Night of Madness

Chapter Sixteen

The Lord Magistrate of the Old Merchants’ Quarter leaned on his desk and looked unhappily at Hanner.

“Vandalism, theft, assault, and unruly behavior,” he said. “Disobeying the orders of a representative of the overlord.”

“That’s right,” Hanner answered.

“You aren’t mentioning the use of forbidden magic.”

Hanner frowned and glanced at Rudhira. She was keeping both feet firmly on the plank floor. Beside her, Zarek and Othisen were standing silently, listening and watching carefully. The four prisoners were arrayed on the bench, their wrists and ankles chained. Hanner had not asked Bern why Uncle Faran had had chains and cuffs in his house; he didn’t want to know.

“I’m not aware that the magic they used is forbidden by any statute or edict,” Hanner said.

“But they do have this new magic that was running wild last night.”

“Yes,” Hanner conceded. “Then if they’re magicians, why haven’t they resisted imprisonment? How did you bring them here?”

“By hiring other magic, of course,” Hanner said. “These other three assisted me in capturing and holding the prisoners.” He gestured at his remaining aides.

“They’re magicians, too?”

Hanner nodded.

The magistrate sighed. “To the best of my knowledge the overlord has not yet issued instructions as to whether this new magic is criminal in nature.”

“Then it isn’t,” Hanner said. “And you need only rule on the actual crimes involved-theft, vandalism, assault, unruly behavior, and the refusal of orders from the overlord’s representative.”

“That would be you?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Hanner, to the best of my knowledge you hold no official position in the overlord’s service, as yet.”

“That’s true.”

“Then I can’t rule on that-only the overlord can say whether you were correct in acting in his name.” He brightened up suddenly. “Which means that I must, regrettably, refer this case to a higher authority...”

“But you can’t!” Hanner said. “The overlord won’t allow anyone into the Palace, and I don’t think Lord Karannin is going to come out and rule on this case.”

“To be blunt, my lord, that’s not my problem.”

Hanner glowered at the magistrate. “Fine, then! I hereby drop that charge. Deal with the others.”

“I do not see the aggrieved parties-the owners of the stolen and vandalized property-here...”

That was the pebble that sank the barge.

“By all the gods and demons!” Hanner roared, startling everyone, including himself. He stepped forward to the desk and only at the last instant refrained from leaning across and grabbing the magistrate by the throat. “You’re one of Lord Azrad’s magistrates! Will you stop making excuses and do your accursedjob, sir? I have brought you three men and a young woman caught in the act of wantonly stealing anything they pleased and smashing anything in their way, I have brought you three eyewitnesses in addition to myself, and Idemand that you deal with the matter!”

“Ican’t!” the magistrate insisted. “The overlord might outlaw this new magic at any moment and order them all to be hanged!”

“Well, he hasn’t done ityet!” Hanner bellowed, leaning forward until his nose almost met the magistrate’s own. “I’ve been holding these four prisoner in my uncle’s house, and I can’t hold them forever! I have no idea when Azrad will finally make up his mind, and neither do you, and the entire city can’t just wait around doing nothing until he reaches a decision! Justforget about the magic, will you? Treat them as ordinary thieves and vandals!” “And what if I let them go, and the overlord...” “I’lltake the responsibility for that!” Hanner shouted. “You just get on with it!”

“You’ll take responsibility, before these witnesses?”

“Yes,blast you!”

“Very well, then. Ordinary thieves and vandals.” He looked at the waiting prisoners, pointed at the first one, and said, “You! Do you deny any part of what Lord Hanner has said of your actions last night?”

He had chosen Kirsha, the only female. “No, my lord,” she said.

“Are there any extenuating circumstances you believe should be considered in determining your punishment?”

The girl hesitated, glanced at Rudhira, then said, “I thought I was dreaming, my lord.”

The magistrate sat back in his chair.“Did you?” he said. “How interesting! Why?”

“Well... Ihad been dreaming, a nightmare about falling and burning and smothering, and then I woke up but I was hanging in midair-my lord, I’d never even spoken to a magician before; the only flying I’d ever done was in dreams. So I thought I was still dreaming.”

“And you didn’t notice that the World was its usual solid self?”

“But it wasn’t! Not at first, anyway. I could fly and make other things fly, and there were people screaming everywhere-everything seemed mad, so I thought it was either a dream or the end of the World, and I could do anything I pleased.”

“So you went rampaging through the street, looting shops.”

The girl nodded unhappily.

“That doesn’t say much for your upbringing or your common sense.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Five lashes, and you will compensate your victims as best you can.”

The girl flinched, but Manner thought the sentence was fair enough.

He didn’t comment, though; he was too busy regaining his own composure. He had never before yelled at anyone like that in public. Not since childhood had he lost his temper so completely.

He hoped it wasn’t connected to becoming a warlock; the idea that he might eventually go rampaging through the streets, as so many warlocks had done the night before, was profoundly disturbing.

