The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  The men he could see were darker and taller than the average Vindo, suggesting a mix of Vindo and Lonmar blood. All were staring at him, their expressions guarded. One or two glanced at a man at the prow of the boat. This, Dannyl guessed, must be their leader.

  As the second boat drew up next to the ship, the man raised a hand and called out in the Vindo language. Tayend made a small, strangled noise, but the crew of the Anyi remained silent. Dannyl glanced at the captain.

  “What did he say?”

  The captain cleared his throat. “He ask how much you sell your pretty friend for. Say he make profit selling as slave in the West.”

  “Really?” Dannyl glanced at Tayend. “What do you think? Fifty gold?”

  Tayend turned to glare at Dannyl.

  The captain chuckled. “I not know right price for man slaves.”

  Grinning, Dannyl shook his head. “Neither do I. Tell the pirate my friend is not for sale. Tell him,” Dannyl turned to regard the pirate, “that he cannot afford the cargo on this ship.”

  The captain repeated the words in Vindo. The pirate smiled, then raised a hand to signal to the other boat. Men hurried to ropes and pulleys, and soon the vessels had pulled away from the ship and were moving away rapidly.

  The captain took a step toward Dannyl. “You kill now,” he said urgently. “Before they get away.”

  Dannyl shook his head. “No.”

  “But pirate bad people. Always rob ships. They kill. They take slaves.”

  “They didn’t attack us,” Dannyl replied.

  “You kill them, you make sea safer.”

  Dannyl turned to face the captain. “Killing the men on one or two boats won’t make any difference. Others will replace them. If the Vindo people want magicians to remove the pirates from these islands, they must arrange it with the Guild. By law, I can only use my powers in defense unless under direct command from my King.”

  The captain lowered his eyes and moved away. Dannyl heard the man muttering in his own language before ordering the crew back to their duties. Several of the sailors looked displeased, but returned to their work without complaint.

  “They’re not the only ones disappointed by your performance,” Tayend said.

  Dannyl regarded his friend speculatively. “You also think I should have killed them?”

  Tayend narrowed his eyes at the retreating pirates. “I wouldn’t have protested.” Then he shrugged. “But mostly I was hoping for a little display of magic. Nothing too fancy. Just some sparks and fire.”

  “Sparks and fire?”

  “Yes. Maybe a little waterspout.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Dannyl replied dryly.

  “And what was all that about selling me to slavers—and for only fifty gold! How insulting!”

  “I’m sorry. Would a hundred gold have been more appropriate?”

  “No! And you don’t sound particularly sorry.”

  “Then I apologize for failing to be convincing in my apology.”

  Tayend rolled his eyes. “Enough! I’m going inside.”

  Sonea hugged her box of notes to her chest and sighed. It was growing dark rapidly. The sunlight had streaked the forest with long shadows when she had set out, but only a misty half-light remained now, making it difficult to distinguish the edges of things. She resisted an urge to create a light, knowing that it would make her all too easy to find.

  A twig snapped nearby.

  She stopped and stared through the trees. In the distance the lights of the Healers’ Quarters could be seen flickering through the trunks. She saw no movement, heard no sound.

  Releasing the breath she had been holding, she started walking again.

  A few weeks earlier, Lord Kiano had taken the class to the fields and glass-roofed houses beyond the Healers’ Quarters, where medicinal plants were grown. He had shown them several species, telling them how to identify each plant. Afterward, he had told them that, each week, he would select a novice to accompany him to the fields after the class, where he would test them on their knowledge.

  That afternoon had been her turn. After the test, he had dismissed her, leaving her to return to the Novices’ Quarters on her own. Knowing that Regin wouldn’t miss an opportunity to waylay her out of the sight of the magicians, she had lingered, pretending to be interested in examining the plants, in the hope that she could follow Kiano back. But when the teacher had begun a lazy conversation with a gardener she realized she would be waiting a long time.

