The Novice (33 page)

As she stepped from the classroom, a servant in a messenger’s uniform skidded to a halt beside her.

“Lady Sonea,” the man said. “I have been sent to deliver an urgent request for you to return to Rothen’s rooms immediately.”

Surprised, she looked up at Lord Vorel. The magician frowned.

“We cannot wait for you, Sonea. If you do not return within the hour we will have to arrange a testing early next year.”

Sonea nodded. Thanking the messenger, she started along the corridor.

Why had Rothen sent for her? He would have barely had enough time to reach his rooms since they parted. Perhaps he’d discovered that Regin
did
have something planned, and had called her away to prevent it.

She shook her head. Rothen wouldn’t do that. He would attempt to alert Vorel to Regin’s plans rather than call her away from an important test.

Unless he wanted to simply tell her what to expect Regin to do. Perhaps he wanted to suggest a way she could turn whatever it was to her advantage. She could always still slip back to the Arena in time for the bouts.

But if that was so, why hadn’t he simply met her outside the classroom?

And why wasn’t he in
his
classroom, preparing to test his own class?

She frowned as she descended to the ground floor of the University. What if there was some other reason for the summons? The messenger hadn’t said that the message had come
from
Rothen. In that case
Rothen
might be the reason she was summoned. He might be ill. He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young, either. He might be—

Stop worrying!
she told herself.
It’s probably nothing serious.
Nevertheless she half ran across the courtyard to the Magicians’ Quarters. Her heart raced as she hurried up the stairs, and down the corridor to Rothen’s door.

The door swung open at her touch. Rothen stood by the window. He turned as she entered the room. She opened her mouth to ask the question hovering on her lips, but caught herself as she saw his warning expression.

She felt the presence first. It was tangible, unhidden. It filled the room like a thick, suffocating smoke. Terror sent her heart racing, but she managed to compose her expression to what she hoped was only surprise and respect.
You don’t know why he’s here,
she told herself as she turned.
Don’t let him see that you’re frightened of him.
Keeping her eyes on the floor, she turned to face the visitor and bowed.

“Excuse me, High Lord.”

He didn’t reply.

“Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was low and tense. “Come here.”

She looked at Rothen and felt her stomach twist. His face was pale, almost sickly. He beckoned, and his hand shook slightly. Disturbed by these signs of fear, she hurried to his side.

Rothen’s voice was surprisingly calm as he addressed the High Lord. “Sonea is here, as you requested, High Lord. How may we assist you?”

Akkarin fixed Rothen with a stare that would have turned her to ice.

“I am here to find the source of a certain…rumor. A rumor I drew from the Administrator concerning you and your novice.”

Rothen nodded. He seemed to choose his next words with great care.

“I thought that rumor about us had passed. Nobody appeared to give it credence and—”

The dark eyes flashed. “Not
that
rumor. I am referring to a rumor about
my
nocturnal activities. A rumor that must be stopped.”

A hand seemed to close on Sonea’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Rothen was frowning and shaking his head.

“You are mistaken, High Lord. I know nothing of your—”

“Do not lie to me, Rothen.” Akkarin’s eyes narrowed. “I would not have come here if I was not certain of it.” He took a step toward them. “I have just read it from Lorlen’s mind.”

All color drained from Rothen’s face. He stared at Akkarin in silence.
If Akkarin read Lorlen’s mind,
she thought,
he knows everything!
She felt her knees weaken, and, afraid she would sink to the floor, gripped the window sill behind her.

The High Lord smiled thinly. “I saw much that impressed me: how Sonea visited the Guild while she was still a renegade, what she witnessed that night, how Lorlen discovered this while truth-reading her during the guardianship Hearing, and that he ordered you both to keep the discovery a secret so that he could work out how he could possibly enforce the Guild’s law. A sensible decision. And fortunate for you all.”

Rothen straightened and raised his head to face Akkarin again. “We have not spoken a word of it to anyone.”

“So you say.” The High Lord’s voice softened, but lost none of its chill. “I would know that for certain.”

Sonea heard Rothen’s sharp intake of breath. The two magicians stared at each other.

