“And this is Neyam the Witch, who was sent to hire thugs in the Hundred-Foot Field. One of his minions has already been hanged, and the overlord’s magistrates had him flogged yesterday, but he was permitted to heal himself, and he, too, we will allow to live, so long as he remains within your borders.”
She flung him down as well, and grabbed the third man. “Finally we have your wizard, Morkai of Crooked Hill, who the Guild had entrusted with certain magic intended for use in guarding the ancient towers for which your land is named, and who used one of those spells not to summon aid in an emergency, as was intended, but to transport himself and his companions to the dunes south of Ethshar of the Spices, so that they might spy on the Vondish ambassador. He then used his membership in the Guild to call upon the services of a fellow wizard, Felder of Arena Street, in summoning Fendel’s Assassin and directing it to kill the ambassador. Because he is a wizard, the overlord delivered him unscathed into my keeping, for the Guild to deal with; he, too, is confined to Lumeth of the Towers for the remainder of his life, and for his abuse of the privileges granted him, he is hereby cast out of the Wizards’ Guild.” With that she shoved Morkai aside and held out a hand.
One of the Ethsharitic guards had obviously been told what to do; he passed her a knife, one that looked ordinary enough but that Emmis supposed must be Morkai’s wizard’s dagger. Ithinia took it, and touched it with her own knife; violet fire flared up briefly from both blades.
Then she threw it to the ground and signaled to the guard, who knelt, picked up the knife, and thrust its point deep into one of the cracks between paving stones, so that it stood upright.
Then he bent it until the blade snapped off.
Morkai screamed through his gag, and fell writhing on the stone, startling Emmis — and all the other observers, apparently, except the other wizards.
“What’s going on?” Lar asked, his smile gone and his face pale. “Why is he doing that?”
“It must be a spell of some kind,” Emmis said, turning up an empty palm. “The knife was enchanted somehow.”
“She didn’t tell us she was going to do that!”
“He tried to kill you, sir,” Emmis reminded him.
“Yes, but...”
“I’m sure Neyam screamed when he was flogged.”
“No, he didn’t. Witches can block their pain.”
Emmis frowned. That seemed to defeat the purpose of the flogging.
It wasn’t his responsibility, though.
Ithinia had turned back to the balcony, and as Morkai’s screaming subsided to a whimper she announced, “That concludes our business here, for the present.” Then she pulled a wooden flute from her sleeve and raised it to her lips.
Emmis blinked; he was quite sure that she had put the flute in her right sleeve after their arrival in Lumeth, but she had just drawn this flute from her left sleeve. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at it.
It wasn’t the same flute; he was sure of it. This one was lighter in color, and when she began to play the tone was slightly different.
It had the same effect, though. When she reached that final note and held it the sound seemed to echo and re-echo, and the stone pavement shook beneath their feet, then with a great rumble it rippled and split open. A slate skidded off a nearby roof and shattered on the pavement.
“I thought we would stay here tonight!” Emmis whispered to Lar. “I mean, we came all the way to Lumeth, and after half an hour we’re going back to Ethshar? I didn’t even get to see the famous towers!”
“I don’t think Ethshar is where we’re going,” the ambassador replied.
Startled, Emmis asked, “It’s not?”
“I don’t think so.”
Then Ithinia was leading the way down the steps, and Lar and Emmis followed the crowd descending into this new fissure. Emmis decided not to ask any more questions, since he would see soon enough where they were going.
He glanced back as they were entering the rift, and saw the three Lumethan magicians still sprawled miserably on the pavement; they were not accompanying the party to whatever its new destination might be. Annis the Merchant was still being escorted along, though.
This time the passage stayed stone the entire way, but changed hue, from gray to a off-white. Once again, they emerged into sunlight in the middle of a public square. This time, though, Emmis could smell the sea and hear the cry of gulls overhead; he began to think that they were indeed returning to Ethshar, just not to Ithinia’s garden.
