The Novice (45 page)

Taking the books from Sonea, Tya continued along the wall toward the back of the room. They passed a large, heavy cabinet filled with books of many sizes and a small mountain of scrolls. The glass doors were backed by a mesh of wire.

“What’s in there?”

The librarian looked back, and a gleam came to her eyes. “Originals of the oldest and most valuable books and maps in the Guild. They’re too fragile to use. I’ve seen copies of some of them.”

Sonea peered through the glass. “Have you ever looked at the originals?”

Moving to Sonea’s side, Tya regarded the books inside. “No, the doors are locked by magic. When Jullen was a young man, his predecessor opened the doors for him, but Jullen has never opened them for me. He told me once that he’d seen a map of the passages under the University in there.”

“Passages?” A memory rose of being blindfolded and taken to see her friend Cery, imprisoned beneath the University by Fergun.

“Yes. The Guild is supposed to be riddled with them. No one uses them these days—though I’d say your guardian does since he’s well known for his habit of appearing and disappearing in unexpected places.”

“And there’s a map in here?”

“So Jullen said, but I suspect he was just teasing me.”

Sonea looked sideways at Tya. “Teasing you?”

The librarian’s face reddened, and she straightened and turned away. “It was many years ago, when we were much younger.”

“It’s hard to imagine Lord Jullen was ever young,” Sonea said, following Tya to the end of the room. “He’s so stern and disapproving.”

Stopping at a chest, Tya took the books Sonea was carrying and stacked them inside. “People change,” she said. “He’s grown much too full of his own importance, as if being a librarian was as important as, say, being the Head of Warriors.”

Sonea chuckled. “Director Jerrik would say that knowledge is more important than anything else, so as caretakers of the Guild’s knowledge, you
are
more important than the Higher Magicians.”

A smile curled the librarian’s mouth. “I think I know why the High Lord chose you, Sonea. Now go fetch me the rest of those books on Jullen’s desk.”

Sonea returned to the other room. Over the last two weeks she had spent most nights helping Tya. Though her real motivation had been to avoid Regin, she found she was growing to like the eccentric librarian. Once the library closed and they began cleaning up, Tya could be as talkative as the washing women who worked down by the Tarali River.

The librarian was an eager listener when Sonea needed to discuss the projects she had been given. If she didn’t feel like talking, Lady Tya seemed happy to do it all herself. She was also an endless source of information and recent Guild history, full of tales of infighting and political meddling, scandals and secrets. Sonea had been surprised to learn of the rumors that had circulated about Dannyl when he was a novice, which Tya dismissed, and saddened to hear of the slow death of Rothen’s wife from a disease no Healer could cure.

Returning with the books, she passed the cabinet again, and looked at it thoughtfully. No one used the passages under the University. Certainly not Regin. And, as Tya had said, she could go anywhere she wanted to now.

As soon as the door to his rooms had closed, Rothen hurried to a chair and pulled the letter out of his robes. It had been hidden there since a messenger had delivered it to him between classes. Though curiosity had tormented him for most of the day, he dared not open it in the University.

It had been seven weeks since he had written to Dannyl. Seven weeks since Akkarin had taken Sonea away. He’d spoken to her only once in that time. When a novice of an influential family had requested Rothen’s private tutorship, he had been flattered; but when it turned out that the novice was only available during the time Rothen taught Sonea’s class, he began to suspect other reasons behind the arrangement. It would have been rude to refuse, however. And he could not think of a valid reason to explain why, other than the truth.

Rothen looked down at the letter and prepared himself for disappointment. Even if Dannyl had agreed to help him, there was only a slim hope that he would find anything that might lead to Akkarin’s downfall. But the letter was large and surprisingly thick. With trembling hands, Rothen broke the seal. As several sheets of paper slid out and Dannyl’s handwriting appeared, he grabbed the first sheet and began to read.

To Rothen.

It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you, old friend. I have, indeed, been travelling about the lands, meeting people of different races, cultures and religions. The experience has been both educational and enlightening, and I will have plenty of stories to tell you when I return next summer.

