“What?”
“Does Vond know he won’t be Called again?” Kirris asked.
Ithinia blinked, then turned to Teneria. “Does he?” she asked.
Teneria considered the question carefully before replying. “He probably doesn’t know it,” she said. “He assumes it, because he senses the energy from the towers as a steady hum, rather than a whispering voice like the Warlock Stone. The Aldagmor source was asking for something, though none of us understood what it wanted, and that’s why there was the Calling, and why warlockry was addictive, why warlocks wanted to use their magic even when they didn’t need to. The towers aren’t asking for anything; they’re just doing what they were created to do, so Vond doesn’t feel the same urges he did before. But he doesn’t know anything. He just assumes that his new magic is completely safe and harmless.”
“I’m not sure I see the significance,” Rothiel said.
“It’s simple,” Kirris said. “If we can convince Vond that he’s in danger of another Calling, one just as mysterious and potentially fatal as the one he’s already experienced, then he’ll limit his use of his magic – perhaps give it up completely.”
Ithinia considered this suggestion, and admired its elegance. It might not work, but it did seem worth a try.
“How would we convince him?” demanded the theurgist whose name Ithinia couldn’t remember. “I doubt he’ll believe us if we simply tell him there’s another Calling.”
“Not until he hears it,” Teneria said.
“He won’t ever hear it!” the theurgist exclaimed.
Ithinia looked at Teneria, who said quietly, “We can make him hear it.”
The theurgist turned to look at her. “What? How?”
“Witchcraft,” Teneria said.
“I’d be interested in further explanation, my dear,” Corinal said. “Just how would that work?”
Teneria looked at their hostess, who said, “Please do explain, Teneria.”
Teneria nodded. “Ten years ago,” she said, “I was in Aldagmor on an unrelated errand when I encountered a Sardironese warlock named Adar Dagon’s son who had just been Called. He was struggling to resist, so without really thinking about it, I helped him.”
“Helped him how?” the white-robed theurgist asked. “I didn’t think anyone could help a Called warlock.”
“No one else thought so, either,” Teneria said. “I discovered, though, that the same sort of calming witches do all the time with frightened children interfered with the Call, and weakened it enough that Adar could resist it for a time. That gave us a little time, and I was able to practice blocking it, but eventually I fell asleep, and…well, I never saw Adar again. I hope he’s made it safely home to the Passes now, after ten years’ rest, but I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you do it again, though?” the theurgist asked.
“Oh, I did,” Teneria said. “Several times, with several different warlocks, working with several other witches, including Kirris here. We kept it secret, though, because if word got out that there was a way for witches to prevent the Calling, or even just delay it – well, the most likely outcome was that witches would all find themselves enslaved by desperate warlocks, forced to devote every waking moment to fending off the Call. Remember, warlocks were far, far more powerful than any witch; even a mere apprentice warlock could stop a witch’s heart in an instant. Our magic is more subtle and more varied, but warlocks had more than enough raw power to smash through any defenses we might devise.”
“But you saved a few?” Corinal asked. “Or were there further difficulties?”
“Oh, there were very definitely further difficulties,” Teneria said. “First off, we had to work in shifts, so that we could sleep – an exhausted witch can’t work magic. Further, the Call was so powerful that a witch could only protect one warlock at a time, so it took two or more witches to guard a single warlock. We conducted several trials, using various approaches, but we couldn’t find any way to do better than that – two witches taking turns to protect one warlock. We couldn’t allow the warlock to go even a few miles closer to Aldagmor, or the Call would strengthen enough that we couldn’t fight it, so our movements were limited; one of us had to be near the warlock every instant. Witchcraft only works at close range, you know – it’s not like wizards casting spells that take effect a hundred leagues away.”
“But it worked?” Corinal asked.
“No, it didn’t,” Teneria said. “Because even though we were blocking the Call, it grew stronger and stronger, and harder and harder to block – a Called warlock is so receptive to the Call that he doesn’t need to use any perceptible magic to become even more receptive. It’s like a hole in a dike – a dike may hold back the sea indefinitely, but if a hole is made, then the water rushes through it and enlarges it until the entire dike washes away. We tried drawing on the warlocks’ own power to strengthen our witchcraft, but then the warlock’s susceptibility to the Calling increased even more quickly. We tried adding more witches, and that helped for a time, but…well, that was when we discovered the real problem with our efforts.”
“And what was that?” Corinal asked.
“We started to hear the Call,” Teneria said. “Our connection to the warlocks’ minds became so strong that the Calling began to draw us, as well.” She shuddered. “Fortunately, the moment the connection was broken, we could no longer hear it, any more than anyone else could. None of us were drawn all the way to Aldagmor – Called warlocks don’t take other people with them, and a witch can’t fly that far under her own power – but three or four of us had some very unpleasant experiences.”
“So you couldn’t save any warlocks?” Corinal asked.
“The longest we ever managed to block the Calling was about a month and a half, and that very nearly killed two witches.”
“Why have we never heard about this before?” Arvagan demanded.
“Because it didn’t work, and it wasn’t any of your business,” Teneria said. “We told Ithinia, but we kept it very quiet otherwise. We didn’t want hundreds of desperate warlocks coming to us hoping to be saved.”
“You all know we magicians are accustomed to keeping secrets from each other,” Ithinia said. “Warlocks weren’t very inclined to trust any of the rest of us, either; they remembered the Night of Madness and the days immediately after, when half the city wanted them all killed. It wasn’t hard to make sure they didn’t find out about this. After all, every warlock who was involved in the experiments was in Aldagmor.”
Teneria nodded. “Exactly.”
“So you know what the Calling felt like,” the other theurgist – Samber, that was his name! – said to Teneria. It was not a question.
“Yes.” Teneria shuddered again. “It’s not something you forget. I still have nightmares sometimes, and I’m sure the others do, too.” She glanced at Kirris, who nodded.
“So you can make Vond have those nightmares again, can’t you?” Ithinia said.
“Yes,” Teneria said.
Ithinia saw the witch’s expression, and started to say something else, something sympathetic and encouraging, but Arvagan interrupted her. “But you’d need to be very close to do that, wouldn’t you? Why don’t we wizards use the Lesser Spell of Invaded Dreams to send Vond this false Calling, instead? We don’t need to be nearby.”
“Because it won’t work,” Ithinia said, annoyed. She had seen this instantly, and was irritated that Arvagan had not. It did not make the Guild look good in front of these outsiders when a wizard made stupid suggestions. “You forget – warlockry blocks some spells, including that one. Besides, we would need to relay the images from Teneria’s mind, or the mind of one of the other witches who had been involved, and we’d lose much of the authenticity in the transfer. No, it must be a witch – though we can certainly help her to get close, and provide protective spells while she’s there.”