The Novice (40 page)

Leaning against the window, Rothen stared at the little square of light on the other side of the gardens. He had seen the slight figure approach the residence a few minutes before. A moment later the light had appeared. Now he was certain that the room behind that window was Sonea’s.

A light tap at the door drew his attention away. Tania walked inside, carrying a jug of water and a small jar. She set them down on the table.

“Lady Indria said you should avoid taking it on an empty stomach,” Tania told him.

“I know,” Rothen replied. “I’ve used it before.” He moved from the window and picked up the jar. The soporific was an innocuous gray, but he had never forgotten how vile it tasted.

“Thank you, Tania. You may go.”

“Sleep well,” she said. Bowing, she moved to the door.

“Wait.” Rothen straightened and regarded his servant carefully. “Would you…can you…?”

She smiled. “I’ll let you know if I overhear anything.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

After she had left, he sat down and mixed some of the powder in water. Forcing himself to swallow it in one draft, he leaned back and waited for the drug to take effect. The taste brought back a memory of a face he sometimes thought he’d forgotten, and he felt a stab of pain.

Yilara, my wife. Even after all this time I still mourn you. But I suppose I would never forgive myself if I stopped.

He had resolved to always remember his wife as she had been when healthy, not as she had been at the end, wasted with her illness. He smiled as happier memories returned.

Still smiling, still in his chair, he slipped into a peaceful slee

As she left the Baths, Sonea thought of the past two weeks and was surprised to feel some regret that the break was over. She had spent most of the time exploring the University, reading or, on warmer days, walking up through the forest to the spring.

In some ways, little had changed. She still planned her movements about the Guild to avoid someone. Akkarin was far easier to avoid than Regin, however. The only time she saw him was in the evenings, when she returned to the High Lord’s Residence.

A servant had been assigned to her. Unlike Tania, Viola was distant and businesslike. Having noted Sonea’s habit of rising early, she always appeared just after dawn. It had taken several requests before the woman finally brought a jar of raka powder, and her expression when the aroma filled Sonea’s room spoke clearly of her distaste for the stimulant so loved by the slum dwellers.

Each morning, Sonea left the High Lord’s Residence and headed to the Baths, where she soaked in luxuriously warm water and decided how she would fill the day. Relaxation allowed hunger to catch up with her, and she visited the Foodhall next. A small number of cooks and servers catered to the handful of novices who had remained in the Guild. Bored, and eager to cultivate opportunities for future positions serving the Houses, they encouraged these novices to request favorite meals. Though Sonea had no high connections, the younger cooks indulged her as well, no doubt because of the incal on her sleeve.

After eating, Sonea would pace through the passages of the University to reinforce her memory of the plan. From time to time she would stop in a quiet room and open a book, sometimes reading for hours before she decided to move on again. As evening settled in, however, her dread would slowly return until she could no longer concentrate on reading. She had been given no hour to return by. Though she had tried arriving at the residence later and later, Akkarin was always there, waiting for her. After a week she had resigned herself to this daily encounter, and started to return at a time that allowed her to get a good night’s sleep.

Just as she had been getting used to her new routine, the break ended. She had spent most of the previous afternoon at a University window, watching carriages coming and going. On most days, when the Guild was filled with magicians, it was easy to forget that wives, husbands and children also lived on the grounds. Sonea had realized how few she could name. Deciding she ought to know more about her future colleagues, she had begun to note family groups, and the House incals on the carriages they arrived in.

There had been a lack of formality to this homecoming. While servants had been kept busy hauling baggage and tending horses, magicians and their spouses had paused to chat with others. Children had run into the gardens to play in the snow. Novices had gathered in knots of brown robes, their shouts and laughter audible through the University windows.

But today, magicians were striding about the grounds, clearly the masters of their domain. Servants hurried about, but the families she had watched were nowhere to be seen. Novices were everywhere.

