The Magicians' Guild: The Black Magician Trilogy

by Trudi Canavan

  It had not always been so. Many centuries before, Sachaka had been a great empire ruled by sophisticated magicians. A war lost against Kyralia and the newly formed Guild had changed that.

  A hand touched Dannyl’s shoulder. Turning, he found a swarthy man standing behind him. The man shook his head, then moved away.

  Sighing, Dannyl rose and sidestepped through the crowd to the door. Once outside, he trudged through the puddles that filled most of the alleyway. Three weeks had passed since the Guild had tracked the girl to the underground hideout and Lord Jolen had been tracked by the Lonmar. Since then, Gorin had declined Dannyl’s request for an audience four times.

  Administrator Lorlen was reluctant to accept that the Thieves were protecting the girl. Dannyl understood why. Nothing upset a King more than the presence of a rogue magician in his realm. The Thieves were tolerated. They kept the criminal underground in check, and they never presented a greater threat than the loss of taxes to smuggling. Even if the King managed to find and remove them, he knew others would take their place.

  But the King would be willing to raze the slums to the ground—and lower—if he knew beyond a doubt that there was a rogue magician in the city.

  Dannyl wondered if the Thieves realized this. He had not spoken of the possibility during his talks with Gorin, not wanting to appear unreasonable or threatening. Instead, he had warned the Thief of the danger the girl presented.

  Reaching the end of the alley, he hurried across a wider street into the narrow space between two buildings. From there, the slums wove into a maze. The wind shivered down each narrow alley, whimpering like a hungry child. Occasionally it died away completely, and in one of these pauses Dannyl heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around.

  The alley was empty. Shrugging, he continued on.

  Though he tried to ignore it, his imagination would not let go of the idea that he was being followed. In the pause between his own steps he would hear the crunch of another footfall or, looking back, he sometimes caught the flicker of movement around a corner. As the conviction became stronger, Dannyl grew exasperated with himself. Turning a corner, he quickly manipulated the lock of a door and slipped into a building.

  To his relief, the room inside was unoccupied. Peering through the door’s keyhole, he snorted softly as he saw that the alley outside was still empty. Then a figure stepped into view.

  He frowned as he recognized the scars on the man’s broad face. The Sachakan’s eyes flickered about, searching. Dannyl caught a glimmer and, looking down, he saw a vicious-looking knife in the man’s gloved hand.

  Dannyl chuckled quietly. Fortunate for you that I heard you following, he thought. He considered tackling the mugger and dragging him to the nearest Guard Hall, but decided against it. Night was approaching, and he was eager to get back to the warmth of his own rooms.

  The Sachakan examined the ground, then doubled back. Dannyl counted to a hundred, then slipped through the door again and continued on his way. It seemed his fear that the dwells knew what he was had been unfounded. No dwell was foolish enough to attack a magician with a mere knife.

  Sonea was bent over a large book when Cery entered the hideout. She looked up and smiled.

  “How’s the magic going?” he asked.

  Her smile disappeared. “The usual.”

  “The book’s not helping?”

  She shook her head. “It’s been five weeks since I started practicing, but the only thing I’m getting better at is reading. I can’t read in exchange for Faren’s protection.”

  “You can’t hurry what you’re doing,” he told her. Not when she could only practice once a day, he added silently.

  Since her near-capture, there had been a group of magicians patiently closing in on each of Faren’s hideouts each time she used magic, forcing him to find new ones. Cery knew Faren was calling in favors from all around the slums. He also knew that the Thief believed Sonea was worth every coin and favor he spent.

  “What do you think you need to get your magic to work?” he asked.

  She rested her chin in one hand. “I need someone to show me.” She lifted an eyebrow at Cery. “Has Faren said anything about that person he was going to find out about?”

  Cery shook his head. “Nothing to me. I’ve overheard something but it didn’t sound good.”

