If the Wizards’ Guild had intended to kill Vond, it would seem they had missed their chance. Even an organization as ruthless as the Guild was rumored to be would not deliberately allow that thing to drop onto the city.
But surely, even Vond couldn’t keep it up there forever. He would need to sleep eventually, wouldn’t he? Warlockry could provide all the physical energy he would need, but even warlocks needed to sleep to stay sane.
Of course, Vond might not be particularly concerned with sanity. Hanner looked down at the pitiful remains of the dead witch, lying on the hard-packed dirt, limbs and clothing askew, cast aside by the Great Vond as beneath his notice.
He had never even learned her name, Hanner thought. This woman had died in his house, and he had no idea who she really was. She might have family, friends, perhaps an apprentice, expecting her to return home at any moment.
He looked up again at the palace, then at the surrounding houses, their windows a patchwork of lamplight and darkness. Ithinia’s front windows were bright, while others varied. Hanner knew that Vond and Ithinia were meeting behind those windows, probably exchanging ultimatums. He had wanted to be in there with them, trying to keep them calm. If he knocked on the door, Obdur might let him in – but would his presence really help? He might just infuriate the others. He might say the wrong thing and bring the palace crashing down.
He looked at the surrounding houses again. There might be people sleeping in those houses, completely unaware of what was happening. Yes, uprooting the palace had been impossibly loud, and had shaken much of the city, but some people slept soundly, or might have dismissed it as thunder, or an earthquake, and gone back to sleep.
He should rouse them, Hanner thought, and get them clear. Or perhaps he should go to the Wizards’ Quarter and see if magicians could get up to the palace and rescue the hundreds of people trapped in it. He could probably do more good that way, getting innocents out of harm’s way, than by thrusting himself between the two sides in this magicians’ quarrel.
He looked up and down the street to see if there was anyone he could recruit. No pedestrians were in sight; everyone had fled that looming impossibility overhead.
Everyone human, at any rate. That gargoyle was still there, crouched so motionlessly that Hanner had somehow briefly overlooked its presence.
“Hai!” Hanner called. “Gargoyle! We need to get people out of here!”
The thing straightened and turned. “Do we?” it asked in its deep, rasping voice.
“Yes, we do.” Hanner waved at the houses on the south side of the street. “We need to make sure there’s no one home! If that thing comes down, we want to keep the carnage to a minimum.”
The gargoyle craned its neck back with a hideous grinding sound and looked up at the palace.
“I will inform my mistress’ household,” it said.
“If you can get word to any wizards, can you ask about getting people down from the palace? With flying carpets, or levitation spells?”
It nodded slowly.
“Good!” Hanner said. “You do that, and I’ll start knocking on doors.”
The gargoyle spread great stone wings, and took to the air.
Hanner spared only a second to watch it before he turned and ran toward the door of the house across the street from Ithinia’s.
Chapter Thirty
Vond’s arrival was not a surprise. Ithinia had been in her garden, watching the overlord’s palace move into position over her house, and when it stopped, she knew what was coming next. The warlock had made his announcement, and now he would want to deliver his terms. She did not hurry, but turned and went back inside.
She found Obdur waiting in the hallway and told him, “We’re expecting company. When the warlock arrives, I will see him in the parlor. Address him as befits an emperor – there’s no need to antagonize him over trifles.”
“Yes, mistress,” Obdur said with a bow. He turned and headed toward the front of the house.
Ithinia made her way to the parlor, picking up a few small items on the way. The other magicians who had attended her little gathering had all gone about their own business afterward, but she thought it was likely some of them might want to talk to her when they saw the flying palace, and she did not think Vond would look kindly on any interruptions, so she drew a quick rune of warning and invoked a simple protective spell of her own invention. She had never bothered to name it, since she had never shown it to anyone else; maybe, she thought, she should pass it on to one of her former apprentices. Call it Ithinia’s Distraction, perhaps – she did not yet have her name officially attached to any spells, but it might be time to forgo false modesty and change that. Whatever one called it, it would divert visitors, cause them to make wrong turns, or be unable to open doors, or find other things to do; only the most determined would be able to reach her while the spell was in effect.
Of course, the warlock was very determined indeed. Ithinia heard Vond shout, “Open up, wizard!” as she stepped into the parlor. She tried to remember the etiquette for addressing royalty – she had learned it long ago in Tintallion, but Ethshar did not bother with such formalities. She could not sit until he did, or until he invited her to, and she must never turn her back on him – was there anything else?”
She heard Obdur open the front door and invite Vond in, heard the warlock shove Obdur against the wall, and then he was there, floating into her home about six inches off the floor.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” she said with a bow.
“Wizard,” he said.
“May I ask what brings you here? You referred to a witch?”
“You sent a witch to invade my mind,” Vond said. “You sent her to shove her memories of the Calling into my head while I slept.”
Ithinia considered denying it, but decided against it for two reasons – first, both she and Vond knew the charge was true, so that acknowledging it would let them get down to business more quickly, and second, it might also throw Vond off balance a little – he would probably expect her to deny it.
“I suggested it, yes,” Ithinia said. “I take it poor Kirris failed to convince your Majesty that you still need to fear a Call?”
“I know better than that,” the warlock replied. “It disturbed my sleep, though, and that cost the witch her life. I hope you’re proud of that.”
Ithinia thought that if anyone deserved blame for Kirris’ death it was the man who killed her, but she knew better than to argue the point. “I very much regret you found it necessary to kill her, your Majesty.”
“I’m sure you do.” He did not quite sneer, but it was close.
“May I ask why you’re here?” Ithinia said. “Since we both now see that the idea of a fraudulent Calling was a mistake, I can assure you I won’t encourage any further such attempts.”
“I want to know why you encouraged that one! I haven’t done anything to you or the other wizards, Guildmaster; why are you persecuting me? You and Chairman Hanner made a truce between wizards and warlocks back in 5202; why are you breaking it?”
Ithinia marveled that he would think a pact between two entire schools of magic was relevant here. “I’m sure you will admit, your Majesty, that the situation is rather different now. Our agreement with Chairman Hanner was based on the understanding that warlocks would police themselves, and that any warlock who broke the law would be held accountable by his fellow warlocks. You have no fellow warlocks, your Majesty. You have no Calling to worry you. You have no check on your power at all. We merely hoped to create one, to discourage you from using your magic too freely and endangering innocents.”
Vond glared at her. “Didn’t work out very well, did it?”