The Unwelcome Warlock

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “No need,” the man said. “I’ll go quietly.” He pulled away from the swordsman and marched into the room, head high.

  As he approached the tapestry he turned and grinned at Hanner. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

  Hanner had not thought of that, but in fact there was nothing he knew of to stop any of these people from simply stepping back through the tapestry on the fourth floor. He glanced at Tesra, who was looking for a third victim, and at Gerath, who was standing just outside the open door on the village street.

  If everyone waited on the fourth floor, and then rushed back through the tapestry as soon as Vond emerged from the attic, he might never know it had happened; he would assume that they had simply left Warlock House, as instructed.

  But there would be no way to maintain contact between Ethshar and the refuge, with Vond occupying Warlock House. In fact, Vond might well destroy the tapestry.

  If Hanner were to take the tapestry down and take it somewhere else — Nerra’s house, perhaps, since the palace was displaced and he was not welcome in Mavi’s home — then it would no longer be any of Vond’s business…

  Except that the return tapestry came out in the attic of Warlock House. Hanner frowned. There had to be some way to keep the refuge functioning, despite Vond’s soldiers. It seemed more urgent than ever not just to have someplace former warlocks could go, but to have somewhere Vond and his hirelings couldn’t.

  Hanner stepped aside, trying to think what he could do, as the soldiers began marching refugees through the tapestry into the attic.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Kolar the Large hung back in the hallway, and did not follow the others into the fourth-floor bedroom. He did not trust that magical wall hanging. Yes, the warlock said it would transport them safely into another world, and that there was an easy way back, but even if Kolar entirely trusted the warlock — which he did not — how did the warlock know? By his own admission, he had never been through there.

  This whole mercenary-soldier business was beginning to look like a bad idea, and Kolar wished he had stuck to working the docks. It had sounded good when that fellow with the strange eyes had talked about it in Shiphaven Market, but no one had said anything about walking through enchanted tapestries. Standing around with a sword looking dangerous was no problem; Kolar was big enough that he often looked dangerous whether he wanted to or not. Getting involved with magicians, though, really was dangerous, whether it looked it or not, and this Great Vond character was obviously even more dangerous than most. Hanging the overlord’s palace up in the sky that way — that was crazy.

  Now the crazy warlock had marched about half his men through the tapestry, and none had come back. That was not what Kolar had thought he was being hired to do.

  The warlock seemed to be thoroughly focused on the tapestry, so he might not notice if Kolar slipped away — but then again, he might. Magicians didn’t necessarily need to use their eyes to see things. Vond did not seem like the sort who would take desertion lightly, either. True, Kolar had not signed anything, or sworn an oath, or even been paid, but he had been given the nice uniform and the good sword, and had made no protest when Vond announced what he wanted.

  If they had been on the ground floor Kolar might have tried to slip away, but they were on the fourth floor; the front door was a long way away. Kolar glanced about, wondering if there might be some other exit.

  That was how he happened to be looking directly at the attic door when it opened and a girl peered timidly out. She spotted him immediately, and froze.

  Kolar quickly raised his hands, fingers spread, to show he meant her no harm. He smiled at her, then threw a quick glance into the bedchamber. The warlock was getting the next man ready to touch the tapestry, and paying no attention to anything outside the room.

  Kolar made his decision, and trotted quickly and quietly over to the attic door. “Hai,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Who are you?”

  “Détha,” the girl said. “Détha of Newgate.”

  Kolar took in her worn clothing and said, “You aren’t one of the maids, are you? What are you doing here?”

  “I…I was Chairman Hanner’s guest,” Détha said. “But that soldier threw me out.”

  Kolar cocked his head. “What soldier?”

  “The one in charge called him Tesra. He wore the same uniform you do.”

  Kolar knew who Tesra was; they had chatted a bit on the way from Shiphaven. He had been one of the first to disappear into the tapestry. “You were on the other side of that magic tapestry?”

  She nodded.

  “Is that where this door goes?” He tapped the wooden panel.

  “Ah…sort of.” She looked up at him, then past him at the corridor. “Where am I supposed to go? No one told me.”

  “No one told me, either,” Kolar admitted. “I know the warlock wanted you out of his house, though.”

  Before Détha could reply, a third voice called from behind her, “Who are you talking to?”

  Kolar frowned and pulled open the door, peering over the girl’s head. He saw stairs going up, and at least a dozen people standing on those stairs, looking down at him.

  “More of you,” he said.

  “They’re throwing all of us out,” Détha said.

  “Some of us didn’t wait to be thrown,” one of the men on the stairs said. “But they didn’t say where we should go.”

  This looked like an excellent opportunity to make himself useful without going through any magical portals. “Wait here,” Kolar said. “I’ll go ask.” Then he turned and trotted back across the passage and leaned into the room where the warlock and perhaps a dozen of his other mercenaries were waiting. “Your Majesty?” he said.

  The warlock turned. “What is it?”

  “There are people appearing. They say they were on the other side of the tapestry, and our men have been sending them back here.”

  “Appearing? Appearing where? Why aren’t they appearing here?”