Walking toward the University, Sonea felt a familiar uneasiness. Though she was sure Regin wouldn’t dare harass the High Lord’s favorite, she created a barrier about herself just in case. Reaching the stairs, she noted that the novice in front of her was shivering and rubbing his arms. A newcomer, she mused. Lord Vorel had claimed that the winter intake novices always learned to shield faster than those who started training in summer. Now she understood why.

“That’s her.”

“Who?”

The whispers came from behind her. She resisted the urge to glance behind as she continued up the stairs.

“The slum girl.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yes. Mother says it isn’t right. She says there are plenty of novices as strong as her. Ones that don’t have a bad history.”

“My father says it’s an insult to the Houses—and even the Administrator didn’t…”

The rest was lost as Sonea turned into the corridor on the second floor. Pausing, she examined the novices in the corridor ahead, then began to walk. Unlike the first time she had appeared as Akkarin’s novice, they did not stare at her. Instead, they looked once, scowled, then turned away. Eyebrows rose and meaningful looks were exchanged.

This is
not
good,
she thought.

As she approached her classroom, she felt a rising dread. She paused at the doorway to take a deep breath, then stepped inside. The teacher who looked up at her was surprisingly young. It could not have been many years since he’d graduated. She glanced at her schedule for his name.

“Lord Larkin,” she said, bowing.

To her relief, he smiled. “Take a seat, Sonea.”

Only half of the other novices had arrived. A few watched her as she moved to her usual position by the window. Their expressions weren’t friendly, but they weren’t disapproving, either. The feeling of dread eased.

Larkin rose. Seeing that he was approaching her desk, she sighed. No doubt he would want her to move closer to the front.

“The High Lord asked me to tell you he wishes to see you after the next class,” he told her quietly. “You are to return to his residence.”

Sonea felt all warmth leave her face. Guessing that she had turned pale, she looked down at her desk, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Larkin turned away and moved back to his desk. Sonea swallowed hard. What did Akkarin want? Frightening scenarios came to mind, and she jumped when Larkin rose and began to address the class. Looking around, she realized that the rest of the novices had arrived.

“The history of magician-designed architecture is a long one,” Larkin told the class. “Parts are unbearably dry, but I will skip as many of those as possible. Instead, I will begin with the story of Lord Loren, the architect who designed the University.”

Thinking of the map she had drawn up of the University passages, Sonea straightened in her seat. This would be interesting. Taking sheets of paper from his desk, Larkin walked up and down the rows of desks, handing one to each novice.

“This is a rough plan of the top level of the University—a copy of a sketch drawn by the man himself,” Larkin said. “Lord Loren’s early work was often unstable and ridiculous in appearance. He was considered to be an artist obsessed with making large, impractical sculptures rather than habitable buildings, but his discovery of the methods of shaping and strengthening stone with magic changed more than architecture. He began to make buildings that people wanted to live in.”

Larkin waved a hand at the ceiling. “The University is one of his finest works. By the time Lord Loren was requested to design and construct the new Guild buildings, he was famous throughout the world for his work.” Larkin paused to chuckle. “The Guild still felt it necessary to stipulate in their guidelines that he wasn’t to use spirals in the design—something he was known to do in excess.

“However, the use of spirals can be found in the glass ceiling above the Guildhall and the staircases of the Entrance Hall,” Larkin continued. “From the diaries and records kept by other magicians of that era, we know Lord Loren was a devious character at the best of times. Over a hundred years later a magician named Lord Rendo wrote a book detailing the architect’s career. I have included with the plan a few extracts of this biography and a chronology of his life and works. Read them now. After class you may want to look around the grounds at the buildings he designed. You will, as I did, see much that you had not noticed before. I will expect an essay on his work three weeks from today.”

As the other novices began to read, Sonea looked down at the plan of the University. The four towers at the corners and the huge room at the center were clearly drawn, as was the design of the glass ceiling, but the rooms and passages on either side of the main corridor were unmarked.

