"Most of her night classes are to cover those displaced by private Warrior Skills," Lord Yikmo told them.
"Why couldn't she attend those at night?" another asked.
"Because I don't teach during the evening," Yikmo replied, smiling broadly.
"Forgive me for saying so, but I'd have expected Lord Balkan to teach the High Lord's favorite," Lord Garrel said. "But perhaps your unusual teaching style would suit a girl like Sonea."
"I have found novices with quick minds and less aggressive temperaments respond well to my methods," Yikmo replied smoothly.
Sensing that Rothen was still watching him, Lorlen turned to look into the crowd. Rothen looked away. Returning to the conversation, Lorlen steered it away from Sonea's classes with Yikmo. Warriors! he thought. Always so competitive.
Two hours later Lorlen found himself suppressing a yawn. He glanced around at the magicians, then rose.
"Excuse me," he said. "It is growing late and I want to have an early night. Good evening."
Crossing the room was not easy. Every few steps he was approached and questioned. After politely extracting himself several times, he turned around and found himself facing Rothen.
They stared at each other in silence. Heart racing, all Lorlen could think was that Akkarin had forbidden them to talk to each other. But faces had turned to watch them, and if they didn't speak all kinds of speculation would be generated.
"Good evening, Administrator," Rothen said.
"Good evening, Lord Rothen," Lorlen replied.
So we've disobeyed Akkarin already, Lorlen mused. Rothen's face was more lined than he recalled. Suddenly remembering the ring, Lorlen clasped his hands behind his back. "I wanted to ... to express my sympathy. It must be distressing to lose the guardianship of a novice who you were clearly very fond of."
A crease deepened between Rothen's brows. "It is," he agreed.
How he wished he could reassure Rothen. Perhaps he could. . .
"I've just heard she has been enrolled in evening classes for her Second Year. She'll be spending most of her time in lessons, so I doubt she'll see much of her new guardian at all—which is probably Akkarin's way of keeping her out from under his feet."
Rothen nodded slowly. "That will agree with her, I'm sure." He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Are you well, Administrator?"
"Yes." Lorlen smiled wanly. "I just need some sleep. I—" He stopped and smiled as a group of magicians passed. "Thank you for your concern. Good night, Lord Rothen."
"Good night, Administrator."
Turning away, Lorlen continued to the doors of the Night Room and stepped out into the chill night air. He allowed himself a shallow sigh. Do I really believe Akkarin won't harm them?
— They're safe enough. Reassuring Rothen was a wise move.
Lorlen stiffened in surprise and looked down at the ring. Glancing around, he was relieved to see that the courtyard was empty and no one had seen his reaction.
— You've told me about Garret's conversational skills, but I've never seen him in action. Does he do that to everyone?
Lorlen looked down at the ring. It caught the light of the lamps around the courtyard, looking no different from any ordinary ruby.
— I told you, Lorlen. Everything you see and hear.
— And think?
— When I'm listening— but you won't know when I'm listening.
Appalled, Lorlen grasped the ring and began twisting it off.
— Stop, Lorlen. You're tormented with enough guilt already. Don't force me to make it worse.
Letting the ring go, Lorlen clenched his fingers in frustration.
— That's better. Now get some rest. You have work to catch up on.
Breathing heavily with anger and defeat, Lorlen started toward his rooms.
* * *
Familiarizing herself with the inner passages of the University had turned out to be more difficult than Sonea had expected. The deeper she explored, the easier it was to become lost. So convoluted and unpredictable were the passages, she began to wonder if they had been designed specifically to confuse strangers.
The layout did not follow a predictable or repetitive pattern. Each passage twisted and turned in different ways. Sometimes they met the main corridor again; sometimes she found a dead end.
Taking a piece of paper out of her box, she began counting her steps and drawing the turns as she walked. After an hour, she had mapped out a small section of passages. Parts were missing, however. Though she retraced her steps, she found no passages leading into the blank sections on her maps.
