Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Vondish Ambassador

"And then what?" Ildirin asked.

"And then… I fell asleep. And I woke up as Ahan caught me, just now." He brushed at his hair nervously, then felt his neck again. "What happened? How long was I… was I…?"

"Hours," Ithinia said.

"It's a long story," Emmis added.

"Well, I wish someone would tell me that story!"

"Of course you do," Ildirin said, "And I would be delighted to oblige you." He settled onto a chair facing Lar. "Have a seat, your Excellency, and I will tell you the entire tale. And then perhaps we can stop imposing on the Guildmaster's hospitality and take to our beds; I think any further business can wait until another day."

"But the Lumethans – have you caught them?"

"Not as yet, but we do have the man who young Emmis encountered in your home."

Lar blinked, and sank into a chair; Ahan stepped back, taking up an unobtrusive position against the wall by the door. "Tell me more," the Vondishman said.

"Well, as you are aware, the petrifaction spell worked perfectly…" Ildirin began.

Emmis sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened.

It all seemed to be working out, he thought. The magical assassin was gone, the human assassin captured. The Lumethans were still out there, and that man Tithi, but with Lord Ildirin and Guildmaster Ithinia involved, that surely wouldn't be a problem. Lar was safe, at least for now.

Poor Zhol was dead, and that was horrible, but Emmis had hardly known him, and a guard's life was inherently dangerous. One of his killers was caught, and the other almost certainly would be.

The mysterious source of magical power in Lumeth of the Towers was still unidentified, and there was still the mystery of just what those sorcerous towers were and why wizards were protecting them, but those problems seemed far less immediate.

Ildirin's voice was oddly soothing. Emmis was no longer really listening to the words, but just the tone.

And then he woke up, and opened his eyes, and saw an unfamiliar ceiling above him.

He was lying in a bed – a good bed, smooth and warm and comforting, just soft enough – and staring up at a gilt-and-plaster ceiling that depicted spiral patterns of golden stars on a gleaming white background.

Emmis had never seen that ceiling before, he was quite sure. He turned his head.

The rest of the room was equally unfamiliar. He was in a fair-sized bedchamber decorated in white, red, and gold, lying in a large and luxurious but oddly uncanopied bed, beneath a snowy white sheet and a red satin quilt. Two tables topped with white marble stood on either side; one held a white-and-gold bowl and pitcher.

This was, Emmis thought, by far the nicest place he had ever woken up in his life, and that was including not just the rented embassy on Through Street, but the bed of that shipowner's silly daughter on Flood Street – though the company had been better there, as he was quite alone here.

He must have dozed off in Ithinia's parlor, while Lord Ildirin had been telling Lar what had happened – or perhaps Ithinia had used her sleep spell on him, though he really doubted any magic was necessary to explain it. Was this room in Ithinia's house, then? He threw off the covers and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

His boots were gone – or rather, now that he looked, they were on the floor by the bed, rather than on his feet. He was still wearing his own familiar tunic and breeches, though, with traces of Zhol's blood still smeared on his shoulders, and his socks were still in place. That was reassuring, and fit his theory nicely. He slid off the bed and stood up, then pulled aside the red-and-white draperies and peered out the nearest window.

Lower Street. He was in Ithinia's house, and judged the room to be directly over the parlor. For a moment he wondered whether the wizard had somehow lifted him right through the floor, but then he decided that was silly; why would she do that, when she could just have someone carry him up here?

He looked at the light; the sky was still overcast, making it hard to judge the hour, but it was clearly long past dawn, and probably around midday.

"Emmis of Shiphaven?"

Emmis started; he hadn't heard the door open, but a young woman was peering in at him. "Yes?" he said.

"The Guildmaster will see you now, or if you prefer, I can bring up some breakfast first."

Emmis considered that, then said, "Breakfast would be very welcome, thank you." After all, he had not eaten since supper the night before, and he had not exactly been resting on silken cushions all night. Food sounded like a wonderful idea, and this would give him time to compose his thoughts.

The door closed.

Emmis found the chamberpot under the bed and used it, then pulled his boots back on. He was just taking another look out the window when someone knocked on the door.

He opened it to find the girl had returned with a tray; she pushed past him and set it on the unoccupied bedside table, then curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her before he could think of a single thing to say.

The tray held beer, bread, and sardines – not his usual breakfast, but satisfying enough. A napkin was provided, as well. He ate enthusiastically; when he had finished he wiped his mouth and hands, and was trying to decide whether he should wait or find his own way downstairs when another knock sounded.

He opened the door, expecting to see the serving girl again, but instead found Ithinia standing there. He quickly adjusted his stance and bowed.

"Guildmaster," he said. "I'm honored."

"You have no idea," she said wryly, stepping into the room. "I don't even let my own servants sleep in my house. Now, you said you wished to speak to me in private?"

"Yes." Before he could say anything else, though, the serving girl appeared behind Ithinia. She slipped past her mistress to collect the breakfast tray.

Emmis and Ithinia stood silently while she bustled out, closing the door behind her.

"I'm surprised you use human servants," Emmis remarked. "She is human, isn't she?"

"She is," Ithinia said. "Her name is Irith the Brisk, and she's from Fishertown. I could create magical servants, of course, and I do have a few – you may have noticed my gargoyles, I'm rather proud of them. But for household tasks, I've generally found hiring ordinary people more convenient. They're better at understanding what's needed, they aren't prone to odd restrictions in what they can do or where they can go, and they don't make guests nervous. Now, your business?"

"Are Lar and Lord Ildirin still here?"

"They left long ago, taking their guards living and dead with them, not an hour after you fell asleep, though they're both expected to return this afternoon. I had plenty of time to talk to Lord Ildirin last night, while you were out dodging assassins and the ambassador was petrified, but there are still several matters to be settled and spells to be performed."

That disturbed Emmis. While it wasn't part of his official duties, he felt that his job included protecting Lar, and he couldn't very well do that if the ambassador left him sleeping here while he went roaming the streets in the middle of the night. "Why didn't they wake me?"

"I think they wanted to speak privately with one another. And I allowed it – encouraged it, actually – because you wanted to speak privately with me. Which you are doing now, though to very little purpose as yet."

"I'm sorry," Emmis said. "It's something I heard from a theurgist yesterday." He blinked in surprise at his own words – had it really just been yesterday that he spoke to Corinal?

"Oh?"

"Guildmaster, why have wizards put protective spells on the towers in Lumeth? The theurgist said there were several very powerful protections on them, but the towers themselves are sorcerous in nature, not any sort of wizardry."