"There," Kelder said, pointing. "That's the alley. Tithi lured him in and I stabbed him."

The guardsman started to say something and to shove Kelder forward, but Emmis ignored them and ran to the narrow opening Kelder had indicated.

The alley beyond was almost totally black; there were no lit windows, no torches, no moonslight, and the dull glow reflecting off the overcast did little to help.

"I need a light," Emmis said, peering into the gloom. "Give me your lantern."

"It's not lit," the guard said, as he awkwardly unhooked it from his belt, using just one hand because his other was still locked onto Kelder's shoulder.

"I'll manage." He took the lantern, then fished in his belt-pouch for flint, steel, and tinder.

As he knelt in the mouth of the alley, struggling to strike a light, he listened closely, hoping to hear breathing in the darkness around the corner, breathing that would mean Zhol was still alive.

Even better, perhaps, would be if Zhol was not there at all, if he had recovered enough to make his way out of the alley to find help – but if he wasn't there, how would they find him? If there was no sign he had been there, would that mean he had recovered, or that Kelder had lied?

Then the tinder caught, and he opened the lantern and carefully held the spark to the wick within. It caught, and light flared up.

Emmis lifted the lantern high, and peered into the alley.

Zhol was there, lying face-down in the dirt – and in a pool of dried blood.

There was no question at all – he was dead.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"You really killed him," Emmis said, as he approached Zhol's body with the lantern held high. "You bloody, pox-ridden fool, you killed him!"

"I told you," Kelder mumbled from behind. His voice sounded weak and strained, presumably from the pain of his injury, but Emmis suspected that was exaggerated. Broken arm or not, Emmis was sure the murderous fool was looking for a chance to escape, and probably hoped to lull the guardsman into carelessness. He had undoubtedly retraced his steps, rather than coming here directly, to give himself more time to find a way to slip away – or to give his allies more time to find and free him.

And he had probably shown them where the body was as a distraction or delaying tactic, as well. He must have known Zhol was dead.

Emmis had hoped to find Zhol still with a spark of life in him, but surely no one could lose that much blood and live – and that was ignoring the visible, ragged, no-longer-bleeding hole in the back of Zhol's neck, and the general appearance of the corpse. Zhol looked far more definitely dead than did the petrified Lar, back in Ithinia's parlor.

For one thing, Emmis was fairly sure that some of the marks on Zhol's outflung hand were rat bites – rat bites that hadn't bled, meaning they were inflicted after death.

That was not a happy thought. His mouth tightened.

"You did that?" the live guardsman demanded.

"I told you," Kelder repeated feebly.

"Then you're a dead man. Come on, we'll find a magistrate."

"At this hour? Couldn't I... go home, for tonight, and you..."

"Come on!" the guard insisted. "And you, too, as witness!"

Emmis turned, startled. "Me? But I need to get back to Lower Street!

Lord Ildirin and Guildmaster Ithinia are waiting for me!" As he turned, the lantern-light sparkled momentarily off something; Emmis paused, and tried to locate the source of the glitter.

The lantern's light was dim and uneven, but he spotted it quickly – a glass jar lay on the ground, half-hidden by a pile of weathered rubbish. Emmis stooped.

"Lord Ildirin?" the guardsman said. "What are you doing there?"

"I was helping Lord Ildirin negotiate with the Vondish ambassador,"

Emmis said.

"No, I mean what are you... what do you have there?"

Emmis picked up the jar; it was cracked, but had only leaked a little, and still held at least half a pint of thick golden liquid.

"He bought that in Southmarket," Kelder wheezed. "We thought it might be... I don't know, something else, even though we saw him buy it, but it's just honey. I wanted to keep it anyway, but Tithi threw it against the wall and cracked the bottle, so I left it."

"Honey," Emmis said bitterly. "Zhol died for this." He held up the jar and said, "Assassin, here's the honey I promised you."

"Honey!" The jar was snatched from his hand, the brass lid ripped off it, and for a moment it hung in the air, glittering in the lantern's light.

Then the honey vanished with a loud sucking noise, and the empty jar fell to the alley floor and shattered.

"Was that enough?" Emmis asked.

Nothing answered.

Well, he told himself, either it was enough, or the creature was being difficult – perhaps its mouth was full. Either way, there wasn't much he could do about it.

"We need to get you to a magistrate," the guard said.

"What about the body?" Emmis asked.

"We'll come back for it."

That wasn't right, Emmis knew it wasn't right, he was utterly unwilling to leave Zhol's remains lying there, but it took him a second to think of what he should say to explain this to the guard.

Then it came to him. "There are rats here," Emmis pointed out.

The guardsman hesitated.

"You don't need a witness," Emmis said. "You heard him admit he killed him. He led us to the body. And if there's any doubt, the magistrate can ask a witch, can't he?"

"Witches cost money," the guardsman replied doubtfully. "The magistrates don't like spending money. But – you want to stay here?"

"No," Emmis said. "I want to take the body back to Lower Street with me. Lord Ildirin is waiting for us; Zhol was one of his personal escort. Lord Ildirin and Ahan and Shakoph will want to know what happened to him, and they'll know who to tell that he's dead."

That was all true – and it occurred to Emmis that they might want to talk to Zhol's killer, as well. After all, he had been hired by the Lumethans; he might know something useful.

"I don't know," the guardsman said.

"He's trying to trick you," Kelder said weakly. "He wants to steal this man's body."

"Why would he want to do that?" the guard asked, puzzled.

"To sell the parts to wizards, probably," Kelder suggested. "Don't they use soldier's hearts in some of their spells? Or a hand that's held a sword?"

"Not that I ever heard of," Emmis said. "Look, it's really late –

wouldn't you need to wake up the magistrate, once you found him?"

"Yes, but that's... it's part of the job."

"But it's not as if anyone's waiting for you to bring this killer in,"

Emmis said. "Why don't we all go talk to Lord Ildirin?"

"Don't listen to him! What if there isn't any Lord Ildirin? It could all be a trap..."

Emmis stared at Kelder. "What kind of a fool are you?" he asked. "If he takes you to a magistrate you'll be hanged tomorrow. If you come with me, Lord Ildirin may keep you alive much longer than that, for questioning. He might even make you a deal for your life."

Kelder's mouth opened, then closed again, and he twisted his head to look at his captor.

The guardsman was clearly thinking hard.

"I can't keep my hold on him and help carry the body," he said.

"I'll carry the body," Emmis said. "I'm a dockworker, I'm good at carrying things."

"To Lower Street? That's all the way on the far side of New City Hill."

Emmis sighed. "I know," he said. "Maybe we'll meet someone on the way who can help."

The guardsman nodded. "All right, then," he said. "That's what we'll do."

"Just take me to the magistrate and get it over with," Kelder muttered.

Emmis stared at him, and a realization struck – he had thought about it before, but had been too intent on finding Zhol to really think about it. "His partner," he said. "That man Tithi. He's trying to get you alone, away from me and the invisible monster, so his partner can ambush you and set him free. Or if not his partner, maybe the Lumethans who hired them."

The guardsman gave Kelder a sideways glance. "You think so?"

"I do!"

"I wouldn't... I don't know what you're talking about," Kelder spluttered. "What partner? I don't..."

"The one who lured Zhol into this alley," Emmis said.

Kelder glared at him, started to say something, then winced. "Can we just find a magician, or even a doctor?" Kelder said. "My arm feels as if it's going to fall off."

"Fine," Emmis said. "There's a wizard at the house on Lower Street.

We'll take you there." He handed the guard the lantern and turned, ignoring Kelder's half-formed protests, then knelt by the body, and hesitated, suppressing a shudder.

He had never picked up a corpse before. An unconscious man, yes, when that idiot Karn tripped over the hatch coaming and fell into an empty hold, and Emmis had been the one they sent down to haul him out, but never a corpse.

He told himself it wasn't so very different, though. He grabbed poor Zhol under each arm and heaved the body upright, trying not to think about how utterly cold and limp it was, or how sticky the blood was, then turned it and hoisted it onto one shoulder. "Come on," he said, staggering slightly as he started walking.

The three men, Emmis, Kelder, and the guard, marched up Canal Avenue –

or rather, Emmis trudged under the weight of the body, Kelder shuffled along reluctantly, and the guardsman marched. Despite Emmis's burden, it was Kelder who slowed their progress; he clearly didn't want to go anywhere, and Emmis thought he caught the killer glancing down various alleyways along the way.

He was looking for Tithi or the Lumethans, Emmis was sure.

There was no sign of Fendel's Assassin, and Emmis was fairly sure the creature was really gone, but he did not want Kelder to know that, and occasionally directed a remark to the invisible monster, to keep Kelder uncertain.

Emmis also kept an eye on Zhol's sword; it was still in its scabbard, hanging from the dead man's belt, and Emmis made a point of keeping it untangled. If Tithi did jump out of an alley at them, Emmis wanted to be ready to drop the corpse and snatch the sword from its sheath.

Tithi did not appear, nor did anyone else; the street was dark and deserted, the windows on either side mostly shuttered and the torches at the intersections burning low. Canal Avenue was a surprisingly direct route from Southmarket to Lower Street, a walk of perhaps a mile or so with no need to change course, much faster than going by way of Cut Street Market, but it did lead directly over the largest hill in the city, and even a mile was a very long way when carrying two hundred pounds over one's shoulder. Emmis had to stop to rest more than once, switching the body to the other shoulder at each break.

"Once we're past New Cross Street it's all downhill," the guardsman mentioned at their first such stop.

"I know," Emmis said. That fact was small comfort; the body was heavy at any angle. And the weight wasn't the only problem; he was always uncomfortably aware of exactly what he was carrying. Something deep in him wanted to get away from the corpse, not carry it. Emmis thought that was some part of his mind reacting to the smell; while there was no real reek of corruption yet, the odor was subtly but definitely not that of a living man.

And of course, the skin was horribly cold to the touch.

He wondered what time it was; the sky was too cloudy to be any help, even if he remembered where the moons ought to be this time of year. The emptiness of the streets implied that it was very late indeed – and seemed a little unnatural, as most of Shiphaven was never this quiet; there were always a few drunken sailors or desperate whores staggering about.

He wished the guardsman could help with the weight, but he knew that wasn't possible; he was busy enough keeping Kelder upright and moving. Emmis wondered just how bad a break Fendel's Assassin had actually inflicted, and how much pain Kelder was really feeling; he certainly wanted everyone to think he was suffering unbelievable agony.

They crested the hill and started down through the New City; Kelder was growing steadily more agitated. Emmis doubted this had anything to do with his injury; he thought that Kelder had expected a rescue attempt before now, and was beginning to realize that his partner had deserted him and he was really going to be hanged.

At High Street, as Emmis had half expected, Kelder made a break for it, but not at all in the way Emmis had anticipated; he did not simply tear loose from the guard's grip and run for it. Instead he pretended to stumble and thrust out a leg, tripping Emmis.

Emmis struggled to remain upright, but with the weight on his shoulder it wasn't possible; what was possible was to twist as he fell, so as not to knock down the others, and to drop his burden so that he would not be trapped beneath it. He landed hard, catching himself on his elbows.

"Are you...?" the guard began, turning to see what was happening.

Then Kelder's elbow rammed into the guard's side, and the soldier flinched – not much, but enough to loosen his grip, which allowed Kelder to turn, and to swing his knee up, obviously aiming for the soldier's groin.

The guardsman was not that stupid; he twisted away from the blow, but let Kelder's arm slip from his grasp. Then Kelder was free and running west on High Street, toward the Old Merchants' Quarter.

The guardsman let out a wordless bellow and charged after him, pulling his truncheon from his belt.

Emmis made no attempt to join the pursuit; he lay sprawled on the hard-packed dirt of the street, catching his breath, his face inches from the pale, cold neck of Zhol's corpse. He closed his eyes, and wished he could close his nose; the smell of Zhol's dead flesh was definitely disturbing.

This was, he thought, the worst night of his life, even worse than the night of Azradelle's wedding. Lar might be paying him more than he had ever imagined he would earn, but it wasn't enough to make this worthwhile.

He rolled over and sat up.

People were shouting somewhere on High Street; a woman screamed. This neighborhood was apparently not as deserted as the other side of the hill.

Emmis put his hands to his temples, brushed his hair from his eyes, and looked west.

People were struggling; in the dim light he could not see exactly who they were, or what was happening. A blade flashed. Then an arm rose, holding a truncheon, and came down hard, and the struggling stopped.

Emmis swallowed bile, and began the process of getting back on his feet.

