Alris glared silently at her.
“Are you done?” Ithinia asked.
“I have delivered the overlord’s message,” Alris replied.
“Good. Tell Lord Azrad that he has every right to be upset, and I can assure him that I will be more careful in the future. The spell I am working on, once completed, will allow us to keep the palace airborne for a month, even if Vond releases it. It will not, I regret to say, prevent him from smashing the palace in some other way, but at least if he drops it – if, perhaps, he were to die suddenly while the palace is aloft – it won’t fall, but can instead be lowered gently back into its place. Furthermore, I am doing what I can to make peace with Emperor Vond; I have sworn not to harm him, and I hope that once his temper has cooled we’ll be able to reach some sort of agreement to leave each other alone. I apologize for all this.”
Alris listened, then asked, “You’ve sworn not to harm him?”
“Yes.” Ithinia saw no need to explain any further, or offer any greater assurances than a simple statement.
“Does he know that?” Alris demanded.
“He heard me say it.”
“And yet the palace is still on a sandbar.”
Ithinia grimaced. “Obviously, his temper has not yet cooled. I would also guess that he is not necessarily sure my word is good, or that my friends and allies won’t take action against him without me.”
Alris nodded. “I see. I will tell Lord Azrad what you’ve said.”
“Thank you.” Ithinia frowned as she completed a tricky pass, then looked up from the table and asked, “Was there anything else?”
“Not from the overlord. For myself, though – have you seen my brother Hanner? Do you know whether he’s all right? He was staying in our uncle’s…at Warlock House, and that’s where Vond is now.”
“It’s where Vond was, certainly,” Ithinia said. “My friends and I aren’t entirely sure just where he is now.”
“Do you know where Hanner is?”
Reluctantly, Ithinia admitted, “I’m not sure. We think he went through that tapestry he commissioned before he was Called, but we don’t know for certain whether he’s still over there. You might consult another magician, though; I’ve been rather busy with other concerns.”
“I haven’t seen him since he was Called,” Alris said. “Nerra did – Lady Nerra, our sister – and he visited Mavi, who used to be his wife, but I haven’t seen him, and neither have any of his children. You did, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Ithinia said. “He seemed fine.”
“Did he?” Her tone made it clear that Alris was genuinely concerned for her brother’s welfare.
“Very much so,” Ithinia said. “Like all the Called warlocks, he didn’t age while he was in Aldagmor, so he isn’t any older than he was sixteen years ago -”
“Seventeen,” Alris interrupted.
“Seventeen, then. He looked a little tired and worn after his hardships in the wilderness, but he seemed to be healthy and in good spirits.”
“Tired?”
“Yes,” Ithinia said. She knew that since Hanner had been a warlock, Alris had not seen her brother tired in decades. “Tired. He’s free of the Calling, and no longer a warlock. But he’s fine.”
“Then why didn’t he come to see me?” Alris asked plaintively.
“He’s been busy,” Ithinia said, suddenly sympathetic. “And remember, for you it’s been seventeen years, but for him it’s only been a few days.”
“You don’t think he’s been avoiding me?”
“I’m afraid I really have no idea,” Ithinia said. “I’ve known him for decades, but we’ve never been close; I won’t pretend to know his thoughts. I think he’s found it somewhat unsettling to see how much things have changed in his absence; perhaps he doesn’t want to see how much you’ve aged.”
Alris stared at Ithinia for a moment, then shook her head. “That’s silly,” she said. “He’s my brother, not my lover.”
“You’re now a decade older than he is.”
“No, I’m younger…oh. Well, yes, but…” She hesitated as she thought it over, then shook her head again. “That’s not it,” she said. She frowned. “But that’s…you know, sometimes I really hate magic.”
Ithinia grimaced as she completed the elaborate pattern of gestures, and lowered her hands. “I’ll need to continue the spell when the lesser moon rises, but for now I can rest.” She looked up at Alris. “I love magic. Yes, it can do strange and unexpected things, but I love it. It gives the World flavor. I think I would love it even if I couldn’t work a single spell.”
“You can have it,” Alris said. “Magic killed my uncle, and snatched my brother away, and now it’s dumped my home out here, where I need the longest ladder we have just to get down from the front door, and I’d need to wade fifty yards to reach the Newmarket beaches. It makes everything dangerous and unpredictable – sooner or later it might kill us all just because some wizard mispronounced a word, or a demonologist said the wrong thing. Yes, it’s wonderful when it works, but it’s not worth it.” She turned away. “I’ll tell Lord Azrad what you said.” She headed toward the door.
“Please make it clear that I do apologize,” Ithinia called after her.
Alris didn’t reply.
Then Ithinia was alone in the room, the makings of her spell spread out before her.
Poor Alris, she thought. Poor Azrad. Poor Hanner. They were all caught up in this mess through no fault of their own. But that was the way of the World; as Alris had said, magic was dangerous. It had consequences and complications, and not just for its practitioners.
Ithinia certainly hoped it would have serious consequences for Vond. That damned fool was endangering everyone by meddling with those towers. Maybe she should have just told him that in the first place, and asked him to be careful, but she had feared he might not believe her, or worse, that he might consider it an opportunity for massive blackmail – let him do whatever he pleased, or he might smash the towers. But she hadn’t told him, and it was obviously too late now. He was in no mood to trust her ever again. She had sworn not to harm him, and she hoped that would be enough to prevent any further open conflict, but she knew better than to think she could talk him into anything.
Of course, she had sworn that she would not harm him – but she was not about to stop anyone else who tried to harm him, and she thought that his spectacular display of petulance, pulling the palace out of the ground, would probably attract others who would do it for her.
Just as she thought that, someone cleared his throat. She looked up, and there was the man in the brown robe who had been in her parlor. “Demerchan,” she said.
“Just Kelder,” he replied. “I am hardly the entirety of the cult.”
“Is Kelder your true name, then?”
“You don’t think I’m stupid enough to give a wizard my true name.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I suppose not. What brings you here, then?”
“A courtesy,” he said. “Nothing more.”
“Oh? And what courtesy would that be?”
“I thought you would want to know. The cult has decided not to remove His Imperial Majesty, the Great Vond. We would prefer to see the Wizards’ Guild make peace with him, as well.”
Ithinia had lived for centuries, and was not easily surprised by the foolishness of others, but this startled her. “Why?” she demanded. “He’s a threat to us all!”
“We do not believe he poses as great a threat as you assume.”
“But he’s interfering with the towers in Lumeth!”
Kelder shook his head. “We think you misjudge his situation.”
“He could make a thousand new unCallable warlocks!”
Kelder smiled wryly. “Do you think he will?”
“No,” Ithinia admitted. “But why risk it?”
“The cult has its own reasons.”
“As does the Guild.”
“Of course. Let me remind you, Guildmaster, that you swore not to harm him.”