Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Vondish Ambassador

"I trust that won't be necessary."

There was a pause then as both took a moment to eat; then Sterren remarked, "I tried to contact the Guild three years ago, you know, when Vond was still here. I sent a wizard named Emner to find you."

Ithinia nodded. "Emner of Lamum. He reached us."

"You didn't do anything, though," Sterren said. Then he added, "Did you?"

"Not much," Ithinia admitted. "We were fairly certain that Vond would solve the problem himself, just as he did. We did have a few words with the Council of Warlocks, though, to discourage emigration in this direction."

"Well, thank you for that much."

"We spoke to the Chairman of the Council a little more vigorously a few days ago," Ithinia continued. "Quite vigorously, in fact. And the Council owes us a debt from twenty years ago, when Azrad VI attempted to outlaw warlocks entirely, so they profess themselves eager to cooperate. They understand that no warlocks are to set foot within twenty leagues of Lumeth."

Sterren nodded. He glanced around, then lowered his voice.

Emmis tried hard to listen without appearing to do so.

"Do you know," Sterren asked quietly, "where Vond got his power?"

"Do you think," Ithinia murmured back, "that we would tell you if we did? You, in particular?"

"I would only want to know so I could stay away from it!" Sterren retorted.

"Well, you know it's in Lumeth," Ithinia said. "And if you set foot in Lumeth, we'll kill you. It's nothing personal. And if you think you can protect yourself against wizards, well, we've sent word to the Cult of Demerchan."

"Is it those towers?"

Emmis was just as glad he couldn't see Ithinia's expression as she replied; the tone of her voice was quite bad enough. "Didn't I just say we weren't going to tell you?" She spoke in a low tone that seemed to be coming through gritted teeth. "But I will tell you that the towers are a large part of why we've taken an interest. The Guild has reasons of its own to want those towers preserved, and we have safeguards in place – but a warlock of Vond's abilities might be able to get through those safeguards, and might be mad enough to try, so we intend to ensure that there will never again be another warlock of Vond's abilities. Which means you, my lord, more than anyone else in the World, would be well advised to not ask any more questions about anything in Lumeth."

So Lord Sterren was the other warlock, Emmis thought. That was interesting – though it probably didn't matter anymore.

He sipped his wine and turned to smile at Princess Shirrin.

A few minutes later, as the chicken bones were cleared away and plates of iced fruit set out, Ithinia turned to Emmis.

"I suppose you heard everything the Regent and I said," she said.

"Well, most of it," Emmis admitted.

"You wouldn't have, had I been concerned about your trustworthiness," the Guildmaster said.

"Thank you," Emmis replied.

"You did well, bringing back Zhol's body. And you showed good sense dealing with Fendel's Assassin."

"Thank you," Emmis repeated, throwing Shirrin a quick look, but she was entirely caught up in a lively conversation in Semmat with the man on her other side.

"I hope you didn't mind being dragged along on this trip; I suppose your presence wasn't really essential, but it did seem as if you were the one who started the whole thing."

"Oh, I don't mind at all, Guildmaster. It's been very educational." He hesitated, then added, "I would like to know how many more of those flutes you have up your sleeve, though."

Ithinia smiled at him. "Just one," she said. "The one that takes us full circle, back to my garden in Ethshar."

"So each flute…" Emmis hesitated. "How do they work? I never heard of this Transporting Fissure thing until a few days ago, but it seems as if they could be awfully useful."

"They can be," Ithinia agreed, "but they're also very difficult. Each flute can only work once per enchantment, and it must be purified before it can be enchanted again. It's a seventh-order spell that takes hours to prepare – in fact, I had to use time-distorting spells to prepare these four in the two days I had. You need… well, there's no reason to go through the ingredients list, but rest assured, my boy, it's not a cheap spell, nor an easy one. And determining exactly where the passage will come out – that's tricky, as well. Not to mention that if I had played a single wrong note it wouldn't have worked right, and of course the fissure closes up again the instant I stop playing."

"But still…"

"It's not exactly subtle, either," she continued, before Emmis could finish his sentence. "It's noisy, and effectively causes a small earthquake at each end. And there are places it just can't go – some where the magic doesn't work, or the terrain won't allow it, but even in ordinary places, if you try to come out in a building that isn't big enough you'll bring the whole thing down around your ears. Generally speaking, we prefer other methods. One of the best takes roughly a full year to prepare, but once it's done it can be used indefinitely. It's instantaneous, completely silent, easy to hide – much nicer than Hallin's Transporting Fissure."

"What would happen if you played a wrong note?" Emmis asked, glancing at the sleeve he believed held that fourth and final flute.

"That depends," Ithinia said. "We might just come out a few feet away from where we planned – or a few miles. Or the passage might be too narrow, or not solid enough, and if it crumbles while you're inside it you can fall out of the World entirely."

"Oh," Emmis said. He swallowed.

"Don't worry," she said. "I always have to go in first, after all – if there's any danger, it'll probably get me before you even take the first step. And I didn't get any notes wrong on the first three, did I?"

Emmis acknowledged that she had not. Still, his enthusiasm for the journey home was somewhat dimmed, and he was relieved there would be no other stops along the way.

He was also glad Ithinia hadn't told him any of this before they walked through the first three fissures.

"We gave Morkai of Crooked Hill an enchanted flute twelve years ago," Ithinia said, as she scooped chilled melon from her plate. "To use if anything ever threatened the towers and he couldn't contact us by other means." She thrust a well-filled spoon into her mouth.

"So he was working for the Guild, and he betrayed you?"

"Not exactly," Ithinia said, pulling out the empty spoon. "He was a member of the Guild, like every wizard, and because he lived right below the towers we asked him to let us know of any threats, and we gave him the flute. We had plenty of spells in place to warn us of trouble, but a human observer may work when magic doesn't. He wasn't working for us, in the sense of having any regular duties or being paid; he just had instructions to let us know if anything went wrong, and we gave him the flute and a few other things to that end."

"He lives near them? I didn't even see the towers while we were there," Emmis griped.

"The New Castle was in the way," Ithinia said. "If you had gone around it you would have been able to see the tops of the towers in the distance; they're a few miles northwest of the city."

"That fortress thing?"

"That's the New Castle, yes."

Emmis nodded. "I was surprised you didn't do anything more to Morkai," he said. "I mean, if he betrayed the Guild's trust, and then hired an assassin…"

"More?" She put down her spoon and turned to stare at him.

"Well, you broke that dagger, and obviously that hurt him somehow, but…"

"Emmis," Ithinia interrupted, "there was a piece of his soul in that dagger. We destroyed it. He'll never get it back. He'll never be able to perform magic again – not any magic, so far as we know, and certainly not wizardry. He'll never again be whole."