The Vondish Ambassador

His father would probably be working over at the warehouse, and his mother was probably in the courtyard out back, but he was hoping one of his sisters would be within earshot. Sharra was in and out, despite her new husband, and Imirin had moved back after completing her apprenticeship.

Sure enough, the door opened, and Imirin peered out.

"Emmis!" she shrieked. "And you have luggage – are you coming home to stay?"

"No, no," he said. "I'm moving to Allston, and I wanted to let everyone know where I'll be living. Who's here?"

"Just me in the house. Mother's out back. Allston? What are you doing in Allston? There aren't any docks there!"

"Let me come in and put these things down, and I'll explain."

Imirin jumped aside. "Come in, come in!"

A few minutes later he was in the courtyard, explaining his new job to his sister, his mother, and half a dozen of the neighbors.

"Is he a warlock?" Klurйa the Seamstress from next door wanted to know. "I heard that everyone in Vond is a warlock."

"No, he's not a warlock," Emmis assured her. "I don't think he's any kind of magician, and I know he's not a warlock. He says there aren't any warlocks in the empire any more."

The question got him thinking, though – might Lar be a magician of some sort? He hadn't said so, had shown no sign of magic, but that didn't necessarily mean much, given his secrecy on certain subjects. Emmis was fairly sure the Lumethans were using magic of one variety or another, so why wouldn't the people of Vond? He would ask Lar about that when he got back to the house.

When at last he had answered everyone's questions about his new job, his new home, and his new employer – most of the answers were variations on, "I don't know yet" – the women took turns bringing him up to date on the local gossip. Imirin was trying to raise enough money to open her own shop, but so far was making do with operating a small still in the basement and selling her products to the local i

Imirin insisted on giving him a sample of her latest batch, which seemed to make some of the neighbors nervous; presumably they remembered what a few cups of oushka had done to him at Pergren and Azradelle's wedding. Emmis limited himself to drinking perhaps half the small sample, just so no one would worry.

He had to admit that it was excellent oushka. Imirin's master had taught her well.

"Imirin the Distiller," their mother said proudly. "Doesn't that sound fine?"

Emmis agreed that it did, and carefully didn't mention any of the cognomens his youngest sister had had as a girl, before she lost her stammer and baby fat.

Finally Emmis was able to pry himself free, collect his baggage, and depart, making his way around to the west, then down Captain Street to Shiphaven Market, and along Commission Street to the Crooked Candle.

He stepped inside, and was immediately spotted.

"There you are!" A

She was seated alone at a table in the back corner, facing the door. There was no sign of the Lumethans.

He hesitated. He had come here to see her, but he had not been prepared for quite so loud and enthusiastic a greeting. Gita the tavern wench was watching from the kitchen door, A

Somehow, Emmis had expected spies to behave with a little more circumspection. Still, this was why he had come, to talk to the foreigners. He crossed the room, and settled into the chair A

A

"Something like that," Emmis acknowledged.

She dismissed it with a wave. "You needn't bother," she said. "We already know all about it."

Emmis blinked at her. "You do?"

"Yes, we do. We talked to that warlock, that Ishta, this morning – Hagai took me down there to translate. She told us all about Lar's grandson."

"Oh. Yes."

"And we're agreed on what we'll have to do. It's drastic, but we don't have any choice."

Emmis did not like the sound of that at all. "Drastic?"

"I would say so, yes." Her smile vanished. "You don't object, do you? It will save hundreds of lives in the long run. I know he's paying you, but you don't owe him any loyalty, really. Not with something like this."

"Object to what?" he asked warily.

A

The i

Still, A

"Assassination, of course."

Chapter Ten

For a moment Emmis desperately hoped that A

"You want to kill him?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because he's building an army of warlocks!"

Emmis stared at her in astonishment. "He is?"

"Yes!" She looked baffled by his surprise. "You were there, you heard him talking to Ishta – he wants to send his grandson to Ethshar to learn warlockry, then bring him back to Vond. And I'm sure it's not just the one grandson; he probably has a dozen children ready for training. If it were just one, wouldn't he have brought the boy with him? No, he's making arrangements for several, we're sure of it."

"Even if he is…" Emmis stopped. Lar wasn't making arrangements to provide his empire with a dozen warlocks, so why argue about what it would mean if he did?

"Why else would they want warlocks? They're going to expand again. They're probably going to try to conquer all the Small Kingdoms!"

"I don't think so," Emmis said, but he didn't sound convincing even to himself.

He was trying to remember what Lar had said about revealing this. Was his real reason for consulting Ishta a secret? He remembered that Lar said these people wouldn't believe the truth even if they heard it, and Emmis thought that was probably right, but shouldn't he at least try?

No, he was fairly sure that Lar had said it was secret.

"He hasn't said anything to you about this plan for conquest?"

"He hasn't said anything about any plan for conquest!" Emmis replied. "He said the Empire of Vond was big enough as it is, and they aren't pla

"Then he's lied to you."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, what else would he want these new warlocks for?"

"I don't know – building roads, maybe, or healing the sick. What makes you think warlocks are only good for fighting?"

"Because that's how the empire used Vond, of course."

"I think you mean that's how Vond created his empire, don't you?"

"It's the same thing. The empire is still there, even if Vond himself isn't – and you know, we still don't know where he went, or whether he might come back. Maybe this ambassador is recruiting Vond's new staff, for when he returns."

"He isn't going to…" Again, Emmis stopped in mid-sentence. He didn't really know whether Vond might come back someday; no one did. While no warlock had been known to return from Aldagmor at any time in the last twenty-two years, no one knew why, or what was really going on. For all Emmis knew, they might all come home tomorrow.