By the time he was upright and ready to take another look the scene on High Street had changed; two guardsmen were dragging a limp figure toward him, while a small crowd watched from a safe distance behind them. As they approached Emmis heard an unfamiliar voice ask, "What about him?"

The guard who had accompanied him to and from Southmarket replied, "I think he's all right; he says he works for Lord Ildirin. We were going to meet someone he knows on Lower Street – a wizard."

"If this man killed a guard, shouldn't he go to the nearest magistrate?"

"He said Lord Ildirin would want to question him."

"What? Who said?"

Emmis saw the guard on the left nod toward him. "He did."

"Well, I hope they aren't in any hurry about questioning him; you hit him pretty hard."

"He was asking for it."

"Then I'd say he got it. Was it you who broke that arm?"

"No, Emmis did that." Again, the guardsman nodded toward him.

"Good for him."

Then the trio, the two guards and the unconscious Kelder, reached the intersection of High Street and Canal Avenue. Emmis could see that the stranger carried a lantern on his belt; the night watch was earning its pay tonight.

He also held a long, narrow-bladed dagger in his free hand – definitely not anything the city watch would issue. Kelder had probably had that hidden somewhere.

Emmis was glad he hadn't kept it somewhere readily accessible; if the assassin had pulled that when they were grappling back on Merchant Street, matters might have gone very differently.

"Emmis of Shiphaven, this is Gror Grondar's son," the familiar guard said.

"Good to meet you," Gror said.

"Thank you," Emmis said. Then he turned to the other. "I never got your name."

Gror laughed as the other said, "Arnen of Freshwater." Arnen cast Gror an angry look.

"Arnen says you're taking these two to Lower Street."

Emmis nodded. "To Guildmaster Ithinia. Lord Ildirin is waiting for Zhol and me there."

"Guildmaster? Which guild, the wizards?"

"Yes."

"Then we don't want to keep her waiting, do we?" He shifted his grip on Kelder, glanced down at Zhol's corpse, then looked at Kelder's face. The prisoner's jaw was hanging open, a thread of drool trailing down one side of his pointed beard. His eyes were closed.

Gror turned back to Emmis, and jerked a thumb toward the body on the ground. "You carried that all the way from Southmarket?"

"Yes."

"Seems to me you've done your share of the hauling, then. Arnen, can you take this one?"

Arnen mumbled something, and a moment later he had Kelder slung over his shoulder while Emmis helped Gror heave Zhol's corpse onto his shoulder.

And that was how they covered the final three blocks to Ithinia's door, where Ahan and Shakoph hurried to their aid.

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Is Fendel's Assassin gone?" Emmis asked, as he sank into a chair.

Ithinia held up her dagger, which gleamed in the lamplight, but only with the natural sheen of polished metal. There was no blue glow. "So it would seem," she said. "It carried out its assignment and you gave it the honey you had promised, so it should be."

"Good." While it was true that the creature had defended him from Kelder, the thing made Emmis nervous. "So will you turn Lar back, then?"

"In a moment. When Lord Ildirin returns."

Emmis nodded. Ildirin was out on the street with the guards, discussing what was to be done with Zhol's body, and with Kelder; Emmis had been sent inside to rest.

He certainly needed rest; it had been a very, very long day. He wanted to curl up somewhere and go to sleep; a bed would be first choice, but at this point he wasn't picky and would happily settle for a reasonably clean floor. A chair in the parlor would be more than adequate.

But he wanted to see Lar alive again, first. He glanced at the statue that had been his employer and frowned.

"Will the counter-spell take as long as the original spell? Maybe I could take a nap..."

"What? No, of course not! It just takes a moment to reverse the spell."

"It does?"

"Yes, of course. There's no way I could do another three-hour spell tonight – it would be dawn by the time I finished it. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I have no intention of staying up that late."

Emmis refrained from pointing out that it was already ridiculously late. He leaned back in the chair.

The next thing he knew, Ahan was shaking him awake.

"Lord Ildirin thought you would want to see this," the guardsman said.

"I... uh..." Emmis sat up, trying to clear his head and wondering how long he had been asleep. It was still full night outside the parlor window, so it couldn't have been terribly long.

Ahan, Ildirin, and Ithinia were standing around Lar's petrified form; Ithinia was holding the crystal goblet she had used in the petrifaction spell.

"Ready?" she said.

Ahan moved from Emmis's side to a position behind the statue, ready to catch Lar if he started to fall. Emmis blinked; it seemed as if he should be doing something more than just sitting there, but he was still too bleary to think what it might be.

"Give me your truncheon," Ithinia said, holding out her free hand.

Ahan drew the weapon and passed it over. Ithinia accepted it, hefted it, and nodded. Then she crossed the room and stood behind a small marble-topped table. She set the goblet on the table, and raised the guardsman's club.

Emmis expected her to pause and speak an incantation, but she did nothing of the sort; instead, without any ceremony, she slammed the truncheon down on the goblet, smashing the delicate crystal to glittering splinters and sending droplets of brown liquid spraying across the room.

Emmis started. "What..."

Then a sound caught his ear, and he turned to see Lar, no longer stone and entirely normal in appearance, slumping into Ahan's waiting arms. Emmis had been so muzzy, and so focused on Ithinia, that he had completely missed the transformation.

But he hadn't been that distracted; it must have been almost instantaneous.

He got to his feet, wanting to help, but Ahan seemed to have the situation under control; Lar was blinking as if awakening.

"Oh, my," the ambassador said, straightening up out of Ahan's grasp.

"Oh, that was strange!"

"Are you all right, sir?" Emmis asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." Lar brushed at his sleeves as if removing dust, though there was no sign of any that Emmis could see. "Is... is it gone? The assassin?"

"It seems to be, yes."

Lar put a hand to his throat. "My neck..."

"It tried to wring your neck," Emmis said.

"Did it?" Lar took his hand away and looked at his spread fingers, apparently checking for blood and finding none, but Emmis could now see several long red scratches on the Vondishman's neck – none of them deep enough to bleed, but probably enough to be painful.

"Indeed it did," Lord Ildirin said. "Though only after our lovely hostess had cast a sleeping spell on you."

Emmis would not have thought of Ithinia as "lovely," but he supposed Ildirin was being polite – or perhaps his age gave him a different perspective.

"Is that what she did? I thought it was just the... the end of the first spell."

Emmis noticed the phrasing, and guessed that Lar was not confident enough of his Ethsharitic to use the word "petrifaction." "What was it like?"

he asked.

Lar shuddered. "Everything went black. I was... I couldn't feel anything at all. The world just faded away. It was as if I was floating in total darkness. But I could hear a little – just a little. I heard you ask if the creature was still here, and I heard Ithinia say that it was, that it wanted its honey and didn't think I was dead. She said I was made of granite, but I felt as if I wasn't made of anything."

"And then what?" Ildirin asked.

"And then... I fell asleep. And I woke up as Ahan caught me, just now."

He brushed at his hair nervously, then felt his neck again. "What happened?

How long was I... was I...?"

"Hours," Ithinia said.

"It's a long story," Emmis added.

"Well, I wish someone would tell me that story!"

"Of course you do," Ildirin said, "And I would be delighted to oblige you." He settled onto a chair facing Lar. "Have a seat, your Excellency, and I will tell you the entire tale. And then perhaps we can stop imposing on the Guildmaster's hospitality and take to our beds; I think any further business can wait until another day."

"But the Lumethans – have you caught them?"

"Not as yet, but we do have the man who young Emmis encountered in your home."

Lar blinked, and sank into a chair; Ahan stepped back, taking up an unobtrusive position against the wall by the door. "Tell me more," the Vondishman said.

"Well, as you are aware, the petrifaction spell worked perfectly..."

Ildirin began.

Emmis sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened.

It all seemed to be working out, he thought. The magical assassin was gone, the human assassin captured. The Lumethans were still out there, and that man Tithi, but with Lord Ildirin and Guildmaster Ithinia involved, that surely wouldn't be a problem. Lar was safe, at least for now.

Poor Zhol was dead, and that was horrible, but Emmis had hardly known him, and a guard's life was inherently dangerous. One of his killers was caught, and the other almost certainly would be.

The mysterious source of magical power in Lumeth of the Towers was still unidentified, and there was still the mystery of just what those sorcerous towers were and why wizards were protecting them, but those problems seemed far less immediate.

Ildirin's voice was oddly soothing. Emmis was no longer really listening to the words, but just the tone.

And then he woke up, and opened his eyes, and saw an unfamiliar ceiling above him.

He was lying in a bed – a good bed, smooth and warm and comforting, just soft enough – and staring up at a gilt-and-plaster ceiling that depicted spiral patterns of golden stars on a gleaming white background.

Emmis had never seen that ceiling before, he was quite sure. He turned his head.

The rest of the room was equally unfamiliar. He was in a fair-sized bedchamber decorated in white, red, and gold, lying in a large and luxurious but oddly uncanopied bed, beneath a snowy white sheet and a red satin quilt.

Two tables topped with white marble stood on either side; one held a white-and-gold bowl and pitcher.

This was, Emmis thought, by far the nicest place he had ever woken up in his life, and that was including not just the rented embassy on Through Street, but the bed of that shipowner's silly daughter on Flood Street –

though the company had been better there, as he was quite alone here.

He must have dozed off in Ithinia's parlor, while Lord Ildirin had been telling Lar what had happened – or perhaps Ithinia had used her sleep spell on him, though he really doubted any magic was necessary to explain it. Was this room in Ithinia's house, then? He threw off the covers and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

His boots were gone – or rather, now that he looked, they were on the floor by the bed, rather than on his feet. He was still wearing his own familiar tunic and breeches, though, with traces of Zhol's blood still smeared on his shoulders, and his socks were still in place. That was reassuring, and fit his theory nicely. He slid off the bed and stood up, then pulled aside the red-and-white draperies and peered out the nearest window.

Lower Street. He was in Ithinia's house, and judged the room to be directly over the parlor. For a moment he wondered whether the wizard had somehow lifted him right through the floor, but then he decided that was silly; why would she do that, when she could just have someone carry him up here?

He looked at the light; the sky was still overcast, making it hard to judge the hour, but it was clearly long past dawn, and probably around midday.

"Emmis of Shiphaven?"

Emmis started; he hadn't heard the door open, but a young woman was peering in at him. "Yes?" he said.

"The Guildmaster will see you now, or if you prefer, I can bring up some breakfast first."

Emmis considered that, then said, "Breakfast would be very welcome, thank you." After all, he had not eaten since supper the night before, and he had not exactly been resting on silken cushions all night. Food sounded like a wonderful idea, and this would give him time to compose his thoughts.

The door closed.

Emmis found the chamberpot under the bed and used it, then pulled his boots back on. He was just taking another look out the window when someone knocked on the door.

He opened it to find the girl had returned with a tray; she pushed past him and set it on the unoccupied bedside table, then curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her before he could think of a single thing to say.

The tray held beer, bread, and sardines – not his usual breakfast, but satisfying enough. A napkin was provided, as well. He ate enthusiastically; when he had finished he wiped his mouth and hands, and was trying to decide whether he should wait or find his own way downstairs when another knock sounded.

He opened the door, expecting to see the serving girl again, but instead found Ithinia standing there. He quickly adjusted his stance and bowed.

"Guildmaster," he said. "I'm honored."

"You have no idea," she said wryly, stepping into the room. "I don't even let my own servants sleep in my house. Now, you said you wished to speak to me in private?"

"Yes." Before he could say anything else, though, the serving girl appeared behind Ithinia. She slipped past her mistress to collect the breakfast tray.

Emmis and Ithinia stood silently while she bustled out, closing the door behind her.

"I'm surprised you use human servants," Emmis remarked. "She is human, isn't she?"

"She is," Ithinia said. "Her name is Irith the Brisk, and she's from Fishertown. I could create magical servants, of course, and I do have a few –

you may have noticed my gargoyles, I'm rather proud of them. But for household tasks, I've generally found hiring ordinary people more convenient. They're better at understanding what's needed, they aren't prone to odd restrictions in what they can do or where they can go, and they don't make guests nervous.

Now, your business?"

"Are Lar and Lord Ildirin still here?"

"They left long ago, taking their guards living and dead with them, not an hour after you fell asleep, though they're both expected to return this afternoon. I had plenty of time to talk to Lord Ildirin last night, while you were out dodging assassins and the ambassador was petrified, but there are still several matters to be settled and spells to be performed."

