“Hai,” she said. “What’s going on?” She pointed at the structure blocking out the sky.
“Warlock,” the guard said. “Feuding with a wizard who lives up the street.” He pointed a thumb toward a house on the north side of the street.
“Didn’t the warlocks all lose their magic?”
The guard turned up an empty palm. “Most of them,” he said. “Not this one.”
“What did the wizard do?”
The empty hand came up again. “Don’t know.” He glanced up over his shoulder. “Whatever it was, I wish she hadn’t. I have friends up there.”
“Oh,” Edara said, startled. “Oh. There are people in it?”
The soldier nodded. “Lots of them. They did get most of them down earlier this morning, with flying carpets and the like, but there are still at least a dozen guardsmen, and some other people, too. In fact, the wizard who started all this is up there, trying some spell to keep it from falling if the warlock drops it.”
Well, Edara thought, so much for talking to Ithinia of the Isle. Edara had no way of getting up there; if Ithinia was in the floating palace, then they weren’t going to have any discussions any time soon.
She might be able to find Zallin, though. He had been sent to recruit fighters, and in her day, twenty-five years ago, there had been two parts of the city where she would have gone if she was looking for hired swords. If she wanted simple thugs, men who would do anything for a round of silver, and she didn’t care that some of them wouldn’t be much smarter than the average rat, she would go to Westwark, or maybe a few blocks up into Crookwall.
If she wanted men who knew what to do with a weapon, and who could be trusted to handle something more complicated than a street brawl, she would go to the south side of Camptown, past Superstition Street, and on into Eastwark. That was where one could find retired guardsmen who might be bored of the quiet life and eager to enhance their pensions…
But no, that was what she would do. It wasn’t what Zallin would do. He would want something faster and simpler. Her method would involve asking around, knocking on doors, talking to people – he wouldn’t want to spend that much time and effort on it, not when Vond might be getting impatient. Zallin would go where recruiters always went to find gullible young idiots seeking adventure, or simply people with no resources who were looking for work – Shiphaven Market.
She thanked the guard, then turned and headed west along Lower Street, across Merchant Street into the Old Merchants’ Quarter, but then stopped.
Zallin had spent his adult life as a warlock; he might be more familiar with the notice-boards and recruiting at the Arena, up near the Wizards’ Quarter, than with Shiphaven Market. He was also supposed to find a tailor, and Shiphaven wasn’t the best place for that. Neither was Arena.
Edara realized she didn’t need to find Zallin, in any case. Wherever he went to hire his guardsmen and tailor, he would be bringing them back to the house on High Street. She turned back, and headed back toward Warlock House.
Simply standing in the middle of High Street did not seem wise; she did not want to attract Vond’s attention. Instead she walked up and down, trying to blend in with the normal traffic, but always turning back just before she got out of sight of the iron gate and white door.
The sun crept across the sky, as the one in Hanner’s Refuge had not, and Edara’s feet grew sore. She was tired, hungry, and thirsty, all sensations that were still not entirely familiar after her recently-ended years as a warlock. She wondered whether there was really any point in waiting, but she didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. She would happily have gone back through the tapestry into the refuge if she could have found a way to get safely into the house and up to the fourth floor, but she could not see how that might be accomplished.
At last she spotted Zallin marching up High Street from the west, with perhaps a score of men at his heels. She saw no sign of a tailor; these all looked very much like the fighters Vond had wanted. She hurried toward them, trying to think what she would say.
Nothing came; she stopped at the corner of the fence and gripped the iron railing, trying to come up with something to tell or ask Zallin.
He glanced at her as he led his troops through the gate, but showed no sign of recognition. He crossed the dooryard, then turned on the doorstep and announced, “Wait here, while I inform his Majesty of your arrival.”
His followers stopped, about half in the dooryard, the other half still on the street outside the gate. Then Zallin turned, opened the door, and strode inside.
Edara studied the men, trying not to draw their attention. They were mostly young, and all looked reasonably strong and formidable. None of them had any visible weapons beyond the belt-knives that almost every Ethsharite carried, and Edara wondered about that; she had the distinct impression Vond had wanted swordsmen.
Then the front door opened again, and Zallin emerged. He stepped down into the dooryard as his men made way for him. Seconds later Vond emerged, flying, as always. He rose up and hovered over the men, who stared up at him with varying degrees of surprise. He looked down appraisingly, then spoke.
“Welcome!” he said. “I trust Zallin had made clear why I am hiring you?”
“Not entirely,” one of then men said.
“Your Majesty,” another quickly added, with a bow.
“I intend you to be my honor guard,” Vond proclaimed. “You will stand ready to defend me from any threat that I do not see, or any danger from which my magic cannot protect me. You will be treated with honor and respect. You will be housed here, in Warlock House, and fed at my table. You will be paid generously – has my aide Zallin named an amount?”
“Four rounds a day,” someone called.
“Done! Excellent! And a bonus will be paid for every incident in which you serve me well. Now, I do not see any weapons – are you armed?”
Several of the men exchanged glances. “No,” one replied.
“Zallin said you would provide weapons,” another said.
“Then so I shall! Go inside, and let Zallin assign you your rooms, and see that you’re fed; I will be back shortly with your arms and armor.”
“Wait, your Majesty,” Zallin protested. “Where are you going?”
Vond turned. “I am going to Camptown to get what these fine men need. Then you and I, Zallin, are going to direct my troops in evicting a bunch of trespassers from my home.”
“Trespassers?”
“Yes, trespassers! Including that Hanner who used to own it. I told him to send out all the squatters he invited in, but have they emerged? No, they have not! Apparently I can’t trust anyone else to handle this, so I will see to it myself.”
“You mean the tapestry?”
“Yes, I mean the tapestry! I wonder whether Ithinia somehow arranged for Hanner to have it. However it got here, though, I can’t have it in my home with all those people on the other side – Hanner tells me that they could emerge into my home at any time, and probably murder me in my sleep, if I don’t do something about it. Certainly, that one woman popped out of nowhere, just as Hanner had predicted. Simply destroying the tapestry apparently won’t solve the problem; I need to get all those people out first. So that’s what we’re going to do, and then I’ll destroy the damned thing.”
“I understand, your Majesty,” Zallin said with a bow. “Then we’ll await your return.”
“Do that,” Vond said. Then he shot upward, and vanished into the eastern sky.
Edara watched him go, then turned to see Zallin herding his new recruits into the house. She bit her lip, trying to think what she should do. She needed to warn Hanner and Rudhira and the others, but how could she get past all those men to get back to the tapestry? She could see no way to do it.