The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  Sonea considered that. It made sense. Then something else occurred to her. “How do you know that I didn’t think of using magic first, but decided not to?”

  “I know you were acting on your instincts. You went looking for a knife. You didn’t stop to think about that, did you?”

  “No, but that’s different. If someone attacks me like that, I have to assume he really wants to hurt me.”

  “So you were quite prepared to hurt me in return?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  His brows rose. “Few would condemn an ordinary man or woman if he or she killed another in self-defense, but if a magician kills a non-magician it is an outrage. You have the power to defend yourself, so there is no excuse for killing, no matter what your attacker’s intent—not even if the attacker is a magician. When confronted with such an attack your first reaction should be to shield yourself. That is another good reason to change your first reaction to a magical rather than physical one.”

  As they reached the main corridor, Yikmo smiled and patted her shoulder.

  “You’re not doing as badly as you think, Sonea. If you’d struck out at me with magic, or simply froze or screamed, I would have been disappointed. Instead, you kept calm, thought quickly, and succeeded in throwing me off. I think that’s an impressive start. Good night.”

  She bowed and watched him stride down the corridor toward the Magicians’ Quarters. Turning away, she walked in the other direction.

  “You have the power to defend yourself, so there is no excuse for killing, no matter what your attacker’s intent—not even if the attacker is a magician.” Yet when she had reached for a knife, she had been prepared to kill. It would have seemed reasonable once, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  Whatever the reason, the punishment for a magician who deliberately harmed someone, even if by nonmagical means, was harsh, and that was enough reason to change her thinking. She did not want to spend the rest of her days in prison, with her powers blocked. If her instinctive reaction was to kill, then she had best unlearn it as soon as possible.

  Anyway, what use to her were the tricks that she had learned in the slum now? When she considered what she was capable of, she doubted that she would ever need to wield a knife again. If she needed to defend herself in the future, she thought with a shiver, it would be against magic.

  26

  A Jealous Rival

  As the carriage moved away from the Guild House, Dannyl considered everything he knew about the Bel Arralade. A widow of middle years, she was the head of one of the richest families in Elyne. Her four children—two daughters and two sons—had married into powerful families. Though the Bel herself had never remarried, rumors told of many amorous encounters between Arralade and other members of the Elyne court.

  The carriage turned a corner, then another, and stopped. Looking through the window, Dannyl saw that it had joined a long line of fashionably decorated vehicles.

  “How many people attend these parties?” he asked.

  Ambassador Errend shrugged. “Three or four hundred.”

  Impressed, Dannyl counted the carriages. The line extended out of view, so he could not guess how long it was. Enterprising street hawkers strode up and down the street, offering their wares to the occupants of the carriages. Wine, sweets, cakes, and all manner of diversions were available. Musicians played and acrobats performed. The best of them were persuaded with a steady stream of glittering coins to linger beside bored courtiers.

  “We could walk faster than this,” Dannyl said.

  Errend chuckled. “Yes, we could try, but we would not get far. Someone would call us over and insist we travel with them, and it would be impolite to refuse.”

  He bought a small box of sweets and, as they shared them, told stories about previous parties held by the Bel Arralade. It was during times like these that Dannyl was grateful that the First Guild Ambassador was a native to this land, and could explain the Elyne customs. Dannyl was surprised to hear that small children were allowed to attend,

  “Children are indulged here,” Errend warned. “We Elynes like to spoil them when they’re young. Unfortunately, they can be little tyrants to magicians, expecting us to perform for them like entertainers.”

  Dannyl smiled. “All children believe a magician’s primary role is to amuse them.”

  Much later, the carriage door opened and Dannyl followed Errend out to stand before a typical Capian mansion. Well-dressed servants greeted then directed them through a grand archway. A large room followed, open to the elements as the Palace forecourt had been. The air was chilly, and the guests who had arrived before them were hurrying toward doors at the far end.

