The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  “What does it say?”

  “That this woman was fair and honorable. That she protected the islands with high magic. The words for ‘high magic’ were carved deeply. There’s a glyph emphasized in the same way in what I think is an old Vindo tongue—which is what was carved on the walls. The same glyph appears on the walls in several places.”

  Handing Dannyl a drawing, Tayend pointed out the glyph. Each time the words for “high magic” occurred, the picture above it represented a figure kneeling before a woman. The woman’s hand was extended to touch the supplicant’s upraised palm, as if to placate or reward.

  “That could imply that she’s performing this high magic. What do you think she’s doing?”

  Dannyl shrugged. “Healing, perhaps. That would make sense, since Healing would have been very rare a thousand years ago. It was only through cooperation and experimentation that the Guild managed to develop the skill—and it’s still the most difficult discipline to learn.”

  “So the term ‘high magic’ is not familiar?”

  Dannyl shook his head. “No.”

  “The hole we looked through did not look natural to me. It had to have been made by someone. Do you think it might have been made by magic?”

  “Possibly.” Dannyl smiled. “I think the last visitor did us a favor.”

  “Indeed he did.” The ship dropped sharply. Tayend winced and turned a sickly color.

  “You’re not going to spend this journey in misery,” Dannyl said firmly. “Give me your wrist.”

  Tayend’s eyes widened. “But…I…”

  “You haven’t got any excuses now.”

  To Dannyl’s amusement, Tayend blushed and looked away. “I’m still, um, uncomfortable with…well…”

  Dannyl waved a hand. “This sort of Healing is quick. And I won’t be reading your mind. Besides, you have to face the truth. You’re not very good company when you’re sick. When you’re not throwing up everywhere, you’re complaining about throwing up.”

  “Complaining about it!” Tayend protested. “I did not complain!” He thrust his wrist out. “Go on then.”

  Tayend closed his eyes tightly. Taking the scholar’s wrist, Dannyl sent his mind out and immediately felt nausea and giddiness. A small effort of will soothed it away. Letting go of Tayend’s wrist, Dannyl watched as the scholar opened his eyes and considered the effect.

  “That’s much better.” Tayend gave Dannyl a quick, searching glance, then shrugged and looked down at his notes. “How long will it last?”

  “A few hours. Longer as you get used to the rocking.”

  Tayend smiled. “I knew I’d brought you along for something. What are we going to do when we get back?”

  Dannyl grimaced. “I’ll have to spend a lot of time catching up on my ambassadorial duties.”

  “Well, while you do that, I’ll continue our research. We knew where Akkarin travelled to because of the ships’ records. A question here and there will tell us what he did afterward. The Bel Arralade has a party to celebrate her birthday every year and that will be the perfect place to start. An invitation will be waiting at the Guild House for you.”

  “How can you be sure? I’ve barely spent more than a few months in Capia, and I haven’t met the Bel Arralade yet.”

  “Which is why I’m certain you’ll be invited.” Tayend smiled. “A young, unmarried magician like yourself. Besides, Ambassador Errend always attends. If you didn’t get an invite, he’d insist you accompanied him.”

  “And you?”

  “I have friends who’ll take me if I ask nicely.”

  “Why not come with me?”

  Tayend glanced up and down the corridor between their cabins. He leaned forward.

  “If we arrive together, there will be assumptions made you might rather weren’t.”

  “We’ve been travelling together for months,” Dannyl pointed out. “Assumptions may have already been made.”

  “Not necessarily.” Tayend waved a hand. “Not if people observe you treating me as a mere underling. They may assume you don’t know about me. After all, you’re Kyralian. If you knew, you would have found another assistant.”

  “We really have a bad reputation, don’t we?”

  Tayend nodded. “But we can use that to our advantage. If anyone says anything about me, you should be outraged that they would slander my name. I’ll plead with my friends that they keep you in the dark, because it’s important to my work. If we’re convincing enough, we’ll be able to continue working together without anyone questioning.”

