The Magicians' Guild

by Trudi Canavan

  —Not often.

  —Why not?

  —There are limitations to this form of communication. You sense the emotions behind the thoughts others send you. It’s easy to detect when someone is lying, for example.

  —That is a bad thing?

  —Not in itself, but imagine if you had noticed that your friend was going bald. He would sense your amusement behind your thoughts and, while not knowing what you found so funny, he would know it was at his expense. Now imagine it was not your forgiving friend, but somebody you respected and wanted to impress.

  —I see what you mean.

  —Good. Now for the next part of your lesson, I want you to imagine your mind is a room—a space with walls, a floor and a ceiling.

  At once she found herself standing in the center of a room. There was something familiar about it, though she could not remember seeing one like it before. It was empty, and had no doors or windows and the walls were bare wood.

  —What do you see?

  —The walls are wooden, and it’s empty, she replied.

  —Ah, I see it. This room is the conscious part of your mind.

  —So…you can see into my mind?

  —No, you just projected an image at me. Look, I’ll send it back.

  An image of the room flashed through her mind. It was indistinct and hazy, the details no longer visible.

  —It’s…different, and kind of fuzzy, she told him.

  —That is because a little time had passed, and my memory of it had faded. The difference you sense is from my mind filling in details that were missing from my memory, such as color and texture. Now, your room needs a door.

  At once a door blinked into existence before her.

  —Go to the door. Do you remember what your power looked like?

  —Yes, a glowing ball of light.

  —That is a common way to visualize it. I want you to think of how it looked both when it was strong and dangerous, and after it had faded. Can you remember?

  —Yes…

  —Now open the door.

  As the door swung open she found herself standing on the threshold of darkness. A white sphere hung before her, glowing brightly. It was impossible to judge how far away it was. One moment it seemed to hover just beyond arm’s reach, the next she was sure it was a colossal size, and hung an inconceivable distance away.

  —How big is it compared to what you remember?

  —Not as big as it was when it was dangerous. She sent him an image of it.

  —Good. It is growing faster than I expected, but we have some time before your magic begins to surface unasked for. Close the door and return to the room.

  The door closed and vanished, and she found that she was standing in the center of the room again.

  —I want you to imagine another door. This time it’s the door to the outside, so make it larger.

  Double doors appeared in her room, and she recognized them as the main doors of the stayhouse she had been living in before the Purge.

  —When you open the doors, you’ll see a house. It should look something like this.

  An image of a white house, not unlike the large merchant homes in the West Quarter, flashed through her mind. As she pushed open the double doors in her mind, she found herself facing the building. Between her room and this house was a narrow street.

  —Cross to the building.

  The house had a single red door. The scene shifted and she found herself standing in front of it. As she touched the handle, it swung inward and she stepped into a large white room.

  Paintings hung from the walls and cushioned chairs were arranged neatly in the room’s corners. It reminded her a little of Rothen’s guestroom, but grander. The sense of his personality was strong, like a powerful perfume or the warmth of sunlight.

  —Welcome, Sonea. You are in what you might call the first room of my mind. I can show you images here. Look at the paintings.

  She approached the closest picture. In it she saw herself in magicians’ robes, talking earnestly with other magicians. Disturbed, she backed away.

  —Wait, Sonea. Consider the next painting.

  Reluctantly, she moved along the wall. The next picture showed her in green robes, healing a man with an injured leg. She turned away quickly.

  —Why does this future repel you?

  —It is not who I am.

  —But it could be, Sonea. Do you see now that I have told you the truth?

  Looking back at the paintings, she suddenly understood that he was speaking the truth. He could not lie to her here. He was showing her real possibilities. The Guild truly wanted her to join them…

  Then she found a black door that she had not seen before. As she looked at it, she knew that it was locked and she felt her suspicions return. He might not be able to lie, but perhaps he could conceal some truths.

  —You are hiding things from me! she accused.

  —Yes, he told her. We all have the ability to hide those parts, of ourselves we wish to keep private. Otherwise, none of us would ever permit another into our minds. I will teach you to do this, for your need for privacy is stronger than most. Watch, and I will give you a glimpse of what is behind that door.

  The door swung inward. Through it Sonea saw a woman lying on a bed, her face deathly pale. A feeling of intense grief spilled out. Without warning, the door slammed shut again.

  —My wife.

  —She died…?

  —Yes. Do you understand, now, why I hide that part of me?

  —Yes. I am…sorry.

  —It was a long time ago, and I understand that you must see that I speak the truth.

  Sonea turned from the black door. A gust of perfumed air had entered the room, a mix of flowers and something crisp and unpleasant. The paintings of her in robes had swelled to fill the walls, but the colors were muted.

  —We have achieved much. Shall we return to your mind?

  At once the room began to slide under her feet, propelling her to the red door. Stepping outside, she looked up. The face of her house rose before her. It was a plain wooden building, a bit worn, but still sturdy—typical of the better areas of the slums. Crossing the road, she re-entered the first room of her mind. The doors swung shut behind her.

