Part 23 (2/2)

He frowned. ”Maybe I should see if I have some other way to determine whether she's trying to contact me.”

”Can't you just use that?” Hanner said, gesturing at the talisman. It occurred to him for the first time that his uncle might not actually know everything about how the sorcerous device worked; perhaps Faran wasn't confident that the thing would do what it was supposed to.

”It might interrupt something,” Faran said. ”If she's meeting with other Guildmasters I don't want to suddenly start talking to her from the talisman. That would be rude.” He grimaced. ”I can't think what I might use, but I can't remember everything I've got up there.” He rose from his chair and picked up the talisman. ”You know something about magic-or at least you ought to, after all the time you've spent in the Wizards' Quarter on my behalf. Why don't you come upstairs with me and see if you have any suggestions?”

”I'd be glad to,” Hanner said, getting to his feet.

That was the simple truth, for several reasons.

First off, he was eager to help out. He doubted he really knew enough about magic to be helpful, but he would be happy to try. Second, he was desperately curious about just what Uncle Faran had stashed away up there. The sorcerous device that let two people speak to one another despite any intervening distance was completely unlike anything Hanner had seen before-most of the sorcerers he knew specialized in healing, or in consulting oracles, or in working with odd little things like fire-starters and lost-object locators. A few offered the use of magical weapons. None had ever mentioned anything like Faran's talisman.

Hanner wanted very much to see what else Faran might have acquired in his years of research.

Third, the mansion's ground floor was getting almost crowded. Warlocks had been drifting in, one or two at a time, all day; word was circulating through the city that this was a refuge for them, a place they could come when their former homes cast them out or their neighbors made them unwelcome. As news of disappearances and destruction spread, more and more warlocks were being cast out or made unwelcome.

Faran and Hanner-andBern when he was there; at the moment he had gone out to market to replenish the pantries-had made them all welcome.

Most of Manner's party from the Night of Madness had returned, along with a.s.sorted friends and neighbors and various other warlocks who had somehow heard about the refuge at the corner of High Street and Coronet. Mavi, though not a warlock herself, had brought an afflicted friend, a young woman named Pancha; after seeing Pancha introduced and settled in, Mavi had stayed on to visit with Alris.

They were upstairs, in the room Alris shared with Rudhira.

Hanner had hoped that Mavi would also visit withhim, but Uncle Faran had had him running errands at the time, a.s.signing new arrivals to various guest rooms, which had kept him too busy to socialize.

Hinda, the little kitchen girl from the Palace, was now busily cleaning out the kitchens here, eager to earn her keep; Rudhira and half a dozen others were out in the garden, holding some sort of compet.i.tion in the use of warlockry.

That left a score of others wandering about the parlors, salons, and halls of the ground floor. While Hanner had grown up amid the bustle of the overlord's palace, he still felt a little strained by this population of strangers.

Fourth, he wanted to get farther away from the front windows and their view of High Street.

The influx of warlocks had not gone unnoticed; Hanner supposed that people had followed Faran from the square when he first arrived. Certainly, ever since shortly after that there had been a varying number of observers, standing in the street and watching the house intently. Individuals came and went, but whenever Hanner looked out someone was there-usually about half a dozen at a time. One old man seemed particularly determined, and was there at the dooryard fence, glowering at the house, every time Hanner looked.

Hanner was not at all sure what these people thought they were accomplis.h.i.+ng by this unrelenting scrutiny, but apparently they had something in mind-and he was fairly sure, from the looks they gave anyone entering or leaving the house, that their intentions were hostile. Warlocks who were capable of flight had mostly been arriving by way of the garden, rather than pa.s.sing this group; earthbound warlocks had been approaching cautiously, then making a dash through the gate to the front door.

n.o.body in the house liked the presence of these stubborn sentinels, but there really wasn't much that could be done about it. A person had the right to stand in the public street, after all. So long as theystayed outside the iron fence, Faran could not order them to leave.

And there they stood, making Hanner uncomfortable. Going up to the third or fourth floor would get him away from the watchers, and away from the crowd of warlocks.

”Come on, then,” Faran said as he started toward the stairs.

But just then the hum of street noise suddenly rose in volume, and Faran and Hanner both paused. They looked at each other as the conversation among the warlocks around them faded away.

Everyone had heard the change. The people out front of the house were yelling now, though no one inside could make out words. The motley collection of warlocks looked about nervously. Several went to the front windows and peered around the drapes.

”Blood and death,” Faran said. ”What are they doing now?” He redirected his steps to the front door.

Hanner followed.

Faran swung the door wide and stood in the doorway, looking out-and leaving Hanner no good way to see past his uncle.

”What is it?” Hanner asked.

”It would appear we have company coming,” Faran replied. ”Company in wizards' robes.”

”Ithinia?”

”No,” Faran said. ”It's someone I never saw before, an old man with an apprentice.”

”How would they know where we are?” someone Hanner didn't know asked from the parlor.

Hanner could see Faran struggling to stay polite.

”They're wizards,” he said. ”You're no wizard, andyou found it. And those people out front certainly aren't making much of an effort to keep it secret.”

”... teach those warlocks about magic!” someone shouted from the street.

”One wizard and an apprentice coming here can't be much of a threat,” Othisen said, coming up beside Hanner.

Hanner snorted. ”If the Guild had decided to kill us they wouldn't need to come here in person at all,” he said. ”I'd guess they're bringing a message.” He glanced at Faran. ”Maybe that talisman isn't working properly.”

”I'd think Ithinia would have come herself or sent...” Faran stopped in midsentence as the strangers turned and stepped through the open gate into the little dooryard under the intense scrutiny of various observers. ”Greetings,” he said. ”I am Lord Faran, formerly chief advisor to Lord Azrad.”

”I am Manrin the Mage,” replied one of the strangers-a stocky old man of medium height wearing a white and gold wizard's robe. ”This young man is Ulpen ofNorth Herris . I understand you've beengathering warlocks here.”

Faran c.o.c.ked his head. ”If you'll excuse me for asking, Master Wizard, if I have, how does this concern you? Are you here to speak on behalf of the Wizards' Guild?”

”I am here on my own behalf, not the Guild's,” Manrin said. ”If we could enter and perhaps speak privately, I will be glad to explain myself.” He glanced over his shoulder at the old man staring through the fence at them.

Faran followed Manrin's gaze, then bowed and stepped aside. ”Enter, then, and be welcome.”

The wizards were plainly startled by what they found inside, though Hanner was not sure whether they were most surprised by the opulent furnis.h.i.+ngs, the number of warlocks milling about, or the bizarre a.s.sortment of attire on display, ranging from Faran's fine court silk to Zarek's rags. Manrin quickly hid his reaction, but Ulpen stared about openly.

”You wanted to speak privately?” Faran said.

”If we could,” Manrin said.

”If you'll come upstairs to my study, then?” Faran gestured toward the stairs and took a step in that direction.

”Of course.” Manrin beckoned to Ulpen to accompany him as he followed Faran.

Faran, seeing this, beckoned to Hanner. ”Lord Hanner will accompany us,” he said.

Othisen threw Hanner an envious glance, then stepped aside and let the foursome ascend.

Hanner was not sure at first just what study his uncle was referring to-there was a study on the ground floor, he knew, but not one on the second so far as he had observed. That question was answered, however, when Faran unlocked the door to the second staircase, the one leading to the third story.

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