The Novice (21 page)

“Give my regards to the High Priest,” Vaulen said.

“I will.” Dannyl stepped out of the building. At once he was bathed in the heat radiating from a sunlit wall on the other side of the street. Dust raised by the carriage tickled his throat.

A servant opened the carriage door. Climbing in, Dannyl winced as he entered the suffocatingly hot cabin. Tayend followed, settling onto the opposite seat with a grimace. The servant handed them two bottles of water, then signalled the driver to leave.

Opening the carriage windows in the hope of catching a breeze, Dannyl endured the dust that billowed in, washing it from his throat with mouthfuls of water. The streets were narrow, which kept them as shaded as possible, but the clutter of pedestrians slowed the carriage. Some streets were covered by wooden roofs, forming dark tunnels.

After a few brief conversations, they fell silent. Talking only filled their mouths with dust. The carriage moved slowly, plodding through the endless city. It was not long before Dannyl tired of seeing people and houses that all looked the same. He slumped against the side of the carriage and dozed.

The new sound of pavement under the horses’ hooves roused him. Looking out of the window, he saw smooth walls passing on either side. After a hundred paces or so the corridor ended and the carriage entered a wide courtyard. At last the Splendid Temple came into view.

As with all Lonmar architecture, the building was single-storied and undecorated. The walls were marble, however, the blocks fitting together so accurately it was difficult to make out their edges. Obelisks were set into the face of the building at intervals, each as wide at the base as the building was high, and rising higher than the carriage window allowed him to see.

The carriage stopped and Dannyl climbed out, too eager to leave the stifling heat of the interior to wait for the driver to open the door. Looking up, he drew in a breath as he saw how tall the obelisks were. Placed every fifty paces or so in all directions, they filled the sky.

“Look at them all,” Dannyl said to Tayend quietly. “It’s like a forest of gigantic trees.”

“Or a thousand swords.”

“Or masts of ships waiting to take souls away.”

“Or an enormous bed of nails.”

“You’re in a good mood today,” Dannyl remarked dryly.

Tayend smiled crookedly. “I am, aren’t I?”

As they approached the door to the Temple, a man in a simple white robe stepped out to greet them. His hair was white, contrasting with the rich black of his skin. Bending only slightly, he clasped his hands together, then opened them in the ritual gesture of the Mahga followers.

“Welcome, Ambassador Dannyl. I am High Priest Kassyk.”

“Thank you for allowing us to visit,” Dannyl replied. “This is my assistant and friend, Tayend of Tremmelin, scholar of the Great Library of Capia.”

The High Priest repeated the gesture. “Welcome, Tayend of Tremmelin. Would you both like to see some of the Splendid Temple before viewing the scrolls?”

“We would be honored,” Dannyl replied.

“Follow me.”

The High Priest turned and led them into the coolness of the temple building. They wandered down a long corridor, the priest gesturing as he explained the history or religious significance of features. Long corridors crossed the one they followed. Light filtered through small, narrow windows set just below the arched roof. Occasionally they passed a tiny courtyard filled with wide-leafed plants, surprising the visitors with their unexpected lushness. At other times they stopped at fountains set into the walls to drink a palmful of water.

The High Priest showed them the small rooms where the priests lived and spent their time in study or contemplation. He guided them through large, cavernous halls where prayers and rituals were held each day. Finally he guided them into a complex of small rooms where scrolls and books were displayed.

“Which texts would you like to see?” Kassyk asked.

“I would like to see the Dorgon scrolls.”

The priest regarded Dannyl quietly before he replied.

“We do not allow non-believers to read those texts.”

“Oh.” Dannyl frowned, disappointed. “This is not good news. I have been led to believe these scrolls were available for viewing, and have travelled far to see them.”

“That is unfortunate indeed.” The High Priest looked genuinely sympathetic.

“Forgive me if I am wrong, but you have allowed them to be read before, haven’t you?”

Kassyk blinked in surprise. He nodded slowly. “Your High Lord, when he visited ten years ago, did persuade me to read them to him. He assured me that no one would seek this information again.”

