“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.
He was going to make sure she would never be able to change her mind and return to the Guild.
26
The Deception Begins
In the air between the two palms—one large and aged, the other slim and callused—two specks of colored light danced like tiny insects. The lights spun around each other, dipped and circled in a complex game. The blue light suddenly darted toward the yellow. The yellow turned into a ring of light and, as the blue spark shot through it, Rothen laughed.
“Enough!” he exclaimed.
The shadows around them ceased dancing as the two specks blinked out. Looking around at the dim room, Rothen was surprised to see how late it was. Flexing his will, he created a globe of light and sent the screens sliding over the windows.
“You’re learning fast,” he told her. “Your Control over your power is growing.”
“I mastered Control days ago,” she replied. “You didn’t tell me.”
Surprised, Rothen turned to regard her. She met his gaze steadily. There had been no hint of doubt in her voice. Somehow she had worked it out for herself.
Leaning back in his chair, he considered the situation. If he denied it, she would only grow more resentful when she learned the truth. It would be better to explain his reasons for delaying.
Which meant he had run out of time. He had no reason to keep her here any longer. In a day or two she would be gone. He could ask Lorlen to delay the blocking but he knew, as he considered her now, that he would not be able to change her mind in a few short days.
He nodded. “A few sessions ago I thought you’d reached a point where I’d normally consider a novice’s Control was adequate. I felt, for you, that it was particularly important to test your Control over your power, since we won’t be around to help you if something goes amiss.”
Instead of relief, he saw only apprehension in her gaze. “Not that I think anything will go amiss,” he assured her. “Your control is—”
“I’m going to stay,” she told him.
He stared at her, momentarily too surprised to speak.
“You’re staying?” he exclaimed. “You changed your mind?”
She nodded.
He leapt to his feet. “That’s wonderful!”
Sonea stared up at him with wide eyes. He wanted to pull her to her feet and give her a hug, but he knew he would only frighten her. Instead, he strode to the cabinet at the back of the room.
“We must celebrate!” he told her. Taking out a bottle of pachi wine and some glasses, he brought them back to the chairs. She watched, still and silent, as he pulled the stopper out of the bottle and poured some of the yellow liqueur into the glasses.
Sonea’s hand shook as she accepted a glass. Rothen sobered, realizing that she must be feeling overwhelmed—and a little scared, too.
“What changed your mind?” he asked as he sat down.
She bit her lip gently, then looked away. “I want to save someone’s life.”
“Ah!” He smiled. “So it was the Healers that impressed you most.”
“Yes,” she admitted. Taking a sip, her face lit with delight. “Pachi wine!”
“You’ve had it before?”
She smiled. “A Thief gave me a bottle once.”
“You’ve never told me much about the Thieves. I didn’t want to ask in case you thought I was trying to get information from you.”
“I never found out much about them,” she replied, shrugging. “I spent most of my time alone.”
“I assumed they wanted you to perform magic in exchange for their help?”
She nodded. “But I never really gave the Thief what he wanted.” A crease appeared between her brows. “I wonder…will he think I’ve broken our agreement by staying here?”
“He didn’t succeed in helping you,” Rothen pointed out. “How can he expect you to fulfil your side of the exchange?”
“He spent a lot of effort and used a lot of favors to hide me.”
Rothen shook his head. “Don’t worry. The Thieves won’t bother you. They told us where to find you.”
Sonea’s eyes widened. “They betrayed me?” she whispered.
He frowned, disturbed by the anger in her eyes. “I’m afraid so. I don’t think they wanted to, but it was clear that your powers were growing dangerous.”
She looked down at her glass and brooded in silence for some time.
“What happens now?” she asked suddenly.
Rothen hesitated as he realized he would have to explain the guardianship claims to her. The thought of being placed in the care of a magician who she did not know or trust might be enough to change her mind again, but he had to warn her of the possibility.
“There are several matters that must be resolved before you are sworn in as a novice,” he told her. “You need to have good reading and writing skills, and be taught basic calculations. You’ll also need to understand the rules and customs of the Guild. Before then, your guardianship must be decided.”
“Guardianship?” She leaned back in her chair. “You said only very gifted novices have guardians.”
Rothen nodded. “From the beginning, I knew that you would need the support of a guardian. As the only novice not from the Houses, you may find things a little difficult at times. Having a magician prepared to be your guardian might help to counter that, so I placed a claim on you.
“But I am not the only magician who wants the honor. There is another, a younger magician named Fergun. When two magicians claim a novice’s guardianship, the Guild must hold a Hearing to decide which claim will be granted. The Guild rules say that, if more than one magician wishes to claim a novice’s guardianship, the one who first recognized the novice’s magical potential is granted the honor, so it is usually a simple decision.” He grimaced. “But not this time.