That disturbed Emmis. While it wasn't part of his official duties, he felt that his job included protecting Lar, and he couldn't very well do that if the ambassador left him sleeping here while he went roaming the streets in the middle of the night. "Why didn't they wake me?"

"I think they wanted to speak privately with one another. And I allowed it – encouraged it, actually – because you wanted to speak privately with me.

Which you are doing now, though to very little purpose as yet."

"I'm sorry," Emmis said. "It's something I heard from a theurgist yesterday." He blinked in surprise at his own words – had it really just been yesterday that he spoke to Corinal?

"Oh?"

"Guildmaster, why have wizards put protective spells on the towers in Lumeth? The theurgist said there were several very powerful protections on them, but the towers themselves are sorcerous in nature, not any sort of wizardry."

Ithinia froze, staring at him. Then she demanded, "What do you know about the towers?"

"I... not much, just what the theurgist told me. There are three of them, and each one is a sorcerer's talisman hundreds of feet high..."

"Why was this theurgist telling you about them in the first place?"

Ithinia snapped, interrupting him.

"Well, I asked. He consulted the goddess Unniel for me..."

"Why did you ask?"

"Because... I can't tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"I swore I wouldn't."

That was not literally true; he had merely accepted that Lar would have him killed if he revealed too much. Ithinia did not look as if she was interested in explanations at the moment, though.

"You swore."

"Yes." He didn't hesitate; it was only after the word had left his mouth that he found himself wondering whether he was absolutely sure that wizards couldn't always tell truth from falsehood the way witches could.

"Oaths have power, you know."

"I know."

"That was why the assassin lingered after its attempt had failed – your oath gave it the power to stay."

"I know."

"You need to be more careful what oaths you swear and what vows you make, Emmis of Shiphaven."

"Honestly, I don't swear them lightly, Guildmaster."

"So you swore not to reveal something, and that something led you to ask a theurgist about the Lumeth towers. Didn't he want to know why you were asking?"

"Not as long as I paid him, no. And I asked him a lot of questions; I don't think that one stood out particularly."

"But he told you that the Wizards' Guild has been warding the Lumeth towers for centuries."

Emmis blinked. "No. He told me wizards were protecting the towers. He didn't mention the Guild or how long it had been going on."

"He told you the towers were sorcerous, though."

"Yes. Which just seems... I mean, talismans hundreds of feet high?

Holding back poisons?"

"He told you that?"

"Yes. And that they're guarded by wizards' spells, powerful ones. And I thought that since you're a Guildmaster, you might know why they're guarded that way."

"I do – but why do you care? I know the ambassador is concerned about a possible war between Vond and Lumeth, but what does that have to do with you, or with the towers?"

"Well, because... I can't tell you all of it."

"What can you tell me?"

Emmis grimaced; he knew he should have been ready for this interrogation, that it hadn't been realistic to think Ithinia would answer his questions without asking her own, but he wasn't ready. He was making it up as he went along.

"I think... I'm not sure," he said, "but I think someone may be planning to destroy the towers, and I wanted to know just how much trouble that would cause."

"Destroy them?"

"Yes. If they can."

"They probably can't, but still – who is this? Who is insane enough to attempt anything like that?"

"I can't tell you."

"Young man, you are being extremely annoying."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed.

"All right," she said. "I'll tell you what I can, and when I'm done, you tell me as much as you can. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Emmis said, relieved. "That's perfect."

"Oh, it's anything but perfect, but it will have to do. Sit down; this may take awhile."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emmis sat on the bed; Ithinia took the room's only chair.

"At the dawn of time," she began, "the universe, unable to contain so many opposed forces in its original compact form, tore itself in half. One piece became Heaven, home of the gods, the realm of light and..."

"I know this," Emmis interrupted. "The gods in Heaven, demons in the Nethervoid, and the leftover bits in between formed the World. What does this have to do with Lumeth?"

"As we wizards tell the story, this middle realm wasn't just left over; it was where the gods and demons collected the impurities they cast out of their own realms. All the good that had been in the Nethervoid was put here, and all the evil that had been in Heaven. Gods and demons watched as it all combined to form a new place, and were amazed to see it was possible for something to exist that was such a blending of light and dark, of good and evil – after all, hadn't the universe itself just ripped apart because it couldn't hold both? But this new creation didn't show any sign of repeating that.

"So they wanted to see what else it could do."

"And they created people," Emmis said. "Yes, I know. I learned all this when I was a baby."

Ithinia calmly continued, "But the middle realm was such a mess, such a disorderly collection of cast-offs, that nothing could live in it."

Emmis had been going to say more, but he stopped and closed his mouth.

This wasn't part of the traditional creation story.

"So the gods and demons used all the forces at their disposal to make it habitable – or at least make the part of it we call the World habitable. We don't know how much they left a poisonous wasteland, but they raised up an immense plateau in the middle, where they divided land from water and cleansed the air above. And they did this using all the different powers that we now call magic – the power of the gods made the sun and set the cycles of days and years in motion, and the power of the demons made decay and death so that the World wouldn't ever be overwhelmed by its inhabitants. They used the chaos outside the universe to make life – we call that kind of power wizardry. They used witchcraft and dance and song and all the other magics to get everything just as they wanted it."

"Warlockry, too?" Emmis asked.

"No. Warlockry didn't exist; it's new. Which is why we weren't sure at first it was really a kind of magic at all, when it appeared twenty-two years ago. It must have come from somewhere beyond the universe, somewhere in the chaos."

"Oh."

"So no, they didn't use warlockry. But they did use sorcery. Sorcery draws on order the same way that wizardry draws on chaos, so the gods and demons used both, to keep a balance. They used sorcery to make air that could be breathed. The original gases that had covered the World were poisonous fumes; I'm told that if you go to the edge of the World and look over, you can still see them covering the wastelands below. They're said to be greenish-yellow and very unpleasant."

Emmis blinked. He had never heard of anything at all beyond the edge of the World.

"The thing about sorcery," Ithinia said, "is that it uses talismans.

That's inherent in it; the power it uses, a force the sorcerers call gaja, must have a physical core, or it dissipates and stops doing whatever magic it's supposed to be doing."

"And the towers in Lumeth..."

"Are the talismans the gods and demons created more than five thousand years ago to make the World's air breathable."

Emmis stared at her for a long moment, then said, "Oh."

"And the Wizards' Guild has been guarding them for as long as the Guild has existed, to make sure that nobody is ever stupid enough to damage them. We like being able to breathe."

"Oh," Emmis said again.

"So now, if you don't mind, just who is being stupid enough to risk sucking the air from the entire World and leaving it all a poisoned wasteland?"

"I can't tell you," he said.

She glared at him. "You do understand that if they're destroyed, the air will be deadly poison here in Ethshar, don't you? It won't just affect the Small Kingdoms."

"Yes, I understand that. I'm trying to think what I can tell you."

"You're working for the Vondish ambassador – is it Vond that's planning to destroy the towers?"

"Vond went off to Aldagmor years ago."

"Not the warlock, the empire."

Emmis hesitated.

"It is, then," Ithinia said, disgusted. "Why?"

"Well, I don't know for certain that they're going to try. I'm sure you could convince them not to."

"Why would they even consider doing something so insane? And how do you know about it?"

"They... I'm not saying it's the empire, all right? I never said that.

But the people I'm talking about know there's a source of magical power in Lumeth of the Towers and they want to destroy it so it can't be used against them, and I think the source they're looking for is the towers."

"You think?"

Emmis sighed. "Yes. I was... a wizard was hired to identify the source, and said he couldn't, because there's magic interfering, so I asked a theurgist to tell me everything in Lumeth that had protective spells on it, because I thought that would narrow it down, and he told me that there are protective spells on their government palace, and on a tunnel the Cult of Demerchan uses, and on a few personal things like spell books, but most of all on the towers. They've got a lot of protective spells on them. So maybe this magic source is in the Demerchan tunnel, or in the palace, but I'd expect to find protective spells on those anyway, and it seems more likely that the mysterious power source is these gigantic sorcerous talismans. Which would explain why the source has been so hard to identify."

Ithinia stared at him silently for a moment.

"A source of magical power, you said?"

"Yes."

"The towers aren't..." She stopped and frowned. After another moment of thoughtful silence she said, "If anyone asks, I cast a spell on you that forced you to tell me this. You resisted as best you could, but of course you were helpless against high-order wizardry."

"Of course," Emmis quickly agreed.

"I won't deny it. Just as well if everyone thinks we have such a spell handy, and that we're ruthless enough to use it on innocent bystanders."

Emmis blinked, hesitated, then asked, "Don't you have such a spell?"

"Not really, no. I wish we did. We have a few spells that could get answers to specific questions, but they aren't entirely reliable. Witches are much better at that sort of thing, but I'm never going to tell anyone the Wizards' Guild had to ask witches for help." She sighed. "Though if you stop cooperating, I will ask a witch for help. Which would be awkward for all of us."

"I'm trying to cooperate, but I promised never to reveal certain things, and it's understood that if certain people learn them my life is forfeit."

"Am I one of those people?"

"No, but... no, you aren't. But I'm not sure I want to trust my life to you; I hardly know you."

Ithinia smiled crookedly. "I can understand that. If you think about it, though, you're already trusting your life to me, just by being here. I'm the senior Guildmaster in this city; if you died here, or simply disappeared from this house never to be seen again, nothing would be done about it."

Emmis bit his lower lip. The wizard was speaking the truth, and he knew it.

"Is there anything more you can tell me? For example, why does someone think there's a source of magical power in Lumeth in the first place?"

"They know it's there. It's been used."

"I am clearly going to need to have some long conversations with His Excellency."

So much, Emmis thought, for his job as Lar's aide. That hadn't lasted long – four days [Note to self: check chronology for second draft], was it?

Four very busy days, but still, just four days. He sighed. The lie about an enchantment might save his life, as he didn't think Lar was a bloodthirsty man and Ithinia wasn't a warlock, but his job was as good as gone.

"So this magic – was it Vond who used it? Was that how he became so powerful before the Calling took him?"

Emmis stared at her, not answering, not even refusing to answer, but just sitting on the bed.

"And someone's worried it will be used again? But why would the Empire be worried about that? They're the ones who know how it's done."

Emmis turned to look at the window, to make it harder for the wizard to read his expression.

Ithinia leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head.

"Ah, but the actual source is in Lumeth of the Towers, you said. Which Vond never conquered. So maybe whoever or whatever stopped him is still there, and the Empire is afraid it will emerge and undo everything Vond did. Maybe that's it, and it wasn't Vond's power source at all."

The clouds seemed to be thinning, Emmis thought; the sky outside the window was brighter than before. The sun was starting to break through.

"But... is it a war with Lumeth they're worried about? Is that why the Lumethans are hiring assassins, because they're expecting a war? That's not what Ildirin told me."

Emmis decided he could respond to this. "The Lumethans think Lar came to Ethshar to hire magicians for the Empire to use against Lumeth, and they wanted him dead before he could do that," he said.

"Did he come to Ethshar to hire magicians for the Empire to use against Lumeth?"

"No. At least, not that way; the Empire doesn't want a war. But Lumeth and Ashthasa don't believe that."

"The Small Kingdoms have a code against using magic to fight their wars. And Vond broke that code, so they think his Empire is outside all law and custom, even with Vond himself gone."

"I think that's it, yes."

"How do you know Lar hasn't lied to you, and the Lumethans aren't right?"

Emmis stammered, then turned up his empty palms. "I believe him," he said.

"But you have no proof."

"No. But everything he's told me makes sense, more sense than the idea that the Empire wants to hire magicians to conquer all its neighbors."

"So the Lumethans think the Vondish are planning to invade with magical aid, while the Vondish think the Lumethans are going to use magic against them. Is that right?"

"I... I think you should ask the ambassador."

"I will. But I'd like to have it straight in my own mind first. It's always more impressive if I already know the answers, and appearing impressive is part of my job as Guildmaster."

Emmis decided not to reply to that.

"So the source of this dangerous magic is in Lumeth," Ithinia continued, staring at her guest. "And the Vondish want to destroy it so it can't be used against them, which seems to imply they can't use it or control it themselves, while the Lumethans – they don't know about it, do they? Or they would use it, and they wouldn't be worried about the ambassador hiring a bunch of journeymen from the Wizards' Quarter."

"I don't know whether they would really use it," Emmis ventured.

"They're hiring assassins here in Ethshar. They'd use it."

"Well, maybe."

"And you think the source of this magic is the Towers."

"Yes."

