Night of Madness loe-7

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  It sparkled in the sun like a gigantic pillar of green liquid glass, rising up out of the sea.

  When it was about thirty feet tall it began to wobble, and the rate of ascent slowed. At forty feet it stopped, swayed, and then shattered, falling back into the sea with an immense splash. Waves rippled out in expanding rings, swamping the shallow lines of waves that naturally rolled southward across the Gulf. The ships riding at anchor rocked gently as the waves passed beneath.

  “Good!” Faran said. “Varrin, now you try.”

  Varrin looked down, took a deep breath, and spread his arms, and the waves seemed to reverse direction, drawing back in, reforming the column that Kirsha had dropped. It rose upward, past the point where Kirsha had lost her hold, but began narrowing at the top.

  Hanner could see the strain on Varrin’s face, and couldfeel the magical power flowing through the air.

  The column became a spire, the top narrowing to a point, but it continued to rise until at last Varrin reached out a hand and the water splashed upward against it, as if he held his hand over an impossible colossal fountain.

  The column thickened, the top widening out into a rounded peak perhaps a foot across-and then it was too much, more than Varrin could handle, and water began spilling down the sides, splashing and spraying outward. The column swayed, split, and disintegrated, falling back not in a single great splash as Kirsha’s had, but in a scattering shower of separate streams.

  And Varrin had sunk partway himself; he was a good fifteen feet below the others and still losing altitude.

  “Rudhira,” Hanner called.

  Rudhira had been looking off to the north, but she heard him, and Varrin’s descent stopped abruptly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he rose gently to rejoin the others. “I misjudged. It felt as if I could still draw more power.”

  Faran held up a palm. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You did a fine job.” He looked the others over, then pointed. “Luriaz,” he said, “your turn.”

  Hanner watched with interest as the others each made the attempt. All but Ulpen bettered Kirsha’s performance, but only Des-set could match Varrin’s-and she couldn’t better it.

  Rudhira watched with interest and caught anyone who started to fall. Her own turn, however, was left until last.

  Finally, though, Faran turned to her and said, “Rudhira! Show us what you can do!”

  Rudhira smiled. “Finally!” she said. She looked down.

  Hanner could feel the wave of magical energy as if it were physical pressure; the hairs on his arms and face and body were all flattened against his skin.

  And the water below them rose up.

  This was not just a column; this was a mountain that soared upward. As it neared their feet it opened out into a ring but still continued, rising around them, surrounding them all in a roaring wall of water.

  Rudhira laughed. No one else looked amused; Hanner forced himself to look away from Rudhira and look around at their faces, and saw only terror.

  The water rose higher and higher, the circle of sky still visible above them receding and shrinking, until finally Lord Faran called, “That’s enough!”

  Rudhira smiled broadly and flung her arms wide, and the wall of water exploded outward. Water roared deafeningly as the entire structure disintegrated and fell back to earth-but all of itoutward; the eleven warlocks remained untouched and dry at the center.

  Hanner looked out and down, and saw the freighters below, the wall of water sweeping down toward them.

  “Rudhira,” he called, pointing, “the ships!”

  Rudhira looked, and to Manner’s astonishment the four closest ships rose up out of the water and hung dripping in the air while the torrent rushed beneath them. Hanner could see their crews, astonished and terrified, clinging to masts and ropes and railings as they watched.

  And when the watery onslaught had passed, the ships settled neatly back to the surface.

  Hanner watched the wave diminish with distance until at last it smashed into the city’s docks, splashing up into the streets beyond-that was impressive, but no worse than a storm might do, and he doubted anyone was hurt or anything significantly damaged. Several people probably got soaked, but the sun would dry them quickly enough.

  He felt himself suddenly drop several feet, but then he was caught again. He looked up at Rudhira.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That was... well, I think that was about my limit.”

  “It wasamazing,” Desset said admiringly.

  “Indeed it was,” Faran agreed. “Quite a spectacular performance! You should be proud.”