Then he looked around, and knew that whatever this place was, it wasn’t Ethshar of the Spices. The buildings surrounding them were white or golden yellow, gleaming in the sun, without a trace of red brick or dark timber anywhere. The air was warmer than it had been in either Ethshar or Lumeth.
Again, when the gargoyles bringing up the rear had emerged from the chasm, Ithinia concluded her tune and the fissure rumbled and closed.
Again, a crowd had gathered, but stood well back from the newly arrived strangers.
“Prince Sammel of Ashthasa!” Ithinia called. “Come forth and hear me!”
“This is Ashthasa?” Emmis whispered.
“I suppose so,” Lar said. “I’ve never been here before.”
This time they had a wait before at last the doors of a large white building swung open and a young man in gaudy green-and-gold robes emerged, attended by half a dozen spearmen in gleaming golden helmets.
Again, Ithinia and the other wizards introduced themselves, Lar, Lord Ildirin, the theurgist, and the demonologist. Then Ithinia had Annis dragged forward.
“This woman,” Ithinia announced, “conspired with three Lumethan agents who attempted to assassinate the Vondish ambassador to Ethshar of the Spices.”
The man in the elaborate robes replied, “Not by my orders; I assigned her to watch the ambassador, not kill him.” He spoke Ethsharitic well, better than any of the Lumethan lords.
“I didn’t try to assassinate anyone!” Annis protested — unlike the Lumethan magicians she hadn’t been gagged, since she had no magic to call upon. “I just didn’t try to stop it! And I told Emmis, who did stop it!”
“Then I see no crime,” the prince replied. “Why have you come here so dramatically?”
“To inform you that your concerns about Vondish expansion are groundless, and warn you that you are not to interfere in the Empire’s trade negotiations with the Hegemony. And to return you your spy, who is no longer welcome in Ethshar of the Spices.”
“You are saying that the Wizards’ Guild will guarantee that the Vondish Empire will not attempt to extend itself into Ashthasa?”
“We are saying that the Wizards’ Guild will guarantee that the Vondish Empire will not attack Ashthasa without provocation, nor will we permit the Empire to use warlockry against any of its neighbors under any circumstances. We would suggest, however, that you do not provoke the Empire.”
“I am not a fool, my lady,” the prince replied. “Even without magic, the Empire could swallow Ashthasa in mere hours; we will not provoke them. Thank you for your assurances!”
He and Ithinia exchanged bows.
Then a guardsman cut Annis’ bonds and gave her a shove. She took a few steps, then stopped to turn and glare at the Ethsharites. No one paid her much attention as Ithinia drew a flute from her sleeve.
This time Emmis had been watching closely. He knew she had put the flute that had brought them from Lumeth to Ashthasa in her right sleeve, yet she drew this one from her left. And it was chased in silver, where the others had been plain wood.
How many flutes did she have in there?
Again, she began to play; again, the music behaved unnaturally, the ground shook, and a fissure opened.
Emmis waved to Annis as he marched into the waiting passage; she waved back.
Then he had once again turned that strange corner onto the magical staircase, and was on his way somewhere — perhaps back to Ethshar, perhaps somewhere else.
He didn’t bother
asking Lar where he thought they were bound; they would find out soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sun seemed even brighter here than it had in Ashthasa, even though it was now well down the western sky and the walls of the houses and shops were a slightly darker shade of golden-yellow. Once again they had emerged in a public square, but this one was hard-packed earth, rather than being paved with stone, and appeared to have little in the way of city around it. A white marble palace loomed over them on one side, while the other three sides of the square mostly had just a few open-fronted shops shaded by brightly-colored awnings. A broad road led out of the square directly opposite the doors to the palace, and Emmis could see that it led, perhaps half a mile away across a valley, to a castle built of dark red stone, looking like something out of a picture book about the Small Kingdoms.
