The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  “This way.” He beckoned and walked down the main corridor. They were on the third floor of the University. Mystified, Sonea wondered what could be so interesting up here.

  Dorrien turned into a smaller passage. After taking several turns and passing through a small, unused room, he stopped before a door and waved a hand slowly over a panel set into the wood. Sonea heard a click, then the door swung inward. Gesturing for her to follow, Dorrien moved into an unlit staircase. As the door closed behind them a globe of light sparked into existence above Dorrien’s head.

  “Where are we?” Sonea breathed. They had taken so many turns that she was completely disorientated. She was sure they were somewhere near the front of the University. There were no floors above, yet the staircase continued upward.

  “We’re inside the University,” Dorrien told her with an innocent smile.

  “I know that.”

  He chuckled and turned toward the stairs. They climbed up to another door, which responded to Dorrien’s hand as the other had. As it swung open, a blast of icy wind rushed in to chill her skin.

  “Now we’re outside the University,” Dorrien said as they stepped through the door.

  Finding herself on a wide pathway, Sonea caught her breath in surprise. They were standing on the University’s roof.

  It curved slightly to prevent rain and snow from gathering. She could see the large glass ceiling of the Great Hall in the center. A little snow had gathered around the frame of each panel of glass. The ornate edging that topped the two longer sides of the building formed a sturdy railing at waist height.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to get onto the roof,” she admitted.

  “Only a few magicians are allowed to come here,” Dorrien told her. “The locks respond to their touch. I was given access by Lady Vinara’s predecessor, Lord Garen.” Dorrien’s expression became wistful. “After mother died, he and I became friends of sorts. He was like an additional grandfather, I suppose. One who was always around to talk to me. He taught me when I decided to b—”

  A blast of wind whisked his words away and grabbed at their robes. Sonea’s fringe whipped around her face, stinging her eyes. She reached behind her head and grabbed the clip that held her hair back. Turning to face the wind, she gathered the wayward strands together and fastened them tightly.

  Then the wind abruptly stopped. Sensing the barrier Dorrien had created to shield them, she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes bright in the sunlight.

  “Come down here,” he beckoned.

  He strode down to the railing. Sonea followed, noting how the surface of the roof had been carved with grooves to prevent boots slipping when it was wet. Dorrien stopped halfway along the length of the building. Brushing snow off the railing, she leaned over to stare at the ground. It was a dizzyingly long way down.

  A group of servants hurried along the path, making their way through the gardens toward the Healers’ Quarters. She could see the roof of the circular building over the treetops. Turning to her right, she saw the Novices’ Quarters, the Dome, the Seven Arches building and the Baths. Behind was Sarika’s Hill, the forest dusted with snow. At the top of the hill the disused, crumbling lookout was just visible, mostly hidden by trees.

  Turning around completely, she looked at the city, then beyond. A ribbon of blue, the Tarali River, wound away from Imardin toward the horizon.

  “Look,” Dorrien said, pointing. “You can see barges on the river.”

  Sonea shaded her eyes and saw a long line of flat craft floating on the river just beyond the city outskirts. On each stood tiny men with poles, with which they constantly prodded the riverbed. She frowned.

  “Isn’t the river deep?”

  “It is closer to the city,” Dorrien told her, “but up there it’s still shallow enough for the bargemen. When they arrive in the city a boat will come out and guide them into the port. They’re carrying produce from the northwest, most likely,” Dorrien noted. “See the road on the other side of the river?”

  Sonea nodded. A narrow brown line ran beside the blue line of the river.

  “When they have delivered their load they will tie the barges to gorin, who will pull them back upstream. The gorin will be used to bring other trade downstream—they’re slower and cheaper to hire.

  “To get to my home, you follow that road.” Dorrien pointed. “The Steelbelt Ranges appear on the horizon after a few days’ riding.”

  Sonea followed the direction of his finger. Dark clumps of trees grew along the distant road, and beyond them she could see fields stretching to the horizon.

  She had studied maps of Kyralia, and knew that mountains marked the border between Kyralia and Sachaka, just as, in the northwest, the Grey Mountains formed the border of Elyne. As she stared out into the distance, a strange feeling stole over her. There were places out there she had never seen—never even thought to wonder about—but they were still a part of her country.

  And beyond that there were other lands she had only recently begun to learn about.

  “Have you ever been outside Kyralia?”

  “No,” Dorrien shrugged. “I might travel one day. Never had a good reason to go, and I don’t like being away from my village too long.”

  “What about Sachaka? You live right near one of the passes, don’t you? Haven’t you ever slipped through to have a look?”

  He shook his head. “A few of the herders have, probably to see if it was worth grazing there. There are no towns on the other side, not for many days’ ride. Just wasteland.”

  “The wasteland from the war?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “You’ve been paying attention to your history lessons, I see.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the only interesting part. Everything else—the Alliance and formation of the Guild—is mindlessly boring.”

  He laughed, then moved away from the railing. They walked slowly back to the door and entered the little room again. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he placed a hand on her arm.

  “So, did you like my surprise?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Better than studying?”