On the other hand, he had seen Uncle Faran lose his temper that way once or twice, usually when he was short on sleep and severely overworked, so perhaps it ran in the family and he just hadn’t had the occasion to experience it before. The next prisoner to be brought forward was a young man, Roggit Rayel’s son. He had known he was awake, but claimed he had thought the city was being destroyed by screaming demons, and had wanted to gather enough treasure to live on when he fled to Aldagmor.

“Aldagmor?” the magistrate asked. “Why Aldagmor? Do you have family there?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then why Aldagmor, and not the Small Kingdoms, or Tin-tallion, or somewhere?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Roggit said, head bowed. “It just seemed right.”

Hanner heard this with intense interest. Aldagmor, the easternmost of the Baronies of Sardiron, was almost due north of the city, and many of the people who had disappeared had last been seen heading north. Was there some significant connection, perhaps?

“You’re old enough to know better,” the magistrate said. “Seven lashes, and whatever restitution you can make.”

The third prisoner, Gror of the Crooked Teeth, merely said that he had been profoundly disturbed by nightmares, had awakened to see others running wild, and had followed their example; he received a sentence of eight lashes. The fourth was Saldan of Southgate, the older man who had been dueling with the man Ru-dhira killed; he had no excuse at all. He also received eight lashes.

Hanner hesitated, uncertain whether he should point out that Saldan might have killed someone in the chaos and could therefore deserve something more than a relatively light flogging, but in the end he said nothing. As far as Hanner could tell no one, including Saldan, reallyknew whether he had killed anyone, and while the magistrate might bring in a magician who could settle the matter Hanner thought it would be better to give Saldan the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, he didn’t want to drag magic back into the proceedings once he had finally convinced the magistrate to ignore it.

The guards led the four prisoners away; unless the convicts could demonstrate poor health or wanted particular witnesses, the floggings would take place immediately, and the prisoners would be released as soon afterward as they were able to put their tunics back on and walk out.

Hanner had no desire to watch; instead he took his leave, and he and the three warlocks-the threeother warlocks, he silently reminded himself-left the magistrate’s home and turned their steps eastward.

“I’d like to see what’s happening at the Palace,” Hanner said. “Would you three care to join me?”

“I don’t think so,” Zarek said uneasily. “There are too many guards around the Palace. I’ll just go back to the house, if you don’t mind.” He hesitated. “Will that housekeeper let me back in?”

“Bern?” Hanner had not given specific orders, but Bern had seemed a very sensible person, and had heard Hanner invite the others to stay that morning. “I would think so-but if he doesn’t, just stay nearby, and I’ll be back eventually.” Zarek nodded and turned right at the next corner, back toward High Street.

Rudhira and Othisen stayed with Hanner, though. Hanner looked at the farmboy with mild interest as the threesome walked down Merchant Street. “I thought you were in a hurry to get home,” he said.

“I changed my mind,” Othisen replied. “This is all pretty exciting, you know. And I don’t mind another look at the Palace; it’s an impressive building.”

Hanner blinked and didn’t reply, but that was not because the boy’s words had no effect. On the contrary, Hanner found them startling and distracting.

Impressive? He had never thought of the Palace as impressive; he had just thought of it as home. He had been born there, after all, and had lived his entire life within those familiar halls and chambers.

Othisen had presumably grown up on a farm somewhere; visiting the city was probably a special occasion for him, where Hanner had never yet slept outside Ethshar’s walls. Hanner supposed that the entire city would probably be impressive to someone who had never seen it before, and the Palace was, after all, perhaps the largest single building in all Ethshar of the Spices.

But it was still just home to Hanner; he couldn’t really think of it in any other way.

Of course, right now, he reminded himself, it wasnot home— he was banned from the Palace, by Azrad’s order, until further notice. He was sure this was just a temporary aberration, though, and that everything would be back to normal in a few days.

He looked around, trying to judge whether the city looked any different.

The streets appeared to be much as they were on any other day, though perhaps the crowds were a bit thinner than average and the people a little more nervous, a little more prone to hurry. There were a few looted shops visible down one side street, their smashed display windows hastily boarded up, and one old house on Lower Street in the New City had been burned out, but most of the city seemed untouched by the previous night’s insanity.

There had been a spasm of violence and wild behavior, clearly, but it was past. Things should return to normal soon enough. Magical mishaps had happened before, though perhaps not on quite so large a scale, and Ethshar had always recovered quickly.

It was tragic that those hundreds of people had disappeared, of course, but there wasn’t much to be done about it unless some magician could determine where they had gone and bring them back. Surely, Azrad would see that. Hanner peered down the street toward the Palace.

He could see the parapet atop the facade, but the surrounding structures and the people on the street blocked his view of most of the building.

He couldhear something, though.

He frowned at that. He could very definitely hear the sound of the crowds ahead-and it was not a good sound, but an angry buzz.