  She sighed. “I don’t suppose you know of any friendly magician who’s willing to reveal the Guild’s secrets to the Thieves? Perhaps you could kidnap one of them for me.”

  Cery laughed, then stopped as an idea began to form. “Do you think—”

  “Shh!” Sonea hissed. “Listen!”

  Cery leapt to his feet as he heard the faint tapping from the floor.

  “The signal!”

  Cery hurried to the street-side window and peered into the shadows below. Instead of the sentry, an unfamiliar figure paced in the shadows. He grabbed Sonea’s cloak from the back of a chair and tossed it at her.

  “Shove it down your shirt,” he told her. “And follow me.”

  He grabbed a bucket of water sitting beside her table and threw its contents on the few embers still lingering in the fireplace. The wood hissed and steam billowed up the chimney. Pulling the grate out, he ducked inside and began to climb the chimney, setting the toes of his boots into the cracks between the rough, hot bricks.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Sonea muttered from below.

  “Come on,” he urged. “We’re going across the roofs.”

  Muttering a curse, she began to climb.

  As the sun emerged from behind storm clouds, the rooftops were bathed in golden light. Cery moved into the shadow of a chimney.

  “It’s too bright,” he said. “We’ll be seen for sure. I think we should stay here ’til it gets dark.”

  Sonea settled beside him. “Are we far enough away?”

  He glanced back toward the hide. “I hope so.”

  She looked around. “We’re on the High Road, aren’t we? Those rope and wood bridges—the handholds.” She smiled as Cery nodded. “That brings back memories.”

  He grinned at the wistful look in her eyes. “It seems like such a long time ago.”

  “It was. Most times I can’t believe we actually did some of the things we did.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t have the guts now.”

  He shrugged. “We were just kids.”

  “Kids sneaking into houses and lifting things.” She smiled. “Remember that time we got into that woman’s room and she had all those wigs? You curled up on the floor and we put them all over you. When she came in you made groaning noises.”

  Cery laughed. “She sure could scream.”

  Her eyes gleamed in the light of the setting sun. “I got into so much rub when Jonna worked out I was sneaking out at night to join you.”

  “Didn’t stop you,” he reminded her.

  “No. You’d taught me how to pick locks by then.”

  He looked at her closely. “Why did you stop coming out with us?”

  She sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. “Things changed. Harrin’s lot started treating me differently. It was like they had remembered I was a girl, and thought I was hanging out with them for other stuff. It wasn’t fun anymore.”

  “I didn’t treat you different…” he hesitated, gathering his courage. “But you stopped wanting to come out with me, too.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t you, Cery. I think I got tired of it. I had to grow up and stop pretending. Jonna was always saying how honesty was valuable, and stealing was wrong. I didn’t think that stealing when you had no choice was wrong, but that wasn’t what we were doing. I was almost glad when I moved into the city, because it meant I didn’t have to think about all that anymore.”

  Cery nodded. Perhaps it had been better that she had left. The boys in Harrin’s gang hadn’t always been nice to the young women they encountered.

  “Was it better working in the city?”

  “A little. You can still get
in a lot of rub if you’re not careful. The guards are the worst, cause no one stops them hassling you.”

  He frowned as he tried to imagine her fending off over-interested guards. Was there anywhere safe? Shaking his head, he wished that he could take her somewhere where no guards or magicians would bother them.

  “We lost the book, didn’t we?” Sonea said suddenly.

  Remembering the tome lying on the table back at the hide, Cery cursed.

  “Wasn’t real useful, anyhow.”

  There was no regret in her voice. Cery frowned. There had to be another way for her to learn magic. He bit his lip gently as the idea she had given him returned.

  “I’d like to get you out of the slums,” he said. “The magicians are going to be everywhere tonight.”

  She frowned. “Out of the slums?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “You’ll be safer in the city.”

  “The city? You sure?”

  “Why not?” He smiled. “It’s the last place they’d look.”

