“Hanner!”
“Chairman!”
“My lord!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now,” Hanner said, as he hurried past and headed for the grand staircase down to the ground floor. He called back over his shoulder, “Don’t bother the emperor! He was disturbed, and didn’t appreciate it!”
Leth turned at the sound of Hanner’s voice and stepped to one side, letting him pass; he paused as he did, and murmured something to her that Kirris did not catch.
She grimaced. She had still had her attention and her magic focused elsewhere. Still, she doubted whatever Hanner had said to the streetwalker was important. Kirris watched Hanner go, and Leth follow him down the steps at a far more leisurely pace. The witch tried to decide what she should do next. The whole false-Calling scheme was obviously a complete failure. Vond had seen through it almost immediately. He was not going to be frightened out of using his magic as easily as Ithinia and the others had hoped. He was still dangerous, and still drawing power from those towers in Lumeth that Ithinia said were essential to the World’s existence.
Kirris wondered whether it might have been possible to talk Vond out of using his magic by simply telling him how much was at risk, how much harm he would do if he damaged the towers. If it ever had been – and she had doubts about that – it probably was not possible any more, now that he had been antagonized by that dream.
Killing him would be the simplest solution. Ithinia could turn him to stone, or maybe Demerchan would remove him in some mysterious fashion. But Ithinia had hoped to avoid that, as she did not want to anger Lord Azrad, or risk open warfare with Vond, with the chance of massive damage to his surroundings.
And there was the chance that killing him might cause some sort of backlash, and damage the towers. Since the nature of his link to them was completely unknown, so were its effects. It seemed very unlikely that killing him would do any real harm to his power source, but they couldn’t be completely sure.
In any case, Kirris wasn’t going to kill him. She doubted she could. Witchcraft was too similar to warlockry to bypass his defenses undetected, and his magic was a hundred times more powerful than hers. He could easily block any direct attack she might make.
She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t remove his ability to work magic. She couldn’t fool him into giving it up.
There was that magical tapestry upstairs, leading into a world where warlockry could not reach; if she could trick him into touching the tapestry, and somehow block the return, that would render the Great Vond completely harmless – but how could she do that? Vond wasn’t that stupid. If he had seen through the dream so quickly, he would know better than to go near the tapestry.
Maybe Ithinia or Teneria could think of a way to get Vond into that tapestry, but Kirris couldn’t. Instead, she would stay in Warlock House for the night, since leaving at this hour would draw attention, and she would do nothing drastic. She would watch and see what Vond was up to, but in the morning, she thought, her best course of action would be to go back to Ithinia and report what had happened, and leave it up to the Guild, or the cult of Demerchan, or someone else, to decide what must be done. She had given the dream idea a good try, and it had failed; she had done her part and could now leave with her head held high and let others handle the problem.
She paused to take one final look at what Vond was doing behind the carved door of his bedchamber, but before she could bring her magic to bear that door opened again, and the emperor himself emerged, floating several inches off the ground and glowing eerily orange. Kirris wondered how a black robe could glow orange, but somehow it did.
The warlock paused, hovering at the top of the stair, and looked over the dozen or so people watching him. “My comrades,” he said. “You were all Called, I take it? You shared that experience with me?”
Several of the observers exchanged uneasy glances. About half of them made low noises of agreement. Kirris said nothing, and kept her gaze fixed firmly on Vond.
“A wizard has just tried to frighten me with a lying dream,” Vond announced, his voice unnaturally loud. “I believe the Wizards’ Guild is trying to intimidate me, and I don’t intend to allow it. I am about to go express my displeasure to their Guildmaster, Ithinia of the Isle, and to Lord Azrad, the overlord of this city. If you don’t want to be involved, this would be a good time to leave and never come back – leave not just this house, but the city. If you want to stand with me, and support me in my defiance of the Guild, then stay – I may be able to use your help. And if you serve me well, I do know how to turn you back into warlocks – not using your old source, that’s gone, but using the same source I have. Show me you’re loyal, show me I can trust you, and you can join me as new warlocks, unfettered by any Calling. If not – go now, while you can.”
“But the wizards helped us -” a woman standing by the stair rail began.
She was interrupted by a sudden movement as she was snatched upward, flung upward until her back pressed against the ceiling.
“They didn’t help me,” Vond roared. “If you think they care about you, then go to them. They just tried to scare me out of using my magic! They’re afraid of me, and I’m going to show them they have good reason to be.”
Kirris heard a door slam open somewhere downstairs, and Vond rose from the landing until he was face to face with his terrified captive.
“Are you with me?” he demanded. “Or are you with them? This is the confrontation between wizards and warlocks we’ve all been expecting ever since the Night of Madness, and it’s time for you to choose sides. Choose now, woman!”
“I don’t…I don’t want any trouble!” the woman said, trembling.
“Then you’re in the wrong place!” Vond bellowed, and his prisoner suddenly plummeted down the stairwell, swooping out of Kirris’ line of sight – not falling, though, but flying, and Kirris did not hear a thump or crash, only a scream that faded with distance.
Then the door she had heard open a moment before slammed shut, cutting off the woman’s cry of fear.
When the screaming stopped, Vond turned his attention to the others. “Choose now,” he said. “Anyone who is still in this house when I get back is mine. Loyalty will be rewarded, and disobedience – well, I don’t have time to be bothered with pleas and forgiveness and second chances, or enforcing a lot of different rules and handing out different punishments. It’s going to be absolutely simple: Disobey me, and you’ll die.”
“You can really make us warlocks again?” a man asked.
“Yes,” Vond said. “Yes, I can. I’ve done it once.”
Kirris watched as some of the others looked about nervously. They obviously wanted proof that Vond could do what he claimed, but no one dared ask for it. She wondered whether he really had already done it once, and if so, to whom? Where was this other new warlock? She was sure several other people were thinking exactly the same questions, but no one had the nerve to speak them aloud.
And if it was true, if he really could create more warlocks, would he?
If he did, if there were a hundred warlocks drawing on the power of whatever it was in Lumeth that gave him his magic, what would that do to the towers that Ithinia had been worried about? Quite aside from that, how much damage would they do? If two of them fought, with no Calling to limit them, they could lay waste to an entire city. If the stories about Vond were true, if he really had once bent the edge of the World, a hundred such warlocks could destroy everything.