“Come on,” he said, picking up the pace and trying not to pant. He glanced over to see whether the others were keeping up with him, and noticed that Rudhira, who had been walking normally up to that point, was now airborne.

Hanner came to an abrupt halt and turned to her.

She stopped as well and hovered a foot off the ground, looking down at him slightly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, pointing at her dangling feet.

“I can’t walk that fast,” she replied.

“Then run.”

“Running is undignified. Especially if I trip. I don’t want to get these clothes muddy; your uncle’s mistress wouldn’t like it.”

“I don’t think my uncle’s current mistress ever saw them,” Hanner retorted. “I think they’re leftovers from a few women back.” He pointed toward the Palace. “Do you hear that crowd in the square there? I do, and I don’t think they sound happy. I think they sound dangerous. And angry. And one of the things they’re angry about is warlocks. Flying in there right now, openly announcing that you’re a warlock, is likely to start a riot and get us all killed. I don’t know about you, but I would prefer to get through today alive.”

Rudhira tossed her head dramatically. “I don’t think theycan kill me!” she said. “Because Iam a warlock, and going by what I’ve seen so far I’m one of the most powerful warlocks in Ethshar!”

“That’s probably true,” Hanner agreed, “but you’re still one person, and there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of people over there, and while I doubt any of them are warlocks, since I assume most warlocks have more sense than you, some of them might well be wizards. Or witches. Or sorcerers, or demonologists, or other sorts of magicians. I don’t know how warlockry matches up against the ordinary kinds of magic-doyou?”

Rudhira looked quickly toward the square, then dropped to the ground. “You’ve made your point,” she said as she started walking.

Othisen had observed this exchange silently; now, as the three of them walked quickly-though not quite as quickly as before— toward the Palace, he asked, “Do you really think it’s dangerous? Will there really be magicians?”

“Yes, it’s dangerous,” Manner said. “I don’t know whether there will be magicians.”

Othisen smiled at this and trotted forward enthusiastically.

A moment later the three of them reached not the square, but the rear of the crowd, a good fifty feet outside the square itself.

“What’s going on?” Manner asked the first man he reached who appeared to be part of the crowd itself.

The man threw him a glance. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t see. Someone’s talking, but I can’t hear.”

That reply was singularly lacking in useful information; Manner bit back a sarcastic retort. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing forward. The crowd was large, but not very tightly packed; Manner was able to force his way through without too much difficulty. Once or twice he caught himself pushing people aside without touching them, and each time he felt a chill of fear as he clenched his teeth and stopped the magic.

Now that he knew he could do it, it was hard to resist using warlockry. It was no surprise Rudhira liked to fly; this strange magic was oddly addictive. Itwanted to be used. When he hadn’t known it was there Manner had felt no urge to try it, but now he kept thinking how easy it would be to reach out with it, to pick up this or move that...

He wondered whether other magic had the same appeal. None of the magicians he had interviewed on his uncle’s behalf had ever mentioned anything of the sort, but that didn’t mean much either way.

He glanced back and discovered that he had left Othisen and Rudhira back on Merchant Street.

Othisen was a country boy; he had probably never seen so many people in one place in his life. Rudhira was fairly small, and while she could undoubtedly have used her warlockry to protect her from any random jostling, Manner had just talked her out of doing that.

Well, they were not children; Rudhira was probably a year or two older than he was. They could look after themselves for the moment. He pressed on.

Last night the square had been full of soldiers. Today the guards were lined up along the north side of the square, shielding the canal, the bridge, and the Palace, and leaving the rest of the square open to the horde of unhappy citizens.

Someone was indeed addressing the crowd over there, right at the mouth of the bridge. Hanner strained to catch the words.

“... questions! You can hire magicians-maybe they’ll be able to tell you!”

Someone in the crowd shouted an angry and unintelligible response to that, which was followed by a rumble of agreement.

“Oh, death,” Hanner muttered as he pushed onward. He didn’t know who was speaking, but whoever it was didn’t seem to be very good at it.

“It’syour job to protect us!” someone roared.

“And weare protecting you!” the man on the bridge replied. “Do you see any warlocks here?”

“How can we tell?” a woman shouted back.

A chorus of agreement rolled over the crowd like a wave, echoing from the facade of the Palace.

“Look, it’smagic” the man on the bridge said, clearly exasperated. Hanner could see now that he wore a captain’s uniform. “We don’t know any more about it thanyou do until the magicians tell us! Lord Azrad has sent a message to the Wizards’ Guild, demanding an explanation, and we’re waiting for their reply!”

“They probablystarted it!” “It’s the demonologists!”

“Northern sorcery!”

“What does Lord Faran say?”

Thatquestion was one Hanner wished someone would answer. What would his uncle say if he ever found out that Hanner was one of these troublesome new magicians?

For that matter, what would the Wizards’ Guild say?

Not that Hanner had any intention of telling anyone.

He wished he knew just where Faran was, and what he was doing.