The Novice (10 page)

“I’ve learned a few Vindo words, too,” Dannyl replied. “Not many I could speak in the Elyne court, but they will come in handy if I should ever visit a Vindo drinking house.”

The little man grinned. “If you come to Vin, you welcome to stay with Jano’s family.”

Dannyl turned to regard the man, surprised. “Thank you,” he said.

Pointing to the traffic, Jano narrowed his eyes. “Your people coming, I think.”

Following his gesture, Dannyl searched for a black carriage with Guild symbols painted on the sides, but saw none. Jano took a step toward the stairs.

“I will go now. Sail well, my lord.”

Dannyl turned to smile at the man. “Sail well, Jano.”

The sailor grinned, then hurried down the stairs. Turning back to the street, Dannyl frowned as a carriage of polished red wood stopped in front of him, blocking his view. Then realization dawned as a sailor from the ship leapt down from the driver’s seat and began helping the other crewmen load the chests onto a shelf at the back of the vehicle.

The carriage door opened and a richly dressed man climbed out. For a moment Dannyl was taken aback. He had seen Elyne courtiers before, and had been relieved that he would not have to adopt the ridiculous finery that was fashionable in the Elyne court. Yet he had to admit that the elaborate, close-fitting garb suited this handsome young man.
With such a face as that,
Dannyl mused,
this one must be a favorite among the ladies.

The man took a hesitant step forward. “Ambassador Dannyl?”

“Yes.”

“I am Tayend of Tremmelin.” The man bent into a graceful bow.

“I’m honored to meet you,” Dannyl replied.

“I am
most
honored to meet you, Ambassador Dannyl,” Tayend replied. “You must be tired after your journey. I will take you directly to your house.”

“Thank you.” Dannyl wondered why this man had been sent in place of servants, and looked at Tayend closely. “Are you from the Guild House?”

“No,” Tayend smiled. “I am from the Great Library. It was arranged by your Administrator that I meet you here.”

“I see.”

Tayend gestured to the door of the carriage. “After you, my lord.”

Climbing aboard, Dannyl breathed a little sigh of appreciation for the luxurious interior. After so many days living in a tiny cabin, with little privacy or comforts, he was looking forward to a bath and something more sophisticated than soup and bread.

Tayend settled on the opposite seat, then knocked on the roof to signal the driver. As the carriage pulled away from the wharf, Tayend’s gaze slid to Dannyl’s robes, then flitted away. He looked out of the window, swallowed audibly, then rubbed his hands on his trousers.

Suppressing a smile at the man’s nervousness, Dannyl considered all he had learned of the Elyne court. He hadn’t heard of Tayend of Tremmelin, though he had read of others from the family.

“What is your position in court, Tayend?”

The young man made a dismissive gesture. “Only a minor one. I avoid it, mostly, and it avoids me.” He glanced at Dannyl, then smiled self-consciously. “I am a scholar. The Great Library is where I spend most of my time.”

“The Great Library,” Dannyl repeated. “I have always wanted to see it.”

Tayend’s face lit with a wide smile. “It is a marvellous place. I will take you there tomorrow, if you wish. I’ve found that magicians appreciate books in a way that most courtiers never do. Your High Lord spent many weeks there once—long before he became High Lord, of course.”

Dannyl looked at the young man, his pulse quickening. “Did he really? What could have interested him so much?”

“All sorts of things,” Tayend replied, his eyes bright. “I was his assistant for some days. Irand—the head librarian—couldn’t keep me out of the library when I was a boy, so he employed me to fetch and carry. Lord Akkarin read all the oldest books. He was looking for something, but I never found out exactly what it was. It was such a mystery. One day he didn’t arrive at his usual time, or the next day, so we asked after him. He had packed up and left all of a sudden.”

“How interesting,” Dannyl mused. “I wonder if he had found what he was looking for.”

Tayend glanced out of the window. “Ah! We’re almost at your house. Would you like me to collect you tomorrow—oh, you’ll want to go to court first, won’t you?”

Dannyl smiled. “I will take you up on your offer, Tayend, but I cannot say when. Shall I send a message when I know?”