“And if I refuse?”

“I will take whatever measures you force me to take, Rothen. You cannot prevent me reading your mind.”

Rothen looked away. Abruptly, Sonea recalled Cery’s description of Akkarin’s mind-reading. Cery had told her that, when Akkarin had discovered him imprisoned in a room under the University by Fergun, he had allowed the High Lord to read his mind to confirm the truth. It had been an easy thing, completely unlike Rothen’s mind-sharing or Lorlen’s truth-read, and she had concluded that the legend about Akkarin being able to read minds, whether they be willing or not, must have some truth in it.

Stiffly, as though his bones were those of a man twenty years older, Rothen moved toward the High Lord. Sonea stared at him, unable to believe he would give in so easily.

“Rothen…”

“It’s all right, Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was strained. “Stay where you are.”

Closing the distance between himself and her guardian in a few strides, Akkarin placed his hands against the sides of Rothen’s head. He closed his eyes and his face smoothed into an unexpectedly peaceful expression.

Rothen drew in a sharp breath and swayed. The hands at his sides clenched, then opened again. Sonea took a step forward and stopped. She dared not interfere. What if it caused Akkarin to harm Rothen? Frustrated, frightened, she clenched her fists until she felt her nails bite into her palms.

The two magicians remained still and silent for an unbearably long time. Then, without warning, Akkarin drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He regarded the man standing before him for a moment, then drew back his hands and stepped away.

Sonea watched anxiously as Rothen took a long, ragged breath and swayed a little. Akkarin crossed his arms, watching the old magician. Sonea cautiously stepped forward and took Rothen’s arm.

“I’m fine,” he said wearily. “I’m all right.” He rubbed his temples and grimaced, then squeezed one of her hands to reassure her.

“Now, Sonea.”

A shock of cold terror rushed through her body. She felt Rothen’s hands tighten their grip.

“No!” Rothen protested hoarsely. He put an arm protectively around her shoulders. “You know everything now. Leave her be.”

“I cannot.”

“But you’ve seen everything,” Rothen protested. “She’s only a—”

“A child?” Akkarin’s eyebrows rose. “A girl? Come now, Rothen. You know this will not harm her.”

Rothen swallowed hard, then slowly turned to her. He looked into her eyes. “He knows everything, Sonea. There is nothing to hide from him. Let him confirm it for himself if he must. It will not hurt.”

His eyes, though rimmed with moisture, were steady. Sonea felt him squeeze her hands, then release them. He stepped away. A terrible feeling of betrayal rose.

—
Trust me. We must cooperate. It is all we can do for now.

She heard Akkarin’s footfall behind her. Her heart raced as she turned to face him. The black robes rustled softly as the High Lord moved forward. She backed away and felt Rothen’s hands on her shoulders.

Akkarin frowned as he reached toward her. Cool fingers brushed her face and she flinched. Then his palms pressed firmly against her temples.

A presence touched her mind, but it held no personality. She sensed no thoughts or feelings. Perhaps he didn’t
have
emotions. The thought wasn’t comforting.

Then an image flashed into her mind. She started, realizing she had been waiting for him to encounter the barriers in her mind. Somehow he had passed them. Checking, she saw that her defenses were intact, but his presence was not tangible enough to meet their resistance.

The same image kept flashing into her mind. It was of the underground room beneath his residence, seen from outside the door. A memory rose of the scene she had witnessed the night she had spied upon him.

Something took hold of that memory and began to sort through the details. Sonea remembered how Lorlen had manipulated her memories, and how she had been able to hide them by willing them out of her thoughts. Perhaps she could do that now. She tried to smother the memory, but the mind-read continued without a pause. Her efforts made no difference, she realized, because Akkarin was in control of the memory, whereas Lorlen had been only guiding and encouraging.

The discovery sent panic through her. In desperation, she tried to drown the memory with other thoughts and images.

Stop this.

An undertone of anger accompanied the words. Sonea paused, feeling a thrill of triumph as she understood she had found a way to hamper him. Her fear hardened into determination. She drew up lessons, lists of facts, images of work she had done. She bombarded him with pictures from text books and nonsense poems that she had discovered in the library. She threw memories of the slum, irrelevant, ordinary bits of her old life.