  —Now turn back and look outside.

  As she pushed the doors open again she was surprised to find Rothen standing in front of her. He looked a little younger, and perhaps shorter, too.

  “Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, smiling.

  Stepping back, she gestured for him to enter. As he stepped over the threshold, the sense of his presence filled the room. He looked around, and she suddenly realized that it was no longer empty.

  She felt a flush of guilt as she saw that, on a table nearby, was a box. It was one that she had broken into. The lid hung open and the documents inside were clearly visible.

  Then she saw that Cery was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding three familiar books.

  And in another corner stood Jonna and Ranel…

  “Sonea.”

  She turned to find that Rothen had placed his hands over his eyes.

  “Put anything you don’t want me to see behind doors.”

  Glancing around the room, she concentrated on pushing everything away. They slid backward through the walls and disappeared.

  —Sonea?

  Turning around, she realized that Rothen had disappeared.

  —Did I push you out too?

  —Yes. Let’s try that again.

  Once more she opened the door and backed away to allow Rothen into the room. Catching a movement in the corner of her eye, she looked away, but whatever she had seen sank back into the walls. Turning back, she discovered that a new room had appeared beyond the door. A door stood open on the far side of this room and Rothen now stood in the doorway.

  He stepped through the door and everything shifted. There were two rooms between them, then three.

  —Enough!

  She felt his ha
nds release hers. Abruptly aware of the physical world, she opened her eyes. Rothen was leaning back in his chair, grimacing and rubbing his temples.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. “What happened?”

  “I’m well.” He let his hands drop and smiled wryly. “You pushed me right out of your mind. It’s a natural reaction, and one you can learn to control. Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I’ve taught many novices before.”

  She nodded and rubbed her hands. “Do you want to try again?”

  He shook his head. “Not now. We’ll rest and work on your reading. Perhaps we’ll try again this afternoon.”

  20

  The Guild’s Prisoner

  Cery yawned. Since Sonea had been taken, sleep had become a coy thing. It evaded him when he needed it, and stalked him when he didn’t. Right now, he needed to be more awake than he had ever been before.

  A freezing wind whipped the trees and hedges, filling the air with noise and the occasional twig or leaf. The cold crept into his muscles, making them cramp. Shifting his weight carefully, he stretched and rubbed first one leg, then the other.

  Looking up at the window again, he decided that if he thought “look outside” any harder his head was going to explode. Obviously Sonea’s talent for sensing minds didn’t extend to detecting unexpected visitors outside her window.

  He regarded the snowballs he had made, and doubt returned. If he threw one at her window it would have to hit it loud enough to wake her, but not loud enough to attract anyone else’s attention. He had no idea if she was still in the room, or if she was alone.

  A light had been on when he had first arrived, but it was extinguished soon after. The windows on the left of hers were dark, but those on the right still glowed. He looked nervously at the University building towering to his left. The windows were dark. Since the first night when he had glimpsed Sonea, Cery had seen no sign of the mysterious watcher.

  Somewhere in the corner of his eye, a light blinked out. He looked up at the magicians’ building. The light in the rooms beside Sonea’s had vanished. Cery smiled grimly and massaged his numb legs. Just a little longer…

  When a pale face appeared at the window he thought, for a moment, that he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. He watched, heart pounding, as Sonea peered down at the gardens, then looked up at the University.

  Then she moved out of sight.

  All weariness was gone. Cery’s fingers closed around a snowball. His legs protested as he wriggled out of the hedge. He took aim and, as the snowball left his fingers, ducked back into the hedge.

  The faintest thud reached his ears as the snowball struck the window. His heart sang with triumph as Sonea’s face appeared again. She stared at the splash of frost on the glass, and she looked out at the garden again.

  Checking the other windows, Cery saw no other watchers. He wriggled out of the hedge a little, and saw Sonea’s eyes widen as she spotted him. Surprise was followed by a wide grin.

  He waved, then signalled a question to her. She returned with a “yes.” No harm had been done to her. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  The Thieves’ code of signals was limited to simple meanings like “ready?,” “now,” “wait,” “get out of here,” and the usual “yes” and “no.” There was no sign for “I’m about to rescue you. Is the window locked?” He pointed to himself, then made climbing movements, mimed opening the window, pointed at her, then himself, and finished with the sign for “get out of here.”

  She returned with “wait,” then pointed at herself, signed “get out of here,” and shook her head.

  He frowned. Though she knew more than most dwells about the Thieves’ signals, she had never been as well versed as he was. She could be telling him that she wasn’t allowed to leave, or that she didn’t want to leave now, or that he should return later in the night. He scratched his head, then signalled “get out of here” then “now.”

  She shook her head, then something to his left caught her attention and her eyes widened. Moving away from the window a little, she began signalling “get out of here” over and over. Cery crouched and retreated into the hedge, hoping the wind would hide the rustle of leaves.

  No footsteps reached his ears, and he began to wonder what had spooked her, then warm air slid over his skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

  “Come out,” a cultured voice said, uncomfortably close. “I know you’re in there.”

