Black Magician-02 The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  "I thought that rumor about us had passed. Nobody appeared to give it credence and—"

  The dark eyes flashed. "Not that rumor. I am referring to a rumor about my nocturnal activities. A rumor that must be stopped."

  A hand seemed to close on Sonea's throat, making it hard to breathe. Rothen was frowning and shaking his head.

  "You are mistaken, High Lord. I know nothing of your—"

  "Do not lie to me, Rothen." Akkarin's eyes narrowed. "I would not have come here if I was not certain of it." He took a step toward them. "I have just read it from Lorlen's mind."

  All color drained from Rothen's face. He stared at Akkarin in silence. If Akkarin read Lorlen's mind, she thought, he knows everything! She felt her knees weaken, and, afraid she would sink to the floor, gripped the window sill behind her.

  The High Lord smiled thinly. "I saw much that impressed me: how Sonea visited the Guild while she was still a renegade, what she witnessed that night, how Lorlen discovered this while truth-reading her during the guardianship Hearing, and that he ordered you both to keep the discovery a secret so that he could work out how he could possibly enforce the Guild's law. A sensible decision. And fortunate for you all."

  Rothen straightened and raised his head to face Akkarin again. "We have not spoken a word of it to anyone."

  "So you say." The High Lord's voice softened, but lost none of its chill. "I would know that for certain."

  Sonea heard Rothen's sharp intake of breath. The two magicians stared at each other.

  "And if I refuse?"

  "I will take whatever measures you force me to take, Rothen. You cannot prevent me reading your mind."

  Rothen looked away. Abruptly, Sonea recalled Cery's description of Akkarin's mind-reading. Cery had told her that, when Akkarin had discovered him imprisoned in a room under the University by Fergun, he had allowed the High Lord to read his mind to confirm the truth. It had been an easy thing, completely unlike Rothen's mind-sharing or Lorlen's truth-read, and she had concluded that the legend about Akkarin being able to read minds, whether they be willing or not, must have some truth in it.

  Stiffly, as though his bones were those of a man twenty years older, Rothen moved toward the High Lord. Sonea stared at him, unable to believe he would give in so easily.

  "Rothen ..."

  "It's all right, Sonea." Rothen's voice was strained. "Stay where you are."

  Closing the distance between himself and her guardian in a few strides, Akkarin placed his hands against the sides of Rothen's head. He closed his eyes and his face smoothed into an unexpectedly peaceful expression.

  Rothen drew in a sharp breath and swayed. The hands at his sides clenched, then opened again. Sonea took a step forward and stopped. She dared not interfere. What if it caused Akkarin to harm Rothen? Frustrated, frightened, she clenched her fists until she felt her nails bite into her palms.

  The two magicians remained still and silent for an unbearably long time. Then, without warning, Akkarin drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He regarded the man standing before him for a moment, then drew back his hands and stepped away.

  Sonea watched anxiously as Rothen took a long, ragged breath and swayed a little. Akkarin crossed his arms, watching the old magician. Sonea cautiously stepped forward and took Rothen's arm.

  "I'm fine," he said wearily. "I'm all right." He rubbed his temples and grimaced, then squeezed one of her hands to reassure her.

  "Now, Sonea."

  A shock of cold terror rushed through her body. She felt Rothen's hands tighten their grip.

  "No!" Rothen protested hoarsely. He put an arm protectively around her shoulders. "You know everything now. Leave her be."

  "I cannot."

  "But you've seen everything," Rothen protested. "She's only a—"

  "A child?" Akkarin's eyebrows rose. "A girl? Come now, Rothen. You know this will not harm her."

  Rothen swallowed hard, then slowly turned to her. He looked into her eyes. "He knows everything, Sonea. There is nothing to hide from him. Let him confirm it for himself if he must. It will not hurt."

  His eyes, though rimmed with moisture, were steady. Sonea felt him squeeze her hands, then release them. He stepped away. A terrible feeling of betrayal rose.

  — Trust me. We must cooperate. It is all we can do for now.

