Sonea’s Resolve
Sonea looked around the room again. Though not large, it was luxurious. She could be in any one of the homes of the Inner City, but she doubted it.
Moving to the window, she pushed aside the finely decorated screen that covered it, caught her breath and took a step backward.
The Guild gardens stretched out before her. The University building loomed to the right, and the High Lord’s house lay, half hidden behind the trees, to the left. She was on the second story of the building Cery had called the “magicians’ building.”
The Guild was swarming with magicians. Everywhere she looked, she saw robed figures: in the garden, in windows, and strolling along the snow-edged path just below her window. Shivering, she pushed the screen back and turned away.
A bleak desperation swept over her. I’m trapped. I’ll never leave this place. I won’t see Jonna and Ranel, or Cery, ever again.
She blinked as tears blurred her sight. Catching a movement in the corner of her eye, she turned to find herself reflected in a shining oval mirror. She regarded the red-eyed face. The girl’s mouth twisted in contempt.
Am I going to give up so easily? she asked the reflection. Am I going to blubber like a child?
No! The Guild might be filled with magicians during the day, but she had seen it at night and knew how easy it was to move around undetected. If she waited until night, and managed to slip outside, nothing would stop her returning to the slums.
Getting outside would be the hard part, of course. The magicians would probably keep her locked up. However, Rothen himself had said that magicians were not incapable of making mistakes. She would wait and watch. When the opportunity came, she would be ready to take it.
The face in the mirror was now dry-eyed and stiff with determination. Feeling better, she moved to the small table. Picking up a hair brush, she caressed the silver handle appreciatively. Something like this, traded at a pawn shop, could buy her new clothes and feed her for several weeks.
Had Rothen even considered that she might steal them? Of course, he wouldn’t be worried about theft if he was confident that she couldn’t escape. Snatching valuables wasn’t going to do her any good while she was stuck in the Guild.
Looking around again, it struck her that this was a very strange prison. She had expected a cold cell, not comfort and luxury.
Perhaps they did truly intend to invite her to join the Guild.
She looked up at the mirror and tried to imagine herself wearing robes. Her skin crawled.
No, she thought, I could never be one of them. It would be like betraying everyone—my friends, all the people of the slums, myself…
But she had to learn to control her powers. The danger was real, and Rothen probably did intend to teach her some things—even if it was just to prevent her from making a mess of the city. She doubted he would teach her anything more, however. Remembering the frustration and horrors of the last six weeks, she shivered. Her powers had caused her enough trouble already. She would not be disappointed if she never used them again.
What would happen to her then? Would the Guild let her return to the slums? Not likely. Rothen claimed that the Guild wanted her to join them. Her? A slum girl? Not likely, either.
But why would they offer? Was there some other reason? Bribery? They might promise to teach her magic if she…did what? What could the Guild possibly want from her?
She frowned as the answer leapt into her mind.
The Thieves.
If she escaped would Faren still be interested in hiding her? Yes—particularly if her powers were no longer dangerous. Once she was in his confidence, it would not be hard to work against the Thief. She could use her mental powers to send the Guild information about the criminal groups of the city.
She snorted. Even if she had wanted to cooperate with the Guild, the Thieves would work it out soon enough. No dwell was stupid enough to squimp on the Thieves. Even if she managed to protect herself with magic, she would not be able to stop them harming her friends and family. The Thieves were ruthless when crossed.
But would she have a choice? What if the Guild threatened to kill her if she did not help them? What if they threatened to harm her friends and family? With rising alarm, she wondered if the Guild knew about Jonna and Ranel.
She pushed the thought away, still wary of any strong emotions that might loosen her hold on her magic. Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror. A book lay on a small table beside the bed. She crossed the room and picked it up.
Flicking through the pages, she discovered that they were covered in neat lines of text. Looking closer, she was surprised to find she could understand most of the words. Serin’s lessons had done more good than she had thought.
The text appeared to be about boats. After reading several lines, Sonea realized that the last word in each pair of lines ended in the same sound, like the lyrics of songs the street performers in markets and bolhouses sang.
She froze as a soft knocking came from the door. As it opened Sonea quickly placed the book back on the table. She looked up to see Rothen standing in the doorway, a cloth-covered bundle under one arm.
“Can you read?”
She considered how she should answer. Was there any reason to hide her ability? She couldn’t think of one, and it would be satisfying to let him know that not all dwells were illiterate.
“A little,” she admitted.
He closed the door and gestured to the book.
“Show me,” he said. “Read some aloud.”
She felt a little doubt creep in, but pushed it aside. Picking up the book again, she opened it and began to read.
At once, she regretted getting herself into the situation. Conscious of the magician’s gaze, she found it hard to concentrate. The page she had selected was more difficult than the first, and she felt her cheeks warm as she stumbled on unfamiliar words.
“Mareena, not mariner.”
Annoyed at the interruption, she closed the book and tossed it onto the bed. Smiling apologetically, Rothen dropped the bundle of cloth down next to it.
“How did you learn to read?” he asked.
