The Magicians' Guild

by Trudi Canavan

  But she needed to test her boundaries. If she didn’t look for ways to escape, she might never find any.

  She rose and moved to the table beside the bed. The book of songs still lay there. Picking it up, she opened it to the first page. Something was written there. Moving to the table, she lit the candle Rothen had left.

  “For my darling Rothen, to mark the birth of our son. Yilara.”

  Sonea pursed her lips. So he was married and had at least one child. She wondered where his family was. Considering Rothen’s age, his son was probably a grown man.

  He seemed a decent sort of person. She had always thought herself a good judge of character—something she had learned from her aunt. Her instincts told her that Rothen was kind and well-meaning. But that didn’t mean she could trust him, she reminded herself. He was still a magician, bound to do whatever the Guild wanted.

  A faint high-pitched laugh came from outside, drawing her attention to the window again. Pushing aside the screen, Sonea watched as a couple strode through the garden, the green robes under their cloaks shining in the glow of a floating light. Two children ran before them, tossing snow at each other.

  Sonea watched them pass, her eyes following the woman. She had never seen female magicians in the Purge. Did they choose not to go, she wondered, or was there a rule that prevented them?

  She pursed her lips. Jonna had told her that the daughters of rich families were carefully watched until they married the husband their fathers chose for them. Women made no important decisions within the Houses.

  In the slums no one arranged marriages. Though women tried to find a man who could support a family, they usually married for love. While Jonna believed this was better, Sonea was cynical. She had noticed that women often put up with a lot when in love, but, at some stage, love tended to wear off. Better to marry a man you liked and trusted.

  Were female magicians cosseted away? Were they encouraged to leave the running of the Guild to the men? It would be frustrating to be magically powerful, but still completely under the control of others.

  As the family moved out of sight, Sonea began to draw away from the window, but, as her eyes flickered across the grounds, she caught a movement in one of the windows of the University. Looking up, she saw a pale oval face.

  From the neckline of the stranger’s clothes, she guessed this figure was a magician. Though she could not be sure in the dark and at the distance, she had a strong suspicion that he was watching her. A chill crept up her spine and she quickly pushed the screen closed.

  Unnerved, she crossed the room and blew out the candle, then lay down on the bed and curled up in the blankets. She felt drained, tired of thinking, tired of being afraid. Tired of being tired…

  But as she stared at the ceiling, she knew that sleep was not going to come easily.

  18

  Away from Prying Eyes

  A delicate, faint light had settled on the trees and buildings of the Guild. Cery frowned. Last time he had looked, everything had been shrouded in darkness. He must have dozed off, but he couldn’t even remember closing his eyes. Rubbing his face, Cery looked around and considered the long night he had just passed.

  It had begun with Faren. Recovered and fed, Cery had asked again if the Thief would help him retrieve Sonea. Faren’s refusal had been firm.

  “If she had been captured by the Guard, or even imprisoned in the Palace, I would have snatched her back already—and enjoyed proving that I could do it.” Faren had smiled briefly, but then his expression had hardened. “But this is the Guild, Cery. What you suggest is out of my reach.”

  “It’s not,” Cery had insisted. “They don’t set guards, or magical barriers. They—”

  “No, Cery.” Faren’s eyes flashed. “It is not a matter of guards or barriers. The Guild has never had a good enough reason to get off their backsides and do something about us. If we stole her back from their own grounds, it might give them reason to try. Believe me, Cery, nobody wants to find out whether we could evade them or not.”

  “The Thieves are afraid of them?”

  “Yes.” Faren’s expression had been unusually sober. “We are. And with good reason.”

  “If we made it look as if someone else rescued her…”

  “The Guild may still believe it was us. Listen to me, Cery. I know you well enough to guess that you will try to rescue her on your own. Consider this instead: the others will kill you if they believe you are a threat. They’re watching us closely.”

  Cery had said nothing to that.