She stopped and sat on her box to rest and think. She had assumed that the convoluted route Dorrien had taken when he took her up to the roof had been a deliberate ploy to confuse her. Perhaps it hadn't. Thinking back, she remembered an odd little room they had passed through. It had contained a few cabinets with ornaments, but otherwise appeared to have no practical purpose. Perhaps, she thought, its true purpose might be that of a portal or gateway to internal parts of the University.
Rising, she hurried to one of the dead ends she had encountered. The corridor ended at a plain, unmarked wall, but to her left was a door. She gripped the handle . . . and paused.
What if she was wrong and this was an ordinary room? She might walk in on a magician, or interrupt a gathering.
Perhaps that was exactly what she was supposed to think. Most people would feel reluctant to open the closed door of an unknown room uninvited. She took her hand from the door and stepped back to regard it. Was there any sign or indication that this door led to a portal room rather than an ordinary one?
It was made of a dark wood. The surface was plain and undecorated. The hinges were blackened iron. She walked back along the passage to examine other doors. They were the same.
Returning to the first door, Sonea struggled with her reluctance to open it. She imagined herself striding into a room only to find a startled and angry magician staring at her.
But if she did, she could always apologize and say she had made a mistake. Better still, she could knock first and if anyone answered she could say that she had knocked on the wrong door. Obviously, novices were always getting confused and lost.
She rapped lightly, then a little louder. After she had counted to fifty, she turned the handle. The door opened with a click and swung outward.
Stepping through, she entered a room just like the one she remembered Dorrien taking her through. Feeling pleased with herself, she strode across to the other door. It swung inward to reveal another passage.
This one was different from those she had already explored. The walls were panelled with wood, and paintings and relief carvings hung along its length. Even the air smelled different—a mix of wood polish and herbs. Sonea wandered slowly from picture to picture, enjoying the satisfaction of having proved her instincts right.
The portal rooms acted as a barrier, she decided. They kept those who didn't know their purpose out of these inner passages. Most people would not open a door unless they knew what lay beyond, and even if they opened the door by mistake, they would find an uninteresting room beyond. She wondered how many portal rooms there were. Finding out would give her something to do over the next two weeks.
She frowned then. If parts of the University had been designed to deter exploration, was she now in a part that was forbidden to novices?
Hearing a soft creak nearby, she spun about. A door opened a few strides down the passage. Too late to hide, she felt her heart skip as a magician stepped out. He looked up at her and frowned.
Look like you belong here! Straightening her back, she walked toward him as if she had just paused to view a painting. His eyes dropped to the incal on her sleeve. As she neared, she paused and bowed, then moved past.
Hearing his footsteps fade behind her, she sighed with relief. From his reaction to her presence, novices were not allowed into this part of the University. Yet he had accepted her presence after noting the incal on her sleeve. Perhaps he assume
d she was on some errand for the High Lord. She smiled at that. So long as she looked as if she had a reason to be there, the magicians would leave her alone.
So where to from here? she asked herself. Unfolding the scrap of paper in her hand, she considered her map again.
Chapter 23
Akkarin's Promise
Returning from the deck, Dannyl found Tayend sitting cross-legged on the narrow bed in his cabin. The scholar's drawings and notes were spread over every flat surface.
"I've translated what I can. There's a phrase on the coffin that I suspect is repeated in several ancient languages. I'll be able to check that when I get back to the library. The third line is in the early Elyne tongue that merged with the Kyralian one a thousand years ago."
"What does it say?"
"That this woman was fair and honorable. That she protected the islands with high magic. The words for 'high magic' were carved deeply. There's a glyph emphasized in the same way in what I think is an old Vindo tongue—which is what was carved on the walls. The same glyph appears on the walls in several places."