"So it could be sorcery. Maybe there's a way to use the Towers as a weapon? Poison the air, perhaps?" She frowned. "I never heard of anything like that happening in Vond's wars of conquest, though. So perhaps it isn't sorcery. Wizardry, then? Is there some way of turning the spells protecting the Towers into a weapon?" She shook her head. "I can't see how that would work."

"Fendel's Assassin defended me from an attacker," Emmis pointed out.

"Spells can work in ways that aren't obvious."

"You're talking to a master wizard, boy. Don't teach a fish to swim. I know most of the spells on the Towers, and I can't see how any of them would apply."

"Oh."

"And of course, Vond was a warlock. He had other magicians with him in Semma, two wizards, three witches, and a theurgist, but he was a warlock. So was..." She stopped. She stared at Emmis for a moment, then lifted her gaze to the ceiling. She unfolded her hands and lowered her gaze again.

"That's what you can't tell me, isn't it?" she said. "That was how Vond became so powerful. He found a way to use some of the magic from the Towers for warlockry. So the Vondish are worried that if he could do it, other warlocks could, too. And they don't have any way to control them. The certain people who mustn't find out aren't just the Lumethans – it's the warlocks.

Because if they didn't go conquering empires and building palaces out of bedrock and tearing up the edge of the World, they could live there for years without being Called."

Emmis grimaced. "That enchantment you put on me – it's a very powerful one, right? I never stood a chance."

"Oh, absolutely, my poor child. You couldn't possibly have resisted."

Ithinia got to her feet. "Why didn't the Empire just outlaw warlocks, then?

Oh, because that wouldn't look right when Vond, their founder, had been a warlock. It would just serve to notify Lumeth and Ashthasa that something was up."

"Guildmaster? Why do you keep secret what the Towers really are?"

"Oh, it's not exactly secret," Ithinia said. "We just don't advertise it. We don't want people prying at them. Yes, I see the similarity – if you don't want to draw attention to something, you don't make it a forbidden mystery, you just don't mention it. All the same, I think I'll want to have a word with the chairman of the Council of Warlocks, whoever it is at the moment, and remind him that the southern Small Kingdoms are a bad place for warlocks, and anyone fleeing the Calling should look to the west instead."

"That would be... I think the ambassador would appreciate that."

"I'm sure he would. I'll tell him about it. Right now, though, I think you should go back to your place in Allston and pack a few things."

"Pack... what?" Emmis blinked. "Oh, I think Lar will give me time to find a new place back in Shiphaven."

"Shiphaven? We aren't going to Shiphaven."

"What? Then... 'we?' Where are we going? Who is 'we'?"

"You, and Lord Ildirin as the representative of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, and His Excellency representing the Empire of Vond, and me, representing the Wizards' Guild, and I think we'll need to track down those spies you met, Annis the Merchant and the three Lumethans, and bring them along."

"Along where?"

"To Lumeth of the Towers, of course." She smiled at him, and touched the ancient dagger she wore on her belt. "And maybe to Ashthasa and Semma, as well."

"But – why? I don't understand."

"It's simple enough," she said. "The Wizards' Guild guards the Towers, and the enmity between Vond and Lumeth threatens them. Therefore, the Guild will put an end to that enmity, even if it means wiping out every living soul on both sides."

Emmis's mouth fell open.

"Come downstairs now. We have an ultimatum to deliver." She opened the door and stood waiting for him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The preparations took longer than Ithinia's words had led Emmis to expect – and probably longer than Ithinia herself had expected.

The afternoon's meetings with Lar and Ildirin went smoothly, so far as Emmis could tell; he was sent off while they were taking place, and did as Ithinia had suggested, packing a bag for a few days' trip to the Small Kingdoms.

Or rather, what he thought might be appropriate. He had never been to the Small Kingdoms. He had never wanted to visit the Small Kingdoms. Ithinia, however, did not offer him a choice. "You started this," she said. "You're coming."

When Lar returned to the house on Through Street that evening, accompanied by four guardsmen, Emmis met him at the door. "What happened?" he asked.

"We're going to Lumeth," Lar replied, bemused. "Ithinia insists. She says that if Lord Ildirin wants the assassination attempts to stop, they must be stopped at the source. She's planning to leave in a day or two."

"That's... interesting," Emmis said. "Do you think she knows anything about..." He glanced at the guards. "...about who's behind the assassins?"

"We'll talk upstairs," Lar said.

A few minutes later, after posting the guards at the doors, they did exactly that, taking seats in the ambassador's study.

"Did you ask the Guildmaster about the source of the hum?" Emmis asked.

Lar shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't think I want her to know anything about it; she frightens me. She isn't anyone's hireling; she has her own goals, and they may not match ours. But Lord Ildirin has brought her in to stop the assassination attempts and keep peace between Vond and Lumeth, and I think she can help with that."

"I see," Emmis said, hiding his unhappiness. He had hoped that the ambassador had brought Ithinia into his confidence; it would have simplified matters.

"Lord Ildirin had that man Kelder questioned this morning, by a magistrate and two witches," Lar continued. "He'll hang tomorrow, but in exchange for his cooperation Lord Ildirin let a warlock heal his arm, and the witches calmed him. He'll be burned on a proper pyre, not left to rot."

Emmis shuddered.

"He named his partner, Tithi Salman's son," Lar added. "Ildirin has magicians and soldiers tracking him down now, as well as those three Lumethans and the Ashthasan merchant."

"That's good," Emmis said. "Isn't it?"

"I think so," Lar said. "But Lumeth and Ashthasa are going to be our neighbors for a long time; we need to be careful how they see us."

Emmis nodded.

After a moment, Lar asked, "That theurgist you visited – the one who told you about Fendel's Assassin. Did he tell you where the hum came from?"

Emmis hesitated. "Not exactly," he said. "He said the Towers are gigantic sorcerous talismans, so it might be from those, but he didn't say definitely."

"The Towers." Lar nodded. "I thought so. Sorcery, is it? That might be it. Interesting."

Emmis waited for Lar to ask the next question, to give him a chance to say more, to explain about the Towers and why he had spoken to Ithinia, but the ambassador said nothing more.

And then the moment had passed, and Emmis couldn't bring himself to say anything more about it. The rest of the evening was uncomfortable; Emmis had to watch everything he said, lest he reveal some part of his conversation with Ithinia best left unspoken. He went to bed early, claiming to still be tired from the previous night's adventures.

And in the morning there was Zhol's funeral, which Emmis and Lar attended as Lord Ildirin's guests. Because Zhol had served honorably in Lord Ildirin's escort the ceremony was held not in Camptown, as most city guard funerals were, but on a terrace overlooking the Grand Canal, between the Palace and the Old City. The pyre was built right on the edge, where the flames reflected in the murky water of the canal, and the event was well attended – not only were dozens of guards present, and a score of Zhol's kin, but much of the city's ruling elite; Lord Ildirin had seen to that. The overlord himself, Azrad VII, plunged the torch into the waiting kindling to light the blaze that would free the dead man's soul to ascend to Heaven.

Emmis did not dare approach Azrad, but he did take a good look at him.

The overlord was a heavily-built man in late middle age, his hair gray and thinning, but his face still relatively smooth, his stance still strong and upright. Although he must have weighed fifty pounds more than the slender Ildirin, the family resemblance was plain.

"I didn't expect to see him here," Emmis whispered to Lar, as they watched the flames spread across the pyre. "Even if Zhol was chosen for Lord Ildirin's escort, he was still just a guardsman, after all."

Lord Ildirin, on Lar's other side, heard; he leaned over and replied,

"The man served honorably, and died performing that service. His family deserves to see that my family respects him for it. My nephew understands that."

Chastised, Emmis said nothing more.

And that afternoon there was the hanging. Emmis talked his way out of attending that, but Lar and Ildirin did not. That left Emmis sitting alone in the makeshift embassy on Through Street, and he busied himself cleaning and straightening – though he wasn't entirely sure why he was bothering. He was fairly sure that after this planned trip to Lumeth, if it happened, he would no longer be Lar's aide and guide. The truth would come out, that he had given Ithinia the hints she needed to guess Lar's secrets.

Still, hauling furniture around was a good way to keep himself occupied.

Once again, the evening was uncomfortable. Emmis found Lar giving him puzzled looks every so often during the awkward silences, as if wondering why his aide had suddenly turned sullen and uncommunicative.

Emmis wished he could just tell Lar everything, but he couldn't bring himself to begin. If Lar had asked questions Emmis thought he would have eventually worked his way around to a confession, but the Vondishman did not seem to have any questions to ask.

The following day Emmis removed himself from the house at the first opportunity and spent every daylight hour roaming the city and talking to tradespeople, seeing that the Vondish embassy would be properly furnished and the kitchen well-stocked. He resisted the temptation to visit the Wizards'

Quarter or Camptown; he had passed that responsibility on to Ithinia.

Of course, Corinal probably still had several answers to questions that were purely personal, but Emmis was in no mood to deal with those, not when the Guildmaster intended to ship him off to the Small Kingdoms at any moment, That night Emmis dreamed he was back in Ithinia's home, where the wizard instructed him, "This is the Spell of Invaded Dreams. You and your master are to be at my door by noon tomorrow; if you aren't here on time, I will send my gargoyles to fetch you, which will not be pleasant."

He awoke with a start, unsure whether the dream had really been a magical message or not. At breakfast, though, Lar said, "Did you have a dream about Ithinia last night?"

"Yes," Emmis admitted.

"Her door at noon?"

"Yes." He was relieved; if they had both dreamt it, then it had been a sending.

"She could have just paid a messenger two bits."

Emmis turned up a palm. "She's a wizard," he said.

Lar nodded, and took another bite of cheese.

Noon found the pair turning the corner from Arena onto Lower Street, with the guards Ildirin had posted surrounding them. Emmis had expected to see the street much as usual, with a handful of people going about their business, but instead he found a throng already waiting at Ithinia's door.

Lord Ildirin's coach was there, with Lord Ildirin and several others still in it; a dozen guardsmen were gathered around it. Standing between the coach and the door were a handful of strangers; three of them were wearing elaborate robes and were presumably wizards, while one wore the white and gold garb of a priest, another the red and black attire of a demonologist.

Above, on the eaves, two gargoyles were moving about, staring down at the crowd, though neither appeared threatening.

"That's a lot of magicians," Emmis said.

"And a lot of guards," Lar agreed, glancing at his own nearest escort.

Then the doors swung open and Ithinia appeared, resplendent in a blue and white robe far more ornate than the relatively plain robe Emmis had seen her wear before. "Welcome to you all!" she called, her voice seeming unnaturally loud and clear. "If you will all follow me, please?" She stepped out into the street, closing the door behind her, and led the way around one side of the house and along a narrow passage – a passage open to the sky but too clean to be called an alley, the walls gleaming with fresh yellow paint and the floor paved with brown bricks.

The entire crowd followed her, the guards helping Ildirin and the other passengers out of their coach; Emmis did not wait to see who the old man had brought with him, but hurried after the wizard and found himself surrounded by magicians as he marched through the passage into the wizard's garden.

Lar caught up to him as they emerged onto a pleasant little terrace.

"Who are all these people?" the Vondishman asked in Emmis's ear, gesturing at the magicians.

"I have no idea," Emmis replied.

They were clustered in one corner of a tidy little garden, and at first Emmis wondered why the leaders hadn't moved further in, to make more room.

Then he saw the gargoyles.

The things appeared to be carved of ordinary gray stone, except for the fact that they were moving. Each stood about five feet tall – or rather, crouched about five feet tall, as neither stood remotely straight. Both had claws and fangs and wings, but the details were very different from one to the other; one of them had so many fangs, and such large fangs, that it seemed unable to close its mouth at all.

Emmis had seen the gargoyles on the front of the house, and had seen that they were animated, but looking up at such monstrosities from twenty feet below did not have at all the same effect as seeing them six feet away from you on the ground. Their threatening appearance was much more immediate when they were on the same level.

He glanced up at the back of the house, and sure enough, there were empty niches on either corner that were surely where these two normally stayed.

Then Emmis glanced over to see Lord Ildirin hobble around the corner, followed by his guardsmen dragging several others; Emmis turned to stare as he saw who else had been in the nobleman's coach.

Annis, the Ashthasan merchant, was there, with her hands bound behind her. And beside her was Hagai, the Lumethan theurgist, who not only had his hands tied, but who had a gag in his mouth. His hooded robe was open, the hood flung back. Behind them were the other two Lumethans, hands bound, hoods back, mouths gagged. All four had been disarmed, their belt-knives removed.

