Ethshar - Night Of Madness Part 19

"But most of the warlocksaren'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 helphim,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 t.i.tle, 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."

"Theynever" -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 nowdo 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 trainnew 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 tellthem 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."

"Exactly." Faran smiled crookedly. "And if I'm an outlaw now anyway, through no fault of my own, andmust either renounce my t.i.tle or put an end to the Guild's prohibition on the n.o.bility's use of magic, there's no point in concealing it anymore. Using a spell to contact Guildmaster Ithinia should demonstrate that we are indeed her fellow magicians, and not merely rabble."

Hanner was not sure his uncle, in his anger, had thought this through properly-possession of illegal magic other than warlockry might merely demonstrate that Faran was even more dangerous than the overlord believed.

"I don't understand," Mavi said. "What are you talking about?"

"You explain it, Hanner," Faran said as he turned toward the stairs. "I have matters to attend to."

Hanner sighed and explained.

"My uncle has been interested in magic for years," he said. "So have I, for that matter, and when he's too busy with other city business I've taken charge of handling the magical stuff. It really annoys him that the Wizards' Guild forbids any reigning triumvir or monarch, or any hereditary official of any government, to learn magic or to use magic for direct personal benefit. The limits do seem arbitrary sometimes-for example, we can use magic in the city courts to determine what's true, but we can't use it as punishment.

The magistrates can't sentence a murderer to be turned to stone or order a thief to spend a year as a cat, no matter how appropriate that might be. And a hereditary lord can decorate his mansion with, say, talking statuary or seal his strongbox with a rune, because those just enhance possessions he'd have anyway, but he can't hire a magician to cure his warts, because that enhances.h.i.+m. Uncle Faran can hire a seer to spy on a traitor, because that benefits the entire city, but not on one of Azrad's other advisors, because that would be to his own political benefit. The exact rules are complex, and sometimes they don't seem entirely consistent- the Guild judges some cases individually, and sometimes it seems as if the ruling depends more on how annoying the wizards find the person asking than on what's actually asked."

"I knew part of that," Mavi said. "Not the details, since I'm neither a lady nor a wizard, but I knew the overlord couldn't just order the wizards to do whatever he wants."

"Oh, he can'torder them to doanything," Hanner said. "He has to pay them, just like anyone else does, and they're always free to refuse a job, even if it's something the Guild has approved."

"Oh," Mavi said.

"Tell her about mixing magic," Alris said.

"That's another thing that annoys our uncle," Hanner said. "The Wizards' Guild insists that each magician should only learn one kind of magic. Witches aren't allowed to learn wizardry, sorcerers aren't allowed to learn theurgy, and so on. The Guild hasn't always managed to make that one go-I've seen witches and 'wizards use a little sorcery, and demonologists and theurgists have been known to trade invocations occasionally. Mostly, though, that's accepted-you won't find wizards summoning demons, or witches turning people into newts." He sighed. "Sometimes I think they don't allow the n.o.bility to use anything else because they consider political power a sort of magic itself, and it would be mixing magic."

"I didn't know it was arule, that no one could learn two kinds of magic," Mavi said. "I thought it was just too hard, learning more than one."

"It may be that, too," Hanner admitted. "Uncle Faran doesn't believe it, but I'm the one who's talked to dozens and dozens of magicians, and most of them are far too busy learning more of their regular arts toworry about other disciplines. I've never heard of the Wizards' Guild really enforcing that one-they don't need to."

"All right," Mavi said, "but what does that have to do with Lord Faran going upstairs?"

Hanner sighed. "This house has four floors," he said. "The first two are where Uncle Faran brings women he doesn't want in the Palace, for one reason or another. He may do other things here as well, I don't know-for all I know he could meet with a secret cult of a.s.sa.s.sins every sixnight.Bern , here, takes care of the two lower floors when Uncle Faran isn't using them."

Bernacknowledged the mention of his name with a quick bow.

"But the top two floors are kept locked up," Hanner continued. "Bernisn't allowed up there. Faran's women don't go up there. n.o.body does but Uncle Faran. So what could he possibly have that he needs to keep secret? He'sLord Faran, chief advisor to the overlord of Ethshar of the Spices-he can do pretty much anything he wants ..."

"Except magic," Mavi said.

"Right. So he's been secretly collecting magical stuff, I would guess, and hiding it up there, and now he's going to go use something up there to contact the Wizards' Guild and talk to them about warlockry."

"He said something about someone named Ithinia?"

"That's our local Guildmaster. At least, the one we know about."

"What's a Guildmaster?" Rudhira asked.