Handing Dannyl a drawing, Tayend pointed out the glyph. Each time the words for "high magic" occurred, the picture above it represented a figure kneeling before a woman. The woman's hand was extended to touch the supplicant's upraised palm, as if to placate or reward.
"That could imply that she's performing this high magic. What do you think she's doing?"
Dannyl shrugged. "Healing, perhaps. That would make sense, since Healing would have been very rare a thousand years ago. It was only through cooperation and experimentation that the Guild managed to develop the skill—and it's still the most difficult discipline to learn."
"So the term 'high magic' is not familiar?"
Dannyl shook his head. "No."
"The hole we looked through did not look natural to me. It had to have been made by someone. Do you think it might have been made by magic?"
"Possibly." Dannyl smiled. "I think the last visitor did us a favor."
"Indeed he did." The ship dropped sharply. Tayend winced and turned a sickly color.
"You're not going to spend this journey in misery," Dannyl said firmly. "Give me your wrist."
Tayend's eyes widened. "But... I..."
"You haven't got any excuses now."
To Dannyl's amusement, Tayend blushed and looked away. "I'm still, um, uncomfortable with . .. well.. ."
Dannyl waved a hand. "This sort of Healing is quick. And I won't be reading your mind. Besides, you have to face the truth. You're not very good company when you're sick. When you're not throwing up everywhere, you're complaining about throwing up."
"Complaining about it!" Tayend protested. "I did not complain!" He thrust his wrist out. "Go on then."
Tayend closed his eyes tightly. Taking the scholar's wrist, Dannyl sent his mind out and immediately felt nausea and giddiness. A small effort of will soothed it away. Letting go of Tayend's wrist, Dannyl watched as the scholar opened his eyes and considered the effect.
"That's much better." Tayend gave Dannyl a quick, searching glance, then shrugged and looked down at his notes. "How long will it last?"
"A few hours. Longer as you get used to the rocking."
Tayend smiled. "I knew I'd brought you along for something. What are we going to do when we get back?"
Dannyl grimaced. "I'll have to spend a lot of time catching up on my ambassadorial duties."
"Well, while you do that, I'll continue our research. We knew where Akkarin travelled to because of the ships' records. A question here and there will tell us what he did afterward. The Bel Arralade has a party to celebrate her birthday every year and that will be the perfect place to start. An invitation will be waiting at the Guild House for you."
"How can you be sure? I've barely spent more than a few months in Capia, and I haven't met the Bel Arralade yet."
"Which is why I'm certain you'll be invited." Tayend smiled. "A young, unmarried magician like yourself. Besides, Ambassador Errend always attends. If you didn't get an invite, he'd insist you accompanied him."
"And you?"
"I have friends who'll take me if I ask nicely."
"Why not come with me?"
Tayend glanced up and down the corridor between their cabins. He leaned forward.
"If we arrive together, there will be assumptions made you might rather weren't."
"We've been travelling together for months," Dannyl pointed out. "Assumptions may have already been made."
"Not necessarily." Tayend waved a hand. "Not if people observe you treating me as a mere underling. They may assume you don't know about me. After all, you're Kyralian. If you knew, you would have found another assistant."
"We really have a bad reputation, don't we?"
Tayend nodded. "But we can use that to our advantage. If anyone says anything about me, you should be outraged that they would slander my name. I'll plead with my friends that they keep you in the dark, because it's important to my work. If we're convincing enough, we'll be able to continue working together without anyone questioning."
Dannyl frowned. He hated to admit it, but Tayend was right. Though he wanted to shrug and let the gossips talk, any steps they could take to protect his reputation would make both of their lives easier.
"Very well. I'll act like the arrogant Kyralian magician people expect." He looked at Tayend. "But I want you to remember, if I say anything harsh or judgmental, I don't really mean it."
Tayend nodded. "I know."
"I'm just warning you. My acting skills are fairly good."
"Oh, really?"
Dannyl chuckled. "Yes, really. I have my mentor's words to prove it. He said if I could convince the Thieves I was a poor merchant, I could deceive anyone."