And behind the four foreigners was an ordinary-looking Ethsharite in a drab brown tunic, with his hands tied and his ankles hobbled; it took Emmis a moment to recognize him as Tithi, Kelder's partner in crime.

"What are they doing here?" Emmis whispered to Lar.

Lar turned up a hand. "I don't know," he said.

"Thank you all for coming!" Ithinia called, as the last of the crowd squeezed into the garden. "I'm sure many of you have questions, but I prefer not to take the time to answer them. I think all will become clear as events progress. I am about to perform a spell called Hallin's Transporting Fissure –

some of you are familiar with it, some aren't. I think it will be obvious why it could not be done inside my house, and why I thought it unwise to do it in Lower Street. I will ask you all to follow me; these gargoyles of mine will bring up the rear and make sure we all arrive safely." She gestured toward the two monsters. "I must warn you, do not attempt to turn back, for any reason –

the results could be very unfortunate. If you feel it necessary to pause to catch your breath or steady yourself, that should be safe enough, but do not turn back. Is that understood?"

A mumbled chorus of yeses and several nods seemed to satisfy her.

"Good," she said. Then she pulled a wooden flute from her sleeve, held it to her mouth, and began to play.

It was an odd little tune, mostly a pleasant enough melody, but with certain notes that seemed off and out of place, notes that served to transform the cheerful ditty into something strange and uncomfortable. The wizard played through a dozen measures, more or less, and then held the final note.

It grew louder and louder in a way that would not have been possible for any natural sound, adding deeper and deeper undertones, until it seemed as if the earth itself was shaking.

And then the earth really did shake as the garden before Ithinia's feet vibrated, humped up, and split open like an overripe fruit.

"Gods!" someone said.

The opening in the ground widened, becoming a crevice three or four feet wide and fifteen or twenty feet long. Emmis stared in amazement as Ithinia, still holding that impossibly-sustained note, stepped forward into it.

She held the flute in place with one hand, still blowing, while her other beckoned for her guests to follow her as she descended; then she began playing a tune again – not the disconcerting one she had played before, but a sprightly little melody with many trills.

Most of her audience simply watched at first, too surprised or nervous to move, but the other magicians followed her down into the opening in the earth, sinking slowly out of sight as if walking down a flight of stairs.

Then one of the gargoyles spoke, in a voice like stone grinding on stone – and, Emmis asked himself, what else would it sound like? "Go," it said.

That seemed to break the tension and everyone began moving forward, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Tithi and Annis seemed especially reluctant; the Lumethans, oddly, appeared more resigned than frightened. Emmis found himself somewhere in the middle of the line marching into the rift, with a soldier ahead of him and Lar behind him.

When he reached the opening he was not particularly surprised to see that there really were stairs leading down into the earth, carved from the soil of the garden. Something was wrong with the perspective, though – the stairs seemed to go on forever without ever reaching the far end of the rift.

He could see and hear Ithinia far ahead and below, still playing her flute, and then the other wizards, and the theurgist and the demonologist behind them, then Lord Ildirin, and a few guards, spaced along what seemed to be a hundred yards of earthen steps that somehow fit into a twenty-foot trench.

Then he put his foot down on the first step himself, and it felt as if the World twisted beneath his feet; the midday sky was somehow behind him, more than above him. He tried to ignore the disorienting effects of the magic as he marched on down into the earth.

"Oh, gods!" Lar said behind him, as he, too, took that first step. He muttered something more, but it was in a language other than Ethsharitic that Emmis did not understand.

The warning against turning back had been a good idea, Emmis thought as he walked, because there was a wrongness to these stairs that made him want to turn and flee. He wondered whether there was really any danger, or whether Ithinia had said that to ensure that all her desired guests arrived at their destination.

He wasn't about to test it; there wasn't really room to squeeze past Lar and the others to get back out, and it was entirely possible that the Guildmaster had spoken the simple truth when she said it was dangerous.

Then a shadow blocked out the sunlight and Emmis glanced back to see that the gargoyles were entering the fissure – the entire party was now on the stairs.

Those stairs were changing. It was not that the one he stood on was any different from those above and below it, but that from where he stood they all appeared to be altered now. Instead of packed earth, the steps were stone now, and the slope was much shallower, and they weren't level – he felt as if he were walking forward on the edges of the steps, rather than walking down on their tops.

The walls on either side were stone as well, rather than earth, though he had been unaware of any change, and when he looked back they appeared to be stone all the way, there was no transition.

And then everything shifted again, and he was walking up a flight of steps, and the daylight behind him was gone entirely but he could see daylight ahead, where Ithinia was emerging from the stone tunnel into the midday sun.

If he could have picked up his pace Emmis would have done so, but the guardsman in front of him was trudging on at the same steady march he had maintained all along.

Finally, though, Emmis found himself climbing up a set of stairs in the middle of a broad paved plaza, where a crowd formed a large circle around the new arrivals, giving them a wide berth. Ithinia stood on the stones a few feet from the rift, playing her flute.

This was no plaza that Emmis had ever seen before, he was sure of that.

One side was completely dominated by a tall and forbidding fortress of gray stone; the other five – yes, five; the plaza was hexagonal, like Hempfield Market, but larger and more regular – were lined with shops and tall, narrow houses.

On the side opposite the fortress the gaps between buildings, and the mouths of the streets, gave a view of empty air – there was obviously a slope on that side dropping away rapidly from the plaza. To either side of the fortress, streets climbed up a gentle slope. This plaza, whatever it was, was partway up the side of a large hill.

The architecture surrounding the plaza was subtly unfamiliar; the clothes worn by the observers weren't quite right, either, though Emmis had seen such garb before, on visitors from the Small Kingdoms. This was not in Ethshar of the Spices, he was sure. It was presumably somewhere in Lumeth of the Towers.

He stepped out onto the stone pavement – made, he saw, of the same stone as the tunnel walls – and moved to one side, to allow those behind him to emerge.

No one spoke as the guards and their prisoners climbed up out of the fissure in the pavement. When the gargoyles emerged, though, Emmis thought he heard gasps from the surrounding crowd.

Then Ithinia ended her tune with a final flourish, and slipped the flute into her sleeve; the instant the music stopped a loud rumble sounded, and the opening in the pavement closed itself up. As the two sides met the stones merged, leaving not the faintest crack; there was no indication that there had ever been a fissure.

Both the newly-arrived travelers and the watching natives murmured at this sight. Emmis wondered how they were to return to Ethshar; had Ithinia brought the materials to perform the spell again?

The wizard paid no attention to the closing fissure, though. Instead she raised her arms above her head and faced the fortress, looking up at a small enclosed balcony where a handful of men were standing.

"Lords of Lumeth of the Towers!" she shouted, her voice ringing out clearly. "Listen to the judgment of the Wizards' Guild!"

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emmis blinked. Judgment?

The people on the balcony seemed equally confused. "Who are you?" one of them shouted back. Another appeared to be translating for a third.

The Guildmaster lowered her arms. "I am Ithinia of the Isle, and I speak for the Wizards' Guild – let my companions attest to my authority!"

The other three wizards stepped toward her, facing the balcony. The oldest-looking of them announced, "I am Serem the Wise, from Ethshar of the Sands, and I say that Ithinia speaks for the Guild."

The youngest in appearance – though it occurred to Emmis that appearances could be very deceptive in the case of wizards – then called, "I am Kaligir of the New Quarter in Ethshar of the Rocks, and Ithinia speaks for me and the wizards of my city, as well."

The third said, "I'm Zikel Thurin's son of Sardiron of the Waters.

Listen to her."

"Shei Lumethis!" someone shouted; Emmis assumed it meant "Speak Lumethan!" The wizards ignored it.

"Satisfied?" Ithinia called.

"Couldn't you speak Lumethan?" another voice from the crowd asked, speaking Ethsharitic with a thick accent. "Not everyone speaks Ethsharitic!"

Ithinia kept her attention on the balcony.

"We will hear you," one of the others on the balcony called back.

"Shall we retire to the audience chamber?"

"No. We will speak here and now, before all these people," Ithinia replied.

The men on the balcony stirred uneasily at that, but did not argue.

"What is this judgment, then?" one of them asked.

"You have abused our gifts," Ithinia said. "You have used magic we entrusted to you, magic intended for the Guild's purposes, to send spies to Ethshar." She gestured toward the three bound Lumethans. "Your representatives have hired assassins, such as this one." She pointed to Tithi. "You have antagonized the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars – this man accompanies me as spokesman for his nephew Azrad VII, Overlord of Ethshar of the Spices, Triumvir of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, Commander of the Holy Navies and Defender of the Gods." She turned her hand toward Lord Ildirin.

"What does the Guild care about Ethshar?" demanded the man who had first asked her who she was.

Ithinia glared at him. "I'm not done," she said. She gestured toward Lar. "And this man is Lar Samber's son, ambassador plenipotentiary from the Empire of Vond to the court of Azrad VII, and the reason you have done all this. He speaks for Lord Sterren, Regent of the Empire."

Lar bowed.

"And the rest of them?" the man on the balcony asked. "Who are these soldiers?"

"These are the men of Ethshar's city guard, brought to ensure that our prisoners remain prisoners, and that no assassin troubles any of my party. The gargoyles are my personal attendants. That young man is Emmis of Shiphaven, Lar's aide. Bragen the Black, our demonologist, and Radler the Divine, our theurgist, are here to show that the Guild does not stand alone among magicians in this; and Annis the Merchant, of Ashthasa, conspired with your spies, and is here as the unwilling representative of Prince Sammel."

"You seem to have been thorough," one of the lords replied.

Ithinia nodded an acknowledgment.

"And what are you all here for?" another lord asked.

"To keep you all from doing something monumentally stupid," Ithinia replied. "You are concerned that the Empire of Vond intends to continue its expansion, and that your lands would be a natural target for such an expansion, and you have committed crimes in order to prevent that. I am here to inform you that there will be no such expansion. The Wizards' Guild will destroy the Empire entirely should any Vondish soldier set foot across Lumeth's border with hostile intent."

That sent a stir through the crowd. Emmis glanced at Lar, and saw that he did not look dismayed in the least by this threat; instead he looked relieved.

"You should have known that we have interests in your kingdom that mean we would not allow you to be overrun," Ithinia continued. "We did not teach Morkai of Crooked Hill how to use Hallin's Transporting Fissure out of sheer generosity, or to aid you in sending out spies. But you are also concerned that another mighty warlock like the Great Vond might arise in the Empire, and that we would not interfere with other schools of magic. I hereby inform you that the Wizards' Guild will require the Empire to forbid entry to any and all warlocks, and will do everything it can to prevent any warlocks from taking any Vondish person as an apprentice. Furthermore, I have brought Bragen and Radler to assure you that the Guild will not act alone in this – we will see to it that demonologists and theurgists will aid in enforcing this decree. And Lord Ildirin can attest that the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars will join in, and will not allow warlocks to take ship for any port in the Small Kingdoms south of Londa. The Council of Warlocks has agreed to this, as well."

Lar was not merely relieved now, but smiling.

"It would seem this dreadful 'judgment' of yours is entirely in our favor," one of the Lumethan nobles called back, as one of the others hastily translated Ithinia's words into Lumethan for the two who appeared to know no Ethsharitic.

"Oh, no," Ithinia said. "It is not. Because all these demands will apply to Lumeth of the Towers, just as they will to the Empire. Any Lumethan agent who sets foot in the Empire unasked does so on penalty of death; if a single Lumethan soldier crosses the border without imperial consent, this city, and everyone in it, will be slaughtered – men, women, and children. No spies, no assassins, no saboteurs shall be sent, or all your lives are forfeit. Nor shall you knowingly aid any other kingdom that attempts to subvert or attack the Empire."

The men on the balcony did not reply to that; after a moment's silence Ithinia continued. "Likewise, we did not bring a representative of the Council of Warlocks with us because the practice of warlockry is hereby forbidden in Lumeth of the Towers. The crime of warlockry shall be punishable by immediate execution. If there are any warlocks within your borders they have three days to leave, and they are to go as far and as fast as possible – we will not allow them to take refuge in Shassala, Gajamor, Calimor, Eknissamor, Yaroia, Zenda, or Kalithon."

Emmis was not sure just where those places were, but he glanced at Lar again, and discovered that the Vondish ambassador was grinning broadly.

"That's every kingdom bordering Lumeth," Lar whispered. "It's half the Empire's northern border!"

"If you're worried that the Empire is planning to attack you," Ithinia concluded, "you will find a wizard and inform the Guild. You will not undertake any action on your own. Is that understood?"