“We didn’t discover your magic by the usual tests. Some magicians believe that I, being the first to see you, recognized your powers first. Others say that Fergun, being the one your rock struck, was the first since he experienced the effects of your powers.” Rothen chuckled. “Apparently, the Guild has been arguing about it for months.”
He paused to take another sip of wine. “The Hearing will be held after the next Meet, which will occur in a week’s time. Afterward, you will continue your lessons with either me, or Fergun.”
Sonea frowned. “So the novice doesn’t get to choose their guardian?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then I better meet this Fergun,” she said slowly. “Find out what he’s like.”
Rothen regarded her closely, surprised at her calm acceptance of the situation. He should be pleased, he told himself, but he could not help feeling a little disappointed. It would have been more gratifying if she had protested at the idea of being removed from his guidance and company.
“I can arrange for you to meet him, if you wish,” he replied. “He will want to meet you. So may others. Before then, I should teach you some of the rules and customs of the Guild.”
She looked up, her eyes brightening with interest. Relieved to see her curiosity return, Rothen smiled.
“For a start, there is the custom of bowing.”
Her expression changed to dismay. Rothen chuckled sympathetically.
“Yes. Bowing. All non-magicians—apart from royalty, of course—are expected to bow to magicians.”
Sonea grimaced. “Why?”
“A gesture of respect.” Rothen shrugged. “Silly as it may seem, some of us get quite offended if we are not bowed to.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you?”
“Not usually,” he told her. “But there are times when neglecting to bow is obviously intended to be rude.”
She considered him warily. “Do you expect me to bow to you from now on?”
“Yes and no. I don’t expect it in private, but you should bow when we are outside these rooms, even if just to accustom yourself to the habit. You should also use the honorific. Magicians are referred to as Lord or Lady, except in the cases of the Directors, Administrators and the High Lord, for whom you must use their title.”
Rothen smiled at Sonea’s expression. “I didn’t think you’d like it. You may have grown up in the lowest class in society, but you have the pride of a king.” He leaned forward. “One day everyone will be bowing to you, Sonea. That will be even harder for you to accept.”
She frowned, then picked up her glass and drained it.
“Now,” Rothen continued, “there are the rules of the Guild to cover as well. Here.” He reached forward and poured her another glass of wine. “Let’s see if these are any easier to stomach.”
Rothen left just after dinner, no doubt to spread the news. As Tania began to clear the table, Sonea moved to a window. She paused to look at the screen covering it, and realized for the first time that the complex pattern printed on it was actually made up of tiny Guild symbols.
Her aunt had owned an old, mold-spotted pair of screens. They had been the wrong shape for the window of their room in the stayhouse, but her aunt had leaned them up against the glass anyway. When the sun shone through the paper, it had been easy to ignore their flaws.
Instead of the usual pang of homesickness at the memory, she felt a vague longing. Looking around at the luxurious furnishings, the books and the polished furniture, she sighed.
She would miss the comforts and the food, but she was resigned to that. Leaving Rothen would not be so easy, however. She liked his company—his conversations, their lessons, and talking mind to mind.
I was going to leave anyway, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. I just hadn’t thought about how much I’d gained here.
Knowing that she would be forced from the Guild had made her realize what she was losing. Pretending that she wanted to stay was going to be far too easy.
Just as well Fergun doesn’t know, she mused. It would make his revenge so much sweeter.
Fergun was risking much to pay her back for humiliating him. He must be very angry—or very sure he could get away with it. Either way, he was prepared to put a lot of effort into having her barred from the Guild.
“Lady?”
Turning, Sonea found Tania standing behind her. The servant smiled.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’ve decided to stay,” she said. “It would be a poor shame if you didn’t.”
Sonea felt her cheeks grow hot. “Thank you, Tania.”
The woman folded her hands together. “You look like you’re all full of doubts. You’re doing the right thing. The Guild never take in poorer folk. It’ll do them good to see you doing everything they can, and just as well as they.”
A sliver of cold ran down Sonea’s back. This wasn’t just about revenge!
The Guild didn’t have to invite her to join them. They could have blocked her power and sent her back to the slums. Yet they hadn’t. For the first time in centuries, the magicians had considered teaching someone from outside the Houses.
Fergun’s words echoed in her mind. “Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.” Back where she belonged?
She had heard the contempt in his voice, but hadn’t understood the significance. Fergun didn’t just want to make sure she didn’t enter the Guild. He wanted to make sure no dwell was ever given the chance again. Whatever “task” Fergun had planned for her would prove that dwells were untrustworthy. The Guild would never consider inviting another dwell into their ranks.
