The Unwelcome Warlock

Chapter Twelve

“You know,” Vond said, as he looked down at his capital, “there really isn’t any reason to stay here.”

“This has been the heart of the empire for fifteen years, your Majesty,” Sterren protested. “Moving the entire government would be -”

“I don’t want to move the government,” Vond interrupted. “I’m talking about me.”

“Oh,” Sterren said. He turned up a palm. “Well, you can do as you please, of course.”

“I only stayed here because of the Calling,” Vond said, rotating slowly to take in the view. The two men were hanging in mid-air, perhaps sixty yards up. “I only let you hire me and bring me here in the first place because of the Calling. I was trying to get as far from Aldagmor as I could. I only stopped conquering kingdoms because I could hear it again when we got to Lumeth.”

“I remember.”

“The Calling isn’t there anymore. I could go home to Ethshar.”

“After all these years, your Majesty; it’s probably not quite as you remember it.”

“Neither is Semma.”

That was obviously true, so Sterren did not bother to argue.

“I’m the only warlock left,” Vond continued. “I’m the most powerful magician in the World. I should live in the most powerful city in the World, not way out here near the edge.”

Sterren resisted the temptation to correct Vond, and point out that Sterren himself was also still a warlock, albeit a very feeble one. He also found himself in a dilemma; he would be very happy to see Vond go away, but at the same time, he dreaded to think how much damage the warlock might do in Ethshar of the Spices. That one great city probably held more people than Vond’s entire empire.

“You would be avoiding conflict with the Wizards’ Guild,” he said at last, unsure whether Vond would consider that a benefit or a challenge.

Vond was staring off to the north, not really listening. Sterren suddenly began worrying that the warlock would get distracted and let him fall. He glanced down between his feet at the plaza far below; the fountain at the center was splashing merrily, and people were going about their business, only occasionally glancing up at their emperor and his chancellor. “Your Majesty?”

“What? Oh, yes. The wizards. I’m not really concerned with them. They haven’t tried to enforce their edict yet, have they? I think they’ve thought better of defying me.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, Vond.”

“That’s true.” He frowned, and turned back to Sterren. “Do you think they’ll try something?”

“I’m afraid I do, your Majesty.”

“Maybe I should go take a good look at those towers. From what you all have told me, that seems to be what they were most concerned about.”

“That might provoke the wizards, your Majesty.”

“What if it does?” He turned up an empty palm. “That doesn’t concern me.”

“I think you may underestimate them, your Majesty.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Vond said. “I was there the day they ordered the city guard to leave the warlocks alone, you know.”

Sterren, who was too young to remember the Night of Madness, was not sure what Vond was talking about; he said, “Oh?”

“I was a boy of eleven, starting to think seriously what trade I would apprentice myself to, and I was walking down Merchant Street when I heard the commotion and went to see what was happening. Azrad the Sedentary had sent a bunch of soldiers to escort some warlocks out of the city – he wanted to exile them all. I was just in time to see the earth rise up between the soldiers and the warlocks, and split open to reveal half a dozen wizards, with their robes and staves, who ordered the guardsmen to go back to the palace and tell old Azrad to leave the warlocks alone. They said warlocks were their equals.”

“Did they?”

“They did. And that was back at the very beginning, before anyone even knew what warlocks could do. Do you know what I think?”

“No, your Majesty.”

“I think they knew, even then, that warlocks were more than a match for wizards. We don’t need books and spells, no spider’s blood or hair of an unborn child, no magic daggers or fancy chants; whatever we want to happen simply happens. I think they wanted to ingratiate themselves, so that we would not return and drive them out of the city. That was why I apprenticed myself to a warlock a sixnight after my twelfth birthday. Magic that didn’t need books and ritual, magic that wasn’t weak like witchcraft, or dependent on the whims of gods or demons – I wanted that.”

“I see.”

“I’m not afraid of the wizards; they’re afraid of me. The Calling was the only thing that kept warlocks in check, and now it’s gone, but I’m still here.”

“Obviously.” Sterren glanced uneasily down, between his dangling feet. “However, there is only one of you, and there are hundreds of wizards.”

Vond waved a hand dismissively. “Most of them can barely light a fire, while I can do this.”

A huge band of red flame appeared out of nowhere, writhing around the two men like a serpent; Sterren heard muffled shrieks from below.

“Some can do considerably more,” Sterren pointed out. “There’s the Tower of Flame in Eknissamor; a wizard made that.”

Vond grimaced. “Well, yes – we flew near that on the way here. It’s fairly spectacular. Some of the wizards can indeed do more than light fires; that earthquake on High Street was also very impressive. But I think much of it is just pretense, just for show.”