The party on the balcony exchanged looks, but except for the running translation no one spoke at first. Then Ithinia waved a hand and pointed at one of them; his beard burst into flame.

"I said, is that understood?" she shouted.

"Yes!" one of the men called back, as two of the others used hands and sleeves to smother the burning beard.

Then Ithinia turned and beckoned to the guards holding the Lumethan prisoners. She grabbed the first by the back of the neck and forced him to his knees on the pavement in front of her.

"I return to you Hagai of Lumeth, who is guilty of espionage and conspiracy to commit murder in Ethshar of the Spices. Because he was acting in your service the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars and the Wizards' Guild will allow him to live, but he is never again to set foot outside Lumeth's borders." She flung the bound theurgist down onto the stones of the plaza and left him lying there as she moved on to the next.

"And this is Neyam the Witch, who was sent to hire thugs in the Hundred-Foot Field. One of his minions has already been hanged, and the overlord's magistrates had him flogged yesterday, but he was permitted to heal himself, and he, too, we will allow to live, so long as he remains within your borders."

She flung him down as well, and grabbed the third man. "Finally we have your wizard, Morkai of Crooked Hill, who the Guild had entrusted with certain magic intended for use in guarding the ancient towers for which your land is named, and who used one of those spells not to summon aid in an emergency, as was intended, but to transport himself and his companions to the dunes south of Ethshar of the Spices, so that they might spy on the Vondish ambassador. He then used his membership in the Guild to call upon the services of a fellow wizard, Felder of Arena Street, in summoning Fendel's Assassin and directing it to kill the ambassador. Because he is a wizard, the overlord delivered him unscathed into my keeping, for the Guild to deal with; he, too, is confined to Lumeth of the Towers for the remainder of his life, and for his abuse of the privileges granted him, he is hereby cast out of the Wizards' Guild." With that she shoved Morkai aside and held out a hand.

One of the Ethsharitic guards had obviously been told what to do; he passed her a knife, one that looked ordinary enough but that Emmis supposed must be Morkai's wizard's dagger. Ithinia took it, and touched it with her own knife; violet fire flared up briefly from both blades.

Then she threw it to the ground and signaled to the guard, who knelt, picked up the knife, and thrust its point deep into one of the cracks between paving stones, so that it stood upright.

Then he bent it until the blade snapped off.

Morkai screamed through his gag, and fell writhing on the stone, startling Emmis – and all the other observers, apparently, except the other wizards.

"What's going on?" Lar asked, his smile gone and his face pale. "Why is he doing that?"

"It must be a spell of some kind," Emmis said, turning up an empty palm. "The knife was enchanted somehow."

"She didn't tell us she was going to do that!"

"He tried to kill you, sir," Emmis reminded him.

"Yes, but..."

"I'm sure Neyam screamed when he was flogged."

"No, he didn't. Witches can block their pain."

Emmis frowned. That seemed to defeat the purpose of the flogging.

It wasn't his responsibility, though.

Ithinia had turned back to the balcony, and as Morkai's screaming subsided to a whimper she announced, "That concludes our business here, for the present." Then she pulled a wooden flute from her sleeve and raised it to her lips.

Emmis blinked; he was quite sure that she had put the flute in her right sleeve after their arrival in Lumeth, but she had just drawn this flute from her left sleeve. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at it.

It wasn't the same flute; he was sure of it. This one was lighter in color, and when she began to play the tone was slightly different.

It had the same effect, though. When she reached that final note and held it the sound seemed to echo and re-echo, and the stone pavement shook beneath their feet, then with a great rumble it rippled and split open. A slate skidded off a nearby roof and shattered on the pavement.

"I thought we would stay here tonight!" Emmis whispered to Lar. "I mean, we came all the way to Lumeth, and after half an hour we're going back to Ethshar? I didn't even get to see the famous towers!"

"I don't think Ethshar is where we're going," the ambassador replied.

Startled, Emmis asked, "It's not?"

"I don't think so."

Then Ithinia was leading the way down the steps, and Lar and Emmis followed the crowd descending into this new fissure. Emmis decided not to ask any more questions, since he would see soon enough where they were going.

He glanced back as they were entering the rift, and saw the three Lumethan magicians still sprawled miserably on the pavement; they were not accompanying the party to whatever its new destination might be. Annis the Merchant was still being escorted along, though.

This time the passage stayed stone the entire way, but changed hue, from gray to a off-white. Once again, they emerged into sunlight in the middle of a public square. This time, though, Emmis could smell the sea and hear the cry of gulls overhead; he began to think that they were indeed returning to Ethshar, just not to Ithinia's garden.

Then he looked around, and knew that whatever this place was, it wasn't Ethshar of the Spices. The buildings surrounding them were white or golden yellow, gleaming in the sun, without a trace of red brick or dark timber anywhere. The air was warmer than it had been in either Ethshar or Lumeth.

Again, when the gargoyles bringing up the rear had emerged from the chasm, Ithinia concluded her tune and the fissure rumbled and closed.

Again, a crowd had gathered, but stood well back from the newly arrived strangers.

"Prince Sammel of Ashthasa!" Ithinia called. "Come forth and hear me!"

"This is Ashthasa?" Emmis whispered.

"I suppose so," Lar said. "I've never been here before."

This time they had a wait before at last the doors of a large white building swung open and a young man in gaudy green-and-gold robes emerged, attended by half a dozen spearmen in gleaming golden helmets.

Again, Ithinia and the other wizards introduced themselves, Lar, Lord Ildirin, the theurgist, and the demonologist. Then Ithinia had Annis dragged forward.

"This woman," Ithinia announced, "conspired with three Lumethan agents who attempted to assassinate the Vondish ambassador to Ethshar of the Spices."

The man in the elaborate robes replied, "Not by my orders; I assigned her to watch the ambassador, not kill him." He spoke Ethsharitic well, better than any of the Lumethan lords.

"I didn't try to assassinate anyone!" Annis protested – unlike the Lumethan magicians she hadn't been gagged, since she had no magic to call upon. "I just didn't try to stop it! And I told Emmis, who did stop it!"

"Then I see no crime," the prince replied. "Why have you come here so dramatically?"

"To inform you that your concerns about Vondish expansion are groundless, and warn you that you are not to interfere in the Empire's trade negotiations with the Hegemony. And to return you your spy, who is no longer welcome in Ethshar of the Spices."

"You are saying that the Wizards' Guild will guarantee that the Vondish Empire will not attempt to extend itself into Ashthasa?"

"We are saying that the Wizards' Guild will guarantee that the Vondish Empire will not attack Ashthasa without provocation, nor will we permit the Empire to use warlockry against any of its neighbors under any circumstances.

We would suggest, however, that you do not provoke the Empire."

"I am not a fool, my lady," the prince replied. "Even without magic, the Empire could swallow Ashthasa in mere hours; we will not provoke them.

Thank you for your assurances!"

He and Ithinia exchanged bows.

Then a guardsman cut Annis' bonds and gave her a shove. She took a few steps, then stopped to turn and glare at the Ethsharites. No one paid her much attention as Ithinia drew a flute from her sleeve.

This time Emmis had been watching closely. He knew she had put the flute that had brought them from Lumeth to Ashthasa in her right sleeve, yet she drew this one from her left. And it was chased in silver, where the others had been plain wood.

How many flutes did she have in there?

Again, she began to play; again, the music behaved unnaturally, the ground shook, and a fissure opened.

Emmis waved to Annis as he marched into the waiting passage; she waved back.

Then he had once again turned that strange corner onto the magical staircase, and was on his way somewhere – perhaps back to Ethshar, perhaps somewhere else.

He didn't bother asking Lar where he thought they were bound; they would find out soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The sun seemed even brighter here than it had in Ashthasa, even though it was now well down the western sky and the walls of the houses and shops were a slightly darker shade of golden-yellow. Once again they had emerged in a public square, but this one was hard-packed earth, rather than being paved with stone, and appeared to have little in the way of city around it. A white marble palace loomed over them on one side, while the other three sides of the square mostly had just a few open-fronted shops shaded by brightly-colored awnings. A broad road led out of the square directly opposite the doors to the palace, and Emmis could see that it led, perhaps half a mile away across a valley, to a castle built of dark red stone, looking like something out of a picture book about the Small Kingdoms.

Well, that was reasonable enough, since they were presumably somewhere in the Small Kingdoms. Emmis could not see how they had any business anywhere other than Ethshar and the Small Kingdoms, and this definitely wasn't Ethshar of the Spices.

"Semma!" Lar exclaimed, as they climbed up out of the fissure.

"Is that where we are?" Emmis asked, looking around. The crowd here was smaller than the ones that had gathered in Lumeth and Ashthasa, which seemed peculiar; wasn't this the heart of an empire, where the others were little more than city-states?

"Yes!" Lar said, pointing. "That's the Imperial Palace, where the Council meets, and over there is Semma Castle, where the Regent lives – and where I live."

That was interesting; Emmis studied the castle. It didn't look terribly appealing. He noticed it had a rather sprawling village clustered around it, where the palace only seemed to have this one square's worth of homes and businesses near it. "I would have thought the Regent would live in the Imperial Palace," he said.

Lar turned up a palm. "He doesn't like being that close to the Imperial Council."

That struck Emmis as slightly odd, but then, much of what Lar had told him about Lord Sterren seemed a little odd.

The gargoyles clambered up out of the fissure, and Ithinia lowered her flute and tucked it into her right sleeve. "We have come to address the Imperial Council!" she proclaimed.

The crowd murmured, and someone opened the palace door and slipped inside.

Lar bestirred himself and hurried to Ithinia's side, with Emmis trotting after him. "They may not be in session," the ambassador said.

"I know that," the wizard replied.

"And the Regent may be in the castle, over there."

Ithinia turned to glare at him. "Yes?"

"Should I go see if he's there?"

"Your Excellency, I would think that an earthquake splitting open the market square and allowing a party of magicians to emerge would draw his attention, wherever he is."

"Well..." Lar could not really argue with that, and subsided. Emmis thought the ambassador was just eager to get a good look at his home, now that he was unexpectedly back here.

The door of the palace opened again, and a youth in a black-and-silver tunic emerged and ran across the square, circling around the visitors and heading full-tilt toward Semma Castle.

"We could go inside," Lar suggested. "The Council doesn't make anyone wait out here in the sun."

Ithinia turned to glare at him. "If I wanted you to play native guide, Your Excellency, I would have asked you."

The palace doors opened again, but this time both valves swung wide, and a soldier in a red-and-gold uniform emerged. He saluted Ithinia and the other wizards, then cleared his throat.

"Lady Kalira, Chancellor and Vice-Regent of the Empire of Vond, welcomes you and invites you all to come inside and be made comfortable." He spoke Ethsharitic with only a very slight accent, less than Lar's.

"We have come to speak to the full Council," Ithinia replied.

"The full Council is not here, honored visitor. A messenger has been sent to the Regent, but at present only Lady Kalira and three other Councillors are in attendance."

Ithinia frowned, then turned to confer quietly with the other wizards.

As they spoke, Emmis noticed the soldier staring at Lar. He had the expression of someone trying to figure out where he knew a face from.

He also noticed that Lord Ildirin did not look happy. Despite his vigor, Ildirin was a very old man, and they had been doing a great deal of standing around in the sun; Emmis thought he was probably exhausted.

One of the other wizards – Serem, was it? – pointed to Ildirin just then, and Ithinia nodded.

Then she turned back to the messenger and said, "We will accept the Chancellor's invitation, with the understanding that our business here is not private, and that members of the public must be admitted."

The soldier bowed. "This way, please," he said, and turned to lead them in.

Almost the entire party from Ethshar – all of it but the two gargoyles, who took up posts on either side of the palace doors, and the four prisoners who had been left behind in Lumeth and Ashthasa – followed him, through a grand entrance hall and around a corner into a large and luxurious drawing room equipped with a goodly assortment of chairs, sofas, and settees.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," the soldier said. "Lady Kalira will be here shortly, and Lord Sterren should be on his way."

Emmis was happy to take a seat and give his feet a rest; Lar settled beside him, then leaned over and asked, "How did Ithinia find out about..." He hesitated, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. "Did you tell her we wanted to prevent warlocks from coming to Vond?"

"No," Emmis said. The settee suddenly seemed a bit crowded and much less comfortable.

"Did you ask her to do any of this?"

"No," Emmis said. He twisted in his seat. "Didn't you? You and Lord Ildirin were talking to her – I thought this was your idea."