  So she decided to try her other plan. Guessing that Regin would be waiting for her on the usual path, she had cut through the forest, hoping to circle around the Healers’ Quarters to the path that led to the front of the University.

  A crunch to her left brought her to a stop again. She felt her blood turn cold as she heard a smothered laugh and knew her plan had failed.

  “Good evening, Sonea.”

  Spinning around, she saw a familiar silhouette among the trees. She willed a globe light into existence, and the darkness shrank back. Regin stopped, a smile spreading across his face as two more figures appeared beside him: Issle and Alend. Hearing sounds all around, Sonea saw Gennyl, Vallon and Kano emerging from the shadows.

  “Nice night for a walk in the forest,” Regin observed, looking around. “So quiet. Peaceful. No one to interrupt us.” He stepped closer. “The teachers aren’t giving you special treatment anymore, are they? Such a shame. It really isn’t fair that we get extra attention and you don’t. So I thought I’d give you some lessons myself.”

  The sound of snow crunching under boots told Sonea that the novices behind her were drawing close. She strengthened her shield but, to her surprise, they moved around her to stand behind Regin.

  “Hmmm,” Regin continued. “Perhaps I could teach you some of what Lord Balkan has shown me.” He glanced at the others and nodded. “Yes, I think you’d find that interesting.”

  Sonea’s mouth went dry. She had known Regin was taking extra classes in Warrior Skills, but not that he was learning under Balkan, the Head of that discipline. As Regin raised his palms, the other novices moved closer to their leader and placed their hands on his shoulders.

  “Defend yourself,” Regin said, mimicking Lord Vorel’s commanding tone.

  Throwing more magic into her shield, she blocked the flow of energy that flashed from each of Regin’s palms. The strikes were weak, but rapidly grew in force until they were stronger than anything she had faced in the Arena. Surprised, she poured more and more magic into her shield.

  How was this possible? She had fought Regin enough times to know his strength. He had always been much weaker than her. Had he been holding back, just waiting for a moment to surprise her with his real strength?

  Regin’s face stretched into an ugly grin, and he took a step toward her. Abruptly, the attack weakened, then stopped as he paused to glare at the others. They hurriedly stretched forward to regain their hold on his shoulder.

  As they touched Regin again, he resumed his attack. She considered what this meant. Obviously the others were lending him their power. She hadn’t heard that it was possible, but there was plenty about the Warrior Skills she didn’t know—or might have missed during Vorel’s long and boring lectures.

  Her senses rang with the magic that filled the air. The snow between them had melted into sizzling puddles. So much power…the thought of what was being directed at her was appalling, and set her heart racing. If she failed to hold her shield, the consequences would be brief—and fatal. He was taking such a risk…or was he?

  What if he means to kill me?

  Surely not. He would be expelled from the Guild.

  Yet when she pictured Regin facing the assembled magicians in the Guildhall, she could easily hear what they’d say. An unfortunate accident. He wasn’t to blame for her poor skills. Four weeks’ work in the library, and don’t let it happen again.

  Anger replaced her fear. As she regarded the novices, she saw that they were glancing at each other dou
btfully. Regin was no longer grinning, but frowning with concentration. He growled something, and the others protested in reply. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t having the effect they’d expected.

  Was this, then, as strong as they could be when combined? She smiled. She was holding them off easily. He had underestimated her—and if the globe light floating above them was any indication, she still had strength to spare.

  How, then, would this end? She was sure striking back would break their attack. But if they could not defend themselves she might be the one facing the Higher Magicians and exile.

  And if they did manage to shield, they would still continue to hound her all of the way back to the Novices’ Quarters. How could she get away from them? She glanced up at the globe light. If she extinguished it, it would take a few minutes for their eyes to grow used to the dark. She could slip away. Unfortunately, she would suffer the same night-blindness…

  Blindness…?

  She smiled. Closing her eyes tightly, she exerted her will. Light flashed brightly behind her eyelids, and she felt the attack falter. When she opened her eyes again the novices were blinking or rubbing their faces.