Dannyl exchanged a glance with Tayend. “Akkarin was not High Lord then, but even if he had been, how could he have guaranteed this?”

“He made a vow never to repeat what he had heard.” The priest’s frown deepened. “Or refer to the scrolls to any other. He also said that the information was of no interest to the Guild. Nor was it of interest to him, as he was seeking ancient magic, not religious lore. Are you looking for the same truths?”

“I can’t say, as I don’t know exactly what Akkarin was looking for. These scrolls may be relevant to my research despite being of no use to the High Lord.” Dannyl held the priest’s gaze. “If I make the same vow, will you read them to me?”

The priest considered Dannyl. After a long pause, he nodded. “Very well, but your friend must stay here.”

Tayend’s shoulders slumped, but as he dropped into a nearby chair he let out a sigh of relief. Leaving the scholar fanning himself, Dannyl followed the High Priest through the rooms of scrolls. After a labyrinthine journey, they stepped into a small, square room.

All around were shelves covered in squares of flawless, clear glass. Drawing closer, Dannyl saw that fragmented pieces of paper were pressed under the glass.

“The Dorgon scrolls.” The High Priest moved to the first. “I will translate for you if you will vow on the honor of your family and the Guild to never divulge their contents to anyone.”

Dannyl straightened and turned to face Kassyk. “I swear on the honor of my family and House, and the Magicians’ Guild of Kyralia, that I will never communicate what I learn from these scrolls to any man or woman, old or young, unless my silence will bring harm of the greatest kind upon the Allied Lands.” He paused. “Is that acceptable? I cannot swear otherwise.”

The wrinkles around the old man’s mouth had deepened with amusement, but he answered solemnly. “It is acceptable.”

Relieved, Dannyl followed the High Priest to the first of the scrolls, and listened as the man began to read. They slowly made their way around the room, Kassyk pointing to and explaining diagrams and pictures in the text. When the last scroll had been read, Dannyl sat down on a bench in the center of the room.

“Who would have guessed?” he said aloud.

“No one at the time,” Kassyk replied.

“I can see why you don’t want them read.”

Kassyk chuckled and sat beside Dannyl. “It is no secret to those who enter the Priesthood that Dorgon was a trickster who used his meager powers to convince thousands of his holiness. It was what happened later that has deep significance. He began to see there were miracles within his tricks, and that miracles were in fact tricks of the Great Power. But anyone who read these scrolls would not know that.”

“Why do you keep these scrolls, then?”

“They are all we have of Dorgon. His later works were copied, but this is the only original text that has survived. They were kept and preserved by a family who resisted the Mahga religion for centuries.”

Dannyl looked around the room and nodded. “There is certainly nothing harmful here, or useful, either. I have come to Lonmar for nothing.”

“So said your High Lord, before he was High Lord.” Kassyk smiled. “I remember his visit well. You were polite, Ambassador Dannyl. The young Akkarin laughed out loud when he heard what you learned today. Perhaps the truths you are seeking are more alike than you first thought.”

Dannyl nodded. “Perhaps.” He looked at the High Priest. “Thank you for allowing me to know this, High Priest. I apologize for not believing you when you said they contained nothing of ancient power.”

The man rose. “I knew that you would always remain curious if I denied you. Now you know, and I trust you to keep your word. I will return you to your friend.”

Rising, they started back through the labyrinth of passages.

“
All
of the books on the Sachakan War are taken?” Sonea asked.

Lord Jullen looked up. “That
is
what I said.”

Sonea turned away and mouthed a curse that would have earned a stern lecture from Rothen.

When the class was set an exercise that involved taking books from the library, an elaborate dance ensued in which they competed politely for the best books. Not wanting to join them, Sonea had tried Rothen’s library, but found he had nothing on the subject. By the time she had returned to the Novices’ Library, there was nothing useful left. That had left the Magicians’ Library, which had apparently been raided, too.

“They’re all gone,” she told Rothen as she reached his side.

His eyebrows rose. “
All
of them? How can that be? There’s a restriction on the number of books each novice or magician can borrow.”