  “They’re…well, I found them on a stairway on the other side of the hallway. I’m not sure if that’s where they’re appearing — is there a fifth floor?”

  “Show me,” Vond demanded.

  Kolar bowed. “Of course, your Majesty. This way.” He stepped aside to allow Vond out of the room, and when the warlock had floated out into the hallway Kolar pointed to the open attic door. Détha was standing framed in the doorway, watching apprehensively.

  Vond swept across the hall and hovered over the girl, then spoke, inhumanly loud. “You are one of Hanner’s guests?”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” Détha said, making an awkward attempt at a curtsey.

  “You went through the wizard’s tapestry?”

  Détha glanced back over her shoulder at the others. “Yes, your Majesty. We all did.”

  “Why are you coming back here, instead of where the tapestry is?”

  “Because…because the return magic comes out in the attic, your Majesty.”

  “It does?” Vond peered past her at the unlit stairs.

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “I didn’t even know there was an attic!”

  Détha had no reply for that.

  “It can’t come out anywhere else?”

  The girl looked confused. “No, your Majesty. Just in the attic.”

  “Hanner didn’t tell me that.”

  Again, Détha had nothing to say.

  “Where is Hanner? Has he come back yet?”

  Détha glanced back up the stairs. “He was there…”

  “He was off to one side,” someone called from farther up. “He hasn’t come through yet.”

  “Your Majesty?” someone else called. “Could we come down, please? It’s getting crowded here.”

  “Of course! Kolar, get them out of there.” Most of the other swordsmen who had not yet touched the tapestry had followed Vond out into the corridor, and now the warlock turned to them and ordered, “Escort these people out of the building. Statio
n yourselves with one at the top and bottom of each stair, and see that they all leave.”

  Kolar stepped forward and put a hand on Détha’s shoulder, guiding her out of the attic stairwell and directing her toward the stairs down to the third floor. One of the other mercenaries, a man whose name Kolar had not caught, positioned himself at the top of those stairs, while others trotted down to take up their posts further down.

  Détha was followed by a string of others, and Kolar set about making sure each of them made an orderly exit from the attic, and was headed the right direction. Vond hovered nearby, watching, as person after person emerged from the attic and crossed to the stairs going down.

  As he herded an old man out of the attic, Kolar was startled by a shout. He turned.

  One of the refugees had tried to duck aside, back into the room with the tapestry, and the guard at the top of the main stair had moved to head him off. The steady downward flow had been interrupted as the other exiles turned to see what was happening.

  Then the man was suddenly flung across the hall, slamming into the opposite wall.

  “You will not go back there!” Vond roared, his voice magically amplified. “You will leave this house now!”

  Shaken, the man got to his feet, gave Vond a single terrified glance, then stumbled down the stairs. The instant his head disappeared around the corner of the landing, the rest of the procession began moving again, and in a matter of seconds it was as if the incident had never occurred. It was about that point that Kolar noticed the daylight was fading. Vond had apparently noticed, as well; he waved a hand, and the lamps on the walls all blazed to life.

  After several more minutes and several dozen people there was a break in the steady stream descending the attic stairs, and as Kolar leaned through the door to see whether more were coming, Vond asked, “How many is that?”

  “I don’t know, your Majesty,” Kolar said. “I wasn’t counting.”

  “I didn’t see Hanner.”

  “I wouldn’t know, your Majesty. I’ve never met him.”

  Vond frowned. He glided through the door and up the stairs, glowing gently.

  Kolar made no attempt to follow his employer, but instead waited at his post by the attic door. A moment later Vond called down, “There’s nothing up here.”

  Kolar could not think of a useful reply, so he did not respond.

  “There’s no portal that I can see,” Vond continued. “I don’t feel any magic at all. It’s just an empty attic.”

  Kolar waited, and a few seconds later the warlock swooped back down the stairs and out into the corridor. “Do you think they could be appearing somewhere else now?” he asked.

  Kolar turned up an empty hand. “I couldn’t say, your Majesty. I don’t know anything about magic.”

  Vond frowned. “I don’t sense anyone new.”

  “Maybe that’s all of them, then.”

  Vond shook his head. “I didn’t see Hanner, and even if that’s all the trespassers, what about Gerath and the others? Why haven’t they come back?”

  “I don’t know, your Majesty.”

  “About how many did we get out?”

  Kolar had no idea, but he did not think the warlock wanted to hear that, so he made a guess. “Fifty, perhaps?”

  “Well, that’s most of them,” Vond said, more to himself than to Kolar. He peered back up into the attic, then glanced across the hall to the room where the tapestry hung. Then he called to the man at the head of the stairs, “Is everyone out of the house?”

  “I can’t see anyone from here, your Majesty.”

  “Well, ask, stupid!”

  The man opened his mouth to say something, then caught himself, turned, and shouted down the stairs, “Are they all out down there?”

  Kolar could hear the question being relayed; a moment later the answer came back. “The man at the front door says the last ones are in the dooryard, your Majesty.”