  Looking through the hedge, Cery could see the soft folds of robes only an arm’s reach away. A hand snaked through the leaves. Cery twisted away, pushing out of the hedge and pressing himself against the building, his heart racing. The magician straightened quickly. Knowing that he was in full sight, Cery bolted along the side of the building toward the forest.

  Something slammed into his back and he pitched forward into the snow. A weight held him there, pressing so firmly he could hardly breathe and the chill of the snow burned his face. He heard footsteps approaching and felt panic rising.

  Calm. Stay calm, he told himself. You’ve never heard of them killing intruders…You’ve never heard of them finding intruders either…

  The crushing pressure eased. As he pushed himself to his hands and knees, Cery felt a hand grip his arm. It pulled him to his feet and dragged him through the hedge to the path.

  Looking up, he turned cold as he recognized the magician.

  The magician’s eyes narrowed. “You look familiar…Ah, now I remember. The filthy dwell that tried to strike me.” He glanced back at Sonea’s window and smirked. “So Sonea has an admirer. How sweet.”

  He regarded Cery thoughtfully and a gleam crept into his eyes. “What am I going to do with you, then? I believe intruders are usually questioned and then escorted out of the Guild. We best get started then.”

  Cery struggled as the magician began to pull him along the path toward the University. The magician’s thin hand was surprisingly strong.

  “Let me go!” Cery demanded.

  The magician sighed. “If you insist on jerking my arm like that, I will be forced to use less physical means to hold you. Please cooperate. I am as anxious to see this business finished as I am sure you are.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Out of this noisy wind for a start.” They reached the end of the magicians’ building, and started toward the University.

  “Lord Fergun.”

  The magician stopped and looked over his shoulder. Two robed shadows were approaching. Feeling a sudden tension in his captor’s grip, Cery was not sure whether to be relieved or worried about the newcomers. Obviously, Fergun didn’t welcome their intrusion.

  “Administrator,” Fergun said. “How fortunate. I was just coming to rouse you. I have discovered an intruder. He appears to have been attempting to reach the slum girl.”

  “So I have been told,” the taller newcomer glanced at his companion.

  “Will you question him?” Fergun sounded hopeful, yet his grip on Cery’s arm tightened.

  “Yes,” the tall magician replied. He made a lazy gesture, and a ball of light flared into existence above them.

  Cery felt warmth slide over him and the wind disappeared. Looking around, he could still see trees twisting about, but the three magicians stood undisturbed.

  In the strong light, the magicians’ robes were brightly colored. The tall magician wore blue, his companion, an older man, wore purple, and Cery’s captor wore red. The tall magician looked down at Cery and smiled faintly.

  “Do you want to talk to Sonea, Cery?”

  Cery blinked in surprise, then frowned. How did this magician know his name?

  Sonea must have told him. If she had wanted to warn Cery, she would have given them another name…unless they had tricked it out of her, or read it from her mind, or…

  What did it matter? They had caught him. If they intended to do him harm, he was doomed anyway. He may as well see Sonea.

  He nodded. The tall magician looked at Fergun. “Let h
im go.”

  Fergun’s grip tightened before his fingers uncurled from Cery’s arm. The blue-robed magician gestured for Cery to follow, then started toward the magicians’ building.

  The doors opened before them. Aware of the two magicians pacing behind like guards, Cery followed the tall magician up a short flight of stairs to the upper floor. They strode down a wide corridor to one of many plain doors. The older magician stepped forward to touch the handle, and the door swung inward.

  Inside was a luxurious room with cushioned chairs and fine furniture. In one of the chairs sat Sonea. When she saw Cery, she smiled.

  “Go on,” the blue-robed magician said.

  Heart still racing, Cery stepped into the room. As the door closed, he looked back and wondered if he had just walked into a trap.

  “Cery,” Sonea breathed. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He turned to study her. She smiled again, but it quickly disappeared.

  “Sit down, Cery. I asked Rothen to let me talk to you. I told him you would keep trying to rescue me unless I explained why I can’t leave.” She pointed to a seat.

  He sat down reluctantly. “Why can’t you leave?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know if I can tell you in a way that makes sense.” She leaned back in the chair. “Magicians have to be taught how to control magic, and only another magician can teach it, because it has to be taught mind to mind. If they don’t learn to control it, the magic works whenever the magician feels something. The magic takes simple, dangerous forms, always stronger as it grows. Eventually…” She grimaced. “I…I nearly died the day they found me, Cery. They saved me.”

  Cery shivered. “I saw it, Sonea. The buildings—they’re gone.”

  “It would have been worse if they hadn’t found me. People would have been killed. Lots of people.”

  He looked down at his hands. “So you can’t come home.”

  She chuckled, a sound so unexpectedly cheerful that he stared at her in astonishment.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him. “Once I’ve learned Control I won’t be in danger anymore. I’m getting to know how things work here.” She gave him a wink. “So where are you hanging out now?”