“I don’t know. He probably persuaded Gennyl to borrow some, too.”

“You don’t know it was Regin’s doing, Sonea.”

She snorted softly.

“Why don’t you have a copy made?”

“That would be expensive, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s what your allowance is for, remember.”

She winced and looked away. “How long would it take?”

“That depends on the book. A few days for printed ones, a few weeks for handwritten. Your teacher will know which volumes are best.” He chuckled and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell him your reasons, and he’ll be impressed by your apparent interest in the subject.”

She picked up her folder of notes. “I may as well go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Lord Ahrind keeps a close eye on everyone.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

Lord Jullen eyed her suspiciously as she left the Magicians’ Library. It was chilly outside, and she hurried across to the Novices’ Quarters. Stepping through the door, she saw the small crowd of novices in the corridor and stopped. As they saw her their faces split with wide grins. Looking beyond them, she saw the words someone had written on her door with smeared ink. Gritting her teeth, she took a step forward.

As she did, Regin emerged from the crowd. She braced herself for his mocking words, but he suddenly retreated again as quickly as he had appeared.

“Hai! Sonea!”

Recognizing the voice, she spun about. Two figures had entered the corridor, one tall, one short. Lord Ahrind’s eyes narrowed as he saw the writing on the door. He stepped past her, and she heard the denials of the novices behind her.

“I don’t care who did it.
You
will clean it off.
Now!
”

But Sonea ignored it all. Her attention had been captured by a familiar, friendly face.

“Cery!” she breathed.

Cery’s grin faded as he took in everything behind her. “They’re giving you a hard time, aren’t they.” It was not a question.

She shrugged. “They’re just children. I—”

“Sonea.” Lord Ahrind returned to their side. “You have a visitor, as you can no doubt see for yourself. You may speak to him in the corridor, or outside.
Not
in your room.”

Sonea nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Satisfied, he stalked to his door and disappeared. Looking around, she saw that all of the novices but one had disappeared. She watched the remaining boy wipe the ink off her door. By the sullen look he gave her before he hurried away and disappeared into his room, she guessed he had been merely one of the audience, not the one who had written the message.

Though the corridor was empty, Sonea could imagine ears pressed against doors, listening to her conversation with Cery.

“Let’s go outside. Wait here. I’ll just get something.”

Slipping inside her room, she collected a small package, then returned to the corridor and led Cery out to the gardens. They found a sheltered bench. As she created a barrier of warmth around them both, Cery’s eyebrows rose and he gave her an approving look.

“You’ve picked up a few useful tricks.”

“Just a few,” she agreed.

His eyes darted around, constantly watching the shadows. “Remember when we were in this garden last,” he said. “Creeping through those trees. That’s nearly a year ago now.”

She grinned. “How could I forget?”

Her grin faded as she remembered what she had witnessed beneath the High Lord’s Residence. At the time she had been too eager to get away to tell Cery what she had seen. Later, she had told him she’d watched a magician performing magic, but she hadn’t known it was forbidden black magic. Now, of course, she had promised the Administrator that she would keep the truth hidden from all but Rothen.

“That boy is the leader isn’t he? The one who hid when he saw that magician—Lord Ahrind, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“What’s this boy’s name?”

“Regin.”

“He been bothering you much?”

She sighed. “All the time.” As she told him of the pranks and jibes, she felt both embarrassed and relieved. It felt good to be talking to her old friend, and satisfying to see the anger on Cery’s face.

He swore colorfully. “That boy needs a good lesson, if you ask me. Would you like me to teach him?”

Sonea chuckled. “You’d never get close to him.”

“Oh?” He smiled slyly. “Magicians aren’t supposed to hurt people, are they?”

“No.”

“So he can’t use his powers in a fight with a non-magician, can he?”

“He won’t fight you, Cery. He’d consider it beneath himself to fight a dwell.”

He made a rude noise. “Is he a coward, then?”

“No.”

“He’s got nothing against giving you some rub, though. You were a dwell.”

“He’s not fighting me. He’s just making sure everyone remembers where I’m from.”