“My aunt taught me.”
“And you’ve been practicing recently.”
She looked away. “There’s always stuff to read. Signs, labels, reward notices…”
He smiled. “We found a book on magic in one of the rooms you occupied. Did you understand any of it?”
A warning chill ran down her spine. He would not believe her if she denied reading the book but if she admitted it, he would ask more questions and she might accidentally reveal which other books she had read. Should he know the books Cery had stolen were missing, he would have to consider it possible that she had slipped into the Guild at night, and he would be more cautious about keeping her locked inside.
Instead of answering, she nodded at the cloth bundle on the bed.
“What’s that?”
He considered her for a moment, then shrugged. “Clothes.”
Sonea eyed the bundle dubiously.
“I’ll give you time to get changed, then send my servant in with some food.” He turned to the door.
After he had left, Sonea unwrapped the bundle. To her relief, he had not brought magicians’ robes. Instead she found a pair of simple trousers, undershirt and a high-collared shirt—much the same as the clothes she had been wearing in the slums but made of soft, expensive materials.
Shrugging out of the leisure coat and night robe, she pulled on the new clothes. Though she now felt decently covered, her skin still felt strangely bare. Looking at her hands, she saw that her fingernails had been clipped and cleaned. She sniffed them and smelt a soapy fragrance.
A shiver of alarm and indignation ran through her. Somebody had washed her while she had slept. She stared at the door. Rothen?
No, she decided, tasks like that would be left to the servants. Running her hands through her hair she discovered that it, too, had been washed.
A few mor
e minutes passed, then a softer knock came from the door. Remembering that the magician was going to send in a servant, Sonea waited for the stranger to enter. The knock came again.
“Lady?” a woman called, her voice muffled by the door. “May I enter?”
Amused, Sonea sat down on the bed. Nobody had ever called her “Lady” before.
“If you want,” she answered.
A woman of about thirty years entered the room. She was dressed in a plain gray smock and matching trousers, and was carrying a covered tray.
“Hello,” the woman said, smiling nervously. Her eyes flickered to Sonea’s, then quickly away again.
Sonea watched the servant carry the tray to the table and set it down. As the women reached for the cover her hand shook slightly. Sonea frowned. What was the servant afraid of? Surely not a mere slum girl?
The woman adjusted a few items on the tray, then turned and bowed deeply to Sonea before retreating quickly from the room.
For several minutes, Sonea stared at the door. The woman had bowed to her. This was…strange. Disturbing. She could not work out what it meant.
Then the smell of hot bread and something tantalizingly spicy drew her attention to the tray. A generous bowl of soup and a plate of small, sweet cakes beckoned to her, and she felt her stomach rumble.
She smiled. The magicians were going to find that she could not be bribed into betraying Faren, but they didn’t need to know that straightaway. If she played with them a little, they might treat her like this for a very long time.
And she had no qualms about taking advantage of them.
Sonea crept into the guest room with all the watchful nervousness of a wild animal emerging from a cage. Her eyes flicked about, lingering longest on the doors, before settling on Rothen.
“That leads to a small washroom,” Rothen told her, pointing. “My bedroom is through there, and that door opens to the main corridor of the Magicians’ Quarters.”
She stared at the main door, then glanced at him before moving closer to the bookshelves. Rothen smiled, pleased to see her attracted to the books.
“Take down anything that interests you,” he urged. “I will help you read them, and explain what you do not understand.”
She glanced at him again, her brows rising, and bent closer to the books. She lifted a finger to touch the spine of a volume, but froze as the University gong began to ring.
“That indicates to novices that it is time to return to classes,” he explained. Crossing to one of the windows, he gestured for her to look outside.
Moving to the next window along, she looked out. At once, her face stiffened with tension. Eyes darting about, she watched the magicians and novices making their way back to the University.
“What do the colors mean?”
Rothen frowned. “Colors?”
“The robes, they are different colors.”
“Ah.” He leaned on the sill of the window and smiled. “First I should explain about the disciplines. There are three major uses to which magic can be applied: Healing, Alchemy and Warrior Skills.” He pointed to a pair of Healers walking slowly through the gardens. “The Healers wear green. Healing involves learning more than just the magical methods of curing wounds and disease. It also includes all knowledge of medicine, which makes it a discipline that one must dedicate one’s entire life to.”
Glancing at Sonea, he noted the interest in her eyes.
“Warriors wear red,” he told her, “and study strategy and the ways that magic can be used in battle. Some also practice traditional forms of fighting and swordplay.”
He gestured to his own robes. “Purple represents Alchemy, which is everything else that can be done with magic. It includes chemistry, mathematics, architecture and many other uses for magic.”
Sonea nodded slowly. “What about the brown robes?”
“They are novices.” He pointed to a pair of youths. “Do you see how the robes fall only to the thigh?” Sonea nodded. “They do not receive full robes until they graduate, by which time they have chosen a discipline to follow.”
“What if they want to learn more than one?”
Rothen chuckled. “There just isn’t enough time for that.”
