The Novice (12 page)

The audience chamber was smaller than the previous room. Two tables stood on either side, and at them sat several men of middle to late years—the King’s advisers. In the center was another table, with documents, books, and a plate of sweets arranged on it. Behind this central table, in a large cushioned chair, sat the King. Two magicians stood behind him, their watchful eyes noting every movement in the room.

Following Errend’s example, Dannyl stopped and dropped to one knee. It had been many years since he had knelt before a King—and he had been only a child, brought to the Kyralian court with his father as a rare treat. As a magician, he took it for granted that all but other magicians would bow to him. Though he did not feel a great desire to have people make such an obeisance to him, if they didn’t he felt oddly slighted, as if common courtesy had been breached. Gestures of respect were important even if just for the sake of good manners.

But to kneel before another was humbling, and that was an emotion he was unused to experiencing. He could not help thinking how satisfying it must be for a King at these moments, to be one of only a few people in the Allied Lands who magicians would genuflect to.

“Rise.”

Standing again, Dannyl looked up to find the King examining him with interest. At over fifty years of age, Marend’s reddish-brown hair was streaked with white. His gaze, however, was alert and intelligent.

“Welcome to Elyne, Ambassador Dannyl.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“How was your journey?”

Dannyl considered. “Good winds. No storms. Pleasantly uneventful.”

The man chuckled. “You sound like a sailor, Ambassador Dannyl.”

“It was an educational voyage.”

“And how do you plan to spend your time in Elyne?”

“When I am not dealing with the issues and requests that come my way, I shall explore the city and surrounds. I am particularly looking forward to seeing the Great Library.”

“Of course,” the King smiled. “Magicians seem to have a limitless hunger for knowledge. Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Dannyl. I’m sure we will encounter each other again. You may go.”

Dannyl inclined his head respectfully, then followed Errend to a door on one side. They entered a smaller room, where several guards stood, talking quietly. Another man in uniform ushered them through a second door into a corridor, which led to one of the side doors of the large room they had first entered.

“Well,” Errend said. “That was quick and not very exciting, but he’s had a good look at you now, and that was the point of this little trip. Now, I’m going to leave you here. Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for somebody to—ah, here they come.”

Two women approached. They bowed with dignity as Errend introduced them. Dannyl nodded in reply, smiling as he remembered some particularly interesting gossip he had unearthed about these sisters.

As the elder sister hooked her hand under Dannyl’s arm, Errend smiled and excused himself. The sisters then led Dannyl about the room, introducing him to several famous Elyne courtiers. Soon Dannyl had put faces to many of the names he’d memorized.

All of these courtiers seemed genuinely eager to meet him, and he found himself feeling almost uneasy about their interest. Finally, as the sun began to send long beams of light into the room and he saw others leaving, Dannyl decided he could excuse himself without appearing rude. Once he had extracted himself from the sisters, he started toward the Palace entrance but before he reached it a man stepped out and addressed him.

“Ambassador Dannyl?” The man was thin, his hair cut very short, and his clothes were a dark green that was somber compared to the colors of the rest of the Elyne court.

Dannyl nodded. “Yes?”

“I am Dem Agerralin.” The man bowed. “How was your first day at court?”

The man’s name was familiar, but Dannyl could not remember why. “Pleasant and entertaining, Dem. I have made many new acquaintances.”

“But I see you are on your way home.” Dem Agerralin took a step back. “I will make you late.”

Suddenly Dannyl recalled where he’d heard the name before. Dem Agerralin was the man of “dubious associations” that Errend had spoken of. Dannyl looked closer. The Dem was a man in his middle years, he guessed. There was nothing obviously remarkable about him.

“I am in no hurry,” Dannyl said.

Dem Agerralin smiled. “Ah, that is good. There is a question I wish to ask you, if you will allow me.”

“Of course.”

“It is a private matter.”

Intrigued, Dannyl indicated that the man should continue. The Dem seemed to consider his words, then made an apologetic gesture.

“There is little that escapes the notice of the Elyne court and, as you might have guessed already, we have a fascination for the Guild and magicians. We are all very curious about you.”

