He didn’t like it, though. Ifhe couldn’t get back in, then no one could. He wondered where Hanner was-not in the Palace, according to the guards at the entrance, but that left all the rest of the World.
Faran hoped he was safe in Mavi’s bed, but somehow he doubted that Hanner had managed that.
“We’ll send Ithinia a messenger later,” Azrad said. “For now, though, I want to get back to my bed, and when you’ve answered one more question I plan to do exactly that.” He shifted in his seat and then continued, “Tell me, then-do you know anything about this magic that’s running loose?”
Faran hesitated.
Sooner or later he might want to admit the truth-or he might not; if the magic turned out to be temporary, something that vanished at sunrise, then perhaps it would be best quickly forgotten.
Right now, though, Faran was not about to tell Azrad that he, the overlord’s chief advisor, was one of the people touched by the mysterious power. Lord Azrad was clearly in no mood to tolerate such a revelation.
“Not a thing, I’m afraid,” Lord Faran said.
Elken the Beggar smiled to himself as he hurried along Wall Street.
Those other fools back in the Wizards’ Quarter had obeyed when that fat little lordling told them to follow him to the Palace, but Elken wasn’t stupid enough to do that. He had other plans.
Nobody knew what this new magic was or what it could do, but they were already trying to find ways to control it. Lord Hanner and his party, Mother Perréa and the witches, all the wizards and guardsmen and the rest, they just wanted to put everything back the way it was.
And they would probably succeed. The new magic would be erased or controlled all through the city streets, and everything would once again obey the overlord’s laws.
Except that there were places where the overlord’s laws had never meant much, and Elken lived in one of them.
Other people with the new magic would want to improve themselves with it. They would probably pretend to be real magicians and would go into the streets looking for ways to use it to earn money. They would obey the law.
They wouldn’t stay in the Hundred-Foot Field with the thieves and beggars. Which meant, Elken thought, that there was an opportunity here. Being one magician among many was nothing special, but being theonly magician in the Hundred-Foot Field would be another matter.
He smiled again, looked out across the Field, and casually, purely for the enjoyment of the sensation of control, tipped over someone’s tent fifty feet away before hurrying on.
The streets were quieter now. Kennan had been grabbing pas-sersby, if they were on foot rather than airborne and didn’t look dangerous, and asking them if they knew what was happening; so far he hadn’t gotten anything close to a decent answer. The mad ones, the ones flying by or flinging objects in all directions, he had sometimes hidden from, sometimes shouted at, but they had not been any better.
Some sort of magic was loose in the city, clearly-but nobody seemed to know what. People had disappeared-Aken was not the only one-but no one knew who had taken them or why.
The only guardsman Kennan had seen had pulled away, saying he was too busy to worry about one missing man.
Kennan stood in the doorway of his house, looking out at the empty street, with Sanda pressing up behind him, peering over his shoulder. He was thinking.
At last he reached a decision.
“Someone has to know what’s going on,” he said, “and someone has to be doing something about it. I’m going to go to the Palace and demand an explanation.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sanda said.
Kennan turned and pushed her back inside.
“No, you won’t,” he said. “You’ll stay here and look after the children.”
“They’re all asleep...”
“No, I said!” Kennan glowered at her, his hand still pushing at her shoulder. “What if little Sarai wakes up and wants her mother? What if one of them gets sick? What if the magic tries to take one ofthem}”
“I couldn’t stop it...” Sanda began halfheartedly-but she was no longer resisting the pressure of Kennan’s hand.
“And what if Aken comes back as soon as I’m out of sight around the corner and finds usboth gone?”
Sanda blinked, suddenly silent, and stepped back into the house.
“I’ll stay here until you come back,” she said.
“Good,” Kennan said, lowering his hand. “Good.” He tried to smile at her, without much success. “Don’t worry, Sanda. I’ll find him. I don’t know why the magicians took him or what they did with him, but I’ll find out.” He stepped back inside long enough to give her a quick, reassuring hug, then turned and marched out of the house, closing the door tightly behind him.
The overlord would probably be asleep at this hour, closer to dawn than sunset, butsomeone at the Palace was surely awake, and someone there would either give him the answers he wanted or direct him to where they could be found.
If they didn’t, they would regret it.
Chapter Nine
The walk to the Palace took Hanner’s company more than two hours-they made detour after detour as they encountered one incident after another. Hanner took the time along the way to ask a few questions and learned that his other two flyers were Varrin the Weaver and Desset of Eastwark. He learned the names of about half the others, as well, including the four warlocks they had taken prisoner: the girl who had stolen jewelry was Kirsha the Younger; Saldan of Southgate had dueled with the warlock Rudhira killed; Roggit Rayel’s son had been looting cash from shops and taverns, and Gror of the Crooked Teeth had been smashing windows more or less at random.
Three other warlocks had fled and not been deemed worth pursuing; half a dozen had been calmed down and sent home. Had Hanner realized how many he would encounter, he thought, he might not have chosen to take Kirsha and Gror as prisoners, since they had not harmed anyone and seemed to have regretted their crimes-but having already made the decision, he was not inclined to reverse it.
The journey seemed interminable, but at last Hanner, at the head of his party, emerged from Arena Street into the torchlit plaza-and found himself facing a wall of guardsmen, lined up six deep, armed with spears.
Spears were either for show or for serious fighting and putting down riots or insurrections; swords and truncheons were standard for the far more usual patrol and police work.
“What’s going on?” Hanner demanded as the rest of his group, including the prisoners, emerged from the dark street and gathered behind him. Rudhira was still flying and swept up to hover above him.
The rows of guards promptly aimed their spears in her general direction.
“Put those down!” Hanner bellowed as best he could-he was exhausted, and at its best his voice had never been the commanding roar his uncle could produce, so the result was not very impressive. “She’s with me.”
“That’s Rudhira,” one of the soldiers said. “I know her.”
“Who ishe?” someone else asked.
“I am Lord Hanner,” Hanner shouted. “Nephew and heir to Lord Faran, the overlord’s chief advisor. Now, what’s going on here? Who’s in charge?”
The lines of spearmen shuffled for a moment, then parted, and a captain, gold-trimmed breastplate over his yellow tunic, stepped forward. He bore no spear, but his hand was on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
The face was familiar; Hanner, tired as he was, needed a few seconds before he could attach a name.
“Lord Hanner,” the captain said, before the name came to Hanner’s lips.
“Captain Naral,” Hanner said. “May I ask what is going on here, and why all these men are on parade in the middle of the night?”