  Beyond was a larger, circular room filled with people. The light of several chandeliers fell on myriad brightly colored costumes. A constant buzz of voices echoed back from the domed ceiling and the mingled scents of flowers, fruit and spices were almost overpowering.

  Heads turned, most only long enough to note who had arrived. Dems and Bels of all ages were present. A few magicians stood among them. Children, dressed in miniature versions of adult clothing, ran about or crowded together on bench seats. Servants were everywhere, each dressed in yellow and carrying platters of food or bottles of wine.

  “What a remarkable woman this Bel Arralade must be,” Dannyl murmured. “If you put this many members of the Kyralian Houses together—outside of the court—swords would be drawn within half an hour.”

  “Yes,” Errend agreed. “But weapons will be drawn tonight, Dannyl. We Elynes find words sharper than swords. They don’t make such a mess of the furnishings.”

  A grand stairway led up to a balcony that ran around the entire room. Looking up, Dannyl saw Tayend watching him from behind the railing. The scholar gave a slight bow. Resisting the temptation to smile at this stiff formality, Dannyl inclined his head in reply.

  Beside Tayend stood a muscular young man. Seeing his companion’s half-bow, the man frowned and looked down. As he saw Dannyl, the man’s eyes widened in surprise and he quickly looked away.

  Dannyl turned back to Errend. The Ambassador was helping himself to the contents of a platter offered by one of the brightly clad servants.

  “Try these,” Errend urged. “They’re delicious!”

  “What happens now?” Dannyl asked, taking one of the little pastry scrolls.

  “We mingle. Stay with me, and I will introduce you to people.”

  So for the next few hours Dannyl followed his fellow Ambassador about the room and concentrated on memorizing names and titles. Errend warned him that no meal would be served, that the latest fashion in entertaining was for guests to graze from the platters of delicacies carried around. Dannyl was given a wineglass and it was so regularly topped up that eventually, to keep his mind clear, he slipped it onto one of the platters when a servant wasn’t watching.

  When a woman wearing an elaborate yellow dress approached them, Dannyl knew instantly that this was the hostess. Her skin had not been as lined in the portrait he had studied while preparing for his new position, but her bright, alert gaze warned him that she was still the formidable Bel he had heard so much about.

  “Ambassador Errend,” she said, bowing slightly. “And this must be Ambassador Dannyl. Thank you for coming to my party.”

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Errend replied, inclining his head.

  “I could not hold a party without including the Guild Ambassadors on my guest list,” she said, smiling. “Magicians have always been the most well-mannered and entertaining guests.” She turned to Dannyl. “So, Ambassador Dannyl, have you enjoyed your stay in Capia so far?”

  “I have indeed,” Dannyl replied. “It is a beautiful city.”

  The conversation continued in this way for several minutes. A woman joined them and drew Errend into conversation. Bel Arralade exclaimed that her feet were already tired, and drew Dannyl aside to a bench seat set within an alcove of the wall.

  “I’ve heard you’ve taken to res
earching ancient magic,” she said.

  Dannyl regarded her with surprise. Though he and Tayend had avoided discussing the subject of their research with anyone but Librarian Irand, it was possible that their interest had been noted by someone they had met on their journey. Or had Tayend decided that it no longer needed to be a secret now that they were not gathering information for Lorlen, but “helping” Rothen with his book?

  If that were so, a denial would only make her suspicious. “Yes,” he replied. “It is an interest of mine.”

  “Have you discovered anything new and fascinating?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing very exciting. Just a lot of books and scrolls filled with old languages.”

  “But haven’t you recently travelled to Lonmar and Vin? Surely you have gathered some interesting stories there.”

  He decided to be vague. “I saw scrolls in Lonmar and tombs in Vindo, but they weren’t much more exciting than the musty old books I’ve been reading. I fear I will bore you if I start describing them in detail—and what will people say if the new Ambassador sends the hostess to sleep at her own party?”

