Night of Madness (21 page)

“Hanner, my boy,” Faran said. “A pleasure to see you here. Would you introduce me to your friends?”

“Of course, my lord uncle,” Hanner said, bowing. Formalities that he never bothered with if he could help it, that he almost never used when he was surrounded entirely by family or entirely by outsiders, seemed necessary and natural in this particular setting. “Lord Counselor Faran, may I present Rudhira of Camptown?”

Rudhira had the wit to curtsy.

“I believe you have already met Mavi of Newmarket, who I had the good fortune to meet in the square just now and invite to accompany us. This young man is Othisen Okko's son, and that is Zarek, known at present as the Homeless.”

Neither man managed a decent bow, but Zarek did make a belated and halfhearted attempt, while Othisen just gaped.

“I understand you are the master of this house,” Rudhira said. “Our thanks for your hospitality, my lord.” She smiled warmly—a little too warmly, Hanner thought.

Faran smiled in return, a smile that Hanner had seen many times before, and Hanner knew where that would lead. He cleared his throat.

“It's a pleasure to welcome guests such as you,” Faran said. He looked around. “And are there any others? My understanding was that my nephew had brought more than a dozen visitors here last night.”

Hanner hesitated. “The others left, my lord,” he said. “The four criminals have been turned over to the Lord Magistrate of the Old Merchants' Quarter, since Lord Azrad refused them entry, and the others, now that the excitement has subsided somewhat, went home. But two of them have come back.”

Faran raised one eyebrow. “The excitement, my boy, has scarcely begun.”

“That's why the two returned,” Hanner said.

Faran nodded. “Tell me, are all my guests here possessed of the new magic that appeared last night, this so-called warlockry?”

Hanner swallowed and looked at the others.

“I am,” Rudhira said proudly, spreading her arms and rising a few inches from the floor. To Hanner's surprise, Faran's smile broadened.

“I'm not as powerful as Rudhira, but I'm a warlock,” Othisen said.

“So am I,” Zarek admitted.

Faran looked at Mavi, who turned up both hands. “Not I,” she said. “I was just talking with Hanner in the square when we saw you leave the Palace, and I was brought along.”

“The two upstairs are warlocks, though,” Hanner said.

“Ah,” Faran said. “Then counting that mysterious unnamed pair, there are six of us.”

“Us?”
Hanner said, startled.

Faran's smile vanished. “Us,” he said. “I, too, am a warlock. Thus Lord Azrad, that useless old fool, has cast me out.”

Hanner's mouth fell open, and he could see Alris's eyes widen with shock.

The revelation that their uncle was a warlock was perhaps the biggest shock, but it was by no means the only one. That Faran had called Azrad a fool before these near-total strangers was another, almost as great. They had both heard their uncle speak disparagingly of the overlord before—quite often, in fact—but never before where anyone outside the family could hear. In fact, it had been pounded into Hanner from an early age that as a hereditary lord he must never, ever speak ill of Lord Azrad in public; whatever they might think or say among themselves, the nobility had an obligation to present a united front to the World at large, so as never to undermine the public trust.

And the idea that Azrad would evict Uncle Faran from the Palace was almost more than Hanner could comprehend. For as far back as he could remember Azrad had relied on Faran, had trusted him to make all the decisions that would keep the city running smoothly. That even strange new magic could shatter that trust in a single day was hard to grasp.

“He threw you out of the Palace?” Alris gasped.

“Oh, he has done more than that, my dear niece,” Faran said. “It would seem that Lord Azrad the Sedentary, in his infinite stupidity, has sentenced the four of us, and all the others upon whom this new magic was bestowed, to die.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Die? For
what?
” Rudhira demanded.

“For endangering the peace of the Hegemony of Ethshar by the mere fact of our existence,” Faran said. “Or perhaps for kidnapping or murdering a few hundred people—he didn't seem very concerned about a reason.”

“But we haven't … well,
I
haven't hurt anyone!”

Zarek cleared his throat. “Rudhira, you killed a man last night,” he pointed out.

