Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 01] - The Magicians' Guild

by Trudi Canavan

  She led them out of the room and back to the main corridor. They passed several Healers and a few novices as they walked around the building. Some regarded Sonea with curiosity. Others, to Rothen’s dismay, frowned with disapproval.

  “Indria!”

  The Healer turned, her green robes flaring out at the abrupt movement. “Darlen?”

  “In here.”

  The voice came from one of the nearby Treatment Rooms. Indria strode to the doorway.

  “Yes?”

  “Give me a hand, will you?”

  Indria turned and grinned at Rothen. “I’ll ask if the patient minds having an audience,” she said quietly.

  She stepped into the room and Rothen heard several voices talking quietly. Sonea glanced at Rothen, her expression unreadable, then looked away.

  Indria appeared in the doorway and beckoned. “Come in.”

  Rothen nodded. “Give me a moment.”

  As the Healer retreated, Rothen looked at Sonea closely. “I don’t know what you’ll see in there, but I don’t think Indria would invite us in if it was anything ghastly. If the sight of blood bothers you, however, we probably shouldn’t enter.”

  Sonea looked amused. “I’ll be fine.”

  Shrugging, Rothen gestured to the door. Going through, she saw that the room was set up the same as the one they had previously entered. On the bed lay a boy of about eight years. His face was white and his eyes were red from crying. The voice that called for assistance belonged to a young man in green robes, Lord Darlen, who was gently unwrapping a blood-soaked bandage from around the boy’s hand. A young couple sat on wooden chairs, watching anxiously.

  “Stand over here, please,” Indria instructed, her voice suddenly stern. Rothen backed into a corner, and Sonea followed him. Darlen glanced at them, before turning his attention back to the boy

  “Does it hurt anymore?”

  The boy shook his head.

  Rothen looked at the couple. Despite signs they had dressed hastily, their clothes were opulent. The man wore a fashionable long coat with gemstone buttons and the woman wore a simple black cloak with a fur-trimmed hood.

  Beside him, Sonea made a small sound. Rothen looked back to the bed and saw that the last of the bandages had been removed from the boy’s hand. Two deep cuts crossed his palm and blood was dripping from the wounds.

  Darlen pulled the boy’s sleeve up and grasped his arm tightly. The flow of blood stopped. He looked up at the parents.

  “How did this happen?”

  The man flushed and his eyes slid to the floor. “He was playing with my sword. I forbade it, but he…” The man shook his head, his expression grim.

  “Hmm,” Darlen turned the hand over a little. “He should heal well, though he’ll have scars to treasure for the rest of his life.”

  The woman made a small choking noise, then burst into tears. Her husband put an arm about her shoulders and looked at the Healer expectantly.

  Darlen turned to Indria. She nodded and went to the shelves. From a drawer she produced more pieces of white material, a bowl and a large bottle of water. Moving to the bed, she gently bathed the hand. When it was clean, the Healer carefully placed his palm over the boy’s and closed his eyes.

  A stillness followed. Though the mother made the occasional sniff, all sound seemed to be muted. The boy began to fidget, but Indria leaned forward and lay a hand on his shoulder.

  “Stay still. Don’t break his concentration.”

  “But it itches,” he protested.

  “It won’t for long.”

  Catching a movement beside him, Rothen looked down to see that Sonea was rubbing her palm. Darlen drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at the hand and ran his fingers across it. Instead of deep wounds, fine red lines now crossed the boy’s palm. Darlen smiled at the boy.

  “Your hand is healed now. I want you to bandage it every day. Don’t use it for at least two weeks. You don’t want to spoil all the work I just did, do you?”

  The boy shook his head. He lifted his hand and traced the scars with a finger. Darlen patted his shoulder.

  “After two weeks, exercise it gently.” He looked up at the parents. “There should be no permanent damage. Eventually he’ll be able to do everything he could before, including wielding his father’s sword.” He leaned down and poked the boy’s chest gently. “But not until he’s grown up.”

  The boy grinned. Darlen helped him off the bed, smiling as the boy ran to his parents and was enveloped in their arms.

  The father looked up at Darlen, his eyes glistening, and opened his mouth to speak. The Healer lifted a hand to stop him, then turned to look at Indria.

  She gestured for Rothen and Sonea to follow her. They quickly slipped out of the room. As they began to stroll down the corridor, Rothen could hear the father expressing his thanks.

  “Looks easy, doesn’t it?” Indria grimaced. “It’s actually very hard.”

  “Healing is the most difficult of all the disciplines,” Rothen explained. “It requires a finer control and many years of practice.”

  “Which is why it doesn’t appeal to some of the youngsters,” Indria sniffed. “They’re too lazy.”

  “I have many novices who are far from lazy,” Rothen told her archly.

  Indria grinned. “But you are such a wonderful teacher, Rothen. How could they not be the most dedicated pupils in the University?”

  Rothen laughed. “I should come to the Healers more often. You’re so gratifying.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “We don’t usually see you unless it’s to grumble about indigestion or the burns you get from your silly experiments.”

  “Don’t say that,” Rothen put a finger to his lips. “I’m taking Sonea on a tour of the Alchemy rooms next.”

