Part 23 (1/2)

He had lived in Ethshar of the Sands for eighty-some years, since he was only a journeyman, but if Lord Ederd was considering exiling or hanging warlocks it might be time to leave, and Serem's news suggested an obvious destination. Talking to other warlocks, comparing notes, might be very useful, and having Lord Faran's protection would be welcome. Manrin had not visited Ethshar of the Spices for almost thirty years, so he had never met Lord Faran, but the man's reputation for energetic leaders.h.i.+p was known throughout the Hegemony.

The next question was how to get there, given that his wizardry was unreliable. The journey by ordinary methods would take at least a sixnight, and the delay might be dangerous.

Manrin knew warlocks could fly, at least some of them, but he didn't know yet whetherhe could fly, especially for a distance as great as the forty leagues to Ethshar of the Spices.

And flying openly might attract unwanted attention-though of course, as a wizard, he could always lie about how he was doing it.

Another method of travel would be a good idea-and as a Guildmaster, he saw an obvious possibility.

It was slightly risky, since he had no idea what his superiors in the Guild thought of warlocks, or whether they had developed any easy methods for recognizing them. Serem apparently hadn't noticed anything different about Manrin, or seen anything unusual about Ulpen-but Serem was distracted by the loss of his wife, and was not the most perceptive wizard in the World.

Still, Manrin thought, using the Guild's transportation methods would be fastest and easiest. ”You know, I think I'd like to speak to Ithinia,” he said. ”In fact, I think I'd like to visit her, in Ethshar of the Spices.

Does Perinan still have the tapestry in his attic?”

”Of course,” Serem said.

”In that case,” Manrin said, ”I think we had better be going.” He bowed. ”Our thanks for your help.” ”But you just got here!” Serem protested. ”Could I get you a cup of tea before you go? Some grapes?”

Manrin held up a hand. ”No, no. Thank you, but we really must go. We were just stopping by to see how you were faring in all this.”

Baffled, Serem turned up a palm. ”If you must,” he said.

Five minutes later Manrin and Ulpen were hurrying south onWizard Street , through spa.r.s.e and nervous crowds. ”We'll stop at my house,” Manrin said. ”I want to fetch a few things. Did you bring anything at all with you?”

”Not much,” Ulpen said. ”I'm just an apprentice, after all-”

”You're something rather different now, I would say,” Manrin interrupted. ”And whatever you are, I want you to have everything you brought with you when we use the tapestry. I'm not sure we'll be coming back.”

”I don't understand,” Ulpen said, struggling to keep up-Manrin was old, but he still walked fast enough to give Ulpen a challenge. ”What tapestry? Come back from where? What's going on?”

They had reached Manrin's own front door; there he pulled Ulpen into the tiny portico and said, ”Perinan has a Transporting Tapestry-anyone who touches it is instantly transported to a shop in Ethshar of the Spices, in the neighborhood they call theOldCity . We are going to use it to get ourselves out of this city.

You heard Serem-he thinks warlocks murdered his wife, so he wants us exterminated, and thinks Ederd can be convinced to hang us all. I don't think it was warlocks who made poor Gita disappear, but he's probably right about Ederd.”

”But he saidLord Azrad wanted to kill us all, too! Isn't Azrad the overlord of Ethshar of the Spices?

Shouldn't we be going somewhere else? What about that Wulran person?”

”Wulran II is overlord of Ethshar of the Rocks,” Manrin said. ”And while his city may be safer now, if the other two triumvirs agree that warlocks should be exterminated throughout the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, he'll go along. He'll have to; that's how the triumvirate works on issues that affect all three cities, by majority vote.”

”But-” Ulpen began.

”But maybe theywon't agree,” Manrin said before Ulpen could get another word out, ”because Lord Azrad may well change his mind. By all accounts he's let Lord Faran run Ethshar of the Spices for him for the past ten years, and Lord Faran wants to protect warlocks. We're going there to find Lord Faran, and join up with him, and do everything we can to help him convince Lord Azrad.” He hesitated, then added, ”Besides, if we're to have any chance of influencing theGuild's position on all this, we need to talk to Ithinia. She's the senior Guildmaster in Ethshar of the Spices.”

