Part 37 (1/2)

In fact,all the warlocks probably ought to return to their old homes, Manrin thought-at least, those who had homes. Surely, most people would accept them back. They could claim that Lord Faran had gone mad and led them astray.

But those who were still in the house did not seem ready to go, and Manrin saw no need to chase them out hastily.

Some, like Zarek, had no homes to return to.

And Manrin himself-what good would it do him to go home, to a wizard's house, when he could no longer function as a proper wizard? What good would it do Ulpen or Sheila to go back to an apprentices.h.i.+p he or she could never complete?

No, there were still reasons for some of them to stay.

The discussion of what they were to do dragged on long after the meal was over, with no signs of ending anytime soon, until finally Manrin yawned widely, picked up a candle, and announced he was going to bed.

At the top of the first flight of stairs he hesitated; he and Ulpen had shared a room, but he was now the leader in Lord Faran's place; shouldn't he take the master's bed? He walked down the pa.s.sageway to the north end and through the double doors into the great bedchamber.

Yes, he thought, as he stood in the doorway and looked wryly at the sculpture and other furnis.h.i.+ngs, he really ought to spend at least one night here, just so he could someday tell his grandchildren about it. He set the candle on the nearer nightstand and prepared for bed.

Tired as he was, he had no trouble falling asleep despite the unfamiliar surroundings.

Chapter Thirty-eight.

Manrin had no idea how long he had been asleep when the dream began. He knew at once it was a magical dream, and after all he had heard about the Calling that afternoon he was relieved to see that it was wizardly in nature, and not his first warlock's nightmare.

He found himself standing in a bare stone room he did not recognize, facing Ithinia of the Isle, senior Guildmaster of Ethshar of the Spices and rumored member of the Inner Circle of the Wizards' Guild. The clarity of details and Ithinia's awkward behavior convinced him that this was no ordinary nighttime fantasy, but a sending.

”The Spell of Invaded Dreams, eh?” he asked when Ithinia seemed to be in no hurry to speak. ”The Lesser or the Greater? Can you hear me?”

”I can hear you,” the dream Ithinia said. ”This is the Greater Spell of Invaded Dreams, and we can speak freely.”

That was rea.s.suring. The Greater Spell took significantly more effort; if the Guild had simply wanted to send him a message they would have used the Lesser, which only communicated in one direction, from wizard to dreamer. The Greater Spell, which allowed communication in both directions, indicated that they wanted to talk.

”I take it that the Guild has something to discuss with me?” Manrin said.

”Indeed,” Ithinia agreed. ”We are aware that you, and the apprentice Ulpen, are now warlocks, as are some fifty-six other wizards of varying experience and power throughout the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars.”

Manrin's dream-self blinked in surprise. He had had no idea there were others besides Ulpen and himself. ”Fifty-six others?” he said. ”Where?”

”Scattered,” Ithinia told him. ”Fourteen are within the walls of Ethshar of the Spices.”

”In this house?”

”No, in their own homes. That doesn't matter. Guildmaster Manrin, I am not here to discuss others; I am here to discussyou.”

”Ah. And what is it you wish to discuss?”

”Guildmaster, you know the Guild's rules. Wizards are not to meddle in other forms of magic.”

”I didn't meddle in anything,” Manrin said. ”I had it thrust upon me, just like all the others.”

”Yes, we know. Nonetheless, you are now both a warlock and a wizard, and the Guild does not permit this. There are too many unknowns, too many risks. Warlockry and wizardry interfere with each other in too many ways.” ”So what am I to do, then? I can't stop being a warlock, can I? Have you found a way to reverse whatever it is that did this to me?”

”No,” Ithinia said. ”You can't stop being a warlock. The change appears to be irreversible. However, the power you now wield does not derive from you, but from an outside source. It would be enough if you were cut off from that source. You would still be a warlock, but you would be completely powerless to use your warlockry.”

”Can that be done?” Manrin asked, startled.

”Not while you remain in the World. However, the Guild has access to places outside the World. If you choose, you can be exiled to such a place.”

Manrin considered that, but only briefly. ”I wouldn't accept exile from Lord Azrad,” he said. ”Why should I accept it from you?”

”You did not swear to obey Lord Azrad. You did swear an oath, when you were accepted as an apprentice, to obey the rules of the Wizards' Guild.”

That was undeniably true, but Manrin was not ready to yield. ”To leave the world ... I a.s.sume that these places you describe are magical creations?”

”Yes.”

”Small places, then? Not so much as a village?”

”Yes.”

”I would be choosing to spend the rest of my life in prison.”

”Yes.”

”And you think I'll agree to this?”

”If you choose to remain a wizard, yes.”

”Well, how could I not...”

He stopped, and even in the dream he could feel his face 'turn pale.

”Oh, no,” he said.

”You can stop being a wizard,” Ithinia said. She pointed at Manrin's belt.

In the dream his dagger, his athame, slid from its sheath and hovered before his eyes, seeming to fill his field of vision. The image of Ithinia seemed to recede into the distance, though he and she were both still in a small stone room.

”Without the athame you are no longer a wizard,” Ithinia's voice said, though he could no longer see her speak. ”Break it, and we will let you remain alive in the World.” ”But part of mysoul is in it!” Manrin protested. ”I wouldn't be whole!”

”Nevertheless, you must choose,” Ithinia insisted. ”Warlock or wizard.”

”If I had a choice, I'd rather be a wizard,” Manrin said. ”But Idon't have a choice-I'm both!”

”The Guild cannot permit you to be both and go free,” Ithinia said. ”You must break your athame, accept magical exile, or die.”

Manrin stared miserably at the floating knife. ”I've lived in the World as a wizard, bound to this dagger, for ninety-eight years,” he said.