“Of course.” As the carriage rolled to a halt, Tayend unlatched the door and pushed it open. “Just send a note to the Great Library—or just come. I’m always there during the day.”

“Very well,” Dannyl said. “Thank you for collecting me from the wharf, Tayend of Tremmelin.”

“It was an honor, my lord,” the young man replied.

Dannyl climbed out of the carriage and found himself standing in front of a wide, three-story house. Columns, bridged by arches, supported a deep verandah. The space between the middle columns was wider than the rest, and the verandah there curved upward to form an arch reminiscent of the University entrance. Beyond was a replica of the University doors.

Four servants had removed the chests from the carriage. Another stepped forward and bowed.

“Ambassador Dannyl. Welcome to the Guild House of Capia. Please follow me.”

From behind, Dannyl heard a cultured voice repeat the title in a whisper. He resisted turning to look at Tayend; instead he smiled to himself and followed the servant into the house. The young scholar was obviously more than a little awed by magicians.

Then he sobered. Tayend had met and assisted Akkarin ten years before. Lorlen had arranged for the scholar to meet him. Coincidence? He doubted it. Lorlen obviously intended for Dannyl to enlist Tayend’s help for his research into ancient magic.

In the little garden the scent of flowers was almost unbearably sweet. A tiny fountain pattered somewhere in the background, hidden by the night shadows. Lorlen brushed away the petals that had fallen onto his robes.

The couple sitting on the opposite bench were distant relations and members of the same House as Lorlen. He had grown up with their eldest son, Walin, before entering the Guild. Though Walin lived in Elyne now, Lorlen liked to visit his old friend’s parents now and then, especially when Derril’s garden was at its best.

“Barran is doing well,” Velia said, her eyes shining in the torchlight. “He’s sure he’ll be promoted to captain next year.”

“Already?” Lorlen replied. “He has accomplished a lot in the last five years.”

Derril smiled. “He certainly has. It’s good to see our youngest has become such a responsible man—despite Velia spoiling him so much.”

“I don’t spoil him anymore,” she protested. Then she sobered. “I’ll be relieved when he no longer has to patrol the streets, though,” she added, her smile suddenly gone.

“Hmmm.” Derril looked at his wife and frowned. “I must agree with Velia. Every year the city becomes more dangerous. These recent murders are enough to make even the bravest man lock his doors at night.”

Lorlen frowned. “Murders?”

“You haven’t heard?” Derril’s eyebrows rose. “Why, the whole city’s in a stir about them.”

Lorlen shook his head. “I might have been told, but events in the Guild have occupied my mind lately. I haven’t paid much attention to city matters.”

“You should poke your head out of that place more often,” Derril said disapprovingly. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken an interest in this. They say it’s the worst set of murders seen in the city for over a hundred years. Velia and I know more about them, of course, because of Barran.”

Lorlen smothered a smile. Not only did Derril relish telling people the “secret” information that his son passed on, but he enjoyed being the first to know anything. It must have been satisfying indeed for him to be the first to inform the Administrator of the Magicians’ Guild of these crimes.

“You had better tell me about them then—before anyone else realizes my ignorance,” Lorlen prompted.

Derril leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “What is chilling about this murderer is that he performs some kind of ritual as he kills his victims. A woman witnessed one of the murders two nights ago. She had been packing clothes away when she heard her employer struggling with a stranger. When she realized the pair was coming into the room, she hid inside a cupboard.

“She said that the stranger tied up her employer, then took out a knife and cut off his shirt. He made small cuts on the man’s body, five on each shoulder.” Derril splayed his fingers over his shoulder. “Those cuts are how the Guard knows it’s the same man doing the murders. The woman said the murderer placed his fingers over the cuts and started chanting under his breath. When he was finished whatever he was saying, he cut the man’s throat.”

Velia made a noise of disgust, then rose. “Excuse me, but this gives me the chills.” She hurried inside.

“The servant said something else,” Derril added. “She said she thought the man was dead before his throat was cut. Barran says the cuts on the man’s shoulders weren’t enough to kill anybody, and there was no sign of poison. I think he has decided that the man passed out. I’d be half dead with fright, myself…are you all right, Lorlen?”