  “Do you want to continue working for me?”

  Cery had nodded.

  “Good. I have another job for you, if you want it.”

  Faren’s job had taken Cery to the Marina, as far from the Guild as he could get. Afterwards, Cery had made his way across the city, climbed the Guild wall, and settled himself down in the forest to watch.

  As activity had dwindled and the night deepened, Cery had seen a movement in one of the windows of the University. A face appeared. A man’s face, staring at the magicians’ building intently.

  The watcher remained at his post for half an hour. Finally, a pale face had appeared in a window of the magicians’ building and Cery’s heart had leapt. Even from a distance, he recognized her.

  Sonea had looked down at the gardens for several minutes, then she had looked up toward the watcher. Seeing him, she had quickly retreated from view.

  The watcher had disappeared soon after. Though Cery had stayed all night, he had seen no other movement, either from magicians or Sonea. Now that dawn was close, he knew he should return to Faren. The Thief would not approve of Cery’s spying, but Cery had planned for that. An admission that Sonea was too well guarded would be enough to mollify the Thief. Faren had forbidden a rescue attempt, not information gathering, and he must have expected Cery to look for evidence that she was still alive.

  Cery rose and stretched. He wouldn’t be telling Faren what he had learned from the night’s watching, however. Aside from the mysterious watcher, the magicians had set no external guard on the buildings. If Sonea was alone in that room, there was hope for her yet.

  Smiling for the first time in days, Cery started through the forest toward the slums.

  Sonea woke with a start to find Rothen’s servant staring down at her.

  “Excuse me, Lady,” the woman said hastily. “But when I saw the bed was empty I thought…Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

  Rising, Sonea disentangled herself from the blankets.

  “The bed,” she said. “It sinks so much. I feel like I’m going to fall right through it.”

  “Sinks?” The woman blinked in surprise. “You mean it’s too soft?” She smiled brightly. “But you’ve probably not slept on a reber-wool mattress before. Here.”

  She pulled the sheets from the bed to reveal several layers of thick, spongy mattress. Grasping half, she pulled them from the bed.

  “Do you think that would be comfortable for you?” she asked, pressing down on the remaining layers.

  Sonea hesitated, then pressed on the mattress. The bed was still soft, but she could feel the wooden base underneath. She nodded.

  “Wonderful,” the servant cooed. “Now, I’ve brought water for you to wash in, and—Oh! You’ve slept in your clothes. No matter. I’ve brought fresh ones. Once you’ve done, come out into the guest room. We’ll have some cakes and sumi to start the day.”

  Amused, Sonea watched the woman gather up the mattresses and bustle out of the room. When the door had closed, she sat down on the end of the bed and sighed.

  I’m still here.

  She ran through the previous day in her mind: the conversations with Rothen, her determination to escape, the people she had seen through the window last night. Sighing, she rose and examined the basin of water, soap and towel that the servant had brought.

  With a shrug, she stripped off, washed and changed, then moved to the door. As she reached for the handle she hesitated. No doubt Rothe
n was waiting beyond the door. She felt a small twinge of anxiety, but no fear.

  He was a magician. That ought to scare her more, but he had said he would not harm her, and she had chosen to believe him—for now.

  To let him into her mind, however, was not going to be so easy. She had no idea if he could harm her that way. What if he could change the way she thought, and make her love the Guild?

  What choice do I have? She was going to have to trust that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, mess around with her mind. It was a risk she had to take and worrying about it would not make it any easier.

  Straightening her back, she opened the door. The room beyond appeared to be the one Rothen spent most of his time in. A set of chairs was arranged around a low table in the center of the room. Bookshelves and higher tables stood against the walls. Rothen sat in one of the cushioned chairs, his blue eyes darting back and forth over the pages of a book.

  He looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Sonea.”

  The servant woman stood beside one of the side tables. Sonea settled into the chair opposite Rothen. Bringing a tray to the table, the servant placed a cup before Rothen and another in front of Sonea.