  She heard Akkarin's footfall behind her. Her heart raced as she turned to face him. The black robes rustled softly as the High Lord moved forward. She backed away and felt Rothen's hands on her shoulders.

  Akkarin frowned as he reached toward her. Cool fingers brushed her face and she flinched. Then his palms pressed firmly against her temples.

  A presence touched her mind, but it held no personality. She sensed no thoughts or feelings. Perhaps he didn't have emotions. The thought wasn't comforting.

  Then an image flashed into her mind. She started, realizing she had been waiting for him to encounter the barriers in her mind. Somehow he had passed them. Checking, she saw that her defenses were intact, but his presence was not tangible enough to meet their resistance.

  The same image kept flashing into her mind. It was of the underground room beneath his residence, seen from outside the door. A memory rose of the scene she had witnessed the night she had spied upon him.

  Something took hold of that memory and began to sort through the details. Sonea remembered how Lorlen had manipulated her memories, and how she had been able to hide them by willing them out of her thoughts. Perhaps she could do that now. She tried to smother the memory, but the mind-read continued without a pause. Her efforts made no difference, she realized, because Akkarin was in control of the memory, whereas Lorlen had been only guiding and encouraging.

  The discovery sent panic through her. In desperation, she tried to drown the memory with other thoughts and images.

  Stop this.

  An undertone of anger accompanied the words. Sonea paused, feeling a thrill of triumph as she understood she had found a way to hamper him. Her fear hardened into determination. She drew up lessons, lists of facts, images of work she had done. She bombarded him with pictures from text books and nonsense poems that she had discovered in the library. She threw memories of the slum, irrelevant, ordinary bits of her old life.

  A mental image of a storm appeared—a funnel of images that kept him trapped at its core. She did not know if the picture was real, or something her mind had created . ..

  Pain! Knives ripping through her skull. A cry reached her ears. Realizing that she had made it, she opened her eyes and her consciousness swayed between the outer and inner world. Hands tightened on her shoulders. A voice came from above.

  "Stop fighting me," it commanded.

  Hands pressed hard against her temples. She snapped back into the domain of her mind. Disoriented and shocked by the pain, she tried to regain some sense of balance. The presence returned to the task of digging up the memories he sought. He mercilessly called up image after image. This time she found herself reliving the moments in the North Square. Once more she threw the stone and fled from the fire of the magicians. Rooms and corridors of the slums flickered by. The day she had sensed Rothen's searching mind and had instinctively hidden her presence. Cery, Harrin and his gang. Faren of the Thieves. Senfel, the Thieves' magician.

  Then she was creeping through the forest on the Guild grounds. The memories sharpened, were examined closely. Once more she climbed the wall of the Healers' Quarters and watched the novices within. Once again she sensed the vibration around the Arena. She peered through windows into the University. Her journey took her around the back of the Guild again to look into the Novices' Quarters and through the forest behind. Then, after Cery left to steal the books, she crept down to the strange, gray two-story building. The servant came, forcing her to retreat behind the low bushes. Then, seeing light coming through the ventilation holes, she crouched down and peered though.

  A faint flicker of annoyance touched her senses. Yes, she thought, I'd be angry, too,
if my secrets were discovered so easily. She saw the bloodstained man remove his clothes, clean himself and move away. Returning clad in black robes, the man spoke to his servant. "The fight has weakened me. I need your strength." The man took an elaborate knife and cut the servant's arm, then placed his hand over the wound. Once more she sensed the strange magic.

  The memory stopped abruptly, and she sensed nothing from the mind that lurked behind hers. What was he thinking, she wondered .. . ?

  Have you allowed any other to know of this other than Lorlen and Rothen?

  No, she thought.

  She relaxed, sure that this was all he sought, but a relentless interrogation followed as he quested after further memories. He explored parts of her life, from childhood to her lessons in the University. He sorted through her feelings, from her fondness for Rothen to her lingering loyalty to Cery and the people of the slums, to the new emotions she felt for Dorrien.