  Rudhira smiled wearily.

  “I think we should go back,” Hanner said. “Before everyone’s too tired to hold me.” “Here,” Desset said, dropping down. “Give me your hand! I’ll take you, and let Rudhira get her breath back.”

  Hanner reached out gratefully and took Desset’s hand. It was warm and soft.

  Desset smiled at him. “It was very brave of you to come along, when you can’t fly,” she said.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” Hanner said. “Rudhira brought me without asking.”

  Desset threw a startled glance up at Rudhira, who was drifting southward, the others gathering closely around her, a few yards above Desset and Hanner.

  “That reallywas amazing, what she did,” Desset said. “I know that every time I use my magic it makes me a little stronger, so that each time I can do a little more than I could before, but I think it will be along time before I can matchthat!”

  “Probably,” Hanner agreed. He suspected there might be some sort of limit to how much a warlock’s power could increase, and Desset mightnever reach Rudhira’s level-but he wasn’t about to say that, and he wasn’t sure that would be a bad thing. The idea of hundreds of warlocks strong enough to toss freighters around like toys was frightening, almost enough to make him think the overlord had a point.

  But then, wizards had been working miracles for centuries, moving entire mountains on occasion. Why would warlocks be any worse?

  And there might not be any limit; certainly, no one had found one yet, though of course it had only been a few days.

  They were flying south now, back toward the city. Hanner glanced around to make sure Rudhira was accompanying them; he was fairly certain that whatever had made all those people fly off to the north on the Night of Madness was working on her.

  She was there, flying south, above and behind him, but he could see her face, and her expression was... well, “haunted” was the only word he could think of that fit.

  Why wasshe particularly afflicted by this? Was it because she was so much more powerful than the others?

  He glanced up at Desset, who was still carrying him. Either she or Varrin was the next most powerful warlock after Rudhira; if itdid correlate to power, then she should be feeling some of the effects, though not to the same degree Rudhira was.

  “Desset,” he called, “do you hear someone calling you?”

  Startled, she looked down at him, and their flight slowed. “Then you hear it, too?” she asked. “I thought I was imagining it.”

  “No, I don’t hear it,” Manner said. “But Rudhira does. I spoke to her about it earlier.”

  Desset glanced back at Rudhira. “I think only the strongest warlocks hear it,” Hanner said. “And I think it may be dangerous. I think that’s what happened to those people who disappeared-I think they heard this calling, whatever it is.”

  “Oh,” Desset said. “Do you really think so? I knowwe didn’t take them, the way those awful people in the street say we did, but I hadn’t thoughtthat might have taken them.” She shuddered. “It’s not pleasant; I don’t want to answer it. Is there some way I can make it go away?”

  “I don’t know,” Hanner admitted. “Rudhira hasn’t found one.”

  “Oh,” Desset said again. Then she said, “Look!” She pointed.

  They were over Spicetown now, and the streets were full of people-and they were all
looking up at the warlocks, pointing and shaking fists.

  “I don’t think they liked our experiments,” Hanner said.

  “I guess not,” Desset said. Then she smiled-a surprisingly nasty smile for such a motherly-looking person. “Not that there’s anything they can do about it!”

  Hanner didn’t reply.

  The overlord really might have a point, he thought-but with the warlocks all growing more powerful, all teaching one another more of what they could do, poor Azrad might have already missed his chance to do anything about it.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The glowing images that floated in the air above the table faded away, leaving only the torchlight, but it was a moment before any of the wizards spoke.

  “Impressive,” the white-haired wizard said at last.

  “Yes,” said the beautiful woman. “Lifting loaded freighters as if they were toys...” She shuddered. “And there was the warlock in Ethshar of the Rocks who killed poor Lopin. I’m afraid we really must take this as a serious threat to the proper order of things. We can’t put off acting indefinitely.”