  “That must be avoided, at all cost.” She laughed, then her eyes grew misty. “Ah, but the subject brings back pleasant memories. Your High Lord came here on a similar quest, many years ago. He was such a handsome man. Not a High Lord then, of course. He could have talked for hours about ancient magic, and I would have listened just to have the opportunity to admire him.”

  Was that, then, the reason for her interest? Dannyl chuckled. “Fortunately for you, I know I am not handsome enough to compensate for rambling on about my research.”

  She smiled, her eyes flashing. “Not handsome? I would not say so. Others would say quite the opposite.” She paused, her expression becoming thoughtful. “But do not think the High Lord rude. While I said that I would have listened to him talk for hours, he never did so. He attended my birthday party, but he had barely returned from Vin when he left for the mountains, and I have never seen him since.”

  The mountains? This was new. “Shall I forward a greeting to him from you, Bel?” he offered.

  “Oh, I doubt he remembers me,” she said, waving a hand.

  “Nonsense! No man can forget beauty, even if it is merely glimpsed in passing.”

  She smiled broadly and gave him a light pat on the arm. “Oh, I like you, Ambassador Dannyl. Now, tell me: what do you think of Tayend of Tremmelin? He was your companion on these journeys, was he not?”

  Conscious of the way she watched him from between her long eyelashes, Dannyl considered the answers he had discussed with Tayend.

  “My assistant? I found him to be most useful. He has an amazing memory, and his grasp of languages is impressive.”

  She nodded. “But what about personally? Did you find him an agreeable companion?”

  “Yes.” Dannyl grimaced. “Though he didn’t travel well, I must say. I’ve never seen anyone so seasick.”

  She hesitated. “They say he has some unconventional interests. Some, particularly the ladies, find him a little…disinterested.”

  Dannyl nodded slowly. “Spending days deep underground, surrounded by books and speaking dead languages, would not make a man attractive to ladies.” He gave her a calculating look. “Are you playing matchmaker, Bel Arralade?”

  She smiled coyly. “And what if I am?”

  “Then I should warn you that I don’t know Tayend well enough to be of use. If he has a lady in mind, he has kept the matter to himself.”

  Again, she hesitated. “Then we’ll leave him his privacy,” she said, nodding. “Matchmaking is a habit as evil as gossip when unwanted. Ah, here’s Dem Dorlini. I hoped he would come, as I have a few questions for him.” She rose. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Ambassador Dannyl. I hope we may converse again soon.”

  “I would be honored, Bel Arralade.”

  After a few minutes Dannyl discovered the peril of remaining still and alone. A trio of young girls, their child-sized court clothes stained with food, surrounded him. He kept them entertained with illusions until their parents rescued him. Rising, he started toward Errend, then stopped as he heard his name spoken.

  Turning, he saw Tayend approaching, the muscular man at his side.

  “Tayend of Tremmelin.”

  “Ambassador Dannyl. This is Velend of Genard. A friend,” Tayend said.

  The young man’s mouth curved, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He bowed stiffly and reluctantly.

  “Tayend has told me of your travels,” Velend said. “Though from his descriptions I don’t think I’d find Lonmar to my taste.”

  “It is a hot and imposing country,” Dannyl replied. “I’m sure it would be possible to acclimatize, if one stayed long enough. Are you a scholar, too?”

  “No,” the man replied. “My interests are in swordplay and weaponry. Do you practice, Ambassador?”

  “No,” Dannyl replied. “There is little time for such pursuits for young men who join the Guild.” Swordplay, then. He wondered if that was why he felt this instant dislike of the man. Did Velend remind him too much of Fergun, who also favored hard weapons?

  “I’ve found a few books that might be of interest, Ambassador,” Tayend said, his tone businesslike. As Tayend began to describe the books, their age and general contents, Dannyl observed Velend shifting his weight from one foot to the other and glancing around at the crowd. Finally, the man interrupted Tayend.

  “Excuse me, Tayend, Ambassador Dannyl. There is someone I must speak to.”

