“Oh, you think so?” she said, and the boy abruptly dropped to the street, landing on his back on the hard-packed dirt with the wind knocked out of him. Rudhira swept down and landed beside him. She didn’t touch him, but Hanner could see the boy struggling unsuccessfully to sit up.
“Don’t you try to pushme around, boy,” Rudhira said.
“Don’t hurt him!” Hanner called as he ran up panting. “We don’t know whether he’s done anything...”
“I haven’t,” the boy gasped.
“He tried to knock me down,” Rudhira said. “I felt it.”
“I was just pushing you away,” the boy said. “You frightened me!”
“Why?” Rudhira asked angrily. “Why should you be scared of me?”
“You were flying!”
“So were you!”
“But I... you’rebigger than me.”
This was just barely true, given Rudhira’s rather small stature, but she was definitely an adult, while the boy definitely was not.
“And my magic is stronger,” Rudhira said, finally letting the boy sit up. “Don’t you forget it, either.” As Hanner went down on one knee beside the boy he glanced up at Rudhira, but said nothing in reply. He was not happy to hear her words; she sounded a little too assertive about her newfound abilities. Apparently shewas the most powerful of his group of warlocks, but that didn’t mean she had the right to push anyone around.
“Are you all right?” Hanner asked the boy, offering a hand to help him up.
“I guess so,” he said, taking the hand and getting to his feet. Hanner noticed that the boy was looking past him; he glanced over his shoulder and saw that the rest of his party had turned the corner and was watching intently. The other two flyers, the old man in the linen shirt and a plump nondescript woman, were on the ground now.
Hanner wished he had taken the trouble to learn everyone’s name, so he could call instructions, but he hadn’t. He turned back to the boy.
“What are you doing out on the streets at this time of night? Shouldn’t you be at home with your parents or your master?”
“My parents told me to stay outside until I stopped moving things and bumping into things. I was trying to learn how to control this magic.”
“Warlockry,” Hanner said. “That’s what the witches call it.”
“Well,whatever it is, I didn’t ask for it!” the boy said in a thoroughly aggrieved tone. “I had a nightmare and I woke up in midair over my bed, and I knocked the pitcher off the nightstand when I let myself fall, and it broke all over the floor and woke up my brothers, and then my mother came and ordered me out of the way while she cleaned up the mess, and I stumbled on the stairs and went flying and knocked over a lamp, and my father yelled at me and told me to go outside if I was going to bump into things. So I did, and I’ve been practicing flying. And other stuff.” He looked at Rudhira. “How did you make me fall? I know how to push things, but you did something different.”
“It’s easy enough,” Rudhira said. “I’m not sure how to explain it, though. I used some of my magic to... to erase yours, sort of.”
“Can you teach me how? And how to fly better?”
“I don’t think this is the time or place for that,” Hanner interjected firmly as the rest of the party came up to join them. “I think it’s time you went home and went back to bed. If this magic hasn’t gone away by morning come to the Palace and ask for Lord Hanner, and I’ll see if someone wants to teach you some tricks.”
“You’re Lord Hanner?”
“Yes, I am. Now, go home. On foot.”
“Yes, my lord.” The boy glanced at the motley collection of people staring at him, then turned and ran down Circus Street. At a corner he turned again and was out of sight.
That left Hanner standing at the front of his little mob of warlocks. “You didn’t ask him to join us,” the guardsman said. “He’s just a child,” Hanner said, “and it’s the middle of the night.” He glanced at the soldier. “What did you say your name is?”
“Yorn of Ethshar, my lord.”
“That’s right, Rudhira told me. Yorn, don’t you think we have enough warlocks already?” He gestured at the others.
“I suppose so, my lord,” Yorn admitted.
“Ithink so,” Hanner said. “If something happens to prove I’m wrong, you’re welcome to say you told me so.”
Yorn didn’t answer that.
“Come on,” Rudhira said, rising into the air. “Let’s get to the Palace.” She swooped overhead like an immense red bird, back toward Arena Street.
With a sigh, Hanner followed, the others trooping or gliding along-the other flyers were airborne again.
They had gone another dozen blocks when a woman came running out of Fish Street onto Arena, glancing about wildly. She stopped at the sight of Hanner’s group, hesitated, her attention clearly focused on Yorn’s uniform.
“What’s wrong?” Hanner called.
“You’re... you...” She stared about wildly, and then froze, speechless, when she saw Rudhira and the other two flyers.
“Yorn, tell her we won’t hurt her,” Hanner ordered.
“It’s all right, ma’am,” Yorn said. “These people are all under control. Now, tell Lord Hanner what’s wrong.”
“Down there,” the woman said, pointing back along Fish Street. “It’s horrible! Two of them, throwing everything around...”
“I think we’d better take a look...” Hanner began-but then he stopped. Rudhira was already swooping around the corner, flying down Fish Street. Hanner sighed again. “Come on,” he told the others, waving them forward as he ran after Rudhira.
The entire party broke into a run-or a glide, for those capable of flight-in pursuit of Rudhira. They were not evenly matched; the faster quickly left the slower behind.
They heard the confrontation before they saw it-people shouting, glass shattering, loud thumping. At last Hanner rounded a curve and stopped.
Rudhira was still airborne, but only a few feet off the ground, her waist roughly even with the top of Hanner’s head. Her hands were flung up defensively, guarding her face as a storm of hard and heavy objects flung themselves at her-bricks, stones, broken furniture. All turned aside before they reached her, to drop harmlessly to the hard-packed dirt. Fifty feet farther down Fish Street two men hung in the air, one scarcely out of his teens and dressed in a fine velvet tunic that was at least a size too small, the other middle-aged and wearing good brown homespun. The street beneath them was strewn with debris-and bodies. At least four people lay motionless amid the rubble, and Hanner could not tell whether they were alive or dead.
It was from this field of rubble that objects were rising and accelerating toward Rudhira.
The entire scene was eerily lit by the flames of burning buildings; several of the houses and shops here had been torn open, their doors, walls, and windows ripped out into the street, and spilled lamps or flung torches had set curtains, carpets, and other furnishings ablaze in the ruined interiors thus exposed. One thatched roof had caught as well; fortunately, Hanner noticed, the surrounding roofs were proper tile, so the flames might not spread-though burning wisps of straw might be carried on the hot winds...
“Gods!” someone behind Hanner said.
“Don’t just stand there,” Hanner snapped. “Stop them!”
The other two flyers in Hanner’s party had already come up alongside Rudhira; now the three of them formed a united front, and the hail of flying rubble slowed and stopped. Rudhira lowered her hands and glared at the two men.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said in a voice that carried unnaturally, echoing from the walls still standing on either side.