Lorlen forced his rigid facial muscles into a smile. “Yes,” he lied. “I just can’t believe I haven’t heard about this yet. Did the woman give a description of the murderer?”

“Nothing useful. She said it was difficult to see because it was dark and she was watching through a keyhole, but that the man had dark hair and was dressed in shabby clothes.”

Lorlen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And chanting, you said. How strange.”

Derril grunted in agreement. “Until Barran joined the Guard, I had no idea the world held such crooked and disturbed people. The things some people do!”

Thinking of Akkarin, Lorlen nodded. “I’d like to know more about this. Will you tell me if you hear anything?”

Derril grinned. “I’ve caught your interest, haven’t I? Of course I will.”

Rothen looked up in surprise as Sonea entered the room.

“Back already?” His eyes slid to her robes. “Oh. What happened?”

“Regin.”

“Again?”

“All the time.” Sonea dropped her book of notepaper on the table. It made a squelching noise and a small puddle of water began to form around it. Opening it, she found that all her notes were saturated, the ink running and mixing with the water. She groaned as she realized she would have to write them all out again. Turning away, she walked into her bedroom to change.

At the entrance to the University, Kano had leapt out and thrown a handful of food in her face. She had approached the fountain in the center of the courtyard, planning to wash it off, but as she leaned over the pool the water had surged up over her, drenching her to the skin.

Sighing, she opened her clothes cupboard and pulled out an old shirt and a pair of trousers and changed into them. Picking up the saturated robes, she returned to the guestroom.

“Lord Elben said something interesting yesterday.”

Rothen frowned. “Oh?”

“He said that I’m several months ahead of the class—almost as good as the winter intake of novices are.”

He smiled. “You did have months of practice before you started.” Then his smile faded as he saw her clothes. “You must wear your robes all the time, Sonea. You can’t go to class like that.”

“I know, but I don’t have any clean ones left. Tania will bring some back tonight.” She held out the dripping robes. “Unless you could dry these for me?”

“You should be able to do that yourself by now.”

“I can, but I’m not supposed to do any magic unless—”

“—instructed by a magician,” Rothen finished. He chuckled. “That rule is a flexible one, Sonea. Generally it’s understood that, if a teacher instructs you to practice what he has taught you, you’re free to do it outside of class unless he says otherwise.”

She grinned, then looked down at the robes. Steam began to mist from the material as she sent heat flowing through it. When the robes were dry, she set them aside and helped herself to a leftover sweet cake from the morning meal.

“You said once that an exceptional novice can be moved to a higher class. What would it take for me to do that?”

Rothen’s eyebrows rose. “A lot of work. You may be well practiced at using magic, but your knowledge and understanding of it would need much improvement.”

“So is it possible?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “If we work every night and Freeday you might pass the half-year tests in a month or so, but the hard work wouldn’t stop there. Once you had advanced, you would need to catch up with the winter novices. If you fail the First Year tests, you’ll drop back down to the summer class again. That means you’d have to work very hard for two or three months.”

“I understand.” Sonea bit her lip. “I want to try it.”

Rothen considered her closely, then moved to the chairs and sat down. “So you’ve changed your mind, then.”

Sonea frowned, puzzled. “Changed my mind?”

“You wanted to wait until the others had caught up.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Forget them. They’re not worth it. Do you have the time to teach me? I don’t want to take you away from your classes.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll do my preparation work while you study.” Rothen leaned forward. “I know you’re doing this to get away from Regin. I have to point out that the next class mightn’t be any better.”

Sonea nodded. She dropped into a chair beside him and began to carefully separate her notes. “I’ve thought about that. I don’t expect them to
like
me, just to leave me alone. I’ve watched them when I could, and there doesn’t seem to be someone like Regin among them. They have no single novice who rules them.” She shrugged. “I can live with being ignored.”

Rothen nodded. “You’ve thought about this carefully, I see. Very well. We’ll do it.”

A new feeling of hope swept over Sonea. This was a second chance. She grinned at him. “Thank you, Rothen!”