Dehydration, Fendel’s Assassin, the Rune of the Implacable Stalker, the Spell of Ghastly Dissolution, the Cold Death, the White Curse – any of them might work, but none of them were certain…

“Mistress?”

She started at the sound of her manservant’s voice, and sat up. “Yes, Obdur?”

Obdur was standing in the door of the solarium; he bowed. “Chairman Zallin of the Council of Warlocks insists on speaking to you.”

“Zallin? Whatever for?”

“He did not say.”

A thought struck her. “Did he call himself Chairman of the Council of Warlocks? Or did you just remember him by that title?”

“He did, mistress.”

Ithinia gave a small snort. What Council of Warlocks? Except for Vond and Sterren, there weren’t any more warlocks – well, unless Vond had been making more.

Which was another reason to deal with Vond quickly – he could make more Lumeth-based warlocks. That was known. From what she had heard of him Ithinia doubted he really wanted to share his power, but he could, and if he wasn’t disposed of promptly, he might.

But Zallin probably didn’t know anything about Vond.

“I will meet him in the parlor momentarily, Obdur.”

Obdur bowed. “Yes, mistress.” He turned and slipped out of the room.

Ithinia sighed and got to her feet. Zallin didn’t really have any business here; he hadn’t been invited, and he no longer represented anyone the Guild needed to treat with respect. If he wanted to buy a spell, he could go to the Wizards’ Quarter like anyone else.

Maybe he was coming to formally renounce his role and disband the Council of Warlocks; after all, it had been created to appease the Hegemony and the Wizards’ Guild, and it had been Ithinia and the Guild that had forced the overlord to accept it. It would be appropriate for an announcement of the Council’s dissolution to come to her, as the city’s senior Guildmaster, and also to the overlord or his representative. The overlord who had first accepted the Council’s existence was dead, of course, but his son now reigned as Azrad VII – though perhaps not for very much longer, given his age. Ithinia’s best sources said that Azrad was taking a cautious attitude toward the disappearance of warlockry, waiting to be sure there weren’t any nasty surprises involved.

The resignation of the Chairman of the Council might be a surprise, but it wouldn’t be a nasty one. She had the impression that the overlord and his court weren’t particularly fond of Zallin.

She guessed that if that was indeed Zallin’s errand, the only reason he had come here first was that it was more or less on the way from Warlock House to the palace.

Remembering what Zallin was like, she doubted that he was coming to renounce anything. Poor Hanner, the first Chairman, might have done that, but Zallin? No.

“Poor Hanner?” But Hanner was coming back, wasn’t he? Rothiel had spoken to him with the Spell of Invaded Dreams, and confirmed that he was alive and well, at least for the moment. Strange, to think she might see him again. She hadn’t known many Called warlocks, so she had not really been thinking of them as individuals, but she remembered Hanner. He had been a well-meaning sort, usually not very assertive, but able to show real backbone when pressed. For the most part, she had found him very agreeable. When he was Called, she had thought of him as dead – but the dead didn’t come back. Well, not unless necromancy was involved, and she had never done much of that.

She took her time walking up the passage to the parlor, straightening her robe as she went; as usual, she was dressed in a white robe, this one relatively simple and trimmed with blue and yellow.

She hoped Zallin had come to formally dissolve the Council, but she doubted it. More likely he was here to plead for her help – perhaps he had taken on some job he could no longer perform, and wanted her to do it for him. That was much more typical of Zallin of the Mismatched Eyes than any sort of formality.

She took a deep breath and swept into the parlor.

Zallin was there, standing in the center of the room, smiling crookedly at her – a nervous smile, not the smirk he displayed when he was pleased with himself. He wore the traditional black tunic and breeches of a warlock, with no sign of office. The most distinctive thing about him was his eyes – the left one a very ordinary brown, the right a peculiar shade of pale blue.

“Zallin of the Mismatched Eyes,” she said. “Why have you intruded upon my privacy?”

He hastily bowed, and when his head came back up he said, “Guildmaster, I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m here on a matter of some urgency.”

“Urgent for you, perhaps.”

“Oh, I believe this concerns everyone, Guildmaster. Are you aware that warlocks throughout the city have lost their magic?”

She stared at him, trying to keep her face impassive; it would not do to laugh. “I have been informed of this, yes,” she said.

“Well…do you know what caused it?”

Ithinia considered carefully before answering.

She knew that warlocks did not do divinations. They could not hear thoughts, as witches did, or foresee the future. They could not ask questions of the gods. They could not buy secrets from demons. They could use none of the dozens of spells that wizards used to investigate mysteries. They claimed to be able to see into the structure of everything around them, all the particles and flows of energy that made up the World, but only within a limited radius. Information was not where their talents lay. Still, it was hard to believe that this man was as ignorant of the situation as he appeared to be.

“The source of your magic, which fell from the sky on the Night of Madness, has departed from the World,” she said. “Something came to its aid, and took it back into the sky, to whatever universe they both came from.”

His mouth fell open, but no words emerged. She watched calmly as he attempted to gather his wits.