“I have noticed.”

“So it should not surprise you that certain rumors have reached us about you.”

A chill prickled Dannyl’s skin. He carefully schooled his expression to one of surprise and puzzlement.

“Rumors?”

“Yes. Old ones, but ones that I and a few others have had cause to recall and reconsider since we learned you were coming to live in Capia. Do not be alarmed, my friend. Such matters are not considered as, ah, taboo here as they are in Kyralia, though it is not always wise to be too public about it. We are all very curious about you, so may I be so bold as to ask if those rumors had any truth to them?”

The man’s tone was hopeful. Dannyl realized that he was staring at the man in disbelief, and forced himself to look away. If a courtier asked such a question in Kyralia, it might start a scandal that could ruin a man’s honor and lower the standing of his House. In response, Dannyl ought to be outraged, and let the Dem know that such questions were inappropriate.

But the anger and bitterness he’d once felt toward Fergun for circulating such rumors had faded since the Warrior had been punished for blackmailing Sonea. And besides, though he had not found himself a wife to forever dispel those lingering suspicions, the Higher Magicians had still chosen him to be a Guild Ambassador.

Dannyl considered how he should reply. He was wary of offending the man. The Elynes must be less reserved than Kyralians, but how much? Ambassador Errend
had
called Dem Agerralin a man of “dubious associations.” In any case, it would be foolish to make an enemy on his first day at court.

“I see,” Dannyl said slowly. “I think I know the rumor you refer to. It seems I will never shake that one, though it’s been ten—no, fifteen—years since it started. The Guild, as you must know, is a very conservative place, which is why the novice who circulated that rumor knew it would cause me great difficulties with my peers. He was prone to making up all manner of stories about me.”

The man nodded, his shoulders dropping. “I see. Well, please forgive me for bringing up a painful subject. I had noted that the former novice you speak of is now living in the mountains—a fort, I believe. We had wondered about that one as well, since the one who denounces loudest is often most likely…”

Dem Agerralin let his sentence hang as a man drew near. Looking up, Dannyl was surprised to see Tayend approaching. Once again, he was impressed by the scholar’s striking appearance. Dressed in dark blue, his red-blond hair tied back, Tayend looked very much at place in the court. The scholar bowed gracefully, then smiled at them both.

“Ambassador Dannyl, Dem Agerralin.” Tayend inclined his head to both of them. “How are you, Dem?”

“Well,” the man replied. “And you? We haven’t seen you at court for a while, young Tremmelin.”

“Regrettably, my duties at the Great Library keep me away.” Tayend did not sound at all regretful. “I’m afraid I must steal Ambassador Dannyl from you, Dem. There is a matter I need to discuss with him.”

Dem Agerralin glanced at Dannyl, his expression unreadable. “I see. Then I must bid you goodbye, Ambassador.” He bowed, then strolled away.

Tayend waited until the man was out of hearing, then narrowed his eyes at Dannyl. “There’s something you should know about Dem Agerralin.”

Dannyl smiled wryly. “Yes, I think he made it clear what that is.”

“Ah.” Tayend nodded. “And did he bring up the matter of rumors concerning yourself?” As Dannyl frowned in dismay, the scholar nodded. “I thought he would.”

“Is
everybody
discussing this?”

“No, only a few people in certain circles.”

Dannyl wasn’t sure if he should be relieved at that news. “It’s been years since those accusations were made. I’m surprised they reached the Elyne court at all.”

“You shouldn’t be. The idea that a Kyralian magician might be a lad—which is the polite term here for men like Agerralin—is amusing. But don’t worry. It does sound like the usual name-calling between boys. If I may say so, you’re surprisingly calm, for a Kyralian. I was half afraid you’d blast poor old Agerralin to ashes.”

“I wouldn’t remain Guild Ambassador for long if I did.”

“No, but you don’t even seem angry.”

Again, Dannyl considered how to answer. “When you’ve spent half of your life denying such rumors, you come to sympathize with the kind of person you’re claimed to be. To have inclinations that are unacceptable, and to have to either deny them or undertake elaborate measures to hide them, would be a terrible way to live.”