  She considered that and shrugged. “But how will we get there?”

  “The High Road.”

  “But it won’t get us past the gates.”

  Cery grinned. “We don’t have to use ’em. Come on.”

  The Outer Wall loomed high over the slums. Ten strides deep, it was well maintained by the city guard, though it had been many centuries since Imardin had faced the threat of invasion. A road ran around the outside, keeping the buildings of the slum at bay.

  Not far from this road, Sonea and Cery descended from the rooftops into an alley. Taking her arm, Cery led her to stacks of boxes and slipped between them. The air smelled tangy inside, a mix of young wood and old fruit.

  Cery squatted and tapped on the ground. To Sonea’s surprise the sound was metallic and hollow. The ground shifted and a large disc hinged upward. A wide face appeared, framed by a circle of darkness. From around the head drifted a nauseating stench.

  “Hello, Tul,” Cery said.

  The man’s face wobbled into a grin.

  “How ya’ doin’, Cery?”

  Cery grinned. “Fine. Wanta work off a debt?”

  “Sure.” The man’s eyes gleamed. “Passage?”

  “For two,” Cery said.

  The man nodded and descended into the rank air. Cery smiled at Sonea and gestured to the hole.

  “After you.”

  She extended a foot into the hole and found the top rung of a ladder. Taking one last breath of clean air, she slowly descended into the murk. The sound of running water echoed in the darkness and the air was heavy with damp. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that she was standing on a narrow ledge on the side of an underground sewage tunnel. The roof was so low she had to stoop.

  The fat face of the man they had spoken to belonged to an equally wide body. Cery offered his thanks and handed the man something that brought a wide smile to his face.

  Leaving Tul at his post, Cery led her down the passage in the direction of the city. After several hundred paces, another figure and a ladder came in sight. The man might once have been tall, but his back was hunched over as if it had grown to fit the curve of the tunnel. He looked up and watched them approach with large, heavy-lidded eyes.

  The man turned abruptly to stare behind him. From farther down the tunnel came a faint ringing noise.

  “Quickly,” he rasped at them. Cery grabbed Sonea’s arm and dragged her into a run.

  Taking something from beneath his coat, the man began to strike it with an old spoon. The sound was deafening in the tunnel.

  As they reached the ladder, he stopped and they heard more ringing sounds behind them. He grunted, then began flapping his arms.

  “Up! Up!” he cried.

  Cery clambered up. There was a metallic clunk, then a hole of light appeared. Cery scrambled through it and disappeared. As Sonea followed she heard a distant, low noise in the tunnel. The hunchback climbed out behind her and pulled the ladder up.

  Sonea looked around. They stood in a narrow alleyway, hidden by the gathering darkness. Hearing the low noise again, she turned back to the tunnel. The sound grew rapidly louder, becoming a deep roar that was muffled suddenly as the hunchback carefully closed the lid of the tunnel. A moment later she felt a faint vibration under her feet. Cery leaned close so that his mouth brushed her ear.

  “The Thieves have been using these tunnels for years to get past the Outer Wall,” he murmured. “When the city guard found out, they started flushing the pipes. Not a bad idea, really—it keeps them clean. Of course, the Thieves figured out when they did it and business continued as usual. That’s when the guard started flushing them randomly.”

  He beckoned for her to crouch down beside the lid, then carefully lifted it. Water rushed by a few inches from her face and the roar spilled loudly into the street. Cery quickly closed the lid again.

  “That’s why they ring the bells,” she breathed.

  Cery nodded. “A warning.” He turned away and handed the hunchback something, then led her down the alley to a dark corner where raised bricks in a wall allowed them to climb to the roof of a house. The air was growing colder, so Sonea drew out her cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders.

  “I hoped to get us a little closer than this,” Cery murmured, “but…” He shrugged. “Good view from up here, eh?”