  The red-robed man at the head of the table turned to Kaligir. “Was this Shemder of yours capable of anything like that?” he asked. “I don’t think so,” Kaligir replied. “He relied on speed and subtlety, rather than power. And of course, the fact that there was absolutely no outward sign of preparation or action-he could be standing right there, kill someone, and no one would know who had done it.”

  “That worries me,” the white-haired man said. “If we move prematurely, we might just drive the warlocks underground.”

  “There’s no need to be hasty,” the red-robed wizard said. “I would suggest that we acknowledge that warlocks are true magicians, powerful ones-anyone who can kill a wizard so quickly, by magic, is a powerful magician. Anyone who can raise a mountain of water is a powerful magician. The Guild has never forbidden an entire school of magic because, as our comrade from Sardiron says, that often merely drives it underground-but I don’t believe we have ever before had any potential competition this powerful, this dangerous. Whether we forbidthis one remains to be determined-but I believe it would be appropriate to enforce our existing strictures on magic.”

  “Carefully, though,” Kaligir said. “I don’t think any of us should forget what happened to Lopin.”

  “Carefully, of course,” the red-robed wizard agreed.

  Lord Azrad stood at the window of his favorite sitting room, staring northward, watching the waves slosh back and forth along the Grand Canal and seawater drip from the eaves of the warehouses.

  Then he turned to face his brothers-it was Lord Clurim who had spotted the warlocks flying past and had called the overlord to the window to watch, and Karannin and Ildirin had joined them later.

  “They’re growing stronger,” he said. “They must be stoppednow. Clurim, call Captain Vengar-ready or not, I want Captain Naral to movenow. And then go find Lady Nerra-maybe she can tell us something of what her mad uncle plans to do, other than inundate Spicetown.” As Clurim bowed and turned to go, Azrad demanded, “Karannin, Ildirin, can’t one of you get a response from the Wizards’ Guild?”

  “Icertainly can’t,” Karannin said. “I’ve talked to dozens of wizards, and they assure me that the masters of the Guild are aware of the situation and discussing it, and that they know you want to talk to them, but beyond that-nothing.”

  “Have you spoken to the Sisterhood or the Brotherhood?” Azrad asked as Clurim quietly closed the door behind himself.

  “The Brotherhood is terrified of the warlocks,” Ildirin said. “They tell me that pitting them against Lord Faran’s company would be like trying to boil a hundred gallons of soup with a single candle. The Sisterhood is not quite so frightened, but they agree that warlocks are far more powerful than witches; any campaign they might undertake would have to be slow and subtle.”

  “We don’t havetime for subtlety!” Azrad roared. “What about the others?”

  “The gods can’t even see most of the warlocks,” Karannin said. “At least, that’s what the theurgists tell me. And when theycan see them, they still won’t take action except purely defensively— you know how the gods are about not interfering. I don’t know whether it’s the oath they took two hundred years ago or just their nature, but they won’t intervene.”

  “Demonologists aren’t much better,” Ildirin said. “I’ve corresponded with half a dozen since the Night. They don’t agree on much of anything, but none of them seem inclined to go to war with the warlocks. Apparently demons can see warlocks just fine, but they can’t tell them apart from ordinary people-naturally, they’d be the opposite of the gods. If you summon a demon and order it to kill a specific warlock, it will presumably do its best to obey, but we don’t know how successful it would be, or what the repercussions might be, and you can’t just tell one, ’Go kill all the warlocks.’ It can’t find them without names.”

  “We could at least have Lord Faran killed,” Azrad said thoughtfully. “We knowhis name.”

  The other three looked at one another.

  “Perhaps we could,” Karannin said, “but would it be wise? First and least, there’s the question of cost...”

  “Which isn’t trivial,” Ildirin said. “Demonologists are expensive.”

  “The city treasury could surely afford it,” Azrad said.

  “Yes,” Karannin said, “but that brings us to the second question, justification for doing so.”

  “He’s a traitor,” Azrad said. “That’s good enough.”