  Rothen lay the book on the table. “This is Tania,” he said, looking up at the woman. “My servant.”

  Sonea nodded. “Hello, Tania.”

  “Honored to meet you, Lady,” the woman replied, bowing.

  Feeling her face warming with embarrassment, Sonea looked away. To her relief, Tania returned to the food table.

  Watching the woman arranging cakes on a tray, Sonea wondered if she was supposed to be flattered by the obeisance. Perhaps they hoped she would gain a liking for it, as well as the luxuries, and be more willing to cooperate.

  Sensing Sonea’s gaze, the woman looked up and smiled nervously.

  “Did you sleep well, Sonea?” Rothen asked.

  Looking at him, she shrugged. “A little.”

  “Would you like to continue with your reading lessons today?”

  She looked at the book that he had been reading and frowned as she realized that it was familiar.

  He followed her gaze. “Ah, Fien’s Notes on Magic Usage. I thought I should know what you’ve been reading. This is an old history book, not a textbook, and the information in it may be outdated. You may—”

  A knock on the door interrupted him. Rising, he approached the main door and opened it slightly. Knowing that he could easily stop her from escaping, she realized he was deliberately stopping her from seeing the visitor—or was he preventing the visitor from seeing her?

  “Yes? Lord Fergun. What can I do for you?”

  “I wish to see the girl.”

  The voice was smooth and cultured. Sonea started as Tania draped a dining napkin over her lap. The servant frowned at Rothen’s back before moving away.

  “It is too early for that,” Rothen replied. “She is…” He hesitated, then stepped through the door and closed it behind him. From behind the door, Sonea could hear the faint murmur of voices as the discussion continued.

  She looked up as Tania approached again, this time holding a platter of sweet cakes. Sonea chose one, and took an experimental sip from the cup in front of her.

  A bitter taste filled her mouth and she grimaced. Tania’s eyebrows rose, and she nodded toward the drink in Sonea’s hand.

  “I’d wager that means you don’t like sumi,” she said. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Raka,” Sonea replied.

  The servant looked genuinely apologetic. “We don’t stock raka here, I’m sorry. Can I get you some pachi juice instead?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Water then?”

  Sonea gave her an incredulous look.

  Tania smiled. “The water here is clean. Here, I’ll get you some.” She returned to the table at the back of the room, filled a glass from a jug and brought it to Sonea.

  “Thank you,” Sonea said. Lifting the glass, she was amazed to find the liquid was clear. Not even the tiniest particle floated in it. Taking a sip, she tasted nothing but a faint sweetness.

  “See?” Tania said. “I’ll tidy your room now. I’ll be gone for a few minutes but if you need anything don’t hesitate to call.”

  Sonea nodded and listened to the servant’s footsteps as she walked away. She smiled as the bedroom door closed. Taking the glass, Sonea gulped the water down and dried the inside quickly with the dining napkin. Stepping quietly to the door, she placed it against the wood and rested her ear on the base.”

  “…to keep her in there. It is dangerous.”

  This voice belonged to the stranger.

  “Not until she regains her strength,” Rothen replied. “Once that happens I can show her how to spend her power safely, as we did yesterday. There is no danger to the building.”

  There was a pause. “Nevertheless, there is no reason to keep her isolated.”

  “As I told you, she is easily frightened, and not a little confused. She doesn’t need a crowd of magicians telling her the same thing in a dozen different ways.”

  “Not a crowd, just myself—and I only wish to make her acquaintance. I’ll leave all the teaching to you. Surely there is no harm in that?”

  “I understand, but there will be time for that later, when she has gained some confidence.”

  “There is no Guild law saying that you can keep her from me, Rothen,” the stranger replied, a warning tone entering his voice.

  “No, but I believe most would understand my reasoning for it.”

  The stranger sighed. “I have as much concern for her well-being as you, Rothen, and I have searched for her as long and hard as well. I think many would agree that I have earned a voice in the matter.”

