Night of Madness

Chapter Fifteen

Lord Hanner had not yet reached any useful conclusions regarding what he should do about the warlocks by the time Alris returned.

He had been wandering about the house-or at any rate the first two floors-marveling at the place and trying to think of whether he ought to be doing anything more.

He had first checked on the prisoners and made sure they had food and clean water; they seemed resigned to their fate and willing to face the magistrates. Kirsha, the teenaged girl they had caught amid a cloud of stolen jewelry and fabric, asked whether there was any way to send a message to her family, and was told that it would have to wait a little longer. When that was done Hanner went back downstairs and explored further. He discovered that the big doors at the back of the dining hall led to a vast ballroom, which in turn opened on the garden, and he noticed that the inlays in the ballroom floor included a mystic circle, suitable for ritual dancing; that was more of Uncle Faran’s obsession with magic, he supposed. He wondered at first whether it had ever actually been used; then he found the traces of old chalk markings, imperfectly erased, and concluded that it had.

He wondered whether ritual dance was included in the Wizards’ Guild’s prohibition on government use of magic-but he had no idea who the dancers had been or what the dance had been intended for, which made it hard to guess whether it might have violated Guild rules.

The small doors on the east side of the dining hall led to a warren of kitchens and pantries, where Bern spent much of his time. Here, too, there were signs of an interest in magic-or perhaps just in ostentation-in the form of animated crockery and a never-empty water jug.

The west side of the house, beyond the big front parlor, held an assortment of salons, studies, and libraries.

When the front door lock rattled Hanner was two rooms away, admiring a collection of glassware that was either from Shan on the Desert or an extremely good imitation-and Hanner doubted Faran would own any imitations. He was holding a delicate little purple cruet made in the shape of an orchid, studying the way the color faded from almost indigo at the base to almost red at the top, when he heard the key turn. He looked up-and the cruet slipped from his hands.

He started to grab for it, then realized he might crush it and hesitated, and it was too late, it was out of his grasp. He reached for it anyway, desperatelywilling it not to fall...

And it didn’t. Instead it sank slowly through the air as if it were sinking in oil, and Hanner was easily able to catch it before it hit the hard parquet floor.

He plucked it from the air and set it carefully back on its shelf, then stared at it.

It was obvious what he had done, of course. He, too, was a warlock.

He was a warlock after all; he merely hadn’t realized it before.

This concept demanded some thought. How was he a warlock? Why was he a warlock?

Waseveryone a warlock, then, and most people just hadn’t noticed it yet? Or was it spreading, like an infection, and he had caught it from the warlocks he had gathered?

At first Hanner couldn’t begin to answer any of these questions. He hadn’t felt any change in himself-but he remembered he had staggered the night before, at the instant before the screaming began.

It had probably happened then, and he just hadn’t known it until now.

How many other people, he wondered, were in the same situation?

Bernand Alris were speaking in the entryway, and Alris’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hanner? Are you here?”

He tore his attention away from the glassware and his newly discovered abilities and called back, “I’ll be right there.” He gave the cruet one final glance, then turned and left the room.

He met his sister in the front parlor, and saw immediately that she was both excited and worried-which worriedhim, since Alris’s usual mood was irritated boredom.

“Did you speak to Uncle Faran?” Hanner asked.

“No,” Alris said. “He was too busy to come to the door, and I wasn’t allowed inside.”

Hanner blinked in surprise. “Inside? You mean you weren’t allowed inside the Palace?”

“That’s right,” Alris said. “They still aren’t letting anyone in, for any reason. The overlord hasn’t rescinded the order, and it doesn’t look as if he intends to. And Uncle Faran hasn’t done anything about it, either-the guard said he thought Faranagreed with the overlord!”

“He does sometimes,” Hanner said dryly. “So who did you talk to?”

“The guards, mostly,” Alris said. “Hanner, it’s bad, really bad.”

“What is?”

“Everything. The whole city. What happened last night.”

Hanner sank into a nearby armchair and gestured for his sister to take another. “Tell me about it,” he said. “What happened last night? Was there something besides the looting and fighting?” Alris nodded.

“People disappeared,” she said.“Hundreds of them!” Hanner frowned. “Disappeared how?” he asked. “Just vanished? Was there a flash or a bang or smoke or anything? I didn’t see or hear anything like that.”