Rudhira turned angrily, and Zarek staggered backward, catching himself on the door frame. “That was self-defense!” she shouted.

“He's still dead,” Othisen said.

Rudhira whirled, and Othisen slammed back against the wall, his head narrowly missing a brass sconce.

“Rudhira,” Hanner said, “don't hurt
them.
”

Rudhira started to turn on Hanner, and he braced himself for whatever she might do, but instead she stopped. Her raised arms fell to her sides.

“You're right,” she said. “It's those fools in the Palace I want to throw around, not you.”

“Just one fool, really,” Faran said, watching Rudhira appraisingly. “It's Azrad himself who's behind this, not any of the rest of us.”

Rudhira met Faran's gaze. “Is he really as fat and lazy as they say?” she asked.

Faran smiled knowingly. “Since I don't know who ‘they' are or what they say,” he said, “I can't answer that exactly, but I can certainly say that Lord Azrad the Sixth weighs perhaps twice what most men his height do, and exerts himself as little as humanly possible.”

“If I ever get at him, he'll exert himself!” Rudhira snapped.

“And I hope to see it happen,” Faran replied, his calm facade slipping.

“Lord Faran!” Mavi gasped. “He's the overlord! The triumvir!”

“He's an idiot,” Faran said. “Oh, his great-great-great-great grandfather
*
was a great man, a military genius, the founder of this city—but the blood has obviously thinned, and I think it's time to do something about it. You know who's really been running this city the past ten years, Hanner.” His temper was visibly wearing thin again.

“You have,” Hanner said. “But still…”

“That's right,
I
have!” Faran said angrily, cutting Hanner short. “And what does it get me? A
death sentence,
because some mad wizard somewhere got careless and spilled magic everywhere!”

“I don't think it was a wizard…”

“Fine!
Whatever
did it!” Faran flung his hands in the air, no longer making any pretense of composure. “And do you want to know something even more despicable, my boy? Our dear Lord Azrad won't even take responsibility for his own actions. He intends to arrange for the Wizards' Guild to outlaw this new magic, and let
them
take the blame when the people realize how unjust this all is!”

Hanner blinked, digesting this new information, as Faran glared at him. Then he said, “That's not so foolish. It's actually sort of clever…”

“It's
insane!
” Faran said. “Give the Wizards' Guild even
more
power?”

“But it won't…” Hanner began, intending to point out that the Wizards' Guild would be weakened when they were indeed blamed for the proposed slaughter, but Faran wasn't listening.

“I won't have it,” Faran said. “I have no intention of letting Azrad or his soldiers or the wizards kill me—or kill you, Rudhira, or Othisen, or Zarek, or anyone else who innocently got warlockry bestowed upon him.” He glowered at Hanner and Alris and Mavi. “
You
three don't have anything to worry about—by the gods, Hanner, that fat old man might well name you my successor! But
we
”—he gestured at the three acknowledged warlocks—“are fighting for our lives!”

“I know,” Hanner said, “but what can you—”

“I could fly us away,” Rudhira said. “North, maybe, to … to Aldagmor.” She looked slightly puzzled at her own words.

Hanner felt oddly uncomfortable at that suggestion. Faran, too, reacted strangely, jerking his head slightly before replying, “No. I'm not giving up my home without a fight.”

“But, Uncle,” Alris said, “what can you do? Even if you're a warlock, you can't fight the entire city guard
and
the Wizards' Guild!”

Rudhira shuddered. “No one can fight the Wizards' Guild,” she said.

“Why not?” Faran said. “They're only mortal—well, most of them, anyway.
We
have magic now, too! And maybe we can get the other magicians to join us—the sorcerers and theurgists and witches…”

“Why would
they
help?” Hanner asked.

“Because they're tired of the Wizards' Guild ordering them around,” Faran said. “Keeping them out of government, telling them no one can learn more than one kind of magic…”

“They don't care, Uncle,” Hanner said. “They like things the way they are … or at least the way they
were,
before last night.”

“I don't believe it,” Faran said.

