The Novice (2 page)

It appeared that he already knew the other Kyralian boy, and the two exchanged friendly winks. The girls were treated with dazzling smiles; while the thin Kyralian girl responded with apparent disdain, her eyes lingered on him long after he had turned away. The rest received polite nods.

A loud, metallic clunk interrupted the social game. All heads turned toward the Guildhall. A long, tense silence followed, then excited whispers filled the air as the enormous doors began to swing outward. As the gap widened, a familiar golden glow flowed from the hall within. The light came from thousands of tiny magical globes floating a few feet below the ceiling. A warm scent of wood and polish spilled out to welcome them.

Hearing gasps, Sonea turned to see that most of the visitors were gazing into the hall in wonder. She smiled as she realized that the other entrants, and some of the adults, would not have seen the Guildhall before. Only the magicians, and those parents who had attended ceremonies for older children, had been inside. And her.

She sobered as she remembered her previous visit, when the High Lord had brought Cery into the Guildhall, ending Fergun’s hold over her. For Cery, part of a dream had been fulfilled that day, too. Her friend had made a promise to himself that he would visit all of the great buildings of the city at least once during his lifetime. The fact that he was a low-born street urchin had only made fulfilling this dream a greater challenge for him.

But Cery was no longer the adventurous boy she had hung about with as a child, or the mischievous youth who had helped her evade the Guild for so long. Each time she saw him, when he visited her in the Guild or she had met him in the slums, he seemed older and less carefree. If she asked what he was doing with his time, or if he was still working for the Thieves, he smiled slyly and changed the subject.

He seemed content, however. And if he
was
working for the Thieves, perhaps it was better that she didn’t know what he was up to.

A robed figure strode forward to stand in the Guildhall doorway. Sonea recognized Lord Osen, the Administrator’s assistant. He raised a hand and cleared his throat.

“The Guild welcomes you all,” he said. “The Acceptance Ceremony will now begin. Would the University entrants please form a line. They will enter first; parents will follow after and take seats on the floor level.”

As the other entrants hurried forward, Sonea felt a hand touch her shoulder lightly. Turning, she looked up at Rothen.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon,” he reassured her.

She grinned in reply. “I’m not worried, Rothen.”

“Ha!” He gave her shoulder a gentle push. “Go on, then. Don’t keep them waiting.”

A small crowd had formed before the doors. Lord Osen’s lips thinned. “Form a line, please.”

As the entrants obeyed, Lord Osen looked over to Sonea. A quick smile touched his lips and Sonea nodded in reply. She fell in behind the last boy in the line. Then a quiet hiss to her left caught her attention.

“At least that one knows her place,” a voice murmured. Sonea turned her head slightly to see two Kyralian women standing nearby.

“That’s the slum girl, is it?”

“Yes,” replied the first. “I told Bina to keep away from her. I don’t want my sweet girl picking up any nasty habits—or diseases.”

The second woman’s reply was lost as Sonea moved away. She pressed a hand to her chest, surprised to find her heart beating rapidly.
Get used to it,
she told herself,
there will be more of that.
Resisting an urge to look back at Rothen, she straightened her shoulders and followed the other entrants down the long aisle in the center of the hall.

Once through the doors, the high walls of the Guildhall surrounded them. The seats on either side were less than half full, yet nearly all magicians living within the Guild and the city were present. Looking to her left, her eyes caught the cold gaze of an elderly magician. His lined face was set in a frown, and his eyes burned into hers.

Dragging her gaze back to the floor, Sonea felt her face heating. She realized, with annoyance, that her hands were shaking. Was she going to let herself tremble over the glare of an old man? She schooled her face to what she hoped was calm self-possession, and let her eyes skim across the rows of faces…

...and nearly stumbled as all the strength drained from her knees. It seemed that every magician in the hall was looking at her. Swallowing hard, she fixed her eyes on the back of the boy in front of her.