  Dannyl frowned. He hated to admit it, but Tayend was right. Though he wanted to shrug and let the gossips talk, any steps they could take to protect his reputation would make both of their lives easier.

  “Very well. I’ll act like the arrogant Kyralian magician people expect.” He looked at Tayend. “But I want you to remember, if I say anything harsh or judgmental, I don’t really mean it.”

  Tayend nodded. “I know.”

  “I’m just warning you. My acting skills are fairly good.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Dannyl chuckled. “Yes, really. I have my mentor’s words to prove it. He said if I could convince the Thieves I was a poor merchant, I could deceive anyone.”

  “We’ll see,” Tayend replied. “We’ll see.”

  Lord Osen waited patiently as Lorlen finished the letter. With a wave of his hand, Lorlen dried the ink, then folded the sheet of paper and sealed it.

  “What is next?” he asked as he handed the letter to Osen.

  “That is all.”

  Lorlen looked up, surprised. “We’ve caught up?”

  “Yes.” Osen smiled.

  Leaning back in his chair, Lorlen regarded his assistant approvingly. “I haven’t thanked you for looking after everything for me last week.”

  Osen shrugged. “You needed a rest. In my opinion, you should have taken a longer break. Perhaps visited family for a few weeks like everyone else. You still look worn out.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Lorlen replied. “But leave them all to their own devices for a few weeks?” He shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  The young magician chuckled. “Now you’re starting to sound like your old self. Shall we start preparations for the next Meet?”

  “No.” Lorlen frowned as he remembered. “I’m visiting the High Lord tonight.”

  “Forgive me for saying, but you don’t sound particularly enthusiastic.” Osen hesitated, then continued in a quieter tone. “Have you two had a disagreement?”

  Lorlen considered his assistant. Osen rarely missed anything, but he was discreet. Would he believe a denial? Probably not completely.

  —Tell him we have. Something minor.

  Lorlen stiffened at the voice in his mind. Akkarin hadn’t spoken to him through the ring since the conversation outside the Night Room over a week ago.

  “I guess you could say we have,” Lorlen replied slowly. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Osen nodded. “I thought so. Was it over Sonea’s guardianship? That’s what some of the magicians believe.”

  “Do they?” Lorlen could not help smiling. He had become an object of gossip.

  —Well? he projected at the ring.

  —The answer you are considering will do.

  Snorting softly, Lorlen looked up and gave Osen a warning look. “I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Osen. Speculation is fine, but I do not want the others to know the High Lord and I disagreed. For Sonea’s sake.”

  Osen nodded. “I understand. I will keep it to myself—and I hope you two resolve your differences.”

  Lorlen stood up. “That depends on how well Sonea adapts to the change. It is a bit much to expect of her after all she’s been through already.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be in her position,” Osen admitted as he followed Lorlen to the door. “But I’m sure she’ll cope.”

  Lorlen nodded. I hope so. “Good night, Osen.”

  “Goo
d night, Administrator.”

  The University corridor echoed with the young magician’s steps as he strode away. Walking into the Entrance Hall, Lorlen felt a cloud of dread gather around him. He stepped between the enormous doors and stopped at the top of the stairs.

  Looking across the front of the gardens, he considered the High Lord’s Residence. He hadn’t been back since the night Akkarin had read his mind. Remembering sent a chill down his spine.

  Taking a deep breath, he made himself think of Sonea. For her safety, he must make himself cross the garden and face Akkarin again. The High Lord’s invitation was not to be refused.

  Lorlen forced himself to move. After a few steps, he quickened his pace. Better to get it over and done with. At the door to the residence he paused, heart beating quickly, then made himself knock. As always, the door swung inward at the first touch. Seeing that the room was empty, Lorlen sighed with relief. He stepped inside.