Sterren felt his gut tighten at that. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because if they were really as powerful as they pretend, wouldn’t they rule the World? Why would they allow the overlords to rule the Hegemony, rather than doing it themselves? And all those silly little kings and councils in the Small Kingdoms – why put up with that nonsense? I didn’t; why would the wizards, if they really had the power they claim?”

“I don’t know,” Sterren admitted, hoping he didn’t sound desperate and wishing he could think of a better answer.

He suspected that the truth was that wizards didn’t want to rule the World, any more than Sterren had wanted to rule Vond’s empire after the warlock was Called. He was certain, though, that Vond wouldn’t believe that for a minute; his mind didn’t work that way.

“So, you see?” Vond said, spreading his arms. “I’m not worried about the wizards. But I don’t want to stay here. It’s pleasant enough now, but I remember what this place is like in the summer. I can keep cool if I want to, no matter how hot and dry it gets, but why should I? And people would be asking me to do things for them, saving crops and the like, and that’s dull. You know, it’s a curious thing – without the Aldagmor Source, using my magic isn’t as much fun as before. There was something about that whisper that made it exciting, and the Lumeth source doesn’t do that. I don’t mind using magic, obviously, but I don’t have any great urge to do so.”

“I hadn’t known there was a difference.”

“Oh, yes. Besides, I did most of what I wanted to do before I was Called. I built the palace, I built the roads – you see them?” He pointed; Sterren looked down at the network of stone-paved highways radiating out from Semma and nodded. Those roads had been essential in keeping the empire intact and making its economy work. “That’s all done, and from now on it would be dealing with people, and they’re all either boring peasants or unpleasant aristocrats obsessed with genealogy. There’s no Arena here, no Games Street, no street performers or streetwalkers.”

Sterren knew perfectly well that there were gamblers and whores and various performers if one knew where to look, especially now that Semma was the capital of a thriving empire rather than a tiny, poverty-stricken kingdom, but he didn’t see any point in telling Vond that.

Vond waved a hand. “And all those different languages! I want to hear good Ethsharitic around me.”

“What do you propose, your Majesty?”

“What I propose, Sterren, is that I’m going to go home. But I’m going to make a tour of it; I’ll stop in Lumeth and investigate at the towers, then get a good look at the Tower of Flame by night – I rushed past it before. There was something strange on the eastern slope of the mountains north of that, too. Then I’ll go on back to Ethshar and find myself a home – maybe a mansion in the New City. Maybe I’ll live in Warlock House, on High Street! After all, I’m the only warlock left.”

“What about the empire?”

“You and the Council seem to have done a fine job of running it. I’ll let you go on doing it.”

“I’m honored that you think so, your Majesty.”

“Oh, stop it. You aren’t one of these idiot Semmans. Don’t pretend you’re my humble obedient lapdog. You aren’t honored.”

Sterren turned up a palm. “Pleased, then. Yes, I thought we did a pretty good job, but that doesn’t mean you thought so.”

“The empire was still here when I got back, and it looks peaceful and prosperous. That’s more than I expected. I thought it would all fall apart in a month without me here to keep everyone in line.”

“Oh. Well, we did the best we could.”

“And you did well. So I don’t need to stay here.”

Sterren hesitated, then asked, “So do you intend to abdicate?”

“What?” Vond had been looking off to the north again; now he turned and stared at Sterren. “No, of course not,” he said. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, if you don’t intend to stay here and rule the empire…”

“It’s still my empire, though! It’s gotten along fine without me for fifteen years; it can do so for a few more. I’ll probably come back eventually, when I get bored. Maybe I’ll conquer all the Small Kingdoms, and reunite Old Ethshar. Or conquer the entire World.”

“So you won’t be naming an heir to rule after you’re gone?”

“No, of course not. I don’t need one. You do know warlocks don’t die of old age, don’t you? At least, not if we’re any good. We can heal ourselves.”

In fact, Sterren had not known anything of the sort; as long as the Calling had existed, old age hadn’t been an issue. “Oh,” he said.

“No, I’m keeping the empire,” Vond said. “And I’m not naming an heir. But I think I should name a regent, to take care of things while I’m gone. I don’t want to let your fifteen years of work go for nothing.”

“Oh,” Sterren said again.

“It should be easier this time,” Vond continued. “After all, if anyone starts a rebellion or a war, the regent can just send me a message, and I’ll come take care of it.”

“I see,” Sterren said. He noticed that Vond referred to “the regent,” rather than saying “you,” and braced himself – was he going to be dismissed, told that he’d done his job and was free to go?

Or was he going to be killed for what he had done to hurry Vond’s Calling, fifteen years ago?