A mental image of a storm appeared—a funnel of images that kept him trapped at its core. She did not know if the picture was real, or something her mind had created…

Pain! Knives ripping through her skull.
A cry reached her ears. Realizing that she had made it, she opened her eyes and her consciousness swayed between the outer and the inner world. Hands tightened on her shoulders. A voice came from above.

“Stop fighting me,” it commanded.

Hands pressed hard against her temples. She snapped back into the domain of her mind. Disoriented and shocked by the pain, she tried to regain some sense of balance. The presence returned to the task of digging up the memories he sought. He mercilessly called up image after image. This time she found herself reliving the moments in the North Square. Once more she threw the stone and fled from the fire of the magicians. Rooms and corridors of the slums flickered by. The day she had sensed Rothen’s searching mind and had instinctively hidden her presence. Cery, Harrin and his gang. Faren of the Thieves. Senfel, the Thieves’ magician.

Then she was creeping through the forest on the Guild grounds. The memories sharpened, were examined closely. Once more she climbed the wall of the Healers’ Quarters and watched the novices within. Once again she sensed the vibration around the Arena. She peered through windows into the University. Her journey took her around the back of the Guild again to look into the Novices’ Quarters and through the forest behind. Then, after Cery left to steal the books, she crept down to the strange, gray two-story building. The servant came, forcing her to retreat behind the low bushes. Then, seeing light coming through the ventilation holes, she crouched down and peered though.

A faint flicker of annoyance touched her senses.
Yes,
she thought,
I’d be angry, too, if my secrets were discovered so easily.
She saw the bloodstained man remove his clothes, clean himself and move away. Returning clad in black robes, the man spoke to his servant. “The fight has weakened me. I need your strength.” The man took an elaborate knife and cut the servant’s arm, then placed his hand over the wound. Once more she sensed the strange magic.

The memory stopped abruptly, and she sensed nothing from the mind that lurked behind hers. What was he thinking, she wondered…?

Have you allowed any to know of this other than Lorlen and Rothen?

No,
she thought.

She relaxed, sure that this was all he sought, but a relentless interrogation followed as he quested after further memories. He explored parts of her life, from childhood to her lessons in the University. He sorted through her feelings, from her fondness for Rothen to her lingering loyalty to Cery and the people of the slums, to the new emotions she felt for Dorrien.

And, unbidden, came the anger she felt toward him for doing this to her. He sought her feelings about his practice of black magic, and her mind responded with disapproval and fear. Would she expose him if she could?
Yes!
But only if she knew Rothen and others would not be harmed.

Then the presence vanished and she felt the pressure against her temples stop. She opened her eyes and blinked. Akkarin had turned his back and was pacing slowly away from them. She felt Rothen’s hands on her shoulders, steady and reassuring.

“You would both expose me if you could,” Akkarin said. He was silent for a time, then turned to face them. “I will claim Sonea’s guardianship. Her abilities are advanced and, as Lorlen surmised, her strength is unusually high. None will question my choice.”

“No!” Rothen gasped. His grip tightened.

“Yes,” Akkarin replied, turning to face them. “She will ensure your silence. You will never cause anyone to know that I practice black magic while she is mine.” His eyes shifted to Sonea’s. “And Rothen’s wellbeing will be my guarantee that
you
will cooperate.”

Sonea stared at him in horror. She was to be his
hostage!

“You will not speak to each other except to avoid raising suspicion. You will behave as if nothing more unusual than a change of guardianship has occurred. Do you understand?”

Rothen made a choking noise. Sonea turned to him, alarmed. He glanced at her and she saw guilt in his eyes.

“Don’t make me consider an alternative,” Akkarin warned.

Rothen’s voice was strained as he answered. “I understand. We will do as you ask.”

“Good.”

Akkarin took a step closer, and Sonea looked up to find him regarding her intently. “There is a room in my residence for the High Lord’s novice. You will come with me now, and send a servant for your belongings later.”