  In the corner of his eye he saw a movement. A shadow detached itself from the dark rectangle of the right-hand stairway entrance. Akkarin’s black robes rustled quietly as he approached.

  Black robes. Black magic. Ironically, black had always been the color of the High Lord. You didn’t have to take it so literally, Lorlen thought.

  Akkarin chuckled. “Wine?”

  Lorlen shook his head.

  “Then sit. Relax.”

  Relax? How could he relax? And he resented this friendly familiarity. Lorlen remained standing, and watched Akkarin move to the wine cabinet and pick up a bottle.

  “How is Sonea?”

  Akkarin’s shoulders lifted. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure where she is exactly. Somewhere in the University, I believe.”

  “She’s not here?”

  “No.” Akkarin turned and gestured to the chairs. “Sit.”

  “Then how do you…you didn’t give her one of these rings?”

  “No.” Akkarin took a sip of wine. “I’ve checked on her from time to time. She spent a few days exploring the University, and now that she’s found a few corners to hide in, she fills her time reading books. Adventure stories, from what I can tell.”

  Lorlen frowned. He was glad that Akkarin hadn’t forced Sonea to stay in her room for the break, but hearing of her hiding in corners of the University confirmed how frightened and unhappy she must be.

  “Are you sure you don’t want any wine? This year’s Anuren dark is very good.”

  Lorlen glanced at the bottle, then shook his head. Sighing, he moved to a chair and sat down.

  “Taking on her guardianship has not been as troublesome as I had feared,” Akkarin said quietly as he moved to his chair. “It complicates everything, but it is better than the alternative.”

  Lorlen closed his eyes and tried not to think what the alternative might be. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then forced himself to meet Akkarin’s eyes.

  “Why have you done this, Akkarin? Why black magic?”

  Akkarin met his gaze levelly. “Of all people, Lorlen, you are one I wish I could tell. I saw it change how you regard me. If you had thought defeating me was possible, you would have sent the Guild against me. Why didn’t you ask what I was doing when you first learned of it?”

  “Because I didn’t know what you would do.”

  “After all the years we were friends, you didn’t trust me?”

  “After what I saw in Sonea’s mind, I realized I didn’t know you at all.”

  Akkarin’s brows rose. “That’s understandable. It is a powerful thing, this belief that black magic is evil.”

  “Is it?”

  Akkarin frowned, his eyes focusing far beyond the floor. “Yes.”

  “Then why practice it?” Lorlen demanded. He held up the hand bearing the ring. “Why this?”

  “I cannot tell you. Be assured, I’m not intending to take over the Guild.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re already High Lord.”

  The corner of Akkarin’s mouth curled up. “I am, aren’t I? Then be assured that I’m not about to destroy the Guild, or anything else you hold dear.” Putting down his glass, he rose and moved to the serving table. Filling another glass, he handed it to Lorlen.

  “I will tell you one day, Lorlen. I promise you that.”

  Lorlen stared at Akkarin. The dark eyes were steady. Lorlen accepted the glass and reassurance reluctantly.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Akkarin opened his mouth to reply, but stopped at a faint knock from the door. He straightened and narrowed his eyes.

  The door swung open. The glow from Akkarin’s globe light barely reached Sonea’s eyes as she stepped inside, head bowed.

  “Good evening, Sonea,” Akkarin said smoothly.

  She bowed. “Good evening, High Lord, Administrator,” she replied in a quiet voice.

  “What did you do today?”

  She looked down at the books she was holding to her chest. “Some reading.”

  “With the libraries closed, you must have little to choose from. Are there any books you would like to buy?”

  “No, High Lord.”

  “Other entertainments can be arranged if you wish.”

  “No, thank you, High Lord.”

  One of Akkarin’s eyebrows rose, and then he waved a hand. “You may go.”

  Looking relieved, she hurried to the left-hand staircase. Lorlen felt a pang of guilt and sympathy as he watched her go.

  “She must be miserable,” he murmured.