“That’s why I brought you up here to talk,” Vond said. Sterren had a vision of being allowed to plunge sixty yards to the pavement below, and took a deep breath. “I wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupted.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Would you like to come with me to Ethshar? You’re from the city, too – aren’t you sick of being stuck out here in the corner of the World, surrounded by shepherds and farmers and inbred princelings?”

“I – I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’d want you to handle things for me, all those annoying everyday things that I’d rather not bother with. You wouldn’t be chancellor anymore, you’d be, oh, chief of staff, I suppose.”

Sterren tried to think quickly; he didn’t want to make a mistake. The wrong choice could get him killed, and probably a good many other people, as well. If he stayed in Semma there would be no one to keep Vond from running amok should he lose his temper, no one who could try to talk him into behaving in a civilized fashion – but there was no certainty that he could keep Vond’s temper in check, and that he wouldn’t wind up like Ildirin, his brains splattered on a stone wall somewhere.

His family and friends were all in Semma now; he had lived here almost his entire adult life. If Vond did go off to Ethshar without him and went berserk, the Wizards’ Guild or some other magician would probably be able to dispose of the renegade warlock, while Sterren lived in quiet retirement with his wife and children.

It occurred to him that Vond did not know that Sterren had a wife and children; the emperor hadn’t bothered to ask, and Sterren was not about to volunteer the information. He certainly wasn’t going to volunteer the fact that he had sent his family into exile the moment he realized Vond was returning. He had no desire to anger the warlock.

“I’m flattered, your Majesty, but…” he began.

“If you stay here, of course, I’d expect you to continue as regent,” Vond said. “If you come with me, perhaps you can suggest your replacement.”

That eliminated the possibility of a quiet retirement. Sterren had been thinking he and Shirrin and the kids might find themselves a comfortable place in Inshar or Wunth, or maybe go all the way to Ethshar of the Sands, away from both Vond and his empire, but it seemed his choice was between being regent or being chief of staff, with no option to leave the whole mess behind.

He had been trying to leave all of his obligations here behind ever since Lady Kalira had found him playing dice in a tavern, and informed him that he was the hereditary warlord of Semma. No matter what he did, he had always wound up back here, saddled with responsibilities he didn’t want.

Of course, once Vond was gone, and Sterren was married to a Semman princess, and the treaty with the Wizards’ Guild had prevented any more border wars, it hadn’t been so bad.

But Vond was back, the treaty had been violated, and he had sent Shirrin away. He was back where he started.

And a possibility occurred to him.

When he went back to Ethshar to recruit magicians, all those years ago, he had intended to slip away and lose himself in the city. Lady Kalira had anticipated that and prevented it.

Lady Kalira, whatever her other failings, was smarter than Vond.

Merely slipping away probably wouldn’t work; there were ways to find people, and if those weren’t available Vond might simply tear the city apart looking for him. But if he could convince Vond there was a reason not to pursue him, he might manage to escape once and for all. Perhaps he could fake his own death.

Once he was free, he could find Shirrin – he’d ordered Noril to try to get her and the children to Ethshar, so she might be there waiting for him. They could settle down quietly somewhere. They wouldn’t be drawing a salary from the imperial treasury anymore, but Sterren was sure he could find a way to get by. Cheating at dice, perhaps. After all, he was one of two warlocks left in the World, and the only one no one knew about.

“I think Lady Kalira would make an excellent regent,” he said. “Or really, any of the older members of the Imperial Council.”

“Then you’ll come with me?”

“I think it’s a fine idea,” he said. “But I’ll need to pack, and give some final instructions.”

“Of course,” Vond said. Without warning, the two of them began to descend slowly. “Shall I come back for you tomorrow afternoon? I’ll take the time to look around a little, see how the empire is doing. You can tell everyone what’s happening; I’d rather not do it myself.”

“As you please, your Majesty, but are you sure you don’t want to make the announcement yourself? You don’t want anyone thinking it was my idea to lure you away from your beloved subjects.”

“I don’t want to see anyone celebrating my departure, either,” Vond said. “I’d hate to ruin my day with the necessity of killing a bunch of people for disloyalty.”

“Ah,” Sterren said. “Yes, I can see that. Tomorrow, then, an hour or so past noon?”

“Or thereabouts. I expect you’ll be ready and waiting near the palace door.”

Sterren glanced down at the approaching ground, and the crowd that had cleared a broad swath of pavement beside the fountain, ready for their master’s landing.

“That would be fine,” he said. “I’ll be ready.”

“Good,” Vond said. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Then Sterren’s feet touched stone, and he staggered slightly. When he straightened up again, Vond was soaring upward, then curving to the east before dwindling rapidly to a mere speck, vanishing in the distance.