“It’s…it’s gone?” he said at last. “It’s not just Ethshar of the Spices?”

“It’s gone,” she confirmed.

“Can you bring it back?”

It was her turn to stand in stunned silence, though she managed to keep her jaw from hanging. Finally, she said simply, “No.”

“Are you sure? I came to you because I thought perhaps the Guild had found a way to block it from the city, and I was going to plead for you to remove the spell – but you say it’s really gone?”

“It’s really gone.”

“The Wizards’ Guild didn’t have anything to do with it?”

She suppressed her annoyance. “Why would the Wizards’ Guild want to interfere with warlocks, Zallin?”

“I don’t know! I was going to ask what we had done to offend you.”

“Why did you think it was our doing at all?”

“Because who else has magic powerful enough to do such a thing? The gods can’t even see us, let alone harm us, and while demons might have the power, who could afford to pay them enough? I suppose it might have been demons, but wizards seemed much more likely.”

“You assumed it must be some rival school of magic? Why?”

“Well, who else would want to harm us?”

Ithinia suppressed a grimace. “Zallin, are you sure you would call it harm?” she said. “You do realize that this means an end to the Calling, as well as warlockry?”

He waved that aside. “The Calling – if we’re careful, that’s not a problem. I can survive a few nightmares. But without our magic, how are we to live?”

“Learn an honest trade. Expand the Hegemony’s borders, perhaps – I’m told there is still good land in the northeast that a hard worker can clear and farm. Now that the Calling is gone, there’s no need to avoid the region just south of Aldagmor.”

“Farm?” Zallin’s expression implied that she had just said something obscene.

“Or take up carpentry, or smithing,” she suggested.

He shook his head violently. “No,” he said. “I’m a warlock, not a tradesman! Please, Guildmaster, isn’t there anything you can do? Isn’t there some way to lure back the source?”

“I do not know of any, nor would I use it if I did,” Ithinia replied.

“But Ithinia, think of the city! What will people do with no warlocks? Who will dredge the harbor? Who will repair streets and walls? Who will heal the sick?”

She turned up an empty palm. “Ethshar managed well enough before the Night of Madness. I’m sure we can manage again now that the madness is gone.”

“Warlockry isn’t madness!”

She sighed. “No,” she admitted, “it wasn’t. But it’s gone, and it’s not coming back.”

“Can’t you find some other source, then?” he pleaded. “Is there no great wizardry you might perform that would restore our power?”

“Zallin, a sixnight ago you would have claimed that warlockry deserved to be considered the equal of any other school of magic; do you really think one wizard can restore it?”

“I don’t know!” he wailed. “I don’t understand wizardry, but you people have always claimed to be able to perform miracles, to create entire worlds with some of your spells – how do I know you can’t provide a new power source for us?”

She met his gaze and said, “I cannot create a new source of power for warlocks.” She did not say she could not provide one; she was all too aware that one already existed, in Lumeth of the Towers. “Zallin, have you noticed that I have not called you chairman?”

“I…no. I don’t understand.”

“There are no more warlocks in Ethshar, Zallin. There is no more Council of Warlocks for you to chair. Accept it.”

He straightened and threw back his shoulders. “I do not accept that, Guildmaster! I will never accept it!”

“You should. But even if you refuse to acknowledge that the Council is no more, it is unclear whether you are still its chairman.”

“What?” He looked shocked.

“Zallin, the departure of the Source did not merely put an end to warlockry; before it left, it released all the warlocks it had Called. All of them, back to the Night of Madness, magically preserved just as they were when they reached Aldagmor. It’s estimated to be at least fifteen thousand people, and most of them are on their way here right now.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“All the Called warlocks are coming back, Zallin. And that includes Hanner, the original Chairman of the Council of Warlocks. If I were to recognize anyone as chairman, it would be Hanner, not you.”

“But he’s… They aren’t dead?”

“They aren’t dead. Oh, a few were killed in the confusion, but most of them are alive and well.”

“But that…but…”

Ithinia could almost see him trying to grasp that, and trying to decide whether it was good or bad. Obviously, he knew he should think it was a good thing that thousands of his elders had not died, as he had always assumed, but at the same time, he liked being the city’s senior warlock, and did not want to be shoved aside.

And if she remembered correctly, he and Hanner had never much liked each other.

After a moment, he reached a conclusion.

“You can’t restore my magic?”

“I cannot.”

“Can any wizard?”

“Not that I know of, but we’re a secretive lot. I can’t say for certain that there is no spell that would serve your purpose, only that if there is, I never heard of it.”

“Then I am sorry to have troubled you, Guildmaster.” He bowed. “I will be going.”

“As you please,” she said with a nod. She stepped aside, and heard Obdur opening the front door as she did. She watched as Zallin marched out, clearly trying to look haughty, but only managing petulant.

Obdur closed the door behind him, and Ithinia stared at it for a moment.

There was a man who would be very happy indeed if Vond did start training warlocks to use the power of the Lumeth towers. She would have to make sure that he would never have the opportunity to ask Vond’s assistance.

“Obdur,” she said, “go fetch the gargoyles; I have messages to send.”