“Notvanished vanished,” Alris said. “Or at least, not necessarily. Maybe some of them disappeared that way, but most of them are just gone. They weren’t there in the morning when their families or neighbors went to find them. And there are stories about seeing dozens of them flying away, and the guards who were on duty at Westgate supposedly reported dozens of people marching out the gate in the middle of the night without saying anything, without any baggage-some of them weren’t even dressed!”

Hanner felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. He remembered seeing the flying figures overhead the night before, and wondered how many of them had never returned. “Magic,” he said. “A compulsion, maybe.” Alris nodded. “Probably,” she said. “That’s what most of the people think, anyway. There’s a big crowd of their friends and relatives in the square, waiting for the overlord to do something, and they just about all think it was magic-after all, whatelse could make people just leave in the middle of the night and not come back?”

Hanner made a wordless noise of agreement. “What nobody agrees on is whatkind of magic,” Alris said. “Most of them think it was the warlocks who did it.”

“That’s silly,” Hanner said. “There weren’t any warlocks until last night; the warlocks didn’t have time to plan anything like that!” Alris turned up a palm. “Well, just about everyone thinks there’ssome connection. Some people think it was the Wizards’ Guild behind it all, for some secret reason of their own, and some think it was a coven of demonologists paying for some huge spell, and I heard someone saying it was Northern sorcerers left over from the Great War, out for revenge.”

“I don’t think sorcery could do that,” Hanner said. “But Northern sorcery...”

“... is a lost art, yes. Partly. It’s not as lost as some people would like to think, though-most of our sorcerers are using Northern relics. Anyway, where would these Northerners have hidden all this time? It’s been two hundred years since the war ended!”

“Somewhere in the northern wilderness, I suppose,” Alris said. “Tazmor or Srigmor, maybe.”

“It seems pretty unlikely.”

“I thought so, too-but a lot of the people who disappeared were last seen going north.”

“That doesn’t mean there are any Northerners involved,” Han-ner pointed out. “It could just as easily be some wizard somewhere in Sardiron. Maybe someone’s spell went wrong-I know that happens sometimes.”

“I guess you’re right,” Alris said. “So maybe it was the Wizards’ Guild or the demonologists. But whatever it is,something big happened!”

“Obviously,” Hanner agreed dryly.

“Anyway, Uncle Faran and old Azrad have been conferring all morning, listening to reports and everything, trying to figure it out. And anyone in the Palace who can do this warlock stuff is ordered out-they threw little Hinda from the kitchens out on the street, and youknow she doesn’t have any family. She’s just sitting in the square, crying. One of the guards gave her some bread, so at least she won’t starve right away, but if something doesn’t happen she might have to go to the Hundred-Foot Field tonight, and who knows what will happen to her there?”

Hanner felt his shoulders tense, and his skin suddenly felt cold despite the summer warmth.

He had seen the cruet slow to a stop in midair because he wanted it to, and knew that he, too, was a warlock. Did that mean he could never go home to the Palace?

But surely the overlord would rescind his decree eventually and let Hanner and Hinda back in. When Uncle Faran learned that his only nephew was a warlock...

Well, howwould Faran react? Hanner had to admit he didn’t know. Despite years of living in his uncle’s apartments, Hanner still couldn’t always predict Faran’s actions-especially where magic was concerned. Warlockry was unquestionably a kind of magic, and Faran’s attitude toward magic was a complicated stew of jealousy, desire, and distrust.

“If you see Hinda again, tell her she can come here,” Hanner said. “Were there any other warlocks in the Palace?”

“Not that I’ve heard of,” Alris said. “There might be some who had the sense not to tell anyone,” Hanner said.

Alris shivered. “I suppose so,” she said, glancing across toward the dining hall. The significance was unmistakable-she was remembering all the warlocks who had been here earlier, and who were now scattered across the city.

“They’re just people,” Hanner said. “Some of them got a little carried away at first, that’s all.”

“I don’t know,” Alris said. “All those missing people-what if itwas the warlocks who took them all, or killed them?”

“Why would they do that? How could they plan it? Besides, if a lot of the people who disappearedflew away, weren’t they warlocks themselves? I’d guess that some of them just flew off somewhere and got lost, and they’ll be back as soon as they find their way home.”

“You think so?”

Hanner nodded. “And you know, I’d wager there are people out there who are warlocks and don’t even know it yet. After all, they don’thave to use the magic.”