  “Of course.”

  He grinned and stepped sideways. Sonea gasped as he dropped down the stairwell. A moment later he rose into sight again, floating on a disc of magic. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding.

  “You nearly stopped my heart, Dorrien!” she scolded.

  He laughed. “Want to learn how to levitate?”

  She shook her head.

  “Of course you do.”

  “I have three more chapters to read.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You can read them tonight. Do you want to learn this when the other novices are watching? If I teach you now, nobody but me will see the mistakes you make.”

  She chewed her lip. He had a point…

  “Go on,” he urged. Throwing his arms out, he spun around in a circle. “I won’t let you out the door downstairs if you refuse.”

  Sonea rolled her eyes. “Oh, very well!”

  The Guild House in Kiko Town was built on a steep slope. Numerous balconies allowed visitors a view of the sea, the beaches, and the long, spiral road—still filled with celebrants. The sound of rhythmic music drifted up to Dannyl’s ears. In one hand he held a glass of Elyne wine, in the other was the bottle. Taking a sip, he moved from the balcony railing to a chair and sat down, setting the bottle beside him. Stretching his legs out, he let his mind wander.

  As always, it wandered straight to Tayend.

  The scholar had been awkward and nervous around Dannyl since the mugging. Though Dannyl had tried to behave as if he hadn’t noticed anything unusual, it seemed this hadn’t convinced Tayend that his secret had remained undiscovered. The scholar believed that a magician, when Healing, would find some physical sign to betray his inclinations, and the only way Dannyl could reassure him that this wasn’t true was to tell Tayend he was wrong. That, of course, would reveal that Dannyl had learned th
e secret anyway.

  Tayend feared that Dannyl would reject his friendship. It was a reasonable fear. Though Kyralians didn’t execute men for this “unacceptable” behavior as the Lonmar did, it was still considered wrong and unnatural. Men were punished by the removal of titles and by the man’s family being treated as if they were all tainted by association. If a family discovered one of their own had such unnatural tendencies, they sent him away to manage small estates or family interests.

  Dannyl had heard of Guild magicians in the past who had been punished in this way. Though they weren’t expelled, they became outcasts in every other way. He had been told, during the troubles he faced as a novice, that if the rumors proved true he might not be allowed to graduate.

  In all the years since, he had been careful to avoid drawing suspicion on himself again. In the past few days he had been struggling with the unsettling thought that, if Tayend’s preferences were well known in Elyne, it was inevitable that the court would be speculating about his own. The rumor from his past would only add fire to the gossip, and while such gossip might not be dangerous in Elyne, once it reached the Guild…

  Dannyl shook his head. After spending several months travelling with Tayend, any damage to his reputation had already been done. To regain his reputation he ought to disassociate himself from Tayend as soon as they returned to Elyne. He ought to make it clear he had been appalled to discover his assistant was, as the Elyne put it, a “lad.”

  Tayend will understand, a voice in the back of his mind said. Or will he? said another. What if he grows angry and tells Akkarin about Lorlen’s research?

  No, the first replied. It would ruin his integrity as a scholar. And perhaps you can end this friendship kindly, without hurting his feelings.

  Dannyl scowled down at his wineglass. Why did it always come to this? Tayend was a good companion, a man he liked and valued. Thinking of ending their friendship for fear of gossip reaching the Guild made him feel ashamed and angry. Surely he could enjoy the scholar’s company without endangering his reputation.

  Let the gossips talk, he thought. I’ll not let them ruin another promising friendship.

  But if the Guild heard, and was outraged enough to order him home…

  No, they wouldn’t do something that dramatic on the strength of a mere rumor. They know what the Elyne court is like. They won’t act unless they hear something really damning.

  And they won’t, Dannyl told himself. It was clear he would never escape this sort of speculation. So he would have to learn to live with it. Manage it. Perhaps even turn it to his advantage…

  “You’re not planning to drink that bottle all by yourself, are you?”

  Startled, Dannyl looked up to see Tayend standing at the door to the balcony.

  “Of course not,” he replied.

  “Good,” Tayend said. “Otherwise I’d look a fool carrying this around.” He held up an empty glass.

  As Dannyl poured the wine Tayend stared at him, but looked quickly away as Dannyl met his eyes. The scholar moved to the railing and stared out over the sea.

  It’s time, Dannyl decided. Time to tell him the truth, and that I’m not going to push him away. He took a deep breath.

  “We have to talk,” Tayend said suddenly.

  “Yes,” Dannyl agreed. He considered his words carefully. “I think I know why you wouldn’t let me Heal you.”

  Tayend winced. “You said to me once that you understood how difficult it was for…for men like me.”

  “But you said that men like you are accepted in Elyne.”

  “They are, and they aren’t.” Tayend looked down at his glass, then drained it. He turned to face Dannyl. “At least we don’t disown people for it,” he said accusingly.

  Dannyl grimaced. “As a nation, Kyralia isn’t known for tolerance. You know I’ve experienced that for myself. We aren’t all prejudiced, however.”