Well, that was reasonable enough, since they were presumably somewhere in the Small Kingdoms. Emmis could not see how they had any business anywhere other than Ethshar and the Small Kingdoms, and this definitely wasn’t Ethshar of the Spices.
“Semma!” Lar exclaimed, as they climbed up out of the fissure.
“Is that where we are?” Emmis asked, looking around. The crowd here was smaller than the ones that had gathered in Lumeth and Ashthasa, which seemed peculiar; wasn’t this the heart of an empire, where the others were little more than city-states?
“Yes!” Lar said, pointing. “That’s the Imperial Palace, where the Council meets, and over there is Semma Castle, where the Regent lives — and where I live.”
That was interesting; Emmis studied the castle. It didn’t look terribly appealing. He noticed it had a rather sprawling village clustered around it, where the palace only seemed to have this one square’s worth of homes and businesses near it. “I would have thought the Regent would live in the Imperial Palace,” he said.
Lar turned up a palm. “He doesn’t like being that close to the Imperial Council.”
That struck Emmis as slightly odd, but then, much of what Lar had told him about Lord Sterren seemed a little odd.
The gargoyles clambered up out of the fissure, and Ithinia lowered her flute and tucked it into her right sleeve. “We have come to address the Imperial Council!” she proclaimed.
The crowd murmured, and someone opened the palace door and slipped inside.
Lar bestirred himself and hurried to Ithinia’s side, with Emmis trotting after him. “They may not be in session,” the ambassador said.
“I know that,” the wizard replied.
“And the Regent may be in the castle, over there.”
Ithinia turned to glare at him. “Yes?”
“Should I go see if he’s there?”
“Your Excellency, I would think that an earthquake splitting open the market square and allowing a party of magicians to emerge would draw his attention, wherever he is.”
“Well...” Lar could not really argue with that, and subsided. Emmis thought the ambassador was just eager to get a good look at his home, now that he was unexpectedly back here.
The door of the palace opened again, and a youth in a black-and-silver tunic emerged and ran across the square, circling around the visitors and heading full-tilt toward Semma Castle.
“We could go inside,” Lar suggested. “The Council doesn’t make anyone wait out here in the sun.”
Ithinia turned to glare at him. “If I wanted you to play native guide, Your Excellency, I would have asked you.”
The palace doors opened again, but this time both valves swung wide, and a soldier in a red-and-gold uniform emerged. He saluted Ithinia and the other wizards, then cleared his throat.
“Lady Kalira, Chancellor and Vice-Regent of the Empire of Vond, welcomes you and invites you all to come inside and be made comfortable.” He spoke Ethsharitic with only a very slight accent, less than Lar’s.
“We have come to speak to the full Council,” Ithinia replied.
“The full Council is not here, honored visitor. A messenger has been sent to the Regent, but at present only Lady Kalira and three other Councillors are in attendance.”
Ithinia frowned, then turned to confer quietly with the other wizards. As they spoke, Emmis noticed the soldier staring at Lar. He had the expression of someone trying to figure out where he knew a face from.
He also noticed that Lord Ildirin did not look happy. Despite his vigor, Ildirin was a very old man, and they had been doing a great deal of standing around in the sun; Emmis thought he was probably exhausted.
One of the other wizards — Serem, was it? — pointed to Ildirin just then, and Ithinia nodded.
Then she turned back to the messenger and said, “We will accept the Chancellor’s invitation, with the understanding that our business here is not private, and that members of the public must be admitted.”
The soldier bowed. “This way, please,” he said, and turned to lead them in.
Almost the entire party from Ethshar — all of it but the two gargoyles, who took up posts on either side of the palace doors, and the four prisoners who had been left behind in Lumeth and Ashthasa — followed him, through a grand entrance hall and around a corner into a large and luxurious drawing room equipped with a goodly assortment of chairs, sofas, and settees.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the soldier said. “Lady Kalira will be here shortly, and Lord Sterren should be on his way.”