  “My lord brother, our laws and customs require a trial for any capital offense, even treason, and the accused must be permitted the opportunity to defend himself. Sending a demonic assassin-”

  “Can be justified,” Azrad interrupted. “We can arrange for him to die resisting arrest. Hehas resisted arrest once, after all, and I’m sure he’ll do it again.”

  “Perhaps,” Karannin conceded. “But the third and most cogent question is what the Wizards’ Guild will think and do if we hire a demonologist to carry out an execution. You know as well as I that that violates their rules against the governmental use of magic.”

  “Surely they’ll make an exception!”

  “The Wizards’ Guild doesn’t make exceptions,” Ildirin said.

  “And even if they might, you’d need to convince the demonologist of that beforehand,” Karannin said. “I never met a demonologist who didn’t consider himself more than the equal of a wizard, but I also never met one willing to take on the entire Guild. That’s my fourth question-if the Guildwould permit us to use a demon assassin, would the demonologist trust us-and them?”

  “Surelyone demonologist would-”

  “My lord brother,” Ildirin interrupted, “I think we’re getting distracted here. The mechanism for killing individual warlocks is not really that important-if we have the Guild’s approval we can simply letthem handle executions, without needing to bring the added risk of dealing with demons into it. And if wedon’t have the Guild’s approval, I doubt any other magicians will cooperate.” “Then we need their consent, and damn them all, why won’t theygive it?”

  “They did agree we could hire wizards to aid in arresting warlocks,” Karannin reminded him, pointing at the door where Clurim had vanished a moment before. “That’s a start.”

  “Not much of one,” Azrad grumbled.

  “Azrad, you just sent Clurim out there with instructions to turn the entire city guard and every wizard we could hire to the task of removing Faran’s company from the city. Why don’t we wait and see what comes of that before we start worrying about involving the Guild more directly?”

  Azrad glowered at him.

  “Do you think it willwork}” he demanded. “After what we just saw out there?” He jerked a thumb at the window.

  Ildirin grimaced.

  “No,” he said. He hesitated, and added, “And I don’t know how Lord Faran will react to the attempt, either.”

  The ov
erlord froze for a moment, then frowned. He slowly said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  There were soldiers marching in the streets of the New City, but the warlocks ignored them and flew easily back to the garden behind Lord Faran’s mansion. Once they were safely back on the ground Hanner took the first opportunity to pull his uncle aside into an vacant room and talk to him privately.

  “There’s something out there, somewhere in the north, that’s calling to your most powerful warlocks,” Hanner said.

  “I’d noticed there was something odd about Rudhira’s behavior,” Faran said.

  “Yes, well,talk to her. I think she’ll listen to you more than she will to me, and maybe you can get her to tell you something useful. And maybe get Manrin to do some checking-maybe he can do a divination and find out just what it is that she’s hearing. I think it might be the same thing that causes those nightmares. And it’s not just Rudhira-Desset’s starting to hear it now. I suspect Varrin and some of the others are, too.”

  “You may be right, my boy.” Faran’s tone was reassuring, and he plainly intended to go on to say something more, but Hanner quickly cut him off. What he wanted to say was urgent; he couldn’t risk being distracted.

  “Uncle, I think that whatever is calling them is the same thing that called all those people on the Night of Madness-the ones that disappeared. I think there’s something out there thatwants warlocks.”

  “It’s possible,” Faran agreed calmly. “It may be the same thing that made us into warlocks in the first place. A mad wizard, perhaps.”

  Hanner shuddered. “Could a wizard do all this? You saw Ru-dhira out there today.”

  “There’s no known limit to what wizardry can do, Hanner. And from what I saw today I’m not sure there’s any limit on what warlockry can do, either.”

  “But using it... well, when you get more powerful you start to get the nightmares and to hear that calling.”

  “That’s a drawback,” Faran admitted. “It’s hardly fatal, though, and we may well find a way around it.”