She gripped the window sill, her heart beating fast with anger. They are opening their doors to me, a dwell, but I’m going to walk out as if that means nothing!
A familiar feeling of helplessness crawled over her. She couldn’t stay. Cery’s life depended on her leaving.
“Lady?”
Sonea blinked at Tania. The servant laid a hand lightly on her arm.
“You will do well,” Tania assured her. “Rothen says you’re very strong, and you learn quickly.”
“He does?”
“Oh, yes.” Tania turned and picked up her basket, laden with dishes. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t go worrying. Everything will be fine.”
Sonea smiled. “Thanks, Tania.”
The servant grinned. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
The servant slipped out of the door, leaving Sonea alone. Sighing, she stared out of the window. Outside it was snowing again, white flakes dancing in the night.
Where are you, Cery?
Thinking of the dagger Fergun had shown her, she frowned. It was possible that he had found it; that he did not have Cery locked away…
Leaving the window, she dropped into a chair. There was so much to think about: Cery, Fergun, the Hearing, guardianship. Despite Tania’s assurances, she was not going to get much sleep during the next few weeks.
Every Threeday, Dannyl joined Yaldin and his wife for the evening meal. Ezrille had started the routine years before when, concerned that Dannyl had not found himself a wife, she began to worry that he would grow lonely if he had to end every day by himself.
As he relinquished his empty plate to Yaldin’s servant, Dannyl gave a little sigh of contentment. Though he doubted he would ever sink into the melancholy Ezrille feared, it was certainly better eating in company than by himself.
“I have heard rumors about you, Dannyl,” Yaldin said.
Dannyl frowned, his contentment evaporating. Surely Fergun wasn’t at it again. “Oh, what rumors?”
“That the Administrator is so impressed with your negotiations with the Thieves that he is considering you for an ambassadorial role.”
Dannyl straightened and stared at the old magician. “He is?”
Yaldin nodded. “What do you think? Does travelling appeal?”
“I…” Dannyl shook his head. “I’ve never considered it. Me? An ambassador?”
“Yes.” Yaldin chuckled. “You’re not as young and foolish as you once were.”
“Thanks,” Dannyl replied dryly.
“This could be good for you,” Ezrille said. She smiled and pointed a finger at him. “You might even bring back a wife.”
Dannyl gave her a withering look. “Don’t start that again, Ezrille.”
She shrugged. “Well, since there’s obviously no woman in Kyralia who is good enough for—”
“Ezrille,” Dannyl said sternly. “The last young lady I met stabbed me. You know I’m cursed when it comes to w
omen.”
“That’s ridiculous. You were trying to catch her, not romance her. How is Sonea doing, anyway?”
“Rothen says she’s progressing well with her lessons, though she’s still determined to leave. She’s become quite chatty with Tania.”
“I suppose she’ll feel more comfortable with servants than with us,” Yaldin mused. “They’re not as high above her status as we are.”
Dannyl winced. Once he wouldn’t have questioned the remark—he would have agreed with it—but now that he had conversed with Sonea, it seemed unfair, even insulting. “Rothen would not like to hear you say that.”
“No,” Yaldin agreed. “But he is unique in his opinions. The rest of the Guild feel that class and status are very important.”
“What are they saying now?”
Yaldin shrugged. “It’s got beyond friendly wagers over the guardianship claim now. A lot of people are questioning the wisdom of having someone with her dubious background in the Guild at all.”
“Again? What are their reasons this time?”
“Will she honor the vow?” Yaldin said. “Will she be a bad influence on other novices?” He leaned forward. “You’ve met her. What do you think?”
Shrugging, Dannyl wiped the sugar from his fingers onto a napkin. “I’m the last person you should ask. She stabbed me, remember?”
“You’re not ever going to let us forget it,” Ezrille remarked. “Come now, you must have noticed more than that.”
“Her speech is rough, though not as bad as I expected. She has none of the manners we’re used to. No bowing or ‘my Lord.’”
“Rothen will teach her that when she’s ready,” Ezrille said.
Yaldin snorted softly. “He better make sure she knows before the Hearing.”
“You’re both still forgetting that she doesn’t want to stay. Why would he bother to teach her etiquette?”
“Perhaps it would be easier all round if she did leave.”
Ezrille gave her husband a reproachful look. “Yaldin,” she scolded. “Would you send the girl back to poverty after showing her all the wealth here? That would be cruel.”
The Magicians' Guild: The Black Magician Trilogy Page 34
