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"Hai!" the seated man said. "What do you want with us, warlock?"
Hanner ignored the feeling of wrongness and replied, "I need to speak to whomever it is that's going to decide
what the Wizards' Guild does about warlocks."
"If the Guild wishes to hear from you, they'll summon you," the red-robed man said.
"My uncle Faran waited to be summoned," Hanner said. "That didn't work out well. The Guild would summon
me if they knew what "was best for us all, themselves included. They don't know that yet, because they
haven't heard what I have to say. Surely, you don't maintain that even the Guild knows everything. Ithinia
never thought it necessary to speak to Lord Faran, and see how that turned out."
"Don't threaten me, warlock," the wizard said warningly. "I think you'll find me harder to kill than Lord Faran's
executioner."
"I was not making threats," Hanner said. "I merely speak the truth."
The mention of Faran's executioner, however, gave him the clue he needed to recognize the nature of the
wrongness he had felt.
The wizard had no heartbeat. In fact, he had no heart in his chest. Hanner could feel only a magical darkness
where a heart should be. Stopping his heart, as Hanner had done to Faran's slayer, would not be possible.
Hanner had heard of wizards doing this, hiding their hearts before undertaking some particularly perilous task;
they could still be hurt, but the heart would keep beating, wherever it was stored, and the wizard would not
die of injuries that would ordinarily be instantly fatal. He would be harder to kill, Hanner thought-but probably
not impossible.
If the wizard had taken such a precaution before coming to speak to him-well, it would seem that the
Wizards' Guild did accept that warlocks could pose a real threat.
That was promising, in a way.
And that they had prepared this messenger to speak to him, rather than sending some magical assassin
after him, was even more promising.
While Hanner considered this, the wizard had considered Han-ner's words. Now he responded.
"Very well," he said. "I'll bring you to them."
Hanner turned to Kirsha. "Put me down on the carpet," he said.
"Sir, are you sure-"
"I'm sure," Hanner said, cutting her off. "I've dealt with wizards for years. Put me on the carpet, then go back
to the house and wait for me. And don't use any more magic until tomorrow. If you have nightmares tonight,
don't ever use any more."
"As you say." Hanner felt himself pushed forward, and a moment later his feet touched the thick pile of the
carpet. He stepped forward cautiously.
It was like walking across a featherbed; he sat down quickly, and the wizard moved aside to make room.
Hanner turned to see Kirsha still hanging unsupported in midair, staring at him.
"Go on," he said, waving to her. "I'll be fine. We all will."
She waved back, then turned and flew away.
Then Hanner turned to the wizard. "I am Hanner the Warlock, Chairman of the Council of Warlocks," he said.
The wizard looked at him silently for a moment, then said, "I'm a wizard. You don't need my name."
Names had power, Hanner remembered-some spells required the name of the person the spell would affect.
The wizard was not simply being rude.
"Please yourself," Hanner started to say, but the final syllable stretched out and vanished as the carpet
abruptly turned and swooped downward. Wind rushed past him, yanking his words away. He closed his eyes
against the drying wind, and when he opened them again the carpet was sailing into a great dark opening in
an upper floor of a building he did not recognize.
Once inside, the carpet settled to the floor, and abruptly became as flat and lifeless as any ordinary rug.
Hanner looked around at a large rough chamber where most of one wall was open to the outside. There were
no furnishings, no windows other than the open wall; overhead were the bare rafters of a peaked roof.
The wizard got to his feet, then turned and watched, not offering his hand, as Hanner rose. "This way," he
said, pointing to a small, perfectly ordinary wooden door.
Hanner followed the wizard through the door into a small, bare, wooden room, where assorted cloaks and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"Hai!" the seated man said. "What do you want with us, warlock?"
Hanner ignored the feeling of wrongness and replied, "I need to speak to whomever it is that's going to decide
what the Wizards' Guild does about warlocks."
"If the Guild wishes to hear from you, they'll summon you," the red-robed man said.
"My uncle Faran waited to be summoned," Hanner said. "That didn't work out well. The Guild would summon
me if they knew what "was best for us all, themselves included. They don't know that yet, because they
haven't heard what I have to say. Surely, you don't maintain that even the Guild knows everything. Ithinia
never thought it necessary to speak to Lord Faran, and see how that turned out."
"Don't threaten me, warlock," the wizard said warningly. "I think you'll find me harder to kill than Lord Faran's
executioner."
"I was not making threats," Hanner said. "I merely speak the truth."
The mention of Faran's executioner, however, gave him the clue he needed to recognize the nature of the
wrongness he had felt.
The wizard had no heartbeat. In fact, he had no heart in his chest. Hanner could feel only a magical darkness
where a heart should be. Stopping his heart, as Hanner had done to Faran's slayer, would not be possible.
Hanner had heard of wizards doing this, hiding their hearts before undertaking some particularly perilous task;
they could still be hurt, but the heart would keep beating, wherever it was stored, and the wizard would not
die of injuries that would ordinarily be instantly fatal. He would be harder to kill, Hanner thought-but probably
not impossible.
If the wizard had taken such a precaution before coming to speak to him-well, it would seem that the
Wizards' Guild did accept that warlocks could pose a real threat.
That was promising, in a way.
And that they had prepared this messenger to speak to him, rather than sending some magical assassin
after him, was even more promising.
While Hanner considered this, the wizard had considered Han-ner's words. Now he responded.
"Very well," he said. "I'll bring you to them."
Hanner turned to Kirsha. "Put me down on the carpet," he said.
"Sir, are you sure-"
"I'm sure," Hanner said, cutting her off. "I've dealt with wizards for years. Put me on the carpet, then go back
to the house and wait for me. And don't use any more magic until tomorrow. If you have nightmares tonight,
don't ever use any more."
"As you say." Hanner felt himself pushed forward, and a moment later his feet touched the thick pile of the
carpet. He stepped forward cautiously.
It was like walking across a featherbed; he sat down quickly, and the wizard moved aside to make room.
Hanner turned to see Kirsha still hanging unsupported in midair, staring at him.
"Go on," he said, waving to her. "I'll be fine. We all will."
She waved back, then turned and flew away.
Then Hanner turned to the wizard. "I am Hanner the Warlock, Chairman of the Council of Warlocks," he said.
The wizard looked at him silently for a moment, then said, "I'm a wizard. You don't need my name."
Names had power, Hanner remembered-some spells required the name of the person the spell would affect.
The wizard was not simply being rude.
"Please yourself," Hanner started to say, but the final syllable stretched out and vanished as the carpet
abruptly turned and swooped downward. Wind rushed past him, yanking his words away. He closed his eyes
against the drying wind, and when he opened them again the carpet was sailing into a great dark opening in
an upper floor of a building he did not recognize.
Once inside, the carpet settled to the floor, and abruptly became as flat and lifeless as any ordinary rug.
Hanner looked around at a large rough chamber where most of one wall was open to the outside. There were
no furnishings, no windows other than the open wall; overhead were the bare rafters of a peaked roof.
The wizard got to his feet, then turned and watched, not offering his hand, as Hanner rose. "This way," he
said, pointing to a small, perfectly ordinary wooden door.
Hanner followed the wizard through the door into a small, bare, wooden room, where assorted cloaks and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]