  “I can’t see!” Kano exclaimed.

  It worked! She grinned as Alend swore vehemently and spread his arms out, having nearly lost his balance on the uneven ground. Issle groped about until she found a tree, then grasped it as if she was afraid it would run away.

  Sonea took a step backward. Hearing the crunch of snow, Regin reached out and took a step toward her. His boot landed in the mud created by the melted snow, then slipped sideways. He landed face first in the mire. An exclamation of disgust and frustration burst from him as he struggled to his feet.

  Sonea choked back laughter. A murderous look crossed Regin’s face and he leapt up from the ground. Evading his groping hands, Sonea backed away from the novices.

  “Thanks for the lesson, Regin. I never knew you were a man of such vision.”

  Chuckling, she turned away and started toward the lights of the University.

  16

  The Rule About Accusations

  Rothen was dismantling a delicate construction of tubes, valves, and glass baubles when a voice spoke his name. He looked up to find a young man in servant’s clothes, wearing the green sash that marked him as a Healer’s messenger, standing in the doorway of the classroom.

  “Yes?” Rothen said.

  “Lady Vinara requests your presence in the Healers’ Quarters.”

  Rothen’s heart skipped. What could Vinara want? Had something happened to Sonea? Had one of Regin’s pranks gone too far? Or was it someone else? His old friend, Yaldin? Or Ezrille, his wife?

  “I will be there shortly,” he replied.

  The messenger bowed and hurried away. Rothen looked at the novice who had stayed back to assist him. Farind smiled.

  “I’ll finish if you want, my lord.”

  Rothen nodded. “Very well. Just make sure you dispose of the acid carefully.”

  “Of course.”

  Hurrying down the corridor, Rothen tried to stop himself from guessing the reason for Vinara’s summons. He would know soon enough. The night air was icy cold outside the University, so he surrounded himself with a shield and warmed the air within. Reaching the Healers’ Quarters he found Lady Vinara waiting for him in the entrance.

  “You sent for me?” Rothen asked breathlessly.

  Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “There was no need to hurry, Lord Rothen,” Vinara told him. “The novices here who claim to be victims of your favorite are not about to expire. Do you know where Sonea is?”

  Victims? What had she done? “Studying in her room, most likely.”

  “You haven’t seen her this evening?”

  “No.” Rothen frowned. “What is this about?”

  “Six novices found their way here an hour ago. They claim that Sonea ambushed them in the forest and blinded them.”

  “Blinded them? How?”

  “With a bright light.”

  “Oh.” Rothen relaxed, but seeing the Healer’s grim expression, he grew worried again. “Not permanently?”

  She shook her head. “No. None of their injuries are serious—certainly not bad enough to waste Healers’ time on. They will recover.”

  “Any injuries other than blindness?”

  “Cuts and bruises from finding their way out of the forest.”

  “I see.” Rothen nodded slowly. “Would one of these novices be Garrel’s favorite, Regin?”

  “Yes.” Her lips thinned. “I have heard Sonea has a particular dislike for this boy.”

  Rothen gave a short, bitter laugh. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you. May I speak to Regin?”

  “Of course. I will take you to him.” Vinara turned and began to walk along the main corridor of the building.

  As Rothen followed, he considered all that Vinara had told him. He didn’t believe for a minute that Sonea had ambushed Regin and his friends. More likely they had ambushed her. Something had gone wrong, however.

  They might have blinded themselves so they could blame her for it, but he doubted that had been the case. If they had intended to do so, they would have arranged for others to find and guide them back to the Healers’ Quarters. That they hadn’t even called for assistance mentally suggested they had hesitated to call attention to their situation.

  Vinara stopped by a door and gestured inside. Looking into the room, Rothen saw a familiar young man in mudstained robes sitting on the edge of a bed. Regin’s face was flushed. His fists clenched and unclenched and his eyes burned fiercely at a point far beyond the shoulder of his guardian, Lord Garrel.

