By the time he had told her the entire story they were walking up the slope of Coronet Street, scarcely a block from the front door of Warlock House. Telling the tale had distracted him from the emotional turmoil of his encounter with Mavi.
“So the tapestry didn’t make the Calling stronger?” Nerra asked. “We assumed it did. You’d been fighting it successfully for sixnights, and then suddenly you were gone – we thought the tapestry had backfired somehow.”
“The tapestry worked just as it was supposed to,” Hanner said. “It was the shock of coming back out that overpowered me.”
She nodded. “All right,” she said, “I suppose I understand. But then why do you want it now? After all, the Calling is gone, isn’t it?”
“It’s gone,” he agreed.
“Then why do you need the tapestry?”
They were at the corner of High Street by this point, and Hanner waved at the crowd in front of Warlock House. There were a score of people there, some in nightclothes, some in warlock black, all of them dirty, all of them visibly exhausted.
Hanner also noticed one of Ithinia’s gargoyles perched on the far side of High Street, watching everything, but he ignored it. “That’s why,” he said, pointing at the people in the street.
“I don’t understand,” Nerra said.
“They were warlocks,” Hanner told her. “Or they would have been – most of them were Called on the Night of Madness, and never knew what they had become, never learned to use the magic. They were going about their lives, minding their own business, and one night they were drawn away to Aldagmor, and the next thing they knew it was thirty-four years later, and their homes and families and friends were gone. They have no place in the World as it is now. They need somewhere to go, a refuge, somewhere safe they can live, at least for a little while.”
“And that’s what the tapestry is,” she said. “I see.”
“Assuming it’s still where you left it, and it still works, yes,” Hanner said.
“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Nerra strode forward, arms raised, calling, “Excuse me! Let me through!”
The little crowd parted, and she and Hanner marched up to the front door. Hanner reached for the handle.
It was locked.
He frowned. “The lock was broken,” he said. He released the latch and knocked.
He waited a moment, then raised his hand to knock again just as the door swung open. Zallin looked out at him.
“Hanner! It’s you!”
“Zallin! It’s you!” Hanner replied. “Stop telling me who I am and let me in.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, opening the door wide and stepping aside. He threw a glance at the waiting crowd. “I thought it might be one of them.”
Hanner looked back over his shoulder, then stopped on the sill. He turned around and called, “Be patient, friends! I hope to have good news for you all very soon!” Then he continued into the house, ushering Nerra in with him.
The instant they were inside Zallin swung the door shut, and clicked the latch into place. “For a moment I was afraid you were going to invite them all in,” he said with a nervous smile.
“I might do that later,” Hanner said. “There’s something else I need to do first.”
“But Hanner, where would you put them all? You’ve already filled half the beds. And Vond won’t like it…” Zallin’s voice trailed off as he noticed Hanner and Nerra both staring at him. It was not a friendly stare.
“Zallin of the Mismatched Eyes,” Hanner said, “allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Nerra. Nerra, Zallin was the Chairman of the Council of Warlocks when the Calling ended.”
“I’m honored, my lady,” Zallin said with a bow.
Nerra didn’t say anything, but nodded an acknowledgment.
“The lock was broken,” Hanner said, pointing at the door.
“Vond fixed it,” Zallin said. “He didn’t want those people just walking in.”
“Then he’s back?”
“Oh, yes. We got home half an hour ago.” Zallin shuddered. “He brought a girl with him from Camptown, and I think if she hadn’t been here he might have…have… He wasn’t happy with those guests of yours, Hanner, or with the people outside. Sterren isn’t here, and Vond didn’t like that, either. If he hadn’t… He didn’t want to scare the girl.”
Hanner followed this disjointed account well enough to understand the situation. “He’s upstairs with her now?”
“Yes.”
Hanner nodded. “We’ll try not to disturb him.” He headed for the stairs, Nerra close behind.
“Wait, Hanner! Where are you going? You just said you weren’t going to disturb him.”
“We aren’t.” He turned to look at Zallin. “You seem nervous, Zallin. I take it the Great Vond did not see fit to teach you how to use the second source?”
“No, he didn’t,” Zallin said. “Not yet, anyway – he said he might someday, if he decides he can trust me.”
Hanner did not believe for a moment that Vond would ever trust Zallin that much, but he saw no point in saying so. “What did he do?”
“He…he flew everywhere, all the time, but mostly just a few inches off the ground, so he could see everything, and if anyone got in his way he just flung them aside. He didn’t even look at them. And in Camptown, half of the people he threw aside were guardsmen. If he saw anything he wanted in a shop, he just took it, and ignored anyone who asked for payment. I told them to send the bills here.”
Hanner remembered the Night of Madness, when dozens of warlocks, not understanding what was happening, had behaved that way. That was why it was called the Night of Madness, rather than the Disappearance Night, or the Birth of Warlockry, or something else. Some of those warlocks had thought they were dreaming, others thought that they had gone mad, and others hadn’t cared, they did it simply because they could.
Hanner knew that Vond did it because he could. “That girl he brought back with him,” he asked. “Did he give her a choice?”
“Well…she didn’t protest. She expects to get paid.”
“See that she is,” Hanner said.
Just as he said that, Rudhira appeared in the dining room doorway. “Hello, Hanner,” she said.
“Hello, Rudhira. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. The emperor hasn’t noticed me.”
“This is my sister, Lady Nerra. I don’t think you’ve met.”
Rudhira nodded. “Mavi’s friend. No, we never met.”
“Rudhira?” Nerra said. “The one who…the warlock?”
“The one who was Called just a few days after the Night of Madness,” Hanner said. “Rudhira, we need to do something upstairs; I’ll be back down in a few moments.”
“Take your time,” Rudhira said.
Hanner hesitated, staring at the little redhead; he wanted to say something to her, but he didn’t know what it was. He wanted to apologize to her for Mavi calling her his whore, but she hadn’t been there to hear it, and besides, up until the Night of Madness had changed everything, Rudhira was a whore. He groped for words, but then Nerra nudged him, and he started up the stairs again.
This time no one interrupted them, and he and Nerra were able to make their way past the second and third floors, emerging at last on the top floor, where Nerra took charge, leading the way to four rooms at the back of the house.
Hanner remembered these rooms well; they were where he had stored away the remains of his uncle’s collection of magical artifacts more than thirty years ago. Now, though, while those mysterious knicknacks were still there, stuffed into drawers and cabinets and stacked on shelves, they were largely hidden by a variety of other things that had been jammed in after Hanner’s departure.
Hanner recognized much of this added clutter – hardly surprising, since a significant portion of it was either his or his uncle’s. Some of the rest he recognized as belonging to other warlocks he had known; apparently it had all been brought here when they, too, were Called.
This meant, Hanner realized, that he could finally get out of the filthy clothes he had been wearing ever since he went to Arvagan’s shop that day. He had aired them out while he slept, but had not had anything else to wear – until now; he could see some of his clothes neatly folded and stacked.