Alris shuddered more visibly. “That’s creepy,” she said. “I knowI’m not a warlock!”

“Howdo you know?” Hanner asked.

Startled, she looked him in the eye, then turned away. “Shut up, Hanner,” she said. “You’re scaring me.”

“Well, have youtried moving things without touching them?” Hanner asked. “That seems to be the basic thing that warlocks can do.”

“Of course not!” Alris snapped. “Haveyou?”

“No,” Hanner said-he hadn’t, after all. He had made somethingstop without touching it. “But I’m not the one saying I know I’m not a warlock.”

Because he knew hewas a warlock-but he wasn’t ready to tell Alris that.

He was a warlock-but he was also a noble in the city’s government, and if warlocks were magicians then he was violating the Wizards’ Guild’s rules simply by existing. Hereditary nobles could not be magicians.

“Well, I’mnot a warlock,” Alris said. She turned and glowered at the doily on a nearby table. “See? It doesn’t move.”

“I’ll take your word that you were trying,” Hanner said. That was another item to add to the information he was accumulating— presumably some people reallyweren’t warlocks. He wondered what percentage of the population had been affected.

And how long would the effect last?

And what had caused it?

A thought struck Hanner. Alris seemed not only certain that she wasn’t a warlock, but that she didn’t want to be one. “I thought youwanted to be a magician,” he said. “Didn’t you beg Uncle Faran to apprentice you to a magician, any sort of magician?”

“That was months ago,” Alris said, “and I meant areal magician, not a warlock!”

“Being a warlock is so terrible?”

“Yes! After what I heard at the Palace,.. well, I guess the ones here are all right, but warlocks sound horrible!”

“Oh? So what else did you hear at the Palace?” Hanner asked.

“Oh, lots of stories-warlocks hurt and killed people last night, and smashed and stole things. There were a dozen fires, at least, and bodies and wreckage in the streets, and that’s not counting all those hundreds of people who just disappeared. Everyone’s scared and upset-a lot of people were calling for the overlord to have all the warlocks hunted down and killed.”

Hanner frowned. That did not sound good atall. “But most of them didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “The ones I brought here didn’t.”

Except, he remembered, the four prisoners still locked in a room upstairs.

Alris turned up a palm. “I don’t think anyone cares,” she said. “Warlocks did a lot of damage last night, and the people I heard talking weren’t interested in sorting out the good ones from the bad ones. Or the ones who haven’t done anythingyet from the ones who already went wild. What if tonight they all start screaming again and go berserk?”

Hanner had not thought of that, and did not like the suggestion. “But how would anyone hunt them down?”

“Magic, of course,” Alris said. “Don’t be stupid. The wizards and demonologists could do it.”

“Maybe,” Hanner admitted. He sighed. “Did you ask what we should do with the prisoners?”

“They aren’t getting into the Palace,” Alris said. “Even if they start letting other people in, I don’t think the overlord’sever going to let any warlocks in. The guard suggested we take them to one of the local magistrates.”

“I suppose that would be easiest,” Hanner said. The possibility had occurred to him earlier, but he had wanted to be sure first that no one at the Palace wanted them. And besides, he had captured them while acting in the overlord’s name, which meant that they were supposed to be the overlord’s responsibility.

Obviously, though, Azrad didn’twant that particular responsibility.

Hanner sighed again, and got to his feet. “I think the closest magistrate would be in the Old Merchants’ Quarter; I don’t want to try to figure out whose district we caught them in. I’ll need to find the others to help me...”

“I’m right here,” Rudhira said from the doorway. Hanner turned, startled, then smiled at her. She was wearing a different outfit-a white silk tunic embroidered with green and a long green skirt-and had removed the remains of her makeup and brushed her hair. The clothes fit her well, and nothing marked her as anything but a respectable woman. Hanner had not looked forward to confronting a magistrate with the sorry crew he had on hand, and this transformation on Ru-dhira’s part was a welcome improvement.

It wasn’t really a surprise that Uncle Faran kept extra women’s clothes on hand, given his probable use for this second home of his. Hanner supposed he ought to protest what amounted to theft, but he was too pleased by the results.

“Good,” he said, meaning both her presence and her appearance. “Let’s find the others and get those four out of here.”

The sooner the prisoners were gone, Hanner told himself, the sooner he could concentrate on other matters...

Such as his own unwanted magic.