“That is how it is in Kyralia, but not here,” Tayend said, smiling. “The Elyne court is both awful in its decadence, and wonderful for its freedom. We expect everyone to have a few interesting or eccentric habits. We love gossip, yet we don’t place too much faith in rumors. In fact, we have a saying here: ‘There’s always a bit of truth in each rumor; the trouble is finding out which bit.’ So, when are you coming to the library?”

“Soon,” Dannyl replied.

“I look forward to seeing you there.” Tayend took a step away. “But for now, I have another matter to attend to. Until then, Ambassador Dannyl.” He bowed.

“Until then,” Dannyl replied.

Watching the scholar stride away, Dannyl shook his head. He had gathered rumors and speculation about the Elyne courtiers like little prizes, never thinking that they would be doing the same regarding him. Did the entire court know of the rumor that Fergun had started so many years ago? Knowing that it was still discussed made Dannyl uneasy, but he could only trust that Tayend was right, and the court would not take such stories seriously.

With a sigh, he stepped through the Palace entrance and started down the long staircase to the Guild carriage.

Sonea hugged her books closer to her chest. It had been yet another day of constant pranks and insults. The week loomed before her like an endless trial. Only the fifth
week,
she reminded herself. Five long
years
stood between now and graduation.

Each day was exhausting. When she wasn’t enduring Regin and the other novices, she was going out of her way to avoid them. If the teacher left the classroom, even for a minute, Regin used the time to harass her. She had learned to keep her notes out of reach and to take extreme care whenever she walked across the room or sat in her chair.

For a little while she had managed to escape him for an hour each day by returning to Rothen’s rooms at midbreak to eat with Tania, but Regin began ambushing her on the way to and from the University. She had tried staying in the classroom for the hour a few times, but once Regin realized what she was doing, he waited until the teacher had left and returned to harass her.

Eventually she had arranged with Rothen that she would meet him in his classroom during the midbreak. She helped him set up or dismantle the contraptions of glass vials and pipes for his lessons. Tania brought little lacquered boxes filled with savories for them to eat.

Her stomach always sank when the gong called novices to afternoon classes. Rothen and Tania had both offered to escort her to and from classrooms, but she knew that this would only confirm to Regin and his friends that they were getting to her. At all times, she endeavored to ignore the pranks and snide comments, knowing that reacting to them would only encourage more.

The final gong always brought relief. Whatever social games the novices indulged in after lessons must have been more interesting than taunting her, because the entire class always hurried away as soon as the teacher dismissed them. Sonea would wait until they were gone and then make her way in peace to the Magicians’ Quarters. But just in case they changed their minds, she always took the long route through the gardens, choosing a different path every time and keeping close to other magicians and novices.

Today, like every day, as she neared the end of the corridor she felt her shoulders relax and the knot in her stomach begin to unwind. Silently she thanked Rothen for letting her stay in his rooms. It made her shudder to think of the torments Regin would have devised for her if she had to return to the Novices’ Quarters each day.

“There she is!”

Recognizing the voice, she felt cold rush over her. The corridor was full of novices from higher classes, but that had never been a deterrent. She lengthened her stride, hoping to reach the busy Entrance Hall of the University where there was sure to be a magician or two, before Regin and his friends could catch up.

The sound of running feet filled the corridor behind her.

“Sonea! Sooooneeeeaaaa!”

The older novices about her turned at the noise. Sonea knew by their stares that Regin and his gang were right behind her now. She drew in a deep breath, resolving to face Regin without flinching.

A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her around roughly. She shook it off and glared at Kano.

“Were you ignoring us, slum girl?” Regin asked. “That’s very rude, but I guess we can’t expect you to have any manners, can we?”

They encircled her. She glanced around at the grinning faces. Hugging her books closer to her body, she stepped forward and pushed her shoulder between Issle and Alend to break free from the ring of bodies. Hands reached out, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back into the middle. Surprised, she felt a growing dread. They hadn’t tried to physically abuse her before, other than giving her arm a yank to make her trip over, or fall into something unpleasant.