As the entrants reached the end of the aisle, Osen directed the first to the left, then the second to the right, and continued in this pattern until they stood in a line across the width of the hall. Finding herself in the middle of this line, Sonea faced Lord Osen. He stood silently, watching the activity behind her. She could hear a shuffling and a tinkling of jewelry, and guessed that the parents were moving into the rows of chairs behind them. As the hall quietened, Osen turned and bowed to the Higher Magicians sitting in the tiered rows of seats at the front of the Guildhall.

“I present the summer intake of entrants to the University.”

“This is much more interesting now there’s someone down there that I know,” Dannyl remarked as Rothen took his seat.

Rothen turned to regard his companion. “But last year your nephew was among the entrants.”

Dannyl shrugged. “I hardly know him. I know Sonea, though.”

Pleased, Rothen turned back to watch the ceremony. While Dannyl could be very charming if he wanted to, he did not make friends easily. This was largely because of an incident that had happened years before, when Dannyl was a novice. Accused of “inappropriate” interest in an older boy, Dannyl had endured speculation from novices and magicians alike. He had been shunned and taunted, and this was the reason, Rothen believed, that Dannyl didn’t trust or befriend many people even now.

Rothen had been Dannyl’s only close friend for years. As a teacher, Rothen had regarded Dannyl as one of the more promising novices in his classes. When he had seen the ill effects the rumor and scandal were having on Dannyl’s learning, he had decided to take on the boy’s guardianship. With a little encouragement, and a lot of patience, he had turned Dannyl’s quick mind from gossip and vengeful pranks back to magic and knowledge.

Some magicians had expressed doubts that Rothen could “straighten Dannyl out.” Rothen smiled. Not only had he succeeded, but Dannyl had just been appointed Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne. Looking down at Sonea, Rothen wondered if she, too, would one day give him a reason to feel this smug.

Dannyl leaned forward. “They’re just children compared to Sonea, aren’t they?”

Looking at the other boys and girls, Rothen shrugged. “I don’t know their exact ages, but the average for new entrants is fifteen. She’s nearly seventeen. A few years will make little difference.”

“I think it will,” Dannyl murmured, “but hopefully it will be an advantage to her.”

Below, Lord Osen slowly walked along the line of University entrants, announcing names and titles according to the custom of each boy or girl’s homeland.

“Alend of the family Genard.” Osen took two more steps. “Kano of the family Temo, Shipbuilder’s Guild.” Another step. “Sonea.”

Osen paused, then moved on. As he announced the next name, Rothen felt a pang of sympathy for Sonea. The lack of a grand title or House name had publicly declared her an outsider. It could not be helped, however.

“Regin of the family Winar, House Paren,” Osen finished as he reached the last boy.

“That’s Garrel’s nephew, isn’t it?” Dannyl asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard that his parents asked if he could join last winter’s class three months after it had started.”

“That’s odd. Why did they do that?”

“I don’t know.” Dannyl shrugged. “I didn’t catch that bit.”

“Have you been spying again?”

“I don’t
spy,
Rothen. I listen.”

Rothen shook his head. He might have stopped Dannyl-the-novice from indulging in vengeful pranks, but he hadn’t yet managed to discourage Dannyl-the-magician from gathering gossip. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave. Who will keep me informed about all the Guild’s little intrigues?”

“You’ll just have to pay more attention,” Dannyl replied.

“I have wondered if the Higher Magicians are sending you away to stop you ‘listening’ so much.”

Dannyl smiled. “Ah, but they say the best way to find out what is going on in Kyralia is to spend a few days listening to gossip in Elyne.”

Echoing footsteps drew their attention back to the hall. University Director Jerrik had risen from his seat among the Higher Magicians, and was descending the stairs to the front. He stopped in the center of the floor and swept his eyes across the line of entrants, his face set in its usual sour and disapproving scowl.

“Today, each of you take the first step to becoming a magician of the Guild of Kyralia,” he began, his voice stern. “As a novice you will be required to obey the rules of the University. By the Treaties that bind the Allied Lands, these rules are endorsed by all rulers, and all magicians are expected to enforce them. Even if you do not graduate, you are still bound to them.” He paused, looking intently at the entrants. “To join the Guild you must make a vow, and that vow has four parts.