Lar shook his head. "No, we just asked her to help us locate and capture the assassins. Which she did. And we asked her questions about protective spells. But we didn't ask for the Guild to help this way."

"Did you ask her about..." It was Emmis's turn to glance about.

"...about the hum? The source?"

"No. She frightened me. I didn't want to trust her that much."

"She frightens me a little, too," Emmis admitted.

"So what did you tell her?"

Emmis considered that, then said, "I didn't really tell her much of anything. I asked her a question, and then she figured everything out."

"Do you think that was magic?"

In fact, Emmis was fairly certain no magic had been used, that Ithinia was just smarter and better informed than she had any right to be, but he turned up a palm. "I don't know," he said.

"What was the question?"

Emmis shifted uneasily. "It was about something the theurgist told me in the Wizards' Quarter," he said. "Corinal said something about wizards guarding the Lumeth Towers, and I asked her why they do that."

Lar cocked his head. "Did she tell you?"

"Not really," Emmis lied.

A few days ago, he knew, he would have happily explained everything to his employer; even now, he wasn't sure why he was holding anything back. The events of the last few days, though, had taught him that information was power

– and that there was power in withholding information, as well. Knowledge, once shared, couldn't be taken back. And partial information was dangerous. A few apparently harmless facts had sent the Lumethans into a panic and set assassins on the ambassador's trail; a few words here and there had let him save the ambassador from those assassins. The magicians in the Wizards'

Quarter charged high fees for answers to questions they didn't understand, while Ithinia seemed to have figured out half the World from being asked a question. Questions and answers, facts and mysteries, could lead in any number of unexpected directions.

Emmis was not sure what Lar would do with knowledge of the Towers'

origins and purpose, so he was not about to give it.

"Are the towers the source of the hum?" Lar asked.

"I don't know," Emmis said. "They might be. I didn't mention the hum to Ithinia." He hesitated, then added, "Whatever they are, the Wizards' Guild doesn't want anyone interfering with them – that's why they're doing all this, to protect the towers. I really, truly wouldn't want to be anyone who threatened those things."

"Ah," Lar said. He looked thoughtfully in Ithinia's direction.

Just then there was a small commotion at one side of the room and a woman entered, a tall woman with aristocratic features and dusky skin, wearing a gown of dark red embroidered in bright red and gold – though not embroidered terribly well, Emmis thought when she got close enough for him to see her clearly. She was escorted by two more soldiers, in red kilts and brown leather breastplates.

The Ethsharitic soldiers all stood ready at the sight of this pair, but the woman between them ignored that. "I am Lady Kalira," she announced.

"I am Ithinia of the Isle," the wizard replied, rising from her chair.

"I am here as the chosen representative of the Wizards' Guild."

"You want to address the Imperial Council?" She spoke Ethsharitic with a thick accent.

"Yes."

"I am sorry. Only four of the seven councillors are in Semma; the others are in other parts of the Empire, on business, and will not be back for some time. I have sent for the Regent, and he should be here shortly; are the five of us enough? I can send messengers to get the other three."

"That won't be necessary," Ithinia said. "The five of you will suffice."

Lady Kalira blinked, and leaned toward one of the soldiers. "G'dyas

'suffice'?" she murmured.

"Golishye," the soldier muttered back.

She nodded. Then she smiled at Ithinia – not a very convincing smile, one obviously owing more to protocol than to any sort of warmth – and said,

"Will you join us for dinner?"

Ithinia looked around the room, at the five other magicians, the Ethsharitic guardsmen, at Lar and Emmis, and finally at Lord Ildirin, who was sitting straight in his chair, but whose papery skin was red from the sun. "We would be delighted," she said. "And perhaps something to drink, while preparations are made?"

"Drink? Of course," Lady Kalira said. "I will see to it." She turned, gesturing to her escorts, and the three of them marched back out the way they had entered.

Emmis watched them go. "Who is she, exactly?" he asked Lar quietly.

"She is Lord Sterren's second in command," Lar explained. "She is head of the Imperial Council, and runs everything in the Empire that Sterren doesn't want to bother with."

"So is it Lord Sterren or this Council that's actually in charge?"

Lar sighed. "The Council says it's Lord Sterren. Lord Sterren says it's the Council."

Emmis turned to look at his employer. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"I thought the custom in the Small Kingdoms was to fight over who got to rule, not over who didn't have to."

"It is. But the Emperor didn't want to be bothered with all the details, so he named Lord Sterren his chancellor and let him run things. Lord Sterren said it was too much for him to do alone, so he made the Imperial Council. They were all chosen to be people who knew how to run things but who didn't want to rule; Vond did not want to worry about being overthrown by the Council."

"Oh."

"When Vond went away, Lord Sterren named Lady Kalira as his successor and resigned as chancellor. The Council wanted someone else in charge, so they made Sterren Regent. Now they argue about who is in charge." He turned up a palm. "They agree on almost everything else."

"Why don't they just resign?"

Lar sighed. "If the Regent resigns the Council will declare him guilty of treason. If any councillors resign without the Regent's permission he won't bother with calling them traitors, but he might hang them. So they stay."

"It's ridiculous. Can't they find someone who wants to run the Empire?"

Lar looked at Emmis pityingly. "Would you want someone in charge who wants to be an emperor? They lived under Vond. They saw. No one wants that again."

"But it wouldn't be a warlock!"

"Does that matter?"

"Um." Emmis didn't have a good answer for that. After all, the overlord wasn't a warlock, but his authority was still fairly complete. In theory he ruled because he had the consent of the city's people, but in practice the people were never asked; the overlord could pretty much do anything he pleased. If he ever went mad, or turned out to be incompetent or evil, the other two overlords would remove him – that was the whole point of having a triumvirate rule the Hegemony, so that one bad ruler wouldn't ruin the whole thing – but he could undoubtedly do a lot of damage before that happened.

The Empire of Vond didn't have a triumvirate, or any pretense of popular consent.

"So you didn't say anything to Ithinia about warlocks?" Lar asked, startling Emmis.

"No. But when I asked about the towers' magic she figured out that since I'm working for you, the Empire must be concerned about magic, and the Empire's only important magic was Vond's warlockry, so she put it all together and decided that warlocks mustn't be allowed in Lumeth or Vond."

"Reasonable. She's a smart woman."

"She's a wizard."

"Wizards aren't all smart, Emmis."

"She's a Guildmaster."

"Well, yes, you have a point there."

And that was when the door swung open and a line of servants carrying trays appeared, bringing an assortment of beverages. The two men put their conversation aside to join in the refreshments.

Emmis had just finished a mug of amazingly bad, unpleasantly warm beer when the door opened again and a young man, about his own age, wandered in.

He was dressed in black, with silver embellishments on his shoulders and cuffs – simple but elegant. His hair had been trimmed by someone who was very good at trimming hair, but it, too, was very simple. Back in Ethshar Emmis would have taken him for the son of a noble or wealthy family; here he wasn't sure what to make of him.

Lar, however, had apparently recognized him instantly, and was bowing deeply. Hesitantly, Emmis bowed, as well.

"Who is he?" Emmis whispered.

"That's Lord Sterren," Lar hissed back.

Emmis blinked and almost fell; he jerked up awkwardly out of his bow.

"That's the Regent?" he said. "But he isn't any older than I am!"

It was only when the entire room fell silent and a dozen eyes turned to stare at him that Emmis realized he had spoken aloud. He felt himself redden, but he refused to look away or apologize; he had simply stated the obvious.

Lord Sterren looked at him, obviously amused.

"I'm Sterren," he said, stepping over and holding out a hand. "And yes, I'd say we're of an age, you and I. Who are you?" He spoke Ethsharitic like a native – in fact, Emmis thought he would have sounded right at home in Westgate or the Old Merchants' Quarter.

Emmis took the hand in his own. "Emmis of Shiphaven," he said. "I'm the ambassador's aide."

"Are you? Then you're on my payroll?"

"I suppose I am. Ah... what's the proper way to address you, my lord?"

"Whatever you like. 'My lord' is fine. Care to earn your pay by introducing me around?"

Emmis bowed. "I would be honored." He turned, looked at the gathered magicians and soldiers, then added, "If I can remember everyone myself, that is."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

At dinner Emmis found himself seated between Guildmaster Ithinia and Princess Shirrin of Semma, who he was informed was Lord Sterren's fiancée. She was a lovely young woman in her late teens; Emmis thought she was perhaps a bit young for Sterren, but that was the Regent's concern, not his.

She also had a tendency to giggle that Emmis did not find endearing, but perhaps Lord Sterren did.

Sterren was seated on Ithinia's other side, and for the first part of the meal the two of them spoke at some length. Emmis was not deliberately eavesdropping, but they weren't being particularly quiet, so he listened to their discussion between sips of wine.

His earlier beer had convinced him to switch to the grape at dinner, and he was glad he had; the vintage, he was informed by the wine steward, was a fine one, from Dwomor. Emmis knew very little about wine, but he knew this one tasted very good and went well with the pastries and roast chicken he was served.

As they ate Ithinia explained the Guild's demands to Sterren, and the Regent seemed very pleased with them.

"No invasions either way? We can't touch Lumeth, and they can't touch us?" he asked.

"Exactly. We'll have journeymen putting up wards all along the border in a sixnight or so."

"And you've given Ashthasa assurances we won't invade?"

"Unless provoked. We don't intend to interfere with your right to defend yourselves."

"I'm delighted to hear it. I don't suppose you could talk to the kings of Kalithon and Nushasla?"

"I'm afraid you'll need to do your own diplomacy there, my lord."

"And Shassalla, and Hurla, and Trozdossa, and Ethirillion?"

Ithinia spread her hands, a fork in one of them. "Not our concern, my lord. Though we have declared warlocks unwelcome in Shassalla and Kalithon."

"As well as in Lumeth and throughout the Empire."

"And in Gajamor, Calimor, Yaroia, Zenda, and Eknissamor."

Sterren smiled crookedly. "I'm not even sure where all of those are,"

he said. "It's taken me three years just to learn our eighteen provinces and our eight neighbors."

"They're Lumeth's neighbors. Well, Eknissamor doesn't actually share a border with Lumeth, but it's close enough to the north that we included it."

"That's a great relief, and you will have my full support. If any of the Imperial Council object, I'll be happy to remove them."

"I trust that won't be necessary."

There was a pause then as both took a moment to eat; then Sterren remarked, "I tried to contact the Guild three years ago, you know, when Vond was still here. I sent a wizard named Emner to find you."

Ithinia nodded. "Emner of Lamum. He reached us."

"You didn't do anything, though," Sterren said. Then he added, "Did you?"

"Not much," Ithinia admitted. "We were fairly certain that Vond would solve the problem himself, just as he did. We did have a few words with the Council of Warlocks, though, to discourage emigration in this direction."

"Well, thank you for that much."

"We spoke to the Chairman of the Council a little more vigorously a few days ago," Ithinia continued. "Quite vigorously, in fact. And the Council owes us a debt from twenty years ago, when Azrad VI attempted to outlaw warlocks entirely, so they profess themselves eager to cooperate. They understand that no warlocks are to set foot within twenty leagues of Lumeth."

Sterren nodded. He glanced around, then lowered his voice.

Emmis tried hard to listen without appearing to do so.

"Do you know," Sterren asked quietly, "where Vond got his power?"

"Do you think," Ithinia murmured back, "that we would tell you if we did? You, in particular?"

"I would only want to know so I could stay away from it!" Sterren retorted.

"Well, you know it's in Lumeth," Ithinia said. "And if you set foot in Lumeth, we'll kill you. It's nothing personal. And if you think you can protect yourself against wizards, well, we've sent word to the Cult of Demerchan."

"Is it those towers?"

Emmis was just as glad he couldn't see Ithinia's expression as she replied; the tone of her voice was quite bad enough. "Didn't I just say we weren't going to tell you?" She spoke in a low tone that seemed to be coming through gritted teeth. "But I will tell you that the towers are a large part of why we've taken an interest. The Guild has reasons of its own to want those towers preserved, and we have safeguards in place – but a warlock of Vond's abilities might be able to get through those safeguards, and might be mad enough to try, so we intend to ensure that there will never again be another warlock of Vond's abilities. Which means you, my lord, more than anyone else in the World, would be well advised to not ask any more questions about anything in Lumeth."

So Lord Sterren was the other warlock, Emmis thought. That was interesting – though it probably didn't matter anymore.

He sipped his wine and turned to smile at Princess Shirrin.

A few minutes later, as the chicken bones were cleared away and plates of iced fruit set out, Ithinia turned to Emmis.