Emmis was happy to take a seat and give his feet a rest; Lar settled beside him, then leaned over and asked, “How did Ithinia find out about...” He hesitated, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. “Did you tell her we wanted to prevent warlocks from coming to Vond?”
“No,” Emmis said. The settee suddenly seemed a bit crowded and much less comfortable.
“Did you ask her to do any of this?”
“No,” Emmis said. He twisted in his seat. “Didn’t you? You and Lord Ildirin were talking to her — I thought this was your idea.”
Lar shook his head. “No, we just asked her to help us locate and capture the assassins. Which she did. And we asked her questions about protective spells. But we didn’t ask for the Guild to help this way.”
“Did you ask her about...” It was Emmis’s turn to glance about. “...about the hum? The source?”
“No. She frightened me. I didn’t want to trust her that much.”
“She frightens me a little, too,” Emmis admitted.
“So what did you tell her?”
Emmis considered that, then said, “I didn’t really tell her much of anything. I asked her a question, and then she figured everything out.”
“Do you think that was magic?”
In fact, Emmis was fairly certain no magic had been used, that Ithinia was just smarter and better informed than she had any right to be, but he turned up a palm. “I don’t know,” he said.
“What was the question?”
Emmis shifted uneasily. “It was about something the theurgist told me in the Wizards’ Quarter,” he said. “Corinal said something about wizards guarding the Lumeth Towers, and I asked her why they do that.”
Lar cocked his head. “Did she tell you?”
“Not really,” Emmis lied.
A few days ago, he knew, he would have happily explained everything to his employer; even now, he wasn’t sure why he was holding anything back. The events of the last few days, though, had taught him that information was power — and that there was power in withholding information, as well. Knowledge, once shared, couldn’t be taken back. And partial information was dangerous. A few apparently harmless facts had sent the Lumethans into a panic and set assassins on the ambassador’s trail; a few words here and there had let him save the ambassador from those assassins. The magicians in the Wizards’ Quarter charged high fees for answers to questions they didn’t understand, while Ithinia seemed to have figured out half the World from being asked a question. Questions and answers, facts and mysteries, could lead in any number of unexpected directions.
> Emmis was not sure what Lar would do with knowledge of the Towers’ origins and purpose, so he was not about to give it.
“Are the towers the source of the hum?” Lar asked.
“I don’t know,” Emmis said. “They might be. I didn’t mention the hum to Ithinia.” He hesitated, then added, “Whatever they are, the Wizards’ Guild doesn’t want anyone interfering with them — that’s why they’re doing all this, to protect the towers. I really, truly wouldn’t want to be anyone who threatened those things.”
“Ah,” Lar said. He looked thoughtfully in Ithinia’s direction.
Just then there was a small commotion at one side of the room and a woman entered, a tall woman with aristocratic features and dusky skin, wearing a gown of dark red embroidered in bright red and gold — though not embroidered terribly well, Emmis thought when she got close enough for him to see her clearly. She was escorted by two more soldiers, in red kilts and brown leather breastplates.
The Ethsharitic soldiers all stood ready at the sight of this pair, but the woman between them ignored that. “I am Lady Kalira,” she announced.
“I am Ithinia of the Isle,” the wizard replied, rising from her chair. “I am here as the chosen representative of the Wizards’ Guild.”
“You want to address the Imperial Council?” She spoke Ethsharitic with a thick accent.
“Yes.”
“I am sorry. Only four of the seven councillors are in Semma; the others are in other parts of the Empire, on business, and will not be back for some time. I have sent for the Regent, and he should be here shortly; are the five of us enough? I can send messengers to get the other three.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ithinia said. “The five of you will suffice.”
Lady Kalira blinked, and leaned toward one of the soldiers. “G’dyas ’suffice’?” she murmured.
“Golishye,” the soldier muttered back.
She nodded. Then she smiled at Ithinia — not a very convincing smile, one obviously owing more to protocol than to any sort of warmth — and said, “Will you join us for dinner?”
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