  “Good,” Vond said, looking around thoughtfully. He considered for a long moment. Then he turned to Kolar. “You’re coming with me. Don’t be frightened; I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Coming where? Your Majesty, I…” Kolar began. Then as his feet left the floor he let his protest trail off; it obviously wasn’t going to do any good. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

  When he opened them again the wall ahead of him was melting, or dissolving, or doing something that walls don’t normally do; the plaster was flowing like molasses, and the wooden lath beneath was curling like ribbons as a hole appeared and grew.

  Then he, and Vond, and the man who had been stationed at the top of the stairs, were flying out through the hole into the twilight sky. They had been on the fourth floor, so they were thirty feet up to begin with, and immediately swooped dizzyingly upward. Kolar gulped, and decided not to look down.

  They were flying northeast, he realized, toward the overlord’s palace, where it hung motionless a hundred yards above Lower Street, gleaming orange in the light of the greater moon and blocking out the stars.

  “Your Majesty, what are we doing?” the other mercenary asked, shouting to be heard over the wind of their passage.

  “We’re putting my toys away,” Vond replied.

  Kolar’s eyes widened. Was the warlock going to put the palace back where it belonged? But wouldn’t that leave him open to attack? Kolar didn’t know the entire story, but it was his understanding that the whole point of stealing the palace in the first place was that as long as it hung above the city, no one would dare harm Vond. If he put it back, wouldn’t that provide a perfect opportunity for the wizards and witches to kill him?

  But the palace was unmistakably starting to move; it was eerily silent, but Kolar could tell from the way the moonlight shifted that it was moving. He glanced down, trying to orient himself. If the palace was going back where it belonged, it should be heading a little west of due north. Kolar tried to make out the grid of streets below to confirm that it was indeed going that direction.

  It wasn’t. It was heading east of north.

  “Where are you taking it?” he asked.

  “Out to the sandbars off Newmarket,” Vond replied. He hesitated, then added, “You might want to cover your ears.”

  Kolar did not need a second warning; he didn’t know just what to expect, but he immediately clamped his hands over his ears, ducking his head down and hunching his shoulders.

  “People of Ethshar!” Vond’s voice roared out, so loud that not just his ears, but Kolar’s entire skull seemed to ring. His teeth bit down so tightly they hurt as he tried to shut out the deafening sound. “I am going to be taking a short break, but rest assured, I’m not done. I will return momentarily, and when I do I will restore the palace to its position above the New City. Any attempt to harm me during my nap will be most unfortunate for anyone involved.”

  The sound rolled out across the city and the sky, and Kolar squeezed his eyes shut as the echoes died away. His head hurt, and he knew that this headache was going to last for awhile.

  When he finally opened his eyes again they were flying over the waterfront somewhere; the water below was black and empty, but white lines of surf gleamed as they moved across that darkness. The city was mostly behind them, though he could see docks below, dark gray against the black water.

  The palace hung in the sky ahead of them, and for the first time Kolar noticed that some of its windows were lit. Not as many as usual, certainly; most of it appeared dark and deserted. Still, there were at least half a dozen lamps burning. There were people in there. Kolar had seen the carpets and contraptions ferrying people out earlier, and he had assumed they got everyone out, but evidently that was not the case.

  But then the palace was descending, sinking gently down through the night air, and Kolar could see where those white lines of surf were breaking on the elongated ovals of the sandbars of the Newmarket Shoals.

  This was beginning to make sense. Vond was going to do something about those people who had not returned from the t
apestry world, and he didn’t want to worry about keeping the palace airborne while he did it, so he was setting the palace down here — someplace safe but inconvenient, so that the overlord would be that much less tempted to try assassinating the emperor while the palace was on the ground.

  But why was he, Kolar, here? And that other man?

  The palace settled heavily onto the sandbar, tilting slightly to the north; Kolar imagined that most of the furniture would be falling over or sliding to the lower side of whatever room it was in. He hoped the damage wouldn’t be too extensive.

  Then it was down, and Vond whipped around, dragging the two mercenaries in his wake as he headed back toward Warlock House at breathtaking speed.

  “You have your swords?” Vond asked.

  Kolar put a hand on the hilt of his fine new weapon. “Right here, your Majesty,” he said.

  “I trust you know how to use it?”

  Kolar swallowed. “Of course, your Majesty.”

  He was lying. He had never wielded a sword in his life; he was a longshoreman, not a soldier. He glanced the other man. “My blade is at your service.”

  “Where we’re going, my magic may not work,” Vond explained. “Old warlockry didn’t. My power is different, but perhaps not that different. If I am rendered powerless, cut off from my magic, it will be up to the two of you, and your blades, to defend me, and to enforce my orders. This is why I hired you, to protect me when my magic can’t.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” Kolar said unhappily. He did not like this. He was fairly certain that the warlock intended to go through that tapestry and take Kolar and the other man along as his bodyguards, and Kolar did not want to go exploring a strange world. He was not happy about the possibility that people had stopped appearing in the attic because the magic that brought them there had stopped working; the three of them might wind up stranded in that other place. He was tempted to say something, but the warlock surely must have thought of that, and he knew far more about magic than Kolar did.

  “Serve me well tonight, and you’ll each have a round of gold,” Vond added.

  Kolar’s mood brightened considerably at that. A round of gold was more money than he had ever seen in one place in his entire life.