"We'll see," Tayend replied. "We'll see."
Lord Osen waited patiently as Lorlen finished the letter. With a wave of his hand, Lorlen dried the ink, then folded the sheet of paper and sealed it.
"What is next?" he asked as he handed the letter to Osen.
"That is all."
Lorlen looked up, surprised. "We've caught up?"
"Yes." Osen smiled.
Leaning back in his chair, Lorlen regarded his assistant approvingly. "I haven't thanked you for looking after everything for me last week."
Osen shrugged. "You needed a rest. In my opinion, you should have taken a longer break. Perhaps visited family for a few weeks like everyone else. You still look worn out."
"I appreciate your concern," Lorlen replied. "But leave them all to their own devices for a few weeks?" He shook his head. "Not a good idea."
The young magician chuckled. "Now you're starting to sound like your old self. Shall we start preparations for the next Meet?"
"No." Lorlen frowned as he remembered. "I'm visiting the High Lord tonight."
"Forgive me for saying, but you don't sound particularly enthusiastic." Osen hesitated, then continued in a quieter tone. "Have you two had a disagreement?"
Lorlen considered his assistant. Osen rarely missed anything, but he was discreet. Would he believe a denial? Probably not completely.
— Tell him we have. Something minor.
Lorlen stiffened at the voice in his mind. Akkarin hadn't spoken to him through the ring since the conversation outside the Night Room over a week ago.
"I guess you could say we have," Lorlen replied slowly. "In a manner of speaking."
Osen nodded. "I thought so. Was it over Sonea's guardianship? That's what some of the magicians believe."
"Do they?" Lorlen could not help smiling. He had become an object of gossip.
— Well? he projected at the ring.
— The answer you are considering will do.
Snorting softly, Lorlen looked up and gave Osen a warning look. "I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Osen. Speculation is fine, but I do not want the others to know the High Lord and I disagreed. For Sonea's sake."
Osen nodded. "I understand. I will keep it to myse
lf—and I hope you two resolve your differences."
Lorlen stood up. "That depends on how well Sonea adapts to the change. It is a bit much to expect of her after all she's been through already."
"I wouldn't want to be in her position," Osen admitted as he followed Lorlen to the door. "But I'm sure she'll cope."
Lorlen nodded. I hope so. "Good night, Osen."
"Good night, Administrator."
The University corridor echoed with the young magician's steps as he strode away. Walking into the Entrance Hall, Lorlen felt a cloud of dread gather around him. He stepped between the enormous doors and stopped at the top of the stairs.
Looking across the front of the gardens, he considered the High Lord's Residence. He hadn't been back since the night Akkarin had read his mind. Remembering sent a chill down his spine.
Taking a deep breath, he made himself think of Sonea. For her safety, he must make himself cross the garden and face Akkarin again. The High Lord's invitation was not to be refused.
Lorlen forced himself to move. After a few steps, he quickened his pace. Better to get it over and done with. At the door to the residence he paused, heart beating quickly, then made himself knock. As always, the door swung inward at the first touch. Seeing that the room was empty, Lorlen sighed with relief. He stepped inside.
In the corner of his eye he saw a movement. A shadow detached itself from the dark rectangle of the right-hand stairway entrance. Akkarin's black robes rustled quietly as he approached.
Black robes. Black magic. Ironically, black had always been the color of the High Lord. You didn't have to take it so literally, Lorlen thought.
Akkarin chuckled. "Wine?"
Lorlen shook his head.
"Then sit. Relax."
Relax? How could he relax? And he resented this friendly familiarity. Lorlen remained standing, and watched Akkarin move to the wine cabinet and pick up a bottle.
"How is Sonea?"
Akkarin's shoulders lifted. "I don't know. I'm not even sure where she is exactly. Somewhere in the University, I believe."
"She's not here?"
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