  Indria gave Sonea a sympathetic look. “Good luck. Try not to fall asleep.”

  Rothen straightened and pointed to the stairs. “Get on with the tour, you insolent girl,” he commanded. “Only a year since graduation, and already you think you can give cheek to your elders.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Grinning, she gave a mocking bow, then started down the corridor.

  Sliding aside one of Rothen’s windows screens, Sonea looked through the glass at the swirling snow. She rubbed her palm absently. Though feeling had returned hours ago, the memory of numbness was still strong.

  She had expected Rothen to show her the Healers at work, and that she would have to resist the desire to be able to do it herself. Despite her determination to remain unaffected, seeing a child healed before her eyes had stirred up unwanted feelings. Though she had known she had the ability to do such things, only at that moment had she understood what she could be capable of.

  Which had been Rothen’s intention, of course. Sighing, she tapped on the edge of the window screen. As she had expected, he was trying to tempt her into staying by showing her all the wonderful things she could do with her magic.

  But surely he hadn’t expected her to be impressed by the previous day’s Warrior demonstration. Watching novices throw magic at each other was not going to tempt her to stay. Perhaps he had only intended to show her that the fights were harmless. Guided by strict rules, they were more like games than real battles.

  When she considered that, it was no longer difficult to see why they had reacted as they had when she had “attacked” them in the North Square. They were too used to “inner shields” and tallying “hits.” It must have come as quite a shock to see what magic did to an undefended person.

  She sighed again. A tour of the Alchemy rooms would probably come next. Against her will, she felt a twinge of curiosity. Of all the disciplines, Alchemy was the one she understood least.

  She frowned at a knock on the main door. Tania had bid them goodnight hours ago and Rothen had not been gone long. Her heart skipped as a name raced through her mind.

  Fergun.

  He would want an answer, and she hadn’t decided yet. She reluctantly crossed the room, hoping the
visitor was someone else.

  “Who is it?”

  “Fergun. Let me in, Sonea.”

  Taking a deep breath, she grasped the handle. At once, the door swung inward. The red-robed magician slipped gracefully into the room and closed the door behind him.

  “How can you open it?” she asked, frowning at the handle. “I thought it was locked.”

  Fergun smiled. “It was, but it will open when the door handle is turned by someone inside at the same time as someone outside.”

  “Is it meant to?”

  Fergun nodded. “It’s a precaution. Rothen might not be around to open the door in an emergency. Someone else can if, for instance, you started a fire.”

  She grimaced. “Hopefully that will never be a problem again.” She gestured to the chairs. “Have a seat, Fergun.”

  He glided to the chairs and sat down. As she took the seat opposite, he leaned forward eagerly.

  “So, are your Control lessons going well?”

  “Yes…I think.”

  “Hmm, tell me what you did today.”

  She smiled ruefully. “I had to lift a box off the floor. That wasn’t easy.”

  Fergun drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening, and Sonea felt her heart skip in response. “What he is teaching you is not a Control exercise. He is showing you how to use your magic. If he is doing that, you must already have Control.”

  Sonea felt a thrill of excitement and hope. “He said he was testing my Control.”

  Fergun shook his head gravely. “All magic is a test of Control. He wouldn’t be teaching you to lift objects unless your control was sufficiently established. You’re ready, Sonea.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Sonea felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. At last! she thought. I can go home!

  An unexpected twinge of regret followed the thought. Once gone, she might never see Rothen again…

  “So, are you satisfied that what I told you is true—that Rothen has kept information from you?”

  She looked at Fergun and nodded. “Most of it. Administrator Lorlen explained the blocking of power to me.”

  Fergun looked surprised. “Lorlen himself. Good.”

  “He told me it would not be unpleasant, and that I’d never notice it after.”

  “If it works properly. The Guild hasn’t needed to do it for many, many years.” He grimaced. “The last time they did, they messed it up a little—but you should not worry about that. Accept my help and you won’t have to take the risk.” He smiled. “Are we going to work together?”

  She hesitated. Doubts ran through her mind.

  Seeing her expression, he asked: “Have you decided to stay, then?”

  “No.”

  “Then are you still undecided?”

  “I’m not sure about your plan,” she admitted. “Parts of it, anyway.”

  “Which parts?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “If I become a novice, I’ll have to make a vow that I know I’m going to break.”

  He frowned. “And?”

  “I’m not…happy about doing that.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re worried about breaking a vow?” He shook his head. “I am willing to break the King’s law for you, Sonea. Though I’m sure we can make it look as if you escaped on your own, there’s a chance my part in it will be discovered. I am willing to take that risk for your sake.” He leaned forward. “You must decide whether the King has the right to take your power from you. If he doesn’t, then what value is there in the vow?”

  Sonea nodded slowly. He was right. Faren would agree, and so would Cery. The Houses had kept magic to themselves for too long—and then used it against the poor during the Purge. The dwells would not look down on her for breaking the Novices’ Vow. It was their opinion that mattered, not the King’s or the magicians’.

  If she returned to the slums with her powers unfettered and taught herself magic, she could teach others too. She could start her own secret Guild.

