The Vondish Ambassador

"They go crazy, Emmis. They do magic in their sleep. They lose their tempers and smash things without meaning to – including people, or maybe entire villages."

Emmis had, in fact, heard stories about warlocks gradually going mad as the Calling overwhelmed them, but there was a flaw in this theory.

"If Called warlocks are so dangerous, why haven't they smashed Ethshar?" he asked. "We have plenty of warlocks here."

"Maybe because something keeps them in check," Lar said. "Such as other magicians. Which we don't have in Vond, really." He hesitated. "And there's more to it, but that part really is secret. Just believe me when I say we don't want any warlocks in the empire, ever again."

"Well, why don't you just tell the Lumethans that?" He gestured in the general direction of their uninvited companion.

"Because we don't want any warlocks to find out, remember? The Lumethans might not believe us, and even if they did they might just decide it would be amusing to see what happens if they send a dozen warlocks across the border. They don't like us and they don't trust us, and I don't blame them."

"How are you going to convince the Council of Warlocks to forbid their members to go to Vond when you can't tell them why?"

Lar threw up his hands. "I don't know!" he snapped. "I'm just doing what Lord Sterren told me to do as best I can, and no, it isn't as simple as I'd like."

Emmis was still struggling to make sense of the situation. "There have been warlocks around for more than twenty years, though, so this can't be a new problem," he said. "How many have gone from Ethshar to the Empire of Vond?"

Lar looked uncomfortable.

"Well… two," he said. "That I know of."

"Two? Two?" Emmis sat back. "That's not exactly an overwhelming number, you know. If you're so far from Aldagmor, why haven't there been hundreds?"

"I don't know that, either," Lar said. "That's another thing I'm supposed to find out when I talk to the Council of Warlocks." He glanced at Hagai, then blinked. He stole another look at the Lumethan.

"How loud have we been speaking?" the ambassador asked quietly.

"Not very loud," Emmis said.

"So he couldn't have heard us?"

"Not unless he's a witch."

"Oh, for… witches could hear us?"

"Well, of course. Their magic enhances all their senses – they can even hear unspoken thoughts, sometimes, if conditions are right. And while he isn't one, because we'd see him doing it, a wizard somewhere could be watching and listening with a scrying spell and we'd never know it."

"Zag i mar!" Lar swore. "Magic!"

"You think he might be a witch? Or they might have hired a wizard?"

"Why not? Mar i zag!"

Emmis tried to be reasonable, tried to keep Lar from becoming too obviously upset. "But you don't know," he said. "Yes, if he's a witch he could hear us, but we don't even know whether he understands Ethsharitic! He claims not to, after all, and why would he lie about that?"

"To make himself appear harmless!"

"But, sir, really, if they wanted to, they could hire a wizard to find out what instructions the Regent gave you in the first place. I mean, unless you had protective magic preventing it. You can't keep secrets for long once magicians are involved, not if there's someone with money who's determined to find them out."

"I doubt there's a wizard anywhere in the Small Kingdoms who could scry that well," Lar said, in tones of disgust. "Wizards who are any good at what they do can do better than living in a kingdom a few miles across, where the only people with any money to spend on magic are the ones who call themselves kings, and where they can't get half the ingredients they want for their spells. Witches, though – we do have witches. They like little villages and scruffy peasants."

"They could hire a wizard here," Emmis pointed out, amused that Lar knew the Ethsharitic word for "scruffy." "They wouldn't need to have one back in Lumeth. It probably wouldn't even need to be a wizard. I'd guess that a theurgist could find out about your mission, too. Maybe even a sorcerer, or a scientist."

"That's probably true." Lar sighed. "You know, I retired a couple of years ago; I had a little money put aside, and I was going to just live quietly, minding my own business. Then Lord Sterren got worried about other warlocks, and he didn't trust anyone else to deal with it, so here I am. I'd much rather be back home tending my garden."

Emmis had no useful comment to make about that; he thought gardening sounded horribly boring, but he wouldn't want the ambassador's job, either. He looked down at the plates, both now empty. "Shall we head back to the house?" he asked. "There's still plenty of unpacking to do."

"No," Lar said. "We came this way to eat for a reason. We're going to the Wizards' Quarter for a look around. And if our robed friend follows us, well, so be it." He pushed back his chair and reached for his purse.

"As you please," Emmis said. He didn't see what visiting the Wizards' Quarter at this hour would accomplish, but he was in no hurry to haul boxes hither and yon.

Together the two men ambled out the door of the i

As he had expected, Hagai was following them, fifty feet back.

Chapter Seven

The Arena was unlit; the next show was not scheduled until the first of Newfrost, more than a sixnight away. Even so, Lar was visibly impressed by the vast dark shape that loomed above them as they passed.

The notice boards on the corners were lit, though, with two lanterns hung above each of them. They stood out all the better against the blackness behind them.

"What's that?" Lar asked.

Emmis explained. "Didn't you see the one in Shiphaven Market?" he asked.

"I didn't," Lar admitted. "There was so much happening there!"

"Don't they have notice boards in Vond?"

Lar shook his head. "Most people in the Small Kingdoms can't read." He looked at the tangle of messages and advertising tacked to the rough boards. "Do you think there might be anything there about warlocks?"

Emmis turned up a palm. "Openings for apprentices, perhaps." He glanced over his shoulder at Hagai, who was hanging back, trying to blend with the other pedestrians and not doing a very good job of it. "Stopping to look would be awkward for our friend."

Lar grimaced. "I wouldn't want to be rude. Perhaps another time." They strolled on past without stopping.

The incident got Emmis thinking as they walked, though. If Hagai was a witch, he ought to be able to do a better job of not being noticed. Witches could usually sense what other people were going to do before they did it; the good ones could allegedly actually hear people's thoughts. If Hagai was a witch then he surely knew he had been spotted, but he was still pretending to be just another passerby.

So he probably wasn't a witch.

He might be some other sort of magician, though.

Emmis wondered whether he should say any of this to Lar. The ambassador had said witches were fairly common back where he came from, though, so he ought to be able to figure it out for himself.

Or perhaps not. Just because witches were common didn't mean Lar knew anything about them.

He had not reached a conclusion by the time they crossed Games Street five long blocks later.

"This is the Wizards' Quarter," he said. "The next cross-street is Wizard Street. Warlock Street is a little further on."

"I see," the Vondishman said, looking around with interest.

In most respects this stretch of Arena Street was much the same as the rest – a broad avenue of hard-packed dirt lined with three- and four-story buildings, most of them stone for one or two floors and half-timbered above, with tiled roofs and assorted gables and overhangs. Balconies were common but not universal. Large torches were mounted in brackets at every corner, providing light; Emmis knew the city guard replaced those daily, as they usually burned away to nothing somewhere between midnight and dawn. Many of the ground-floor doors had signboards or lanterns or both above them; many of the windows were big, many-paned things holding displays of one sort or another. Some were lit, while others were not – not every magician stayed open for business this late.