"Six."
"Five."
"Done. Five rounds of silver. Three in advance, two on completion."
"One in advance."
Kolar sighed. "All right. One in advance."
"It may not be both of us who come," Lar said, as he reached for his purse. "One of us may have business elsewhere."
"As you please."
"You understand that I am not asking about the nature of the hum, but about its exact source, and I will not pay for information about its nature."
Kolar nodded. "You want to know the nature and location of the source, not of the hum itself. Yes." He hesitated. "Do you want to know about its duration? Might it still be going?"
Lar blinked. "Oh, it's still going. We know that. We just want to know the source."
"Ah. I see."
"I hope not. It would be better to not ask more than necessary about this."
With that, Lar and Emmis took their leave.
"That went well," Lar said, as the wizard's door closed behind them.
"I suppose," Emmis said. "You did bargain him down by half."
"I meant that we were fortunate to find someone who could perform the spell I need."
"You're assuming he actually can," Emmis said.
"So is he," Lar said, "or he wouldn't have agreed so quickly to only one round in advance. He's so sure it will work and he'll get the whole payment that a day's delay doesn't matter."
"Or he just wants us to think that."
Lar looked annoyed.
"So some time tomorrow, if Hagai is following us again, we'll split up?" Emmis asked. "And whoever he doesn't follow will come back here for the spell."
"Yes."
"And if no one's following us, we'll both…"
"No," Lar cut him off. "Then I'll come alone. There are some other questions I may want to ask."
"Oh." Emmis nodded. "I need to talk to my contact at the Palace tomorrow, in any case."
"You can do that first. We have all day."
"Oh," Emmis said again. "Are we going back to the house now?"
"Yes."
"Good."
It had been a very long, wearing day, and Emmis was looking forward to putting it behind him – not that tomorrow would be entirely free of problems, he was sure, what with the divination spell and talking to the guardsman. For the next several minutes he walked quietly beside his employer, pointing out the correct direction when they reached Arena Street.
The streets of the Wizards' Quarter were mostly empty now; the few stragglers were hurrying along, most of them wrapped in their cloaks against the fresh breeze blowing from the northeast. Emmis had no cloak or coat, but the wind was not so very cold, really – just enough to keep them walking briskly, not dawdling. Emmis folded his arms across his chest for warmth, hugging his woolen tunic to himself.
Lar, of course, was wearing his red velvet coat and fancy hat; he was fine.
Several of the torches on the street corners were beginning to gutter and die; the shops were almost all dark, while many of the rooms upstairs showed lights. The lesser moon shone brightly pink among the stars overhead; the greater moon was not visible.
"Will you be able to find the right shop tomorrow, if Hagai follows me?" Emmis asked as the pair turned the corner onto Arena Street.
"I think so," Lar replied. "Left from Arena onto Wizard Street, then it's on the right. Kolar the Sage."
Emmis nodded. "This hum Vond heard – it has something to do with his magic? Or with his empire?"
"Don't ask," Lar said.
Emmis frowned. "If it's such a secret, why did you bring me along?"
"In case I needed advice. I'm a stranger here, remember?"
"Do you really have a grandson named Kelder?"
"Not that I know of, named Kelder or anything else."
"You just wanted to know whether there was some reason warlocks don't go to Vond?"
"Yes."
"You're lucky that warlocks can't tell lies from truth the way witches can."
"Yes, I am."
"So do you think that's all it is? That the Small Kingdoms killed their warlocks on the Night of Madness?"
Lar turned up an empty palm. "It might be. I don't really remember any such killings in Semma, but I did hear about some in Ksinallion, and maybe elsewhere."
"Semma never had any warlocks? No one was affected?"
"A few people disappeared on the Night of Madness, just as they did everywhere," Lar said. "But I never heard of any warlocks after that, until Vond came." He glanced at Emmis. "Do you remember the Night of Madness?"
Emmis snorted. "I was still in my mother's womb. No, I don't remember it."
"Ah, you're younger than I thought."
"So you're here to find out about this hum, and why warlocks haven't been fleeing into your empire to escape the Calling – why did that need an ambassador, instead of a trader?"
"Because I'm also here to make an alliance with the overlords, if I can," Lar said. "That's not just for show."
Emmis nodded.
"Is Ethsharitic really the empire's official language?" he asked. If it was, he thought, it was odd how many holes there were in Lar's vocabulary.
"Well, officially, yes. It was Vond's native tongue, and he didn't want to bother learning any others, and after all, we had seventeen or eighteen languages to deal with. In practice, Semmat and Ksinallionese and Trader's Tongue are probably used more."
"I see." That did explain the matter. "That should make it easier to deal with the overlord, I suppose."
"I suppose," Lar said.
They walked on without further conversation. Emmis glanced up at the lesser moon as it sank behind the rooftops, then lowered his gaze and hunched his shoulders against the north wind.
Chapter Nine
Emmis slept late, and barely had time to make a trip to Cut Street Market to stock the pantry before he had to head for the plaza to find the palace guard he had spoken to.
He wasn't entirely sure that Cut Street was the closest market square; he did not know his way around Allston yet. He did, however, know where it was, and what he could expect to find there. That was enough to send him hurrying across the New City, his purse at the ready.
He got several sacks of provender back to the kitchen on Through Street, but had no time to do more than set them on the shelves before hurrying to the Palace. He had eaten a few tidbits at the market, but not had a proper breakfast, so he was hungry, but he tried not to think about that as he trotted down Arena Street.
The outer guards let him pass, and the guard at the door waved. "There you are!" he said, as he began fumbling under his breastplate.
"Here I am," Emmis agreed, as he came to a halt.
"Here," the guard said, handing him a folded parchment.
Emmis accepted it, and looked it over.
It was large and stiff, folded and sealed with red wax. Ornately-drawn runes on one side read, "To his Excellency the Ambassador Plenipotentiary of the Vondish Empire."
"What is it?" Emmis asked.
"I don't know," the guard said. "I asked the captain who you needed to talk to, and he said he didn't know but would find out, and this morning he told me to expect a paper, and an hour later a messenger gave me that, said it was from Lord Ildirin, the overlord's uncle."
"The overlord has an uncle?"
Emmis regretted the words as soon as they left his lips; he remembered watching the funeral rites when the old overlord, Azrad VI, had died, five years before, and he remembered asking his mother who those old people standing around the pyre were, and being told that some of them were Azrad's brothers and sisters. She hadn't known which was which, or any of their names except Lady Imra, and Emmis hadn't been close enough to really see their faces in any case, but she had been quite sure they were the dead man's siblings.