Perhaps, Hanner thought, Zarek knew secrets for living relatively well in the Hundred-Foot Field-or perhaps he had somehow managed to clean himself up tonight before venturing into the Wizards’ Quarter.
Asking him directly how he had achieved this seemed rude, and Hanner was too tired to really take that much of an interest. Instead he said, “I think we can find somewhere better to stay than the Field.”
Zarek turned up a hand. “I can’t afford to pay anything.”
“Ican,” Hanner said. “But I hope we won’t have to.” He looked toward the Palace, hoping to see his uncle or a messenger approaching.
Instead he saw the ranks of spear-carrying guardsmen, standing ready to face the strange magic that threatened the city’s peace.
Hanner wondered just how effective those spears would be against warlocks. Oh, some warlocks were undoubtedly too weak or unskilled to fend off a solid thrust or well-aimed throw, but he had no doubt that Rudhira, for one, could have easily turned aside any single attack.
At that thought he looked around for Rudhira and spotted her perched, catlike, atop a garden wall, looking not out at the waiting soldiers, but inward, into the darkened garden of one of the mansions facing upon the square.
Hanner wondered what she saw there-hedges and fountains and flowers, presumably. Hanner took a moment to orient himself and realized that the garden belonged to Adagan, Lord of the Shipyard. Hanner knew Adagan, of course, but had never seen his gardens. They had no special reputation for excellence.
Rudhira, though, was a Camptown streetwalker-or had been until tonight, at any rate. She might well have never seen a real garden before.
A streetwalker. And Zarek was a homeless beggar. Hanner frowned. What was he doing among these people? He was a lord, an assistant to the overlord’s chief advisor, specializing in the relationship between government and magic; what business did he have with these beggars and whores?
But of course, they were magicians now. Whoever was responsible for this new magic had certainly shaken up the natural order of things.
Hanner did not appreciate that. Apparently Lord Azrad didn’t much like it, either. Hanner wondered how long this warlockry business would last-hours? Days? Years? Forever?
Short of divination there was no way to know, and Hanner had no intention of waking up a wizard or theurgist at this hour to buy a divination that might not even work, as predictive magic about magic was notoriously unreliable. Tomorrow he might go back to the Wizards’ Quarter and inquire, but now he just wanted to sleep.
He wasn’t quite as exhausted as he might ordinarily have expected after staying up so late and walking all over the city, but he supposed that was just the excitement.
He stood up and stretched, and was about to settle back on the curbstone when the line of soldiers parted, and his sister, Lady Alris, appeared.
“Hanner?” she called uncertainly, eyeing the warlocks scattered around the intersection. Hanner realized that he was standing in the shadow of the little shrine, where the soldiers’ torchlight didn’t really reach; he stepped forward and called, “Here I am!”
“Oh!” Alris hesitated, then ran to him, stopping a few feet away.
“Uncle Far an sent you?”
Alris nodded. “He can’t leave the Palace.”
That wasn’t really a surprise; Hanner supposed his uncle was closeted with the overlord somewhere, discussing the situation— though Naral had said the overlord had retired.
Well, perhaps Faran was talking to underlings, preparing them for whatever was to be done in the morning.
“May we enter, then?” Hanner asked.
“No, of course not,” Alris said, startled.“No one may enter! That’s why Uncle Faran can’t leave-the overlord isn’t lettinganyone in, not even him! Not the guards, not messengers-they have to call their messages through the door without stepping inside. No exceptionsat all.”
“Oh,” Hanner said, startled. “But then how willyou get back in?”
“I won’t,” Alris said. “I’ll be staying with you.” She smiled, the brightest smile Hanner had seen from her in months. “It’ll be an adventure!”
“Staying where?” Hanner asked.
“Oh, well, that’s why Uncle Faran sent me,” Alris said. She reached into the purse on her belt and produced an ornate black key. “He didn’t trust anyone but us with this, and Nerra refused to come, so I volunteered.”
Hanner had never seen the key before, but he knew immediately what it must be for. Lord Faran’s official residence was in the Palace, where he was easily available when Lord Azrad wanted him, but he was not, in fact, always available. He was only home in the Palace perhaps four nights in ten. Hanner and his sisters had long suspected thathe— maintained an unofficial residence as well, where he could indulge himself in interests that might not please the overlord and might not be welcome in the Palace.
None of them knew where this other residence was, though— or at least, none of them had until now. “He told you where it is?” Hanner asked.
Alris nodded. “It’s at the corner of High Street and Coronet Street. The northeast corner.”
That was about half a dozen blocks to the southwest of where they now stood, in the New City.
“Lead the way,” Scanner said. Then he raised his voice and called, “Yorn! Rudhira! Varrin! All of you! Follow me!”
Alris started and looked about nervously as the warlocks rose — some of them Veil into the air — and assembled. “Uncle Faran said we could stay there, Hanner,” she said. “You and me, not all these people.”
“They need to stay somewhere” Hanner replied. “I ordered them to follow me, back in the Wizards’ Quarter; that makes me responsible for them. They can sleep on the floor; I’m sure we can squeeze them all in.”
Hanner knew enough of his uncle’s tastes to be sure of that; Faran was not the sort: to settle for a mere furnished room for his trysts. Hanner expected a fair-sized apartment.
“I don’t-” Alris began.
“Alris,” Hanner said, cutting her off, “we’reall going. It’s my decision, not yours; if Uncle Faran doesn’t like it we can deal with that later. Now, lead the way.”
Reluctantly, Alris obeyed, and the entire party trudged out of the torchlit square into0the shadowy streets.
Chapter Ten
Kennan stood in the corner of the plaza, staring in frustration at the ranked soldiers.
They wouldn’t let himnear the Palace. When he had told them he had to speak with the Lord High Magistrate about his stolen son, they had told him that a hundred other people were in line ahead of him, and the overlord wasn’t lettinganyone see Lord Karannin.
And then when those people had come flying up Arena Street the soldiers hadn’t taken them prisoner or tried to kill them— instead they had just sent someone totalk to them. Kennan stood up on his toes, trying to see clearly, as the officer talked to the chubby young man in the fancy tunic.
As he watched, the officer turned and beckoned to another soldier. They spoke quietly for a moment, and then the second soldier began pushing his way toward the Palace.
Kennan watched, fuming-was that guardsman going to be permitted in, where he, an honest citizen with a legitimate grievance, was not?
But then the guardsman was stopped on the bridge, and his message, whatever it was, was relayed from there.