Upland Outlaws by Dave Duncan

his enthusiasm.
    Shandie looked to the dwarf, who was swinging his little legs on the bench, his pebbly teeth showing.
    “It’s got promise,” the little man growled. “Grunth will like it. Don’t know about East, ‘cause he needs his votaries to tie shoelaces for him. Hate to say this, but I think even Old Yellowbelly may support the idea.”
    Sagorn had been rubbing his chin, displaying little of his usual scom. “Can you do something about the wardens themselves? I wish there were some way of keeping them honest!”
    The dwarf bristled menacingly.
    “They won’t have votaries to back them up,” King Rap said. “If they breach the peace, they’ll be vulnerable to prosecution like other sorcerers.”
    Ylo thought that sounded like the wildest sort of hare-brained optimism he had ever heard. He could imagine his father’s contempt. Consul Ylopingo had been a crafty, cynical politician, and he would have dismissed such wishful dreaming out of hand.
    And yet … There were crafty politicians here in this stuffy, shabby deckhouse, and they were not laughing. Shandie was being his usual inscrutable self, but Acopulo looked impressed, and so did Umpily. The old count was beaming.
    Abruptly the imperor rose and stalked over to a pile of discarded cloaks on a chair near the door. All eyes followed him. He rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a roll of vellum. “Lucky I brought this along, then, isn’t it?”
    Old Sagorn straightened in his chair with remarkable agility. “That’s it?” he barked.
    “This is it,” Shandie agreed, holding up the roll. “The Protocol itself.”
    “An authentic copy?”
    “I think it’s the original. It has Emine’s seal on it.”
    King Rap was squinting. “There’s sorcery on it, certainly.”
    “Preservation spell,” the dwarf rumbled. “There’s one like it in the White Palace.”
    Shandie smiled. He walked over to Sagorn and passed him the scroll. The old man grabbed it, began unrolling hastily. Acopulo jumped up and hurried across to read over his shoulder. «Ylo?
    “Sire?”
    “Remember some of the dreadful things Warlock Lith’rian said last year? About the Protocol?”
    Ylo thought back to that rainy night in the forest of Nefer Moor and shivered at the memory. “Vaguely.”
    The imperor frowned. “He was quite right! The Protocol has been perverted. It doesn’t give East a free hand with the legions. It says that only East may use sorcery on them, but the context is that he must use it to restrain the legions. That is his duty!”
    “Then the dragons …” Ylo said.
    “Yes! South is supposed to restrain the dragons. Lith’rian was equally at fault. And North is supposed to restrain the jotnaryou don’t see much of that in history!”
    The two scholars were engrossed in reading the Protocol. Umpily was on his way to join them, but everyone else automatically looked at Raspnex. He scratched his beard, then shrugged like a boy caught in mischief. “They haven’t been misbehaving too badly lately, have they?” Inasmuch as dwarves ever smiled though, he was smiling.
    “Did you ever read that copy in your palace, your Omnipotence?” Shandie asked, and his eyes had found their old brilliance.
    “No… your Majesty.”
    “Obviously the wording needs to be made more explicit,” the faun said, and chuckled. “The wardens’ responsibilities will have to be defined more strictly. Well, your Imperial Majesty? What do you think of our proposal?”
    “Your New Order?” Shandie said dryly. “Your plan to reform the world?” He glanced around. “Lord Ionfeu?”
    “It is a staggering concept, Sire,” the old man said. He exchanged smiles with his wife. “But a worthy one!”
    “Do I understand correctly, though?” Eigaze said. “This new protocol would prohibit only evil use of power? Wellmeaning sorcerers could practice healing, or build bridges, or banish famine? Sorcerers need no longer hide? Sorcery could become a source of positive good in the