Hanner was getting tired of explaining things that everyone he ordinarily dealt with had known since childhood, but he carried on. After all, some of these people might be magicians of a sort, but they hadn't had any training, and there was no reason for anyone but an aristocrat or a magician to have learned any of this.

"All wizards are members of the Wizards' Guild," he said. "They kill anyone who practices wizardry without joining, or who breaks other Guild rules-the rulers of Old Ethshar gave them that authority hundreds of years ago, maybe thousands, and n.o.body argues with it. Most of them are just ordinary members, though, the same way most people are just ordinary citizens of Ethshar. A few wizards are chosen as Guildmasters-we don't know who does the choosing, or how, and apparently anyone who told us would be put to death. The Guildmasters have more authority. We don't know how much-maybe the Guildmasters run everything, but there are rumors that there's some secret higher rank. We don't even know whether there are different levels of Guildmaster, or how many Guildmasters there are in the city, or who they are- again, that's all kept secret. But we do know the names of a few, so that we know who to talk to if we need to consult the Wizards' Guild and don't want to work our way up from the bottom. The highest-ranking Guildmaster we know of in Ethshar of the Spices-and really, we're justa.s.suming she's ranked higher than the other two we know about-is named Ithinia, and she has a mansion onLower Street , near Arena."

Rudhira said, "That's less than half a mile from here." "I know," Manner said. "Much less. That's why I offered to take a message."

"Uncle Faran would rather do it himself," Alris said. "He likes showing off."

"It sounds dangerous to me," Mavi said. "If he has magical things up there and he uses them to send a message to Ithinia, isn't he admitting he's broken their rules?"

"Yes," Hanner said. He glanced uncomfortably up the stairs; Faran was long since out of sight. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

Hanner thought it all too likely that his uncle didnot know- that after being cast out by the overlord he had lost his temper so thoroughly that he wasn't thinking clearly, and was more concerned with demonstrating that he still had power than with the best long-term strategy.

Or maybe he had simply gotten fed up with keeping so many secrets.

Or maybe he did know what he was doing, after all. He had far more experience than Hanner in these matters.

"Ireally hope so," Hanner said.

Chapter Twenty.

Ithinia of the Isle was not happy. She was short on sleep, having been rousted out earlier than her wont by panicky messages from various lords, magistrates, and magicians, and she had spent the entire day dealing with people who expected her to know far more than she did, which she always found wearing.

Furthermore, she didn't approve of changes in the normal routine of Ethsharitic life. Whatever had happened the night before had disrupted any number of things, and Ithinia resented that.

And finally, she had spent the whole day talking to people instead of doing magic. She hadn't cast a single decent spell. Oh, she had used a few simple tricks and applied some existing artifacts, but she hadn't worked anything more difficult than a third-order incantation, and shehated that. She had become a wizard because she loved magic, and she wasgood at it, which was how she'd become a Guildmaster, and she considered it completely unfair that her duties as senior Guildmaster for the World's largest city so often meant she had no time to spend in her workshop, animating bric-a-brac or talking to ghosts she had trapped, or otherwise enjoying the miraculous abilities she had spent her life acquiring. She thought now that she should have used some sort of time-distortion spell to find a few extra hours she could use to catch up on her sleep, but she hadn't done it-at least, not yet, and she still wasn't sure when she "would have a chance.

So her mood was already quite sour enough when she arrived home, transported magically into her downstairs solarium, to hear a loud, unnatural buzzing in the garden behind her house.

It was not a pleasant buzz. It was a harsh, insistent noise that Ithinia found intensely grating. She thrust a hand into the pouch on her belt, fumbled with a vial, and opened the garden door of the solarium with a pinch of brimstone in her ringers, ready to fling Thrindle's Combustion at this annoyance, whatever it was, and burn it into silence.

She stepped out, looking for the source of the buzz, and spotted it almost immediately-a s.h.i.+ny black thing lying atop the garden wall, gleaming darkly in the bright warm light of the setting sun. It was roughly the size of a woman's sandal, but with odd little wings on either side. Two of her magical guardians, stone carvings she had animated years ago, crouched at the foot of the wall, watching it.

The mysterious buzzing device was not anything she recognized, but she knew the general category of objects that had that peculiar slick finish. It was a sorcerous talisman of some kind.

She was tempted to go ahead and fry it-but Thrindle's Combustion didn't always work on talismans, and might well backfire. She dropped the bit of brimstone and wiped her hands on the skirt of her formal robe as she cautiously approached the still-buzzing object.