  As he walked away, Tayend smiled slyly. “I knew it wouldn’t take long to get rid of him.” He paused as a passing couple drew closer to them, and returned to the businesslike tone. “We’ve been looking at old books, but I decided to try some more recent ones. Sometimes, when a Dem dies, his family sends whatever diaries or visitor books he owned to the library. In one Dem’s diary I found some interesting references to…well, I won’t go into detail now, but they indicate that we may find more information in some of the other Dems’ private libraries. I’m not sure who or where, however.”

  “Do any of them live in the mountains?” Dannyl asked.

  Tayend’s eyes widened. “A few. Why do you ask?”

  Dannyl lowered his voice. “Our hostess was just reminiscing about a particular young magician who attended her birthday party ten years ago.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yes. Ah.” Seeing Velend approaching, Dannyl frowned. “That friend of yours is coming back.”

  “He’s not a friend, really,” Tayend corrected. “More a friend of a friend. He brought me to the party.”

  Velend’s walk was fluid, like the gait of a limek—the predatory dog that bothered farmers and sometimes killed travellers in the mountains. To Dannyl’s relief, the man stopped to talk to another courtier.

  “I should warn you,” Dannyl added. “Bel Arralade might be trying to find you a young lady.”

  “I doubt it. She knows me too well.”

  Dannyl frowned. “Then why did she comment on your attractiveness to women, I wonder?”

  “She was probably testing you, to see what you knew about me. What did you say?”

  “That I didn’t know you well enough to guess if you had anyone in mind.”

  Tayend’s eyebrows rose. “No, you don’t, do you?” he said in a quiet voice. “I wonder. Would it disturb you to know if there was?”

  “Disturb me?” Dannyl shook his head. “No…but perhaps that would depend on who it was. Should I take it, then, that there is someone?”

  “Perhaps.” Tayend smiled crookedly. “But I’m not going to tell you…yet.”

  Amused, Dannyl looked over Tayend’s shoulder at Velend. Surely not…A face turned toward him, and a hand waved. Recognizing Ambassador Errend, Dannyl nodded in reply. “Ambassador Errend wants me to join him.”

  Tayend nodded. “And I will be accused of being a bore if I spend the night discussing work. Will I see you at the library soon?”

  “In
a few days. I think we may have another journey to plan.”

  Sonea ran a finger along the spines of the books. She found a gap and slipped the missing volume into it. The other book she was holding was thick and heavy. Realizing it belonged on a shelf on the other side of the library, she tucked it under her arm and started across the room.

  “Sonea!”

  Turning into another aisle, Sonea strode toward the front of the library, where Lady Tya was sitting behind a small desk.

  “What is it, my lady?”

  “A message arrived for you,” the librarian told her. “The High Lord wants to see you in Lord Yikmo’s training room.”

  Sonea nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. What did Akkarin want? A demonstration?

  “I had better go, then. Would you like me to come back tomorrow night?”

  Lady Tya smiled. “You’re a dream come true, Sonea. Nobody believes how much work it takes to maintain this place. But you must have a lot of studying to do.”

  “I can spare an hour or two—and it helps to know what’s here, and where to find it.”

  The librarian nodded. “If you have some spare time, then I welcome the help.” She shook a finger at Sonea. “But I don’t want to hear anyone saying I’m distracting the High Lord’s favorite from her studies.”

  “You won’t.” Putting down the book, Sonea picked up her box and opened the door. “Good night, Lady Tya.”

  The University passages were quiet and still. Sonea started toward Lord Yikmo’s room.

  With each step she felt dread growing. Lord Yikmo did not like to teach in the evenings. The Vindo magician’s reasons had something to do with the religion of his homeland. A request from the High Lord could not be refused, however.

  Even so, it was a late hour to start any kind of lesson or demonstration. Perhaps Akkarin had another reason for calling her to Yikmo’s room. Perhaps Yikmo wasn’t even going to be there…

  She jumped as a novice stepped out in front of her from a side passage. As she tried to walk around him, he moved to block her path, and three more novices stepped out to stand beside him.