“How long do they study for?”
“That depends how long they take to learn the required skills. Usually five years.”
“That one.” Sonea pointed. “He wears a different-colored belt.”
Rothen looked down to see Lord Balkan striding by, his harsh face set in a frown as if he was worrying at a difficult problem.
“Ah, very observant of you.” Rothen smiled approvingly. “The sash is black. It indicates that the man you are looking at is the Head of his chosen discipline.”
“The Head of the Warriors.” Sonea glanced at Rothen’s robes and her eyes narrowed.
“What sort of Alchemy do you study?”
“Chemistry. I also teach it.”
“What is that?”
He paused, considering how best to explain it in terms she would understand. “We work with substances: liquids, solids and gases. We mix them together, or heat them, or subject them to other influences and see what happens.”
Sonea frowned. “Why?”
Rothen smiled crookedly. “To see if we can discover anything useful.”
Sonea’s eyebrows rose. “What useful things have you discovered?”
“Me, or the Chemists of the Guild?”
“You.”
He laughed. “Not much! I guess you could call me a failed Alchemist, but along the way I did discover one important thing.”
Sonea’s brows rose.
“What was that?”
“I’m a very good teacher.” Moving away from the window, he considered the bookshelf. “If you would allow me, I could help you improve your reading skills. Would you be interested in working on them this afternoon?”
She regarded him for a long time, her expression guarded but thoughtful. Finally, she gave a stiff nod. “What do you think I should try?”
Approaching the bookcase, Rothen ran his eyes over the volumes. He needed something easy to read, but which would hold her interest. Taking down a book, he flicked through the pages.
She was more cooperative than he had anticipated. Her curiosity was strong, and her ability to read and her interest in his books were unexpected advantages. Both indicated that she might adapt well to a life of study.
He nodded to himself. All he had to do was persuade her that the Guild was not as bad as she thought it was.
Dannyl smiled at his friend. Since joining Yaldin and his wife for the evening, Rothen had been talking without pause. Dannyl hadn’t seen Rothen so animated about a potential novice before—though Dannyl rather hoped his friend had been this enthusiastic when taking on his training.
“You’re such an optimist, Rothen. You’ve barely met her and already you’re talking as if she’ll be the prize of the University.”
He smiled as his friend’s expression became defensive.
“Am I?” Rothen replied. “If I wasn’t, would I have had so many successes with novices over the years? If you give up on them, they have no reason to try.”
Dannyl nodded. He hadn’t been the most cooperative novice, and had resisted Rothen’s early attempts to direct his mind away from bickering with Fergun and his fellow novices. Despite all Dannyl’s attempts to prove Rothen wrong, his teacher had never given up on him.
“Did you tell her that we don’t intend to harm her?” Ezrille asked.
“I’ve explained about the death of the youth and that we want to teach her how to control her powers. Whether she believes it or not…” He shrugged.
“Did you tell her that she can join the Guild?”
Rothen grimaced. “I didn’t press the issue. She doesn’t like us much. It’s not that she holds us responsible for the state of the poor, but she feels we should be doing something about it.” He frowned. “She says she has never seen us do anything good, which is prob
ably true. Most of the work we do for the city does not affect her or the rest of the dwells. And then there’s the Purge.”
“Then it’s hardly surprising that she doesn’t like the Guild,” Ezrille said. She leaned forward. “But what is she like?”
Rothen considered. “Quiet, but defiant. She’s obviously frightened, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing any tears. I’m sure she understands that she must learn Control, so I don’t think we’ll see any escape attempts just yet.”
“And after she has learned Control?” Yaldin asked.
“Hopefully by then we will have convinced her to join us.”
“What if she refuses?”
Rothen drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I’m not sure what will happen. We can’t force anyone to join us, but, by law, we can’t allow magicians to exist outside the Guild, either. If she refuses,” he grimaced, “we will have no choice but to block her powers.”
Ezrille’s eyes widened. “Block them? Is that bad?”
“No. It’s…Well, it would be distressing for most magicians because they are used to having power to call upon. In Sonea’s case, we have someone who isn’t used to wielding magic—not in any useful form, anyway.” He shrugged. “She won’t miss it as much.”
“How long do you think it will take to teach her Control?” Yaldin asked. “I feel uneasy knowing there’s an uncontrolled magician living only a few doors away.”
“It will take some time for me to gain her trust,” Rothen replied. “She might take several weeks.”
“Surely not!” Yaldin exclaimed. “It never takes more than two weeks, even for the most difficult novices.”
“She is no spoilt or nervous child from the Houses.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Yaldin shook his head and sighed. “I’ll be shaking with nerves by the end of a week.”
Rothen smiled and lifted his cup to his lips. “Ah, but the longer she takes, the more time I have to convince her to stay.”
Sitting on the bed, Sonea peered at the gardens through a narrow gap in the window screen and toyed with a slender hair pin. It was night outside and the moon had risen. The snow edging the paths glowed softly in the subtle light.
The Magicians' Guild: The Black Magician Trilogy Page 23