  “You will have your opportunity to meet her, Fergun,” Rothen replied.

  “When?”

  “When she is ready.”

  “And only you shall decide that.”

  “For now.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Silence followed, then the door handle began to turn. Sonea darted back to her seat and spread the napkin over her lap again. As Rothen stepped back into the room, his expression changed from annoyance to good humor.

  “Who was that?” Sonea asked.

  He shrugged. “Just someone who wanted to know how you were doing.”

  Sonea nodded, then leaned forward to take another sweet cake.

  “Why does Tania bow and call me Lady?”

  “Oh,” Rothen dropped into his chair and reached for the cup of bitter liquid Tania had left for him. “All magicians are addressed as Lord or Lady.” He shrugged. “It’s always been that way.”

  “But I’m not a magician,” Sonea pointed out.

  “Well, she is a bit premature.” Rothen chuckled.

  “I think…” Sonea frowned. “I think she’s afraid of me.”

  He frowned at her over the lip of his cup. “She’s just a little nervous of you. Being near a magician who has not learned Control can be dangerous.” He smiled crookedly. “It seems she’s not the only one who’s worried. Knowing the dangers better than most, you can imagine how some magicians feel about having you living in their own Quarters. You’re not the only one who slept lightly last night.”

  Thinking back to her capture, to the broken walls and rubble she had glimpsed before falling unconscious, Sonea shivered. “How long till you can teach me Control?”

  His expression became sober. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But don’t be concerned. If your powers begin to manifest again, we can use them up as we did before.”

  She nodded, but as she looked at the cake she was holding, she felt her stomach clench. Her mouth suddenly seemed too dry for such a sweet thing. Swallowing, she set it aside.

  The morning had been murky and dim and by mid-afternoon, heavy clouds hung low and threatening over the city. Everything was shrouded in shadows, as if night had become too impatient to wait for the end of the day. On days like this, the faint glow from
the interior walls of the University was more noticeable.

  Rothen sighed as, once they were in the University corridor, Dannyl’s stride lengthened. He struggled to keep pace, then gave up.

  “How strange,” he said to Dannyl’s back. “Your limp appears to have disappeared.”

  Dannyl turned, then blinked in surprise as he saw how far Rothen had fallen behind. As he slowed his pace, the slight hesitation in his stride returned.

  “Ah, there it is.” Rothen nodded. “Why the hurry, Dannyl?”

  “I just want to get it over with.”

  “We’re only handing in our reports,” Rothen told him. “I’ll probably end up doing most of the talking.”

  “I was the one the High Lord sent off in search of the Thieves,” Dannyl muttered. “I’ll have to answer all his questions.”

  “He’s only a few years older than you, Dannyl. So is Lorlen, and he doesn’t frighten all sense out of you.”

  Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again and shook his head. They had reached the end of the corridor.

  Stepping up to the door of the Administrator’s room, Rothen smiled when he heard Dannyl take a deep breath. At Rothen’s knock, the door swung inward, revealing a large, sparsely furnished room. A globe light hovered above a desk at the far end, illuminating the dark blue robes of the Administrator.

  Lorlen looked up and beckoned to them with his pen.

  “Come in, Lord Rothen, Lord Dannyl. Take a seat.”

  Rothen looked around the room. No black-robed figure reclined in any of the chairs or lurked in the dim corners. Dannyl let out a long sigh of relief.

  Lorlen smiled as they settled into the chairs in front of his desk. Leaning forward, he took the leaves of paper that Rothen offered. “I’ve been looking forward to reading your reports. I’m sure Lord Dannyl’s will be fascinating.”

  Dannyl winced but said nothing.

  “The High Lord sends his congratulations.” Lorlen’s eyes flickered from Rothen’s to Dannyl’s. “And I offer mine as well.”

  “Then we offer our thanks in return,” Rothen replied.