Your news about Sonea is remarkable. It is a fortuitous change for her, though I understand your dismay at losing her guardianship. I know that it was your care and hard work that made her into a novice worthy of the High Lord’s notice. Her new position must surely have ended her troubles with a certain novice, too.

I was disappointed, however, to hear that I missed Dorrien’s visit. Please forward my regards to him.

With this letter is a little information I have gathered from the Great Library and a few other sources. I hope it is of use to you. I do greatly appreciate the irony of your new interest. If my next journey is successful, we may have even more to add to our book.

Your friend, Dannyl.

Leafing through the sheets of paper, Rothen muttered in amazement.

“All this? The Splendid Temple? The Tombs of White Tears!” He chuckled. “Just a
few
other sources, eh Dannyl?”

Turning back to the first page, he began to read. When he had just reached the third page, a knock on the door interrupted him. He stared at the door, then jumped to his feet, heart pounding. He cast about for a place to hide the bulky letter, then rushed to the bookcase and slipped it between the pages of a large volume. The extra thickness caused the book to bulge, but it wouldn’t be noticed unless someone looked closely.

As the knock came again, Rothen hurried to the door. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the worst. Opening the door, he sighed with relief as he saw the old couple standing in the corridor beyond.

“Yaldin and Ezrille. Come in.”

They moved into the guestroom. “How are you, Rothen?” Ezrille asked. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

Rothen shrugged. “Well. You?”

“Fine,” Ezrille said. She hesitated, then glanced at Yaldin.

“Would you like a cup of sumi?” Rothen offered.

“Yes, thank you,” Yaldin replied.

The couple sat down, and Rothen set about gathering a tray, cups and jars from a side table. As he started making the hot drink, Yaldin talked about a minor Guild matter. It
had
been too long since he’d talked to his old friends, Rothen decided. Ezrille remained silent until Rothen had poured a second cup of sumi.

“I want you to have dinner with us every Firstday, Rothen,” she said.

“Really?” Rothen smiled. “That would be nice. But
every
Firstday?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “We know it was a shock to you to have Sonea chosen by the High Lord. She never comes to visit, which must be so disappointing after all you did for her. Though she has extra classes, she—”

“Can hardly help it,” Yaldin injected. He smiled at Rothen. “I’m sure she’ll visit when she has more time. In the meantime, we can’t have you moping about.”

“He means you shouldn’t spend every evening alone.”

“Especially with Dannyl abroad,” Yaldin added. “You need someone to talk to other than novices and teachers.”

“And Tania says you’ve started taking nemmin again,” Ezrille added in a low voice. “Don’t be angry at her for telling us. She’s concerned about you—and so are we.”

“So will you come?” Yaldin asked.

Rothen looked from one anxious face to another, then chuckled.

“Of course. I’d love to.”

Sonea walked slowly along the University passage, conscious of the tap of her boots on the floor. As she reached a turn, she peered into the next passage cautiously, and sighed with relief as she found it empty.

It was late. Later than usual. She had avoided Regin successfully for two weeks by either accompanying Tya out of the University, or taking long, convoluted routes through the passages. Each time, she had emerged in the main corridor to find a novice waiting there. They didn’t try to attack her in the main corridor, however. The risk of being discovered by a magician was too high. The same fear kept them from waiting too close to the library, in case Tya heard them.

Sonea hoped Regin’s allies would eventually lose interest. Just to be safe, she had started leaving her box in the library instead of carrying it back to her room. They had made a mess of her notes and books after they had grown bored with tormenting her with stunstrikes. And she had been forced to leave it behind, being too exhausted to carry it.

Keeping her footsteps quiet meant walking slowly, when she desperately wanted to hurry. Not for the first time, she wondered if magician boots were made to be noisy. No matter how gently she stepped, their hard soles made a tapping that echoed in the silent passages. She sighed. Only a few weeks ago she had enjoyed wandering around in the passages of the University. Now, she actually felt relief when she entered the door of the High Lord’s Residence.