Poking it with her athame, the ritual dagger she wore on her belt, would probably silence it-sorcery and wizardry did notlike each other much, and an athame was virtually pure wizardry, able to ruin most sorcerous devices with a touch without taking any noticeable harm itself.

If she did that, though, she wouldn't know who sent it, or why, and it might be important. Some sorcerer somewhere might know something about what had caused last night's ferocious and mysterious magical outburst. She couldn't afford to throw away that knowledge.

And she really doubted it was dangerous. No sorcerer would be stupid enough to try to harm her-attacking a Guildmaster was a good way to die. Even if an attack succeeded, "which was unlikely given the protective spells she always wore, the rest of the Wizards' Guild would retaliate, quickly and lethally.

She stopped several yards away. The two stone guardians turned to glance up at her, but then returned to watching the talisman.

"How long has that thing been here, making that noise?" she asked the nearest of the gargoyles that crouched on the various corners and protrusions of her house.

The gargoyle turned its head with a creak, looking at her. "About an hour, Mistress," it said in its grating voice. It was difficult to distinguish the words over the constant noise, but Ithinia was accustomed to her creations' peculiar speech.

The neighbors must have loved that, Ithinia thought. Most of them wouldn't dare complain-one expected occasional annoyances when one lived near a wizard-but it would hardly have generated any goodwill.

"It's been sitting there buzzing the whole time?" "No, Mistress. It descended from the sky and approached the house, and Old Rocky warned it away, as you instructed us to do when intruders enter the garden. It ignored the warning, so Rocky and Glitter climbed down to frighten it away. It retreated to where it is now, and began calling your name. When you did not answer, after a few minutes it stopped speaking and began buzzing."

Old Rocky and Glitter were the two creatures still guarding it. Ithinia glanced at Old Rocky's niche, on the southwest corner of the house.

"Did you see "where it came from?"

"No, mistress. It came down out of the sun while we were meditating."

"You were sleeping, not meditating," Ithinia said. "I've told you not to try to fool me. Stoneshould sleep-it's nothing to hide."

"Yes, Mistress," the gargoyle said, abashed.

"It called my name? Did it say anything else?"

"It said it needed to speak with you."

Ithinia sighed. Another one.

"I might as well get it over with," she said. She lifted her skirt slightly to keep it from getting dusty on the little-used bricks, then marched down the garden path to the wall.

Glitter and Old Rocky stepped aside at her approach, and she took a moment to pat Rocky on the smooth patch of granite behind its carved curving horns. "Good job," she said. "You, too, Glitter. Go on back to your places now."

Glitter's mouth was so full of fangs and tongue that it couldn't speak, but Rocky growled, "Thank you, Mistress," before retreating up the walkway.

When they had left Ithinia said sharply, "All right, I'm here. Stop that infernal buzzing and tell me what you want."

The buzzing continued.

"Stop it!"Ithinia shouted, her hand falling to the hilt of her athame.

The buzzing stopped abruptly. "Guildmaster?" a voice said from the black device.

"Yes," Ithinia said angrily. The voice sounded familiar-it was definitely that of a native of the city, with the lilting quality affected by the wealthy and powerful. She couldn't quite place it, and was in no mood to be subtle or even polite. "Who are you?"

"Your pardon, Guildmaster," the voice said. "I am Lord Faran, formerly the overlord's chief advisor."

Ithinia closed her eyes and muttered, "Oh, blood and death." She had already received word that Lord Azrad wished to consult the Wizards' Guild on an urgent matter, which of course meant that the overlord wanted the Guild to do something about the warlocks.

She had put that meeting off until at least tomorrow-it was always best, when dealing with Azrad the Sedentary, to delay the meeting for a time to give the man's natural lethargy time to a.s.sert itself. Azrad was always less demanding when he had had time to cool down from whatever event had provoked him.

An early morning meeting accentuated this, so Ithinia had been planning to arrive at the Palace perhaps an hour after dawn, either tomorrow or the day after.

Besides, that would give her a little more time to learn about the situation and think about what should be done.

This communication from Lord Faran, though, complicated the situation."Formerly the overlord's chief advisor" meant that there had been a serious falling out within the inner circles of the city's government, and Ithinia suspected the Wizards' Guild was about to be dragged into a factional squabble, whether they wanted to be or not.

One of the secondary reasons for the Guild's rule against magicians meddling in government, or rulers fooling around with magic, was precisely so that the Guild wouldnot be dragged into factional squabbles, but it appeared that the partic.i.p.ants in this one wanted the Guild involved.

Presumably it had something to do with the warlocks.