The Novice (17 page)

Lorlen nodded. “Then I’ll have to look elsewhere for travel stories.”

As Takan returned for the platter, Akkarin began to suggest books. Lorlen nodded and tried to look attentive, but a part of his mind was racing ahead. Knowing Akkarin, there probably was a diary. Had it contained references to black magic? Was it really destroyed, or was Akkarin lying? It might be in the High Lord’s Residence somewhere. Could he sneak in and search for it?

But as Takan served bowls of stewed piorres laced with wine Lorlen knew that such a search would be risky. If Akkarin found even the slightest evidence of an intruder, he would be alerted to the possibility of someone knowing his secret. Better to wait and see if Dannyl discovered anything before trying something that dangerous.

“Sonea has succeeded in completing the half-year tests, Lord Kiano,” Jerrik announced. “I have moved her to this class.”

Eight pairs of eyes fell on Sonea. The novices were arranged in a half-circle around the teacher’s desk. She looked at each face, trying to read their expressions. None sneered at her, but she saw no welcoming smiles, either.

The teacher was a short, stocky Vindo with sleepy eyes. He nodded to the University Director and Rothen, then regarded Sonea. “Take a seat from the back of the room and join the others.”

Sonea bowed and went to the stack of chairs near the far wall. Picking up a seat, she considered the novices. With their backs to her she could not see their faces and know which might care if she sat near them. Then, as she headed back to the front of the room, a boy looked across at her and smiled faintly. She moved toward him and was gratified to see him slide his chair aside a little to make room.

Rothen and Jerrik had retreated from the doorway. Their echoing footsteps in the corridor quickly faded away. Lord Kiano cleared his throat, looked around the class and resumed his lecture.

The other novices bent over their notebooks, writing rapidly. As the Healer rattled out a rapid string of illnesses and the medicines that should be used to treat them, Sonea quickly pulled out a sheet of paper and began scribbling down everything she heard. She had no idea what she should be taking down, so she wrote every word in a messy scrawl that she suspected she’d have trouble deciphering later. When Lord Kiano finally paused to draw a diagram on a board she was able to cautiously look around at the other novices.

One girl and six boys. Aside from a tall Lan youth, an Elyne and a Vindo boy, the rest were Kyralian—though the boy beside her was unusually short and might be half Vindo. His skin was blotchy and his hair hung in limp strands.

Sensing her gaze he smiled uncertainly, then grinned as she returned the smile. Then his eyes dropped to the page in her hand and he frowned. He turned his notes so she could read them and wrote on the corner of a page.

Did you get everything?

Sonea shrugged and wrote on the corner of her page:
I hope so—he talks so fast.

The boy started to write something else, but Lord Kiano then began a detailed explanation of the drawing and both Sonea and her companion realized with a shock that they should have been copying it. For several minutes she scribbled and sketched as fast as she could. Before she had managed to finish, the familiar sound of the midbreak gong echoed through the University.

Lord Kiano moved to stand in front of the class. “Before the next class I want you to study and memorize the names and potency of the plants with mucolytic qualities as detailed in chapter five. You may go.”

As one, the novices rose and bowed to the teacher. The teacher turned to the board and waved his hand. To Sonea’s dismay, the diagram disappeared from its surface.

“How much did you copy?”

She turned. The boy stood next to her, craning his neck to see her notes. Sonea turned the page to show him. “Not all, but it looks like you caught a few things I missed. Can I…can we compare notes?”

“Yes. If…if you don’t mind.”

The other novices had packed away their belongings and were filing out of the class. A few glanced back at her, perhaps curious about their new classmate. She looked at the boy.

“Are you going to the Foodhall?”

His smile faded a little. “Yes.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

He nodded. They followed the rest of the class into the corridor. The novices walked in pairs, but stayed close enough to suggest they would all keep together. A few glanced at her, but none moved away or made any obvious attempt to snub her.

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

“Poril. Family Vindel, House Heril.”

“I’m Sonea.” She searched for something else to ask. “You’ve all been here since last winter?”