  She nodded. Though the sun had dropped below the horizon, the sky was still glowing. The last of the storm clouds hovered over the Southern Quarter, but were slowly retreating toward the East. The city spread before her, bathed in orange light.

  “You can even see a bit of the King’s Palace,” Cery pointed out.

  Over the tall Inner Wall, the high towers of the Palace and the top of a glittering dome were visible.

  “Never been there,” Cery breathed. “But I will one day.”

  Sonea laughed. “You? In the King’s Palace?”

  “It’s something I’ve promised myself,” he told her, “that I’ll get inside all the big places in the city at least once.”

  “So where have you gone so far?”

  He pointed to the gates of the Inner Circle. Through the entrance she could see walls and roofs of the mansions within, lit by the yellow glow of street lamps.

  “Couple of the big houses.”

  She snorted in disbelief. When running errands for Jonna and Ranel, she had occasionally needed to enter the Inner Circle. The streets were patrolled by guards who questioned anyone who was not richly dressed or clad in the servant’s uniform of a House. Customers had given her a small token that indicated she had legitimate business in the area.

  Each visit had revealed wonders. She remembered seeing extraordinary houses of fantastic colors and shapes, some with terraces and towers so thin and fine that they looked as if they should collapse under their own weight. Even the servants’ quarters had been luxurious.

  The plainer houses that surrounded her were more familiar. Merchants and lesser families lived in the North Quarter. They had few servants, and used the services of crafters for all else. Jonna and Ranel had gathered a small group of regular customers in the two years they had worked there.

  Sonea looked down at the painted screens covering the windows around her. Through some she could see the shadows of people. She sighed as she thought of the customers her aunt and uncle had lost when the guards evicted them from the stayhouse. “Where now?”

  He smiled. “Follow me.”

  They continued on across the rooftops. Unlike the residents of the slums, those of the city did not always oblige the Thieves by leaving bridges or handholds in place. Cery and Sonea were often forced to descend to the ground when they reached an alley or street. The larger roads were patrolled by guards, so they had to wait for the men to march by before hurrying across.

  After an hour they stopped for a rest, then continued on when a thin sliver of moonlight rose above the horizon. Sonea followed Cery in silence, concentrating on keeping her footing in the faint light. When
he finally stopped again, a wave of weariness swept over her and she sat down with a groan.

  “We better get there soon,” she said. “I’m almost done.”

  “Not far now,” Cery assured her. “Just through here.”

  She followed him over a wall into a large, neat garden. The trees were tall and symmetrical. He led her along in the shadows of a wall which seemed to go on forever.

  “Where are we?”

  “Wait and see,” Cery replied.

  Something caught her foot and she stumbled against a tree. The roughness of the bark surprised her. She looked up and around. Endless trees stood like sentries before her. In the dark they looked strange and sinister, a forest of clawed arms.

  A forest? She frowned, then a chill seized her. There aren’t any gardens in the North Quarter, and there is only one forest in Imardin…

  Her heart began to race. She hurried after Cery and grabbed his arm.

  “Hai! What are you doing?!” she gasped. “We’re in the Guild!”

  His teeth flashed. “That’s right.”

  She stared at him. He was a black silhouette in the moonlit forest, and she could not see his expression. A frightening suspicion stole over her. Surely he hadn’t…he wouldn’t…Not Cery. No, he would never turn her over to the magicians.

  She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sonea. Think about it. Where are the magicians? In the slums. You’re actually safer here than there.”

  “But…don’t they have guards?”

  “A few at the gates, that’s all.”

  “Patrols?”

  “No.”

  “What about a magical wall?”

  “No.” He laughed quietly. “Guess they think people are too scared of them to trespass.”

  “How do you know if there’s a wall or guards?”

  He chuckled. “Been here already.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Why?”

  “After I decided I would visit every place in the city, I came here and snooped around a bit. Couldn’t believe how easy it was. I didn’t try to get inside any of the buildings, of course, just watched the magicians through the windows.”