  It would mean relying on Faren to hide her from the Guild again. It would mean she could not return to her family. It would mean she might eventually use her powers to help and heal people—which might make the risks worth taking.

  She looked at the magician sitting opposite her. Would Fergun be so keen to let her go if he knew what she was thinking? She frowned. If she became his novice, he might need to enter her mind to teach her. He might discover her plans and, not liking the consequences of helping her, change his mind.

  Much of his proposal forced her to rely on him. She did not know him, had not seen into his mind.

  If only she could leave—escape—without his help.

  She felt a sudden thrill. Perhaps she could. She had achieved Control. Rothen didn’t know that she knew. He would have to admit it eventually, and once he did, he would be wary of her attempting to escape. But not now. Now was the perfect time to try.

  What if she did not get the opportunity, or failed?

  Then she would accept Fergun’s offer. For now, however, she had to delay him.

  Looking at Fergun, she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. Even if your plan does work, I’ll still have the Guild hunting for me.”

  “They won’t be able to find you,” he assured her. “I will teach you how to hide your powers. They’ll find no clue to your location, and eventually give up. You’re not the only one who got tired of the hunt last time, Sonea. They won’t search forever.”

  “There are some things you don’t know,” she told him. “If I return to the slums with magic, the Thieves will want me to work for them. I don’t want to be their tool.”

  He smiled. “You’ll have magic, Sonea. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

  She looked away and shook her head. “I have family, Fergun. The Thieves might not be able to hurt me, but they can hurt others. I…” She rubbed her face, then looked at him apologetically. “I need more time to think.”

  His smile vanished. “How long?”

  She shrugged. “A few weeks, maybe?”

  “I don’t have that long,” he told her, his expression darkening. “You don’t have that long.”

  Sonea frowned. “Why not?”

  Rising abruptly, he took something from within his robe and dropped it onto the table before her.

  She sucked in a breath as she recognized the dagger. So many times, she had watched the blade being carefully and lovingly sharpened. She could remember the day, many years before, when the rough picture of a familiar rodent had been etched into the blade.

  “You recognize it, I see.”

  Fergun stood over her now, his eyes glittering.

  “I have the owner of this knife locked in a dark little room that nobody here knows of.” His lips stretched into a nasty smile. “Just as well they don’t, since they might get a bit worried if they saw how big some of these rodents can grow.” Dropping into a crouch, he placed his hands on the arms of her chair. Sonea shrank back, appalled by his malicious stare.

  “Do what I tell you, and I will release your friend. Give me any trouble, and I will leave him there forever.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you understand me?”

  Stunned, unable to speak, Sonea could only nod.

  “Listen carefully,” he said. “I’m going to tell you what you need to do. First, you’re going to tell Rothen that you’ve decided to stay. When you do he’ll announce that you’ve achieved Control, so he can get you into the Guild before you change your mind again. There’ll be a Meet in a week, and a Hearing to decide who will be your guardian will be held afterward.

  “At this Hearing you’re going to tell everyone that, during the Purge, I saw you before Rothen did. You’ll tell them I looked at you after the stone flashed through the barrier and before it struck.

  “When you tell them this, the Higher Magicians will have no choice but to grant me your guardianship. You’ll enter the Guild, but I assure you, it won’t be for long. Once you have performed a little task for
me, you’ll be sent back where you belong. You’ll get what you want, and so will I. You have nothing to lose from helping me, but…” he picked up the dagger and ran a finger along the blade, “you’ll lose that little friend of yours if you don’t.”

  He held her gaze as he slipped the dagger back into his robes. “Don’t allow Rothen to find out about this. Nobody knows where the little ceryni is but me, and if I can’t bring him food he’s going to get very, very hungry.”

  Rising, he glided to the door and opened it a crack. Looking back at her, he sneered. Sonea’s heart lurched as she suddenly remembered where she had seen him before. He was the magician she had knocked out during the Purge.

  “I expect to hear Rothen proclaiming his success tomorrow. I’ll see you after.” He slipped through the door and pulled it closed behind him.

  Sonea listened to his faint footsteps hurrying away, then pressed her hands over her eyes. Magicians. She hissed a curse. I will never, ever trust them again.

  Then she thought of Rothen, and her anger faded. Even though he had deceived her into believing she hadn’t achieved Control yet, she was sure Rothen’s intentions were good. He had probably been delaying things to give her time to decide if she really wanted to leave. If that were true, he had done nothing that she would not have done herself, had she been in his place—and she was certain that he would help her if she asked.

  But she couldn’t ask him. A smothering helplessness rushed over her. If she didn’t do what Fergun told her, Cery would die.

  Curling up in the chair, she wrapped her arms about herself. Oh Cery, she thought. Where are you? Didn’t I tell you to make sure you didn’t get caught?

  She sighed. Why was Fergun doing this? She thought of the first time she had seen his sneer, and shivered.

  Revenge. Simple, petty revenge for the humiliation of being knocked unconscious by a rebellious dwell. It must infuriate him that, instead of punishment, she was being invited into the Guild. But why bother when she didn’t want to stay?

  She considered his words. “Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.” To have joined the Guild, then be sent away…He was going to make sure she was punished for striking him.