“Oh, everyone except me.” Poril shrugged. “I started the summer before last.”

A slow learner. She wondered what was holding him back. He could be strong magically but still have trouble understanding the lessons, or he might simply be too weak to complete the tasks he was given.

Poril started to talk about his family, his brothers and sisters—of which there were six—and numerous other details about himself. She nodded and encouraged him, dreading the inevitable questions about herself.

The class descended to the ground floor of the University, then entered the Foodhall. As they moved to a table Sonea hesitated, but Poril stepped forward and quietly slipped into one of the seats. She sat down beside him, and was relieved that the others accepted this with no protest.

Servants brought trays of food, and all began to eat and talk. She listened carefully as they discussed people she didn’t know, and the lesson. They seemed distracted by her presence, though, and eventually one of the boys looked at her directly.

“You’re from Regin’s class, aren’t you?” he asked, waving a hand toward one side of the room.

Sonea’s stomach turned. So her old class was known as “Regin’s class.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

He gestured with his cutlery. “They gave you a rough time from what I hear.”

“At times.”

The boy nodded, then shrugged. “Well, you won’t get that from us. There’s no time for playing around now. You’ll have to work hard. This isn’t Control exercises anymore.” The other novices nodded.

She held back a laugh. Control lessons? He obviously didn’t know much about her history…or he did and this was just a more subtle kind of jibe than what she was used to.

The talk turned to other subjects. Remembering the boy’s gesture when he spoke of Regin, she glanced to her right. Familiar faces watched her from a few tables away. She wondered what they had thought when she hadn’t appeared for lessons that morning. They had probably expected her to fail the mid-year tests.

It had been hard work. Three months had passed since she had started at the University, and in that time she had completed six months’ work. Next, she had to catch up on the work the winter class had covered, which meant squeezing another six months’ work into three. It was not going to be easy.

Sensing her gaze, Regin looked up from his plate and stared at her. She met his gaze levelly. His eyes narrowed and he pushed his chair back.

A stab of apprehension chased away her satisfaction and she quickly looked away. What did he plan to do? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kano lay a hand on Regin’s arm. They spoke for several minutes. Regin drew his chair back to the table and Sonea let out the breath she had been holding.

She looked up as a servant offered a platter of food, then waved the woman away, her appetite gone. Regin may not be in her class any longer, but that would not stop him harassing her in the Foodhall, or on the way to and from the Novices’ Quarters. In the corner of her eye she could see him turn to stare at her again. No, she wasn’t rid of him completely.

But she had a chance to make a friend now. Looking at the faces around her, she felt a stirring of hope. She might even become friends with all of them.

Rothen felt a presence at his side and looked up.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Lord Jullen said stiffly, “but I would like to close the library now.”

“Of course.” Rothen nodded, rising. “We’ll be out as soon as we’ve packed up.”

As the librarian moved back to his desk near the door of the Magicians’ Library, Sonea sighed and closed the large book she had been reading. “I never knew people’s bodies were so complicated.”

Rothen chuckled. “This is just the beginning.”

They packed everything away efficiently. Books were snapped shut, paper was slipped into boxes, pens and ink bottles safely stowed. Rothen returned a few volumes to the library shelves, then ushered Sonea out of the library.

The University was dark and quiet, and Sonea was silent as she walked beside him. Unable to work in his rooms for fear of raising suspicions again, he had suggested they use hers instead. She had shaken her head, pointing out that Regin could easily persuade another novice to come up with a story of suspicious noises or overheard conversations.

Her suggestion of working in the Magicians’ Library was brilliant. The lessons were observed by the librarian, Lord Jullen, and she had access to books other novices needed special permission to use. Regin, like her, could only enter the library under the supervision of his guardian.

Rothen smiled. He had to admire her ability to turn a bad situation to her advantage. As they stepped outside, he surrounded them both with a shield of magic and warmed the air within. Nights were growing increasingly chilly. Fallen leaves skittered over the courtyard, making quiet scraping noises as they touched the pavement. Winter was only a month away.

