Part 39 (1/2)
No, Hanner thought he knew what the Wizards' Guild wanted. He had talked to dozens of wizards over the past few years, from the newest apprentices up to Guildmaster Ithinia, and they had told him what the Guild wanted, and he believed them.
What the Guild wanted was to avoid trouble.
The Guild had been created by the wizards near the end of the Great War, a little more than two centuries earlier, not to rule the World, but toprotect it-from wizards. They had foreseen the possibility that the great wizards of Ethshar, once the war was over and their common foe was finally destroyed,might fight among themselves. They had all seen, in the course of the fighting, what magic could do when used without restraint-the eastern portion of Old Ethshar was said to still be a lifeless desert, two hundred years after the war, and the devastation of the Northern Empire's heartland was rumored to have been even more complete, though so far as Hanner knew no one had ever gone there to check.
So the wizards had made a pact-any magician who might cause trouble, any magician who became involved in government or who tried to combine too many skills, would be killed out of hand, before he could cause real trouble.
That was the Guild's whole reason for existence, according to the wizards. Hanner believed it; Faran never had.
The Guild's entire philosophy was to smash potential trouble before it became more than mere potential-take a little trouble now to prevent far more later.
Flattening a house full of warlocks would fit right in with that philosophy.
But the warlocks were Hanner's guests. He had brought them there. No matter how dangerous their presence might be, he would not simply throw them out into the street.
But he might want to ask them to find another place.
”Who's in charge there?” he asked. ”Who's leading the warlocks now that Uncle Faran is dead?”
Bern and Alris exchanged glances.
”Youare,” Alris said. ”At least, that's what they want.”
”That's another reason I'm here,” Bern said quickly before Hanner could respond. ”After Lord Faran died they chose Manrin as their new leader, but thenhe died, as well. Some wanted Ulpen next, but he's still so young, just an apprentice, that the others objected, and he refused. So now they inviteyou to come lead them. Zarek in particular spoke strongly in favor of the idea-he says it wasyou, not Lord Faran, who first gathered them together on the Night of Madness.”
”I was hoping no one would remember that,” Hanner said.
”ButHanner can't lead them!” Mavi protested. ”He's not even a warlock.”
Hanner looked at her.
He could refuse. He could agree with Mavi that it was absurd for a nonwarlock to lead a band of warlocks. He could evict them from his house and go live there in peace, a young man of good birth and inherited wealth; he could court Mavi and maybe marry her, and they could live there together. He could let the warlocks fend for themselves, let them be scattered, perhaps forced into exile or killed off by the city guard or the Wizards' Guild.
It really wasn't his problem. He hadn't asked for any of this. He hadn't done anything wrong.
But neither had any of the other warlocks.
Someone had to lead them. Someone had to show them what they could do and represent them to theWorld. Hanner had gathered them, then abdicated his position to Uncle Faran.
But Faran had gotten himself killed. As had Manrin, less than a day later. And the warlocks had now chosen Hanner to lead them, even though none but Sheila knew he was one of them.
The job certainly wasn't safe, but Hanner felt he could avoid it no longer. It was time to stop delaying, stop his pretenses that he could ever return to his old life.
”I'll go,” he said. ”Mavi-Iam a warlock.”
Chapter Forty.
For a long moment the room was silent as the others stared at him in shock. Then Alris laughed.
”Ha!” she said. ”I should have known. You acted so strange sometimes! And that girl, Sheila-she knew, didn't she?”
”Yes,” Manner admitted. ”She knows.”
”You didn't tell me,” Mavi said, and Manner could hear the hurt in her voice. ”You never said a word!”
”Mavi, I didn't know at first,” Manner said hastily. ”And you said ...” Then he stopped, realizing he was once again about to say the wrong thing.
But he wouldn't. He would say theright thing this time.
He took a deep breath and continued, ”Well, it doesn't matter what you said. You're right. I'm sorry.”
He hesitated. He knew better than to approach her; she would bolt, he was sure. ”You stay here and talk to Nerra,” he said. ”I'll go back with Bern. I hope I'll see you again.” He bowed and headed for the door, beckoning to Bern.
Mavi watched him go, saying nothing.
Bern was frozen at first, then realized what was happening and hurried after Hanner.
When they were both in the corridor, Hanner closed the door of the apartments and said, ”On the way you can tell me more of what's happened since Uncle Faran's death.” ”Of course,” Bern said.
By the time they were out of the Palace Bern had described the disorganized remnants of Lord Faran's little army returning in panicky disarray to the house, and explained how Ulpen and the others had talked Manrin into a.s.suming leaders.h.i.+p of the group.
By the time they reached High Street, Bern had explained Manrin's plan to establish warlocks as just another sort of magician, with standard attire, apprentices.h.i.+ps, fees for service, and so on.
”That's sound thinking,” Hanner said as they turned the corner. That would suit the Wizards' Guild, he thought. If warlocks were a known quant.i.ty, bound by accepted rules, they would be less likely to stir up trouble.
Of course, it would also remove one of the warlocks' current strengths-no one knew who they were, or how many of them might be out there.
On the other hand, that strength was one reason they were seen as a danger. If the warlocks operated from shops, in distinctive costumes, like other magicians, they wouldn't seem anywhere near as threatening.
And n.o.body said thatall warlocks had to wear black and hang out signs, or that a warlock couldn't change his clothes when the occasion arose.
But if the general populationthought they knew who all the warlocks were, that might be enough. The wizards had created the Guild to protect the World from wizards. Perhaps if warlocks were to create their own guild ...
But they wouldn't want to call it a guild; imitating the wizards too obviously might seem audacious, even presumptuous. A brotherhood or sisterhood, like the witches, might seem sinister-and besides, Hanner saw no reason to form two organizations rather than one. Something that would suggest peaceful discussion and openness, rather than secrecy or authority, would be good.
A council, perhaps.
That sounded right. The Council of Warlocks. Like Sardiron's Council of Barons.
Just giving them a name and public ident.i.ty wouldn't be enough, of course. Those people in the street had not just been upset because a bunch of strangers had acquired mysterious new magic; they were frightened and angry because friends and neighbors and relatives had disappeared on the Night of Madness, and they thought the warlocks were responsible.
Somehow, the warlocks-theCouncil of Warlocks-would have to convince them otherwise.
And beyond that, even people who didn't think that the warlocks were responsible for the disappearances, who didn't think there was some vast conspiracy behind it all thought warlocks were dangerous. Warlockswere dangerous, as they had demonstrated under Faran's leaders.h.i.+p. The Council, once it existed, would have to convince everyone that danger was under firm control.
At this point, no one would believe anything warlocks told them. Hanner would need to find someone theywould believe, and convince that someone to speak up on the warlocks' behalf. The obvious possibilities were the established powers of the Hegemony-the overlords, the city guard, the Wizards' Guild, the Sisterhood of Witches, the Brotherhood of Witches, and so on. The overlord and the Guild in particular would be convincing, since both had acted openly against the warlocks. If Hanner could just convince Lord Azrad ...