”Butyou're a Guildmaster!”

”I amthe junior Guildmaster here,” Manrin said. ”That's why I'm responsible for rural wizards like yourself. Perinan is the senior, and there are four others that I know of, all of whom outrank me.”

”That youknow of?” Ulpen's voice cracked. ”The Guild is a little too fond of secrets for its own good, my boy. There is a great deal going on within it that the ordinary members never hear about, and there are things that not even a Guildmaster necessarily knows.” He knocked on the door. ”You know, Serem may be a Guildmaster, or if he is not as yet, he'll probably become one soon. Now, let's move along.”

Derneth opened the door, and Manrin stepped in, telling Der-neth, ”Pack me a bag-I need to take a trip.

I'll be gone for at least a few days; I'm not sure exactly how long.”

”In the city, Master?”

”In Ethshar of the Spices.”

Derneth nodded. ”As you say.”

Twenty minutes later Abdaran had been sent home without his apprentice, and Manrin was waiting impatiently at the door while Ulpen stared about, still trying to comprehend what was happening. Events were moving far too quickly for him. He had his pack on his shoulders; it was far lighter than it had been on the walk fromNorth Herris , since he was no longer carrying any of Abdaran's belongings.

It was discomfiting to be out of Abdaran's keeping and in a strange place. He had only met Manrin an hour or two before, yet he had put himself entirely in the Guildmaster's hands. He wondered whether that was really proper and in keeping with the terms of his apprentices.h.i.+p and his oaths to the Guild.

At last Derneth appeared with yet another bag. Manrin picked up the two he had already had, and reached for this new bundle, but Ulpen took it from Derneth. ”If I might help, Guildmaster?” he said.

”Good,” Manrin said. ”Good.” He looked at Derneth. ”Take care of the place,” he said. ”I really don't know when I'll be back.

Tell my children not to worry. If Ferris returns, tell one of the neighbors to let me know with the Spell of Invaded Dreams.”

”Yes, Master,” Derneth said.

”And take care of yourself, Derneth,” Manrin said. ”I know I've treated you rudely much of the time, but you've always done a fine job and never complained.”

Ulpen watched as the expression of weary resignation that had been on Derneth's face every time Ulpen had seen him suddenly cracked into real concern. ”It's that serious, Master?”

”It might be-but you aren't involved. You'll be fine. And it might all come to nothing. We'll see.” With that, he hefted his two bags up on his shoulders and marched out the door.

Ulpen hurried after him.

He glanced back when they were half a block downGate Street and saw Derneth still standing in the open doorway, staring after them.

Chapter Twenty-four.

Shouldn't we have heard something by now?” Hanner asked, looking at the odd black talisman that Uncle Faran said was his link to Guildmaster Ithinia.

They were sitting in the front parlor of the house on High Street, in a pair of chairs by the mantel that Hanner supposed would be cozy in the winter, with the black talisman on a small table between them.

Right now, in the heat of summer, with no fire on the hearth, the main virtue of this location was that it was out of the way of the various warlocks moving hither and yon through the house.

Lord Faran turned up an empty palm. ”They're wizards,” he replied. ”What did you expect?”

Hanner could hardly argue with that; he knew well that most wizards kept their own schedules, ignoring the convenience of lesser beings-though he had never been able to decide whether this was arrogance or sloppiness. ”If they don't reach a decision soon Lord Azrad may get tired of waiting,” he said. ”He's never struck me as a patient man.”

”He's not,” Faran agreed. ”He gets bored easily and hates waiting for anything. That's why he let me and his three brothers and his other advisors run everything. But he hates doing his own work even more, usually.” He tapped the talisman, but it remained inert.