“Firstly, you must vow never to harm another man or woman unless in defense of the Allied Lands. This includes people of any class, station, criminal status, or age. All vendettas, whether personally or politically motivated,
end here today.

“Secondly, you must vow to obey the rules of the Guild. If you do not already know these rules, make it your first task to learn them. Ignorance is no excuse.

“Thirdly, you must vow to obey the orders of any magician unless those orders involve breaking a law. That said, we treat this with some flexibility. You are not required to do anything that you feel is morally wrong or conflicts with your religion or traditions. But
do not
presume to decide yourself when and how flexible we should be. In such a circumstance you should bring the matter to me, and it will be dealt with appropriately.

“And finally, you must vow that you will never use magic unless instructed by a magician.
This is for your protection.
Do not perform
any
magic without supervision, unless you have been given permission to do so by your teacher or guardian.”

Jerrik paused, and the silence that followed was devoid of the usual shifting and shuffling. His expressive eyebrows rose, and he straightened his shoulders.

“As tradition states, a Guild magician may claim guardianship of a novice, to guide his or her training in the University.” He turned to face the tiers behind him. “High Lord Akkarin, do you wish to claim guardianship of any of these entrants?”

“I do not,” spoke a cool, dark voice.

While Jerrik posed the same question to the other Higher Magicians, Rothen looked up at the black-robed leader of the Guild. Like most Kyralians, Akkarin was tall and slim, his angular face accentuated by the old-fashioned style of wearing his hair long and tied at the nape of the neck.

As always, Akkarin’s expression was distant as he watched the proceedings. He had never shown any interest in guiding the training of a novice, and most families had given up hoping that their son might be favored by the Guild leader.

Though young for a High Lord, Akkarin had a presence that inspired respect from even the most conservative and influential magicians. He was skilled, knowledgeable and intelligent, but it was his magical strength that earned him the awe of so many. His powers were known to be so great that some estimated he was stronger than the rest of the Guild combined.

But thanks to Sonea, Rothen was one of only two magicians who knew the real reason behind the High Lord’s immense strength.

Before the Thieves had handed her over, Sonea and her thief-friend, Cery, had explored the Guild late one night. They had come in the hope that, by watching magicians using magic, she might learn to control her powers. Instead, she had witnessed the High Lord performing a strange ritual. She had not understood what she had seen, but when Administrator Lorlen had truth-read her to confirm Fergun’s crimes, during the guardianship Hearing, he had seen her memory of that night and recognized the ritual.

High Lord Akkarin, leader of the Guild, practiced black magic.

Ordinary magicians knew nothing about black magic, except that it was forbidden. The Higher Magicians knew only enough to recognize it. Even
knowing
how to perform black magic was a crime. From Sonea’s communication with Lorlen, Rothen now knew that black magic enabled a magician to strengthen himself by drawing power from other people. If all power was taken, the victim died.

Rothen could not guess what it had been like for Lorlen to discover that his closest friend not only had
learned
about black magic, but was
using
it. It must have been a shock. Yet at the same time, Lorlen had realized that he could not expose Akkarin without endangering the Guild and the city. If Akkarin chose to fight, he could easily win, and with each kill he would grow stronger. So Lorlen, Sonea and Rothen must keep their knowledge secret for now. How hard must it be, Rothen wondered, for Lorlen to pretend friendship when he knew what Akkarin was capable of?

Despite this knowledge, Sonea had agreed to join the Guild. This amazed Rothen at first, until she had pointed out that if she left with her powers blocked—as the law required for magicians who chose not to join the Guild—she would have been a tempting source of power for the High Lord. Strong in magic, but unable to use it to defend herself. Rothen shuddered. At least, in the Guild, it would be noticed if she died under strange circumstances.

Even so, it had been a brave decision, knowing what lay at the heart of the Guild. Looking at her, standing among the sons and daughters of some of the richest families in the Allied Lands, he felt both pride and affection. In the last six months he had come to think of her more as a daughter than a student.