Night of Madness

Chapter Thirty-eight

Manrin had no idea how long he had been asleep when the dream began. He knew at once it was a magical dream, and after all he had heard about the Calling that afternoon he was relieved to see that it was wizardly in nature, and not his first warlock’s nightmare.

He found himself standing in a bare stone room he did not recognize, facing Ithinia of the Isle, senior Guildmaster of Ethshar of the Spices and rumored member of the Inner Circle of the Wizards’ Guild. The clarity of details and Ithinia’s awkward behavior convinced him that this was no ordinary nighttime fantasy, but a sending.

“The Spell of Invaded Dreams, eh?” he asked when Ithinia seemed to be in no hurry to speak. “The Lesser or the Greater? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” the dream Ithinia said. “This is the Greater Spell of Invaded Dreams, and we can speak freely.”

That was reassuring. The Greater Spell took significantly more effort; if the Guild had simply wanted to send him a message they would have used the Lesser, which only communicated in one direction, from wizard to dreamer. The Greater Spell, which allowed communication in both directions, indicated that they wanted to talk.

“I take it that the Guild has something to discuss with me?” Manrin said.

“Indeed,” Ithinia agreed. “We are aware that you, and the apprentice Ulpen, are now warlocks, as are some fifty-six other wizards of varying experience and power throughout the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars.”

Manrin’s dream-self blinked in surprise. He had had no idea there were others besides Ulpen and himself. “Fifty-six others?” he said. “Where?”

“Scattered,” Ithinia told him. “Fourteen are within the walls of Ethshar of the Spices.”

“In this house?”

“No, in their own homes. That doesn’t matter. Guildmaster Manrin, I am not here to discuss others; I am here to discussyou.”

“Ah. And what is it you wish to discuss?”

“Guildmaster, you know the Guild’s rules. Wizards are not to meddle in other forms of magic.”

“I didn’t meddle in anything,” Manrin said. “I had it thrust upon me, just like all the others.”

“Yes, we know. Nonetheless, you are now both a warlock and a wizard, and the Guild does not permit this. There are too many unknowns, too many risks. Warlockry and wizardry interfere with each other in too many ways.” “So what am I to do, then? I can’t stop being a warlock, can I? Have you found a way to reverse whatever it is that did this to me?”

“No,” Ithinia said. “You can’t stop being a warlock. The change appears to be irreversible. However, the power you now wield does not derive from you, but from an outside source. It would be enough if you were cut off from that source. You would still be a warlock, but you would be completely powerless to use your warlockry.”

“Can that be done?” Manrin asked, startled.

“Not while you remain in the World. However, the Guild has access to places outside the World. If you choose, you can be exiled to such a place.”

Manrin considered that, but only briefly. “I wouldn’t accept exile from Lord Azrad,” he said. “Why should I accept it from you?”

“You did not swear to obey Lord Azrad. You did swear an oath, when you were accepted as an apprentice, to obey the rules of the Wizards’ Guild.”

That was undeniably true, but Manrin was not ready to yield. “To leave the world... I assume that these places you describe are magical creations?”

“Yes.”

“Small places, then? Not so much as a village?”

“Yes.”

“I would be choosing to spend the rest of my life in prison.”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’ll agree to this?”

“If you choose to remain a wizard, yes.”

“Well, how could I not...”

He stopped, and even in the dream he could feel his face ’turn pale.

“Oh, no,” he said.

“You can stop being a wizard,” Ithinia said. She pointed at Manrin’s belt.

In the dream his dagger, his athame, slid from its sheath and hovered before his eyes, seeming to fill his field of vision. The image of Ithinia seemed to recede into the distance, though he and she were both still in a small stone room.

“Without the athame you are no longer a wizard,” Ithinia’s voice said, though he could no longer see her speak. “Break it, and we will let you remain alive in the World.” “But part of mysoul is in it!” Manrin protested. “I wouldn’t be whole!”

“Nevertheless, you must choose,” Ithinia insisted. “Warlock or wizard.”

“If I had a choice, I’d rather be a wizard,” Manrin said. “But Idon’t have a choice-I’m both!”

“The Guild cannot permit you to be both and go free,” Ithinia said. “You must break your athame, accept magical exile, or die.”

Manrin stared miserably at the floating knife. “I’ve lived in the World as a wizard, bound to this dagger, for ninety-eight years,” he said.

“And you are forbidden to remain a wizard so bound, and living in the World. You swore obedience.”

His dream-self reached up to touch the dagger; it vibrated as his fingers neared it.

“If I break it, you’ll let me live and remain free?” he said. “Then the Guild has decided not to exterminate the warlocks?”

Ithinia hesitated. “If you break it, we will not kill you now,” she said.

Manrin closed his eyes wearily. “But you might later,” he said. “The Inner Circle has not yet decided on what to do about the warlocks, then?”

“We have not yet decided,” Ithinia admitted.

He opened his eyes again, grabbed the athame, and thrust it back in its sheath on his belt.

“I won’t do it,” he said. “I ask you to reconsider.”

“Wehave considered this,” Ithinia said. “We have debated it for days, and while we have not yet decided aboutall warlocks, we have decided to enforce the existing rules. All nobles who have become warlocks must renounce their titles or die; all wizards must destroy their athames, or accept eternal exile from the World, or die. We leave the other magicians to their own people, but we know that warlocks cannot summon either gods or demons, so we have no fear of warlock theurgists or demonologists.”

“I won’t do it,” Manrin said. “I won’t throw away my freedom, nor a century’s experience.”

“Then we have no choice but to kill you.”

“You can try,” Manrin said, “but I am the leader of a band of warlocks, and I still retain many of my old protections-not least this athame you want me to destroy! I may not be so easy a target as you think, and you may not be pleased with the results if you antagonize the warlocks. We aren’t as weak as the witches or sorcerers. Remember that Lord Faran took his executioner with him!”

“We remember,” Ithinia said.

And then she was gone, and Manrin woke up in Faran’s gigantic bed, staring up into the darkness.

“Protections,” he mumbled, pushing the bedclothes aside. “I need protec...” Then he felt the hands close around his throat-clawed, inhuman hands. Faint light came from the windows and the crack beneath the doors, but he could see nothing at all; his attacker was invisible.

“Fendel’s Assassin,” he said. “Good choice. And of course you wouldn’t give me time to prepare; that would be stupid. I should have known.”

And then the grip tightened, and he could no longer breathe, let alone speak.