"I suppose you heard everything the Regent and I said," she said.

"Well, most of it," Emmis admitted.

"You wouldn't have, had I been concerned about your trustworthiness,"

the Guildmaster said.

"Thank you," Emmis replied.

"You did well, bringing back Zhol's body. And you showed good sense dealing with Fendel's Assassin."

"Thank you," Emmis repeated, throwing Shirrin a quick look, but she was entirely caught up in a lively conversation in Semmat with the man on her other side.

"I hope you didn't mind being dragged along on this trip; I suppose your presence wasn't really essential, but it did seem as if you were the one who started the whole thing."

"Oh, I don't mind at all, Guildmaster. It's been very educational." He hesitated, then added, "I would like to know how many more of those flutes you have up your sleeve, though."

Ithinia smiled at him. "Just one," she said. "The one that takes us full circle, back to my garden in Ethshar."

"So each flute..." Emmis hesitated. "How do they work? I never heard of this Transporting Fissure thing until a few days ago, but it seems as if they could be awfully useful."

"They can be," Ithinia agreed, "but they're also very difficult. Each flute can only work once per enchantment, and it must be purified before it can be enchanted again. It's a seventh-order spell that takes hours to prepare

– in fact, I had to use time-distorting spells to prepare these four in the two days I had. You need... well, there's no reason to go through the ingredients list, but rest assured, my boy, it's not a cheap spell, nor an easy one. And determining exactly where the passage will come out – that's tricky, as well. Not to mention that if I had played a single wrong note it wouldn't have worked right, and of course the fissure closes up again the instant I stop playing."

"But still..."

"It's not exactly subtle, either," she continued, before Emmis could finish his sentence. "It's noisy, and effectively causes a small earthquake at each end. And there are places it just can't go – some where the magic doesn't work, or the terrain won't allow it, but even in ordinary places, if you try to come out in a building that isn't big enough you'll bring the whole thing down around your ears. Generally speaking, we prefer other methods. One of the best takes roughly a full year to prepare, but once it's done it can be used indefinitely. It's instantaneous, completely silent, easy to hide – much nicer than Hallin's Transporting Fissure."

"What would happen if you played a wrong note?" Emmis asked, glancing at the sleeve he believed held that fourth and final flute.

"That depends," Ithinia said. "We might just come out a few feet away from where we planned – or a few miles. Or the passage might be too narrow, or not solid enough, and if it crumbles while you're inside it you can fall out of the World entirely."

"Oh," Emmis said. He swallowed.

"Don't worry," she said. "I always have to go in first, after all – if there's any danger, it'll probably get me before you even take the first step.

And I didn't get any notes wrong on the first three, did I?"

Emmis acknowledged that she had not. Still, his enthusiasm for the journey home was somewhat dimmed, and he was relieved there would be no other stops along the way.

He was also glad Ithinia hadn't told him any of this before they walked through the first three fissures.

"We gave Morkai of Crooked Hill an enchanted flute twelve years ago,"

Ithinia said, as she scooped chilled melon from her plate. "To use if anything ever threatened the towers and he couldn't contact us by other means." She thrust a well-filled spoon into her mouth.

"So he was working for the Guild, and he betrayed you?"

"Not exactly," Ithinia said, pulling out the empty spoon. "He was a member of the Guild, like every wizard, and because he lived right below the towers we asked him to let us know of any threats, and we gave him the flute.

We had plenty of spells in place to warn us of trouble, but a human observer may work when magic doesn't. He wasn't working for us, in the sense of having any regular duties or being paid; he just had instructions to let us know if anything went wrong, and we gave him the flute and a few other things to that end."

"He lives near them? I didn't even see the towers while we were there,"

Emmis griped.

"The New Castle was in the way," Ithinia said. "If you had gone around it you would have been able to see the tops of the towers in the distance; they're a few miles northwest of the city."

"That fortress thing?"

"That's the New Castle, yes."

Emmis nodded. "I was surprised you didn't do anything more to Morkai,"

he said. "I mean, if he betrayed the Guild's trust, and then hired an assassin..."

"More?" She put down her spoon and turned to stare at him.

"Well, you broke that dagger, and obviously that hurt him somehow, but..."

"Emmis," Ithinia interrupted, "there was a piece of his soul in that dagger. We destroyed it. He'll never get it back. He'll never be able to perform magic again – not any magic, so far as we know, and certainly not wizardry. He'll never again be whole."

After an awkward moment of silence, Emmis said, "Oh." He suddenly took an intense interest in slicing the pear on his plate.

That, he thought, explained that. Changing the subject, he asked, "Are your gargoyles getting any supper? Do they need to eat?"

"What, Glitter and Old Rocky? No, they're fine; they live on magic."

That led to a harmless and interesting discussion of animation spells, and the odd uses some people put them to, and the rest of the meal passed cheerfully enough.

After dinner there were introductions and speeches, and all the Vondish nobles present were officially informed of the Wizards' Guild's ultimata, which they accepted happily. There were toasts proposed, and Emmis found himself drinking rather more of the Dwomoritic wine than he had intended.

Finally, though, servants appeared to escort the guests to their quarters for the night.

"We're staying?" Emmis asked, as the travelers gathered by the door to be sorted out. He had somehow missed that decision.

"Yes," Lord Ildirin told him. "Ithinia says we'll leave for home in the morning."

Emmis nodded happily. He turned to Lar. "I'll be glad to get back to Through Street, won't you?"

Lar frowned uneasily. "Actually," he said, "I won't be going back. My job in Ethshar is done – as much by the rest of you people as by me, but done.

Tonight I'm going back to my own room in Semma Castle, and I'm staying there.

Lord Sterren agreed."

"Oh, but..." Emmis stopped.

That was that, then. His brief career as a diplomatic aide was coming to an end. It would be back to the docks, loading and unloading cargo, for him.

"And I just got the embassy properly furnished," he said.

"You can live there if you want," Lar said. "But I'd think somewhere closer to the water would be more reasonable."

Emmis shook his head. "I can't afford the rent there, even if I wanted to," he said.

"Yes, you could," Lar said. "But Shiphaven or Spicetown would probably be better."

"I think you misjudge how much a dockworker makes," Emmis said. He wondered whether his old room near Canal Square might still be available.

"Dockworker?" Lar sounded genuinely puzzled.

Emmis let his annoyance into his voice. "Yes, dockworker. What did you think I did for a living?"

"I know you did," Lar said, "but didn't Lord Sterren or Lord Ildirin talk to you?"

Emmis blinked. "Talk to me about what?"

"They agreed you would be the best man for the job," Lar said.

"Yes, we did," Lord Ildirin interjected, coming up behind him, "but we hadn't spoken to him yet."

Emmis turned to the old nobleman. "About what?"

"About your new job, should you accept it." His mouth twisted wryly. "I had reservations about your age, but Lord Sterren pointed out that he's been Regent for more than two years now without causing any disasters, and he's no older than you are. The ambassador and Guildmaster Ithinia both consider you trustworthy enough for the position."

"What position?"

"Customs inspector. It will be your responsibility to ensure that no warlocks board any ship bound for the Vondish coast. You will have guardsmen working under you – I'm not sure how many, we'll see how it goes – and will be given full authority to search any vessel in Ethsharitic waters, from Shiphaven to Seacorner."

"But... warlocks?"

"You will employ magicians as needed; we can discuss your budget for that later."

"I..."

"Your experience on the docks should be very helpful," Ildirin continued. "I'm sure you know a good many tricks about hiding things aboard ship."

"A few," Emmis admitted.

"And your pay will be six bits a day, in silver."

"A round," Emmis said automatically.

Ildirin smiled a humorless smile. "Six bits," he said. "If it works out well for a year, perhaps it will increase to seven."

"Six bits," Emmis agreed. "Thank you."

That was when a footman in red and gold appeared and said, "Lord Ildirin? Your room is ready."

"We can continue this discussion in the morning, my lad," Ildirin said.

"I'm sure it will work out well for all concerned." Then he turned and followed the footman down the corridor.

Emmis watched him go.

"You could stay here, if you want," Lar said. "I don't know what Lord Sterren has planned for me, but there's plenty of work for a talented young man."

Emmis glanced at him, startled. "No, thank you, sir. I'm an Ethsharite."

"So was Sterren, and look where he is now."

"I think being a customs inspector sounds far more appropriate for me, sir."

"As you please, then." He held out his hand. "I know where my room is, and I don't need an escort to get there, so I'll be going now. May you live long and well."

Emmis took the hand. "If you're ever back in Ethshar..."

"I'll make sure to see you."

Emmis watched the Vondish ambassador walk away, until a footman with an abominable accent said, "Emmis of Shiphaven? Your place is ready."

Emmis smiled. "I'm sure it is," he said.

Epilogue

Emmis looked around the room with satisfaction.

It wasn't especially large, but he didn't really need a lot of space; his work was out there on the docks, not here in his office.

The view from the broad bay window overlooking Sea Street was magnificent. It faced out toward the westernmost of the Tea Wharves, and toward the harbor beyond; to the left he could see across the New Canal to the Shiphaven docks, while to the right, beyond the three Tea Wharves, were the Spice Wharves, extending out of sight around the curve of the waterfront. His front door, down one flight, opened around the corner on Tea Street; from there a right turn would bring him back to Sea Street and the Spicetown waterfront, while a block away to the left was a fork where the right-hand branch led across Bridge Street to Shiphaven, and the left pointed him directly toward the Palace and Lord Ildirin.

In the office itself he had a chest of drawers to keep his records in, and a big oak desk, and a few comfortable chairs, where he could interview anyone who wanted to emigrate to Vond. He had never had his very own office before; he liked the idea.

The bedroom at the back, overlooking Tea Street, wasn't really much bigger than the one he had had behind Canal Square, but it was closer to the ground and far less drafty.

So far, he liked his new job. There wasn't really all that much to it yet, since there weren't that many ships bound for Vond, but the Empire and Lord Ildirin both said that would be changing.

He had had some reservations about working in Spicetown, but in the end that had come to nothing; Azradelle and Pergren had more or less forgiven him for the incident at their wedding, though he still didn't expect any dinner invitations, and as long as he wasn't loading or unloading cargo the Spicetown dock brotherhoods had no objections to his presence.

The journey back from Semma had gone smoothly. Ithinia had not missed a note, and they had emerged safely back in her garden. Tithi, the only prisoner who had been brought back, had successfully pleaded that he personally had not actually killed anyone, despite his aiding Kelder, and had thereby avoided hanging, but it would be some time yet before he recovered from the three floggings he had received instead. Emmis had a suspicion that when he was healed, Lord Ildirin intended to use the man as an informant – Tithi really did have a remarkable ability to go unnoticed and look unimportant.

Shortly after his return Emmis had spent a day in Corinal's study, going over the rest of those answers Unniel had provided; he intended to go back with a few more questions once he had everything settled here. He was carefully not pursuing anything about the Lumeth towers or the second source of warlockry, but some of the other topics were still of interest, and his brief travels had started him wondering about a few other things, as well.

Some of it was even relevant to his work.

He was just turning toward the door when a knock sounded.

That was unexpected; Ahan wasn't due back for hours. He opened the door.

Gita was standing on the landing.

"Hello," Emmis said, startled.

"Hello," she replied.

For a moment they stood silently staring at each other; then Gita said,

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" Emmis stepped aside and ushered her in, settling her in one of the chairs. Then he took his own seat behind the desk. "What brings you here?" he asked.

"I'm tired of working for my uncle," she said. "I don't want to wait tables at his inn any more."

"Ah," Emmis said. "Were you thinking of moving to Vond, then?"

She cocked her head. "No. Why would I do that?"

"I don't... well, then why are you here?"

"I went to see Lord Ildirin," she explained. "I thought perhaps I could get a job in the Palace. In the kitchens, maybe." She shook her head. "Did you know that half the palace servants have been there for generations, and the other half is orphans from the Hundred-Foot Field? Some of those people can trace their ancestry to Azrad the Great's personal staff, and others don't know who their own mothers were, let alone any of their other ancestors."

"I didn't know that, no," Emmis said, puzzled.

"But Lord Ildirin said that you might need an assistant."

Understanding dawned.

Emmis looked at her, at the round face and generous bosom, and remembered how she had carefully saved his belongings for him when he had run off without them. He didn't really know her, but he thought he might enjoy changing that.

"So you want a job?" he asked.

She nodded.

He smiled. "I think we can arrange something," he said.

She smiled back. "I'd love that," she said.

And Emmis was fairly certain that neither of them was only discussing employment.

- end -