  “Hmmm. Her reticence is irritating,” Akkarin said quietly, as if to himself. Moving back to his chair, he retrieved his glass of wine.

  “So tell me, have Peakin and Davin resolved their little dispute yet?”

  Leaning against the window, Rothen stared at the little square of light on the other side of the gardens. He had seen the slight figure approach the residence a few minutes before. A moment later the light had appeared. Now he was certain that the room behind that window was Sonea’s.

  A light tap at the door drew his attention away. Tania walked inside, carrying a jug of water and a small jar. She set them down on the table.

  “Lady Indria said you should avoid taking it on an empty stomach,” Tania told him.

  “I know,” Rothen replied. “I’ve used it before.” He moved from the window and picked up the jar. The soporific was an innocuous gray, but he had never forgotten how vile it tasted.

  “Thank you, Tania. You may go.”

  “Sleep well,” she said. Bowing, she moved to the door.

  “Wait.” Rothen straightened and regarded his servant carefully. “Would you…can you…?”

  She smiled. “I’ll let you know if I overhear anything.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  After she had left, he sat down and mixed some of the powder in water. Forcing himself to swallow it in one draft, he leaned back and waited for the drug to take effect. The taste brought back a memory of a face he sometimes thought he’d forgotten, and he felt a stab of pain.

  Yilara, my wife. Even after all this time I still mourn you. But I suppose I would never forgive myself if I stopped.

  He had resolved to always remember his wife as she had been when healthy, not as she had been at the end, wasted with her illness. He smiled as happier memories returned.

  Still smiling, still in his chair, he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

  24

  A Request

  As she left the Baths, Sonea thought of the past two weeks and was surprised to feel some regret that the break was over. She had spent most of the time exploring the University, reading or, on warmer days, walking up through the forest to the spring.

  In some ways, little had changed. She still planned her movements about the Guild to avoid someone. Akkarin was far easier to avoid than Regin, however. The only time she saw him was in the evenings, when she returned to the High Lord’s Residence.

  A servant had been assigned to her. Unlike Tania, Viola was distant and businesslike. H
aving noted Sonea’s habit of rising early, she always appeared just after dawn. It had taken several requests before the woman finally brought a jar of raka powder, and her expression when the aroma filled Sonea’s room spoke clearly of her distaste for the stimulant so loved by the slum dwellers.

  Each morning, Sonea left the High Lord’s Residence and headed to the Baths, where she soaked in luxuriously warm water and decided how she would fill the day. Relaxation allowed hunger to catch up with her, and she visited the Foodhall next. A small number of cooks and servers catered to the handful of novices who had remained in the Guild. Bored, and eager to cultivate opportunities for future positions serving the Houses, they encouraged these novices to request favorite meals. Though Sonea had no high connections, the younger cooks indulged her as well, no doubt because of the incal on her sleeve.

  After eating, Sonea would pace through the passages of the University to reinforce her memory of the plan. From time to time she would stop in a quiet room and open a book, sometimes reading for hours before she decided to move on again. As evening settled in, however, her dread would slowly return until she could no longer concentrate on reading. She had been given no hour to return by. Though she had tried arriving at the residence later and later, Akkarin was always there, waiting for her. After a week she had resigned herself to this daily encounter, and started to return at a time that allowed her to get a good night’s sleep.

  Just as she had been getting used to her new routine, the break ended. She had spent most of the previous afternoon at a University window, watching carriages coming and going. On most days, when the Guild was filled with magicians, it was easy to forget that wives, husbands and children also lived on the grounds. Sonea had realized how few she could name. Deciding she ought to know more about her future colleagues, she had begun to note family groups, and the House incals on the carriages they arrived in.

  There had been a lack of formality to this homecoming. While servants had been kept busy hauling baggage and tending horses, magicians and their spouses had paused to chat with others. Children had run into the gardens to play in the snow. Novices had gathered in knots of brown robes, their shouts and laughter audible through the University windows.