  And, unbidden, came the anger she felt toward him for doing this to her. He sought her feelings about his practice of black magic, and her mind responded with disapproval and fear. Would she expose him if she could? Yes! But only if she knew Rothen and others would not be harmed.

  Then the presence vanished and she felt the pressure against her temples stop. She opened her eyes and blinked. Akkarin had turned his back and was pacing slowly away from them. She felt Rothen's hands on her shoulders, steady and reassuring.

  "You would both expose me if you could," Akkarin said. He was silent for a time, then turned to face them. "I will claim Sonea's guardianship. Her abilities are advanced and, as Lorlen surmised, her strength is unusually high. None will question my choice."

  "No!" Rothen gasped. His grip tightened.

  "Yes," Akkarin replied, turning to face them. "She will ensure your silence. You will never cause anyone to know that I practice black magic while she is mine." His eyes shifted to Sonea's. "And Rothen's well being will be my guarantee that you will cooperate."

  Sonea stared at him in horror. She was to be his hostage!

  "You will not speak to each other except to avoid raising suspicion. You will behave as if nothing more unusual than a change of guardianship has occurred. Do you understand?"

  Rothen made a choking noise. Sonea turned to him, alarmed. He glanced at her and she saw guilt in his eyes.

  "Don't make me consider an alternative," Akkarin warned.

  Rothen's voice was strained as he answered, "l understand. We will do as you ask."

  "Good."

  Akkarin took a step closer, and Sonea looked up to find him regarding her intently. "There is a room in my residence for the High Lord's novice. You will come with me now, and send a servant for your belongings later."

  Sonea looked at Rothen, her throat tight. He searched her eyes.

  — I'm sorry.

  "Now, Sonea." Akkarin gestured at the door. It swung open.

  She felt Rothen's hands loosen. He gave her the tiniest push. Glancing at Akkarin, she realized she did not want Rothen to see her dragged away. He would find a way to help her. He would do everything he could. For now, they had no choice but to obey.

  Taking a deep breath, she moved away from Rothen and stepped out into the corridor. Akkarin gave Rothen one last measuring look, then started toward the door. As the High Lord turned away, Rothen's eyes narrowed with hatred.

  Then the door closed and he was cut off from her sight.

  "Come along," Akkarin said. "The novice's room in my residence hasn't seen an occupant in many years, but it has always been kept ready for one. You'll find it much more comfortable than those in the Novices' Quarters."

  * * *

  PART TWO

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Sonea's Good fortune

  As the door opened, the University Director looked up from his desk to see who had entered his office. For the first time Sonea could remember, Jerrik's sour expression vanished. He leapt to his feet.

  "What can I do for you, High Lord?"

  "I wish to discuss Sonea's training. I have read your report, and her lack of skills in certain subjects concerns me."

  Jerrik looked surprised. "Sonea's progress has been more than satisfactory."

  "Her marks in Warrior Skills are average at best."

  "Ah." Jerrik glanced at Sonea. "It is not unusual for a novice to show less aptitude for one of the disciplines at this stage. While she is not excelling in Warrior Skills, her results have been acceptable."

  "Nevertheless, I want this weakness addressed. I believe Lord Yikmo would be a suitable tutor."

  "Lord Yikmo?" Jerrik's generous eyebrows rose, then drew together in a frown. "He does not teach in the evenings, but if Sonea attends evening classes in other subjects that would allow time during the day."

  "I believe she missed her Warrior Skills yesterday."

  "Yes," Jerrik replied. "Usually we would arrange for a testing after the break, but I think an assessment by Lord Yikmo would do instead." He glanced at his desk. "I can put together Sonea's schedule for next year now, if you wish. It will not take long."

  "Yes. I'll leave Sonea with you to collect it. Thank you, Director."

  The presence at her side moved away. As the door closed, Sonea drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He was gone. At last.

  With a soft thump, Jerrik dropped back into his seat. He waved at a wooden chair near the end of his desk.

  "Sit down, Sonea."

  She obeyed. Taking another deep breath, she felt tension ease out of her muscles.