Reaching the Novices’ Quarters, they walked inside. The corridor was empty and silent. Rothen escorted her to her door, then murmured a farewell. He turned away and heard the door click behind him.

He had taken only a few steps when a figure entered the corridor. Recognizing the boy, Rothen slowed and narrowed his eyes.

Their gaze locked. As Rothen passed, Regin turned his head to maintain the contact, his gaze unflinching despite the disapproval Rothen knew must show in his expression. The boy’s mouth curled upward slightly before he finally turned away.

Snorting softly, Rothen continued out of the Novices’ Quarters. Regin had only harassed Sonea once or twice since she had moved to her new room, and not at all since she had changed classes. He had hoped the boy was losing interest in her. But as Rothen considered the confidence and malevolence in the boy’s gaze he felt a growing certainty that his hopes were in vain.

—
Rothen!

Recognizing the sender immediately, he froze in mid-step and almost tripped over.

—
Dorrien!
he replied.

—
I have good news, Father. Lady Vinara has decided it’s time I reported to her again. I will be visiting the Guild soon—probably in a month or so.

Behind Dorrien’s sending were complex feelings. Rothen knew that travelling to Imardin for the sake of formality irked his son. Dorrien could not help worrying how the village he lived in would cope without a Healer for several weeks. There was also a reassuring eagerness in Dorrien’s sending. They hadn’t seen each other in over two years.

But it wasn’t just that. Every time Rothen had communicated with his son lately he had detected a reluctant curiosity. Dorrien wanted to meet Sonea.

—
That
is
good news.
Rothen smiled and continued out of the Novices’ Quarters.
It’s been too long since you visited me. I’ve been wishing there was some way
I
could order you home.

—
Father!
Dorrien’s sending was tinged with half-serious suspicion.
You didn’t arrange this, did you?

—
No.
Rothen chuckled.
But I might keep it in mind for the future. I shall have your old room readied for you.

—
I’ll be staying for two weeks, so be sure to stock up on that good wine from the Lake District of Elyne. I’m heartily tired of the local bol.

—
Done. And bring some raka with you. I’ve heard that the raka from the Eastern District is the best. Sonea is very fond of it.

—
It is the best,
Dorrien said proudly.
All right, raka in exchange for wine. I’ll contact you again when I leave. I must go now.

—
Take care, my son.

Rothen felt the familiar presence fade from his mind. He smiled as he reached the Magicians’ Quarters. Dorrien may be curious to meet Sonea, but what would she make of him? Chuckling, he started up the stairs to his room.

“I feel better tonight,” Tayend told the ceiling of his cabin. “I told you I’d get used to it eventually.”

Looking over the narrow passage to where his friend lay, Dannyl smiled. Tayend had dozed most of the day. It had been stiflingly hot, and the evening’s humidity made sleep impossible.

“You didn’t have to suffer so long. Surely a day of seasickness would have been enough adventure for you.”

Tayend glanced at Dannyl, his expression shameful. “Yes I did.”

“You’re afraid of being Healed, aren’t you?”

The scholar gave a quick nod, more like a shiver.

“I’ve never encountered anyone who was, but I’ve heard of it happening before.” Dannyl frowned. “Can I ask why?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Dannyl nodded. Rising, he stretched as best he could. It seemed that all merchant ships had cramped living spaces—which was probably due to the small stature of their makers. Most ships that roamed the seas around the Allied Lands were built and sailed by the Vindo.

It had taken two weeks to sail to Capia, and he had been heartily thankful to greet dry land again when he arrived. Lonmar’s capital city, Jebem, was four weeks’ journey from Capia, and Dannyl was already tired of his surroundings. To make things worse, there had been little wind in the last few days and the captain had informed him that the ship would be delayed as a result.

“I’m going up for some air.”

Tayend grunted a reply. Leaving the scholar, Dannyl started down the passage and entered the common room. Unlike the previous crew, this one kept quiet at night. They sat in pairs or on their own, some huddled in the bag-like beds they used. Walking past, Dannyl climbed the stairs to the door and pushed through to the deck.