Part 16 (1/2)

He glanced back and discovered that he had left Othisen and Rudhira back onMerchant Street .

Othisen was a country boy; he had probably never seen so many people in one place in his life. Rudhira was fairly small, and while she could undoubtedly have used her warlockry to protect her from any random jostling, Manner had just talked her out of doing that.

Well, they were not children; Rudhira was probably a year or two older than he was. They could look after themselves for the moment. He pressed on.

Last night the square had been full of soldiers. Today the guards were lined up along the north side of the square, s.h.i.+elding the ca.n.a.l, the bridge, and the Palace, and leaving the rest of the square open to the horde of unhappy citizens.

Someone was indeed addressing the crowd over there, right at the mouth of the bridge. Hanner strained to catch the words.

”... questions! You can hire magicians-maybe they'll be able to tell you!”

Someone in the crowd shouted an angry and unintelligible response to that, which was followed by a rumble of agreement.

”Oh, death,” Hanner muttered as he pushed onward. He didn't know who was speaking, but whoever it was didn't seem to be very good at it.

”It'syour job to protect us!” someone roared.

”And weare protecting you!” the man on the bridge replied. ”Do you see any warlocks here?”

”How can we tell?” a woman shouted back.

A chorus of agreement rolled over the crowd like a wave, echoing from the facade of the Palace.

”Look, it'smagic” the man on the bridge said, clearly exasperated. Hanner could see now that he wore a captain's uniform. ”We don't know any more about it thanyou do until the magicians tell us! Lord Azrad has sent a message to the Wizards' Guild, demanding an explanation, and we're waiting for their reply!”

”They probablystarted it!” ”It's the demonologists!”

”Northern sorcery!”

”What does Lord Faran say?”

Thatquestion was one Hanner wished someone would answer. What would his uncle say if he ever found out that Hanner was one of these troublesome new magicians?

For that matter, what would the Wizards' Guild say?

Not that Hanner had any intention of telling anyone.

He wished he knew just where Faran was, and what he was doing.

Chapter Seventeen.

Lord Faran's voice was almost pleading-which was utterly unheard of. He sat in his usual seat in the lesser audience chamber, but leaned forward toward the overlord's throne rather than sprawling comfortably as he usually did.

”Lord Azrad,” he said, ”they aren'tall criminals!”

”They're all dangerous,” the overlord replied. He remained slumped on his throne in his customary slouch, but he was glaring at his chief advisor with unusual intensity. The two of them were alone in the room and able to speak freely. ”I am struck by your concern, my lord Faran-it's hardly your usual style.

Is your latest mistress one of them, then? Or perhaps that useless nephew of yours?”

”No, Lord Azrad,” Faran replied. ”Or at least, I think not, but since you have not seen fit to allow Lord Hanner to reenter the Palace, I can't say with any real certainty that he is not.”

”And your woman?”

”Oh, I can attest to Isia's utter lack of any magic beyond the usual charms natural to young women.”

He had not, in fact, tested that, but certainly there had been no sign that she, too, had acquired this strange new magic that the witches called warlockry. And if she had, he was not particularly concerned about it; she was pleasant enough company, but so were any number of women, and she had not uniquely endeared herself to Faran any more than had her dozens of predecessors.

”Then why are you so determined to let these mad magicians live?”

”Because, my lord, they have done no wrong, and when the crowd's madness has pa.s.sed the people of Ethshar will remember that. While none of them are my own family, nonetheless they do have families and friends, and in time those families and friends would begin to wonder why old Uncle Kelder or little Sarai from down the street was put to death for the crime of being a magician. Why warlocks, and not demonologists? After all, they dabble with the darkest of forces. Why not sorcerers, who were the favored of the Northern Empire and who may yet bear the Northern taint? Why not wizards, who meddle with truly incomprehensible forces and whose Guild dares to dictate terms to all the World's governments? Oh, the warlocks broke into a few shops, burned a few homes, raped a few women-but Uncle Kelder did none of that, and an ordinary thief gets off with a flogging, a rapist with enslavement.

Why are warlocks so dire that they must be exterminated?”

”Faran, you're being deliberately dense. Youknow why-because we don't know what they can do!

Because they're completely uncontrolled. Because they seem to have made at least four hundred people simplydisappear overnight, which even the wizards have never done. There are reports that a warlock can stop a man's heart with a look-what if one of them decides that he doesn't like the way we run the city? A glance, an apparent heart attack, and that useless son of mine is on this throne instead of me!”

”Oh, I agree they're dangerous, my lord, but so are ordinary people, and when they've had time to reflect I believe that those ordinary people will regret hanging all the warlocks, and they'll blameyou for doing it.”

Azrad frowned deeply.

”I agree that it's a bad situation either way,” Faran said quickly. ”But really, what threat does a warlock pose that a wizard or demonologist does not? A glance that kills-is that really any more lethal than the Rune of the Implacable Stalker, or a demon like Spesforis the Hunter?”

”I wouldn't know,” Azrad growled. ”Unlike you,I never evenheard of that rune, or this Spessris you mention.”

”Spesforis,” Faran corrected.

”Whatever. Faran, I sometimes think your researches have gone too far-you're entirely too fond of magicians, even these warlocks.”

”Knowledge is a tool, my lord,” Faran protested. ”I like to have a full toolbox ready.”

”Hmph.”

”In this case, my lord, if I may extend the metaphor, my toolbox has nothing in it but rust and wood shavings. We don't know anything about this warlockry. It may all vanish tomorrow-and what will people saythen if we've hanged a hundred innocent people? For that matter, warlocks can fly-what if they can't be hanged?”

”Then cut off their heads. That's easy enough. A rope's traditional, but it's hardly the only means at ourdisposal.”

”True, but really not my point. I would ...”

Azrad held up a hand, and Faran stopped in midsentence.

”You may be right,” the overlord said. ”I don't want the blame for hanging everyone's Uncle Kelder. So we need to put the blame somewhere else. If the Wizards' Guild wants the warlocks wiped out, then it's notour fault.”

Faran fingered his beard in silence for a moment as he considered this.

”I see your point,” he said at last. ”You think, I take it, that it would be very convenient if the Wizards'