  Everything that had happened after leaving Rothen seemed like a bad dream. She had followed Akkarin to his residence, where a servant had shown her to a room on the second floor. Not long after, a chest had arrived with her belongings from the Novices' Quarters. Another servant had brought a plate of food, but Sonea had been too anxious to feel hungry. Instead, she sat by one of the small windows, barely noticing the magicians and novices walking about the grounds, and searched for a way out of her situation.

  First, she had considered escaping to the slums. The Thieves would be eager to protect her now that she had Control of her magic. They had managed to hide Senfel, the rogue magician Faren had failed to persuade to teach her. They could hide her, too.

  If she disappeared, however, Akkarin would do something to Rothen. But if Rothen had sufficient warning, he could tell the rest of the Guild that Akkarin was practicing black magic, before the High Lord realized she'd gone. She would have to warn Lorlen, too, since he would also be in danger if she left. Yes, if she warned both of them she was leaving, and timed it right, Akkarin might not have a chance to prevent Lorlen and Rothen speaking out.

  And what then? The Guild would confront Akkarin. Lorlen had believed they couldn't win such a battle, and Lorlen knew Akkarin better than any other magician. So, if she escaped, she could bring about a confrontation that would devastate the Guild, and possibly the whole of Kyralia.

  It had occurred to her, then, that the fate of the Guild rested in her hands. Her, a mere slum girl. This sudden power over the Guild's fate gave her no pleasure, however. Instead, she felt ill with frustration and fear.

  Long after the gardens had disappeared into the night's shadows, the servant had returned with a drink. Recognizing the aroma of a mild, sleep-inducing medicine, Sonea had drunk it all, curled up on the strange, too-soft bed and welcomed the numbness that slowly crept over her.

  In the morning, fussing servants had brought new robes and more food. She managed a few bites, but when Akkarin arrived she regretted it. Feeling ill with fear, she had followed him to the University. To Jerrik's office. Had she passed novices on the way? Had they fallen silent when he appeared, as they always did? She couldn't remember.

  Jerrik's movements were hurried, his brows lowered in concentration. The few times she had seen the High Lord among other magicians, she had noted that he was treated with respect and even awe. Was this reverence for the position of High Lord? Or was it something else? Did they fear h
im instinctively, without knowing the reason?

  Watching Jerrik, she shook her head. Schedules and tests seemed so trivial now. If Jerrik knew what had really happened, he wouldn't be at all interested in all this shuffling of paper and classes. He wouldn't respect Akkarin at all.

  But he didn't know, and she couldn't tell him.

  Jerrik rose abruptly. Turning to a cupboard, he took out three boxes: one green, one red and the other purple. He moved to the tall, narrow doors that covered one wall of the room and waved a palm over the handle of the first. There was a click, and the door opened to reveal a stack of shelves.

  Running his finger down the first of these, he stopped and pulled out a neat folder. He placed it on the table and Sonea saw her name written neatly on the cover. Curiosity stirred in her as he opened the folder and read through several sheets of paper. What is in there? she wondered. Comments from the teachers, probably. And a report about the pen I was supposed to have stolen.

  Jerrik opened the three boxes. Inside were more sheets of paper with teachers' names and tables drawn on them. He selected some of these, then drew a clean sheet from his desk and began drawing up another table. For several minutes all that could be heard in the room were Jerrik's breathing and the scrape of his pen.

  "This is quite a turn of good fortune for you, Sonea," he said without looking up.

  Sonea smothered a sudden, bitter urge to laugh.

  "Yes, Director," she managed.

  He looked up at her and frowned, then turned his attention back to his writing. Finishing the table, he drew out another sheet of paper and started making a copy.

  "You're not going to have much time to yourself next year," he told her. "Lord Yikmo prefers to teach during the day, so you will have to take some private classes in Alchemy instead. You'll have Freedays for study. If you work efficiently, you may be able to keep Freeday mornings free for personal pursuits." He paused and considered his work with a sad shake of his head. "If you satisfy Lord Yikmo with your progress you may also regain a few afternoons to yourself."