“But they
do,
” Hanner insisted. “You've had me talking to them, day after day, for
years
now, and they really, truly don't care about the Wizards' Guild.”

“Maybe, when we tell them what's going to happen to us, their fellow magicians…” Rudhira said hesitantly.

“Right!” Faran said, pointing at her. “Exactly right! Rudhira, you understand the situation better than my nephew, and he's spent his life in the Palace.” He smiled at Rudhira, then looked expectantly at Hanner.

Hanner knew that look. Uncle Faran expected him to yield now, to say that of course Faran was right, and everyone would do what he told them to do—but Hanner was not ready to yield. He was thinking.

Lord Faran's expectant smile was starting to slip into a frown when Hanner said, “Uncle? You said that the overlord intends to blame the Wizards' Guild for ordering all the warlocks executed?”

“Yes. That's exactly—”

“He hasn't done it yet?”

Faran blinked, startled, and Hanner realized that this was the first time in years that he had dared to interrupt his uncle.

“No,” Faran said. “He hasn't had time yet. He's asked the Wizards' Guild to attend him as soon as possible, and expects to meet with them by tomorrow. So we have a few hours—”

“Uncle,” Hanner said, interrupting again. Faran's eyes widened. “Why are you so sure the Wizards' Guild will cooperate with the overlord? After all, warlocks are arguably their fellow magicians.”

Faran's mouth opened, then closed.

“We should talk to them,” Othisen said. “Maybe they're on
our
side!”

“Maybe some of
them
are warlocks,” Hanner suggested. “There's no reason it couldn't happen, is there?”

“Who knows?” Faran asked. “Maybe wizards were immune.”

“But even so, they still might be sympathetic,” Hanner said. “You didn't
ask
to be a warlock.”

“They don't allow magicians in the government,” Faran said.

“But most of the warlocks
aren't
in the government,” Hanner pointed out. “
You
are, but Rudhira and Zarek and Othisen aren't—they're just ordinary people. They have just as much right to be magicians as any wizard's apprentice.”

Hanner, long familiar with his uncle, could see Faran resisting the impulse to say that that didn't help
him,
that he wanted to keep both his post and his new magic. Faran never admitted to selfish motives—but Hanner knew they were always there.

“You'd have to renounce your title, of course, Uncle,” Hanner said.

“I suppose I would,” Faran said slowly. “That would still be preferable to execution, of course.”

Hanner wasn't at all sure Uncle Faran actually believed that.

“You should talk to them, Lord Faran,” Othisen said. “Maybe they'd make an exception.”

“They
never
”—Hanner, Faran, and Alris all began in unison; they looked at one another, and Hanner finished—“make exceptions.”

“But I should talk to them,” Faran added. “You're quite right—we really don't know what position the Wizards' Guild will take on all this.”

“We don't know how long the warlockry will last,” Hanner pointed out. “Maybe if you emphasize that, that it's probably just a temporary thing, they'll be lenient. Wizards take the long view, and even if the people who are warlocks now
do
stay warlocks for the rest of their lives, which you probably won't, it's not as if anyone's going to take apprentices and train
new
warlocks.”

“But it could happen again,” Rudhira said. “Whatever happened last night, I mean. For all we know it'll happen again tonight or tomorrow.”

“Well, don't tell
them
that,” Alris said.

“Do you want me to go speak to Guildmaster Ithinia?” Hanner asked.

“That won't be necessary,” Faran said.

“But—” Rudhira began.

Faran silenced her protest with an upraised hand.

“I'll speak to Guildmaster Ithinia myself,” Faran said.

“Will you need your cloak, my lord?” Bern asked.

Faran smiled. “No, Bern,” he said. “I won't be going out.”

“But—” Mavi began. Hanner hushed her.

“That's what's on the top two floors, Uncle?” he asked.

Faran threw him a glance. “Shrewd, my boy,” he said. “Unless you've been snooping?”

“I haven't been up there,” Hanner said. “But what else could you have there that you'd keep so secret? You've been collecting magic.”