  A frown creased Tayend’s brow. “I was going to be a magician, once. A cousin of mine tested me and found potential. They were going to send me to the Guild.” Tayend’s eyes misted over, and Dannyl saw longing in the scholar’s face, but then the scholar shook his head and sighed. “Then I heard about you and I realized that it didn’t matter whether the rumors were true or not. It was clear that I could never be a magician. The Guild would work out what I was and send me straight home.”

  Dannyl suddenly felt a strange, dull anger. With his impressive memory and sharp intellect, Tayend would have been a fine magician. “So how did you avoid joining the Guild?”

  “I told father I didn’t want to.” Tayend shrugged. “He didn’t suspect then. Later, when I began to associate with certain people, he decided he’d worked out my real reason. He believes I turned down the chance because I wanted to indulge myself in ways the Guild wouldn’t allow. He never understood that I wouldn’t be able to hide what I was.” Tayend looked down at his empty glass, then strode forward and picked up the bottle. Refilling his glass, he downed the wine quickly.

  “Well,” he said, looking out over the ocean, “if it’s any consolation, I always knew the rumors about you couldn’t be true.”

  Dannyl winced. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, if you were like me, and couldn’t help what you felt, then the Healers would find out, wouldn’t they?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  The scholar’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me…?”

  “They sense the physical. That is all. If there is something in a man’s body that causes him to desire men, the Healers haven’t found it yet.”

  “But I was told…I was told Healers can tell if there’s something wrong with someone.”

  “They can.”

  “So this…isn’t a wrongness or…” Tayend frowned and looked at Dannyl. “So how did you know about me?”

  Dannyl smiled. “Your mind was shouting it so loud I could hardly ignore it. People with magical potential who don’t learn to use it often project their thoughts strongly.”

  “Oh?” Tayend looked away, his face reddening. “How much did you…read?”

  “Not much,” Dannyl assured him. “Mostly your fears. I didn’t continue listening. That’s not good manners.”

  Tayend nodded. He thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “You mean I could have joined the Guild!” He frowned. “But I’m not sure I would have liked it much.” Moving to the chair next to Dannyl’s, Tayend sat down. “Can I ask a personal question?”

  “Yes.”

  “What really happened between you and that novice?”

  Dannyl sighed. “Nothing.” He glanced at Tayend and found the scholar watching him expectantly. “Very well. The whole story, then.

  “I wasn’t popular. New novices often seek older ones to help with their studies, but I had trouble finding someone who’d agree to help me. I’d heard tales about one of the older boys, and that other novices avoided him because of these stories, but he was one of the best in his year and I decided to ignore the rumors. When he agreed to help me I was rather pleased with myself.” He shook his head. “But there was a novice in my class who hated me.”

  “Lord Fergun?”

  “Yes. We’d thrown insults and played tricks on each other since classes first started. He’d heard the tales about my helper, and they were all he needed to start new rumors. The next I knew I was being questioned by the Higher Magicians.”

  “What happened?”

  “I denied the rumors, of course. They decided the best way to stop the gossip was to keep us apart, so I was ordered to stay away from the boy. Of course, this was all the confirmation the novices needed.”

  “What happened to him? Were the rumors about him true?”

  “He graduated and returned to his country. That’s all I can tell you.” Seeing Tayend’s gaze sharpen with curiosity, Dannyl added: “No, I’m not going to tell you his name.”

  Looking disappointed, Tayend leaned back in his chair. “So what happened then?”

  Dannyl shrugg
ed. “I kept studying and made sure I didn’t bring suspicion on myself again. Eventually everyone forgot about it, except Fergun—and the Elyne court, it seems.”

  Tayend didn’t smile. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “And what will you do now?”

  Dannyl refilled his glass. “Since the Tombs of White Tears are closed during the festival, there’s not much to do except drink and relax.”

  “And then?”

  “I guess we visit the Tombs.”

  “And then?”

  “That depends on what we find. Either way, we’ll return to Elyne.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Tayend held Dannyl’s eyes. “If being seen with a novice who might or might not have been a lad was enough to cause you so much trouble, then associating with a man known to be a lad must be much, much worse. You said you must avoid bringing suspicion on yourself. I can still assist you from the library, but I’ll send what I find to you by messenger.”

  Dannyl felt something twist inside. He hadn’t considered that Tayend might suggest this. Remembering his earlier thoughts of ending the friendship he felt a pang of guilt.

  “Oh, no,” he replied. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “But what could bring more suspicion upon you than associating with—”

  “—a scholar of the Great Library,” Dannyl finished. “A useful and valuable assistant. And a friend. If the gossips are going to talk, they’ll have started already. They’ll have more to talk about if they hear we’re communicating in secret.”

  Surprised, Tayend opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. Looking down at his glass, he lifted it to toast Dannyl.

  “Here’s to friendship, then.”

  Smiling, Dannyl lifted his glass to meet the scholar’s.

  Rothen ran a finger along the spines of the books as he searched. He paused as the door of the Magicians’ Library opened, and looked up to see Dorrien striding into the room followed by Sonea. He frowned. Sonea had asked him to get several books from the library, but here she was with Dorrien.