A faint sound reached her ears. A snigger, half smothered. She stopped, realizing they had blocked her way to the main corridor. They didn’t know that she’d heard them, however. If she ran back and slipped through a portal room into the inner passages, she could make her way to the corridor from another direction.

Turning on her heel, she dashed away.

“Run, Sonea run!” came Regin’s voice. The sound of footsteps and laughter filled the passage.

She leapt around a corner, then another. A familiar door appeared. She grabbed the handle and slipped through. Not waiting to see if they followed, she hurried across the portal room to the opposite door and ran along the passage beyond. Behind her she heard the muffled sound of a door closing. She dashed into the first side passage.

It twisted to the right, met another and ended at another door. A novice stood outside this, his mouth stretched into a grin.

Sonea skidded to a halt and regarded the novice with dismay. So they knew about the inner passages now. The novice’s grin widened and she narrowed her eyes. Obviously he’d been posted to watch for her. He was alone, however, and easily overcome.

His grin vanished as he read her expression, and he hastily stepped aside. Slipping through the door, she crossed the room and entered the ordinary passages again. As she heard a door opening somewhere behind her, she broke into a run. The main passage was only a few turns away. She threw herself around one corner, then another, then into a rain of red fire.

She hadn’t been shielding, hoping to conserve her strength as long as possible. As pain ripped through her body, everything went black. When her sight cleared again, she was lying on the floor and her shoulder felt bruised. Another flash of fire seared her, making it impossible to do anything but grit her teeth. When it stopped, however, she managed to shield.

Rolling over, she tucked her feet under her and stood up. Regin and four other novices stood behind her. Three others blocked her way to the main corridor. Two more novices arrived, then three more. Thirteen novices. More than before. She swallowed hard.

“Hello again, Sonea.” Regin smiled. “How is it that we keep running into each other like this?”

The novices sniggered. There was no sign of doubt in their expressions now. They hadn’t been called to account for ambushing and torturing her, proving that, as Regin had predicted, she wouldn’t tell Akkarin about it.

Regin placed a hand on his heart. “What a strange thing is love,” he said wistfully. “I thought you hated me, but here you are, following me around!”

One of the novices passed him a paper box. Sonea frowned. Boxes like these usually contained sugared nuts, or other sweets.

“Ah! A gift!” Regin said, flipping the lid open. “Something to show my regard for you.”

Inside were twists of colored paper. An odor wafted to Sonea’s nose and she felt her stomach turn. Harrel pellets, she guessed, or reber dung—or both. Regin took one out.

“Shall I feed it to you, like young lovers do?” He glanced at his followers. “But you look as if you might need some warming up first.”

As he blasted her shield, the others joined in. Her stomach sank with dread. With so many novices attacking her, there was no chance of outlasting them. Turning to the ones blocking her path to the main corridor, she started pushing against their attack. Slowly they fell back, but after several paces she felt herself weakening. The novices, however, showed no signs of tiring.

She stopped. It had taken her a long time to crawl down to the University doors last time. She had wished she’d had just a little energy left, enough to be able to stand and walk. To conserve power she could let her shield fall a little early, and pretend to be completely exhausted. Yes, that might work.

But looking at the sweet box, she changed her mind. She would hold out as long as possible. As she felt her strength failing, she resolved to spit them back at him.

She felt the last of her power slowly drain away. As her shield failed, stunstrikes hit her body and she gasped with the pain. She felt her knees buckle and hit the floor. When the fire finally stopped she opened her eyes to see Regin crouching in front of her, crinkling the sweet wrapper between his fingers.

“What is going on here?”

Regin’s eyes widened and his face turned a deathly white. He quickly closed his fingers around the “sweet” and straightened. As he moved away, Sonea saw the owner of the voice and felt heat rush to her face. Lord Yikmo stood in the passage, his arms crossed.

“Well?” he demanded.

Regin bowed and the other novices hastily followed suit.

“Just a little game, my lord,” he said.

“A game, is it?” Yikmo glowered. “Do the rules of this game take precedence over those of the Guild? Fighting outside lessons or the Arena is forbidden.”