Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Unwelcome Warlock

Vond swept across the hall and hovered over the girl, then spoke, inhumanly loud. “You are one of Hanner’s guests?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Detha said, making an awkward attempt at a curtsey.

“You went through the wizard’s tapestry?”

Detha glanced back over her shoulder at the others. “Yes, your Majesty. We all did.”

“Why are you coming back here , instead of where the tapestry is?”

“Because…because the return magic comes out in the attic, your Majesty.”

“It does?” Vond peered past her at the unlit stairs.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“I didn’t even know there was an attic!”

Detha had no reply for that.

“It can’t come out anywhere else?”

The girl looked confused. “No, your Majesty. Just in the attic.”

“Hanner didn’t tell me that.”

Again, Detha had nothing to say.

“Where is Hanner? Has he come back yet?”

Detha glanced back up the stairs. “He was there…”

“He was off to one side,” someone called from farther up. “He hasn’t come through yet.”

“Your Majesty?” someone else called. “Could we come down, please? It’s getting crowded here.”

“Of course! Kolar, get them out of there.” Most of the other swordsmen who had not yet touched the tapestry had followed Vond out into the corridor, and now the warlock turned to them and ordered, “Escort these people out of the building. Station yourselves with one at the top and bottom of each stair, and see that they all leave.”

Kolar stepped forward and put a hand on Detha’s shoulder, guiding her out of the attic stairwell and directing her toward the stairs down to the third floor. One of the other mercenaries, a man whose name Kolar had not caught, positioned himself at the top of those stairs, while others trotted down to take up their posts further down.

Detha was followed by a string of others, and Kolar set about making sure each of them made an orderly exit from the attic, and was headed the right direction. Vond hovered nearby, watching, as person after person emerged from the attic and crossed to the stairs going down.

As he herded an old man out of the attic, Kolar was startled by a shout. He turned.

One of the refugees had tried to duck aside, back into the room with the tapestry, and the guard at the top of the main stair had moved to head him off. The steady downward flow had been interrupted as the other exiles turned to see what was happening.

Then the man was suddenly flung across the hall, slamming into the opposite wall.

“You will not go back there!” Vond roared, his voice magically amplified. “You will leave this house now !”

Shaken, the man got to his feet, gave Vond a single terrified glance, then stumbled down the stairs. The instant his head disappeared around the corner of the landing, the rest of the procession began moving again, and in a matter of seconds it was as if the incident had never occurred. It was about that point that Kolar noticed the daylight was fading. Vond had apparently noticed, as well; he waved a hand, and the lamps on the walls all blazed to life.

After several more minutes and several dozen people there was a break in the steady stream descending the attic stairs, and as Kolar leaned through the door to see whether more were coming, Vond asked, “How many is that?”

“I don’t know, your Majesty,” Kolar said. “I wasn’t counting.”

“I didn’t see Hanner.”

“I wouldn’t know, your Majesty. I’ve never met him.”

Vond frowned. He glided through the door and up the stairs, glowing gently.

Kolar made no attempt to follow his employer, but instead waited at his post by the attic door. A moment later Vond called down, “There’s nothing up here.”

Kolar could not think of a useful reply, so he did not respond.

“There’s no portal that I can see,” Vond continued. “I don’t feel any magic at all. It’s just an empty attic.”

Kolar waited, and a few seconds later the warlock swooped back down the stairs and out into the corridor. “Do you think they could be appearing somewhere else now?” he asked.

Kolar turned up an empty hand. “I couldn’t say, your Majesty. I don’t know anything about magic.”

Vond frowned. “I don’t sense anyone new.”

“Maybe that’s all of them, then.”

Vond shook his head. “I didn’t see Hanner, and even if that’s all the trespassers, what about Gerath and the others? Why haven’t they come back?”

“I don’t know, your Majesty.”

“About how many did we get out?”

Kolar had no idea, but he did not think the warlock wanted to hear that, so he made a guess. “Fifty, perhaps?”

“Well, that’s most of them,” Vond said, more to himself than to Kolar. He peered back up into the attic, then glanced across the hall to the room where the tapestry hung. Then he called to the man at the head of the stairs, “Is everyone out of the house?”

“I can’t see anyone from here, your Majesty.”

“Well, ask , stupid!”

The man opened his mouth to say something, then caught himself, turned, and shouted down the stairs, “Are they all out down there?”

Kolar could hear the question being relayed; a moment later the answer came back. “The man at the front door says the last ones are in the dooryard, your Majesty.”

“Good,” Vond said, looking around thoughtfully. He considered for a long moment. Then he turned to Kolar. “You’re coming with me. Don’t be frightened; I’ll keep you safe.”

“Coming where? Your Majesty, I…” Kolar began. Then as his feet left the floor he let his protest trail off; it obviously wasn’t going to do any good. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

When he opened them again the wall ahead of him was melting, or dissolving, or doing something that walls don’t normally do; the plaster was flowing like molasses, and the wooden lath beneath was curling like ribbons as a hole appeared and grew.

Then he, and Vond, and the man who had been stationed at the top of the stairs, were flying out through the hole into the twilight sky. They had been on the fourth floor, so they were thirty feet up to begin with, and immediately swooped dizzyingly upward. Kolar gulped, and decided not to look down.

They were flying northeast, he realized, toward the overlord’s palace, where it hung motionless a hundred yards above Lower Street, gleaming orange in the light of the greater moon and blocking out the stars.

“Your Majesty, what are we doing?” the other mercenary asked, shouting to be heard over the wind of their passage.

“We’re putting my toys away,” Vond replied.

Kolar’s eyes widened. Was the warlock going to put the palace back where it belonged? But wouldn’t that leave him open to attack? Kolar didn’t know the entire story, but it was his understanding that the whole point of stealing the palace in the first place was that as long as it hung above the city, no one would dare harm Vond. If he put it back, wouldn’t that provide a perfect opportunity for the wizards and witches to kill him?

But the palace was unmistakably starting to move; it was eerily silent, but Kolar could tell from the way the moonlight shifted that it was moving. He glanced down, trying to orient himself. If the palace was going back where it belonged, it should be heading a little west of due north. Kolar tried to make out the grid of streets below to confirm that it was indeed going that direction.

It wasn’t. It was heading east of north.

“Where are you taking it?” he asked.

“Out to the sandbars off Newmarket,” Vond replied. He hesitated, then added, “You might want to cover your ears.”