  The magician turned to regard Rothen and his expression darkened. Ignoring him, Rothen listened instead to Regin, who was just at the end of a long, angry whine.

  “I swear, she was trying to kill us! I know the Guild law. She should be expelled!”

  Rothen glanced at Vinara, then back at the boy, and felt a smile pulling at his lips. If Regin wanted to raise Guild law, then so be it.

  “That’s a very serious accusation, Regin,” he said quietly. “And it would be most inappropriate for your guardian to confirm the truth of it.” He turned to look at the woman beside him. “Perhaps Lady Vinara would suggest someone.”

  Vinara blinked, then her eyes twinkled as she realized what Rothen meant.

  “I will perform the truth-read,” she said.

  Regin drew in a sharp breath. Looking back to the novice, Rothen was gratified to see the boy had turned white. “No, I didn’t mean…” he spluttered. “I’m not—”

  “Are you withdrawing your accusation, then?” Rothen said.

  “Yes,” Regin gasped. “I withdraw my accusation.”

  “So what did happen tonight?”

  “Yes,” Vinara said, her voice darkening. “Why did Sonea attack you, as you claim?”

  “Clearly she intended to ensure they could not attend classes for a few days,” Garrel replied.

  “I see,” Rothen said. “What is going to occur in the next few days that she might want you to be absent from?”

  “I don’t know…I guess she just wanted to hurt us.”

  “And so she followed six novices into the forest,” Rothen gave Vinara a meaningful look, “certain that she would be able to overcome your combined strength? She must be better at Warrior Skills than her marks indicate.”

  Regin’s sightless eyes sought his guardian.

  “What were the six of you doing in the forest in the first place?” Vinara asked.

  “We were just…exploring. For fun.”

  “Hmmm,” she said. “That’s not what your friends say.”

  Regin opened his mouth, then closed it again. Garrel rose. “My novice has suffered an injury and needs rest. Surely this questioning can wait until he is recovered.”

  Rothen hesitated, then decided it was worth the risk. He turned to Vinara. “He’s right. We don’t need to hear Regin’s answers. I’m sure Sonea will
submit to a truth-read to prove her innocence.”

  “No!” Regin exclaimed.

  Vinara’s eyes narrowed. “If she is willing, you cannot prevent it, Regin.”

  The novice grimaced, as if tasting something bad. “All right. I’ll tell you. We followed her into the forest and played a trick on her. It was nothing dangerous. We were just…practicing what we’d learned in class.”

  “I see.” Vinara’s voice was chilly. “Then you had better tell us what this trick was—and bear in mind that Sonea’s memory will confirm or deny everything you say.”

  Sighing, Sonea marked the page of the book with a slip of paper, then rose to answer the door. She opened it carefully, bracing it with magic in case Regin tried to force his way in. To her surprise, Lord Osen stood in the corridor outside.

  “Forgive the intrusion,” Lord Osen said. “Administrator Lorlen wishes you to meet him in his office.”

  Sonea stared at him, the warmth draining from her face. A cold dread entered her stomach. The Administrator…she hadn’t spoken to him in months. What did he want? Was it anything to do with the High Lord? Had Akkarin discovered that she knew his secret?

  “Don’t be concerned,” Osen told her, smiling. “He just wants to ask a few questions.”

  Stepping out of her room, she followed him out of the Novices’ Quarters, across the courtyard, and through the back entrance of the University. Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. As he opened the door to the Administrator’s office, Sonea drew in a breath. The room was filled with magicians. Some sat in chairs, others were standing. As she stepped inside she realized that most of the Higher Magicans were present.

  Seeing Rothen, she let her breath out in relief. Then she saw Lord Garrel and her heart sank. So this was about her encounter with Regin, then. He must have told a fine tale to stir up the Higher Magicians.

  Rothen smiled and beckoned to her. Feeling ill, she moved to his side.

  “Sonea.”

  She turned to face Lorlen, who was sitting behind a large desk. The blue-robed magician’s expression was sober.