She took her map out of her box and lay it next to the plan. After staring at both, she started copying the ceiling design onto her own sketch. As she suspected, the lines that marked the spirals in the glass met those showing the passages. Though the passage turns were at right angles, they combined with the ceiling design to form even larger spirals.

“What are you doing, Sonea?”

Realizing that the teacher was standing over her desk, she felt her face heat.

“I…I thought of what you said about spirals, my lord,” she explained, “and started looking for them.”

Larkin tilted his head and examined her sketch, then pointed to the inner passages she had marked. “I’ve looked at the University plans many times but I’ve never seen this many. Where did you get this plan?”

“I, ah, made it. I didn’t have much else to do over the break. I hope I wasn’t going anywhere I wasn’t supposed to.”

He shook his head. “The only place in the University that is forbidden to novices is the Guildhall and the Administrator’s office.”

“But…those rooms between the normal passages and the decorated ones. They seemed to be a kind of barrier.”

Larkin nodded. “In the past they were locked, but as more space was needed it was decided that the inner areas should be accessible to all.”

Sonea thought of the disapproving look she had received from the magician she encountered the first night of exploration. Perhaps he had merely been suspicious of a novice wandering about alone. Perhaps he simply distrusted the slum girl.

“Would you mind if I took a copy of your plan?” Larkin asked.

“I’ll draw one for you if you like,” she offered.

He smiled. “Thank you, Sonea.”

As he moved away, Sonea watched him speculatively. There didn’t seem to be any of the disapproval or disdain in his manner that she was used to from the other teachers. Would only the novices resent her now? She glanced around the room and saw several heads turn away, but one caught her gaze.

Regin’s eyes bored into her own. Looking away, Sonea shivered. How had she ever earned such unveiled hatred?

Every time she had done well in class, he had managed to equal or surpass her. He was better at Warrior Skills, so if this was about being better than her, he was winning.

But now she had succeeded in a way that he could never match. She had become the High Lord’s favorite. To make it worse, he dared not make her suffer for it.

She sighed.
He wouldn’t be so jealous if he knew what was really going on. I’d swap places any day. He’d be scared out of his wits…

Or would he? Would Regin, who relished having power and influence and was willing to harm others to get it, be able to resist the lure of black magic? No, he’d probably want to join Akkarin. She shuddered. Regin as a black magician. The idea was truly frightening.

As Dannyl stepped into the Guild House, Ambassador Errend strolled out of the audience room.

“Welcome back, Ambassador Dannyl.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Errend,” Dannyl replied, inclining his head politely. “It is good to be back. If I ever get it into my head to go sailing around the world again, please remind me of the last two weeks.”

The Ambassador smiled. “Ah, sea travel does lose its romance after the first few journeys.”

Dannyl grimaced. “Especially if you encounter a storm.”

Though Errend’s face did not change much, Dannyl was sure he saw a hint of smugness in the man’s expression. “Well, you’re on solid ground now,” the man said. “No doubt you’ll want to rest for the remainder of the day. You can tell me of your adventures tonight.”

“Have I missed much?”

“Of course.” Errend smiled. “This is Capia.” He took a step back toward the audience room, then paused. “Some urgent letters arrived for you two days ago. Do you want to read them now, or wait until tomorrow?”

Dannyl nodded, curious despite his weariness. “Have them sent to my room. Thank you, Ambassador.”

The big man inclined his head gracefully, then turned away. Walking down the main corridor of the house, Dannyl considered the work ahead of him. He expected that there was much work to catch up on, and he had a report to compile for Lorlen. It wouldn’t be easy to find time to visit the Great Library.

But his research would continue through other means as well. The invitation to Bel Arralade’s party would probably be among the letters waiting for him. He had to admit, he was looking forward to it. It had been some time since he’d exercised his gossip-gathering skills.

When he had returned from the small Baths within the Guild House, he found a pile of letters on his desk. Sitting down, he spread them out and immediately recognized the elegant handwriting of Administrator Lorlen.