The Novice (52 page)

Looking at Regin she saw that, being the closest, he had suffered the worst. His eyes were streaming, and his face was raw with red spots.

A strange feeling was bubbling up inside her. Realizing she was going to laugh, she covered her mouth. Hauling herself away from the wall, she swayed, then made herself straighten.

Don’t let them see how tired I am,
she thought.
Don’t give them time to get ideas of revenge into their heads.

She started walking through the group of novices. Regin’s head snapped up. “Don’t let her get away,” he growled.

A few novices looked up, but the rest ignored him.

“Forget it. I’m getting these robes off now,” one novice said. Others nodded, and began to move away. Regin blinked at them, his face darkening with fury, but he did not argue.

Sonea turned her back and forced her tired legs to carry her past the novices and away.

Rothen yawned as he climbed the stairs of the Magicians’ Quarters. Even a cold bath hadn’t done much to wake him up. He found Tania waiting for him in his guestroom, laying out plates of cakes and buns.

“Good morning, Tania,” he said.

“You’re a little late this morning, my lord,” she replied.

“Yes.” He rubbed his face, then started making sumi. Realizing she was still watching him, he sighed. “I’ve cut down to a tenth of the dosage.”

She didn’t say anything, just nodded approvingly. “I have some news.” She paused, and when he gestured for her to continue, she grimaced apologetically. “You won’t like it.”

“Go on.”

The University cleaners were complaining this morning that some foul-smelling liquid was splattered all over one of the passages. I asked them what they thought had happened, and they started grumbling about novices fighting each other. They were a bit reluctant to say which novices—reluctant to say in front of me, that is. So I bribed it out of one of the serving girls who had already heard the story.

“Regin has been gathering together other novices and waylaying Sonea at night. I asked Viola about it, and she said she hadn’t seen anything to suggest that Sonea had been harmed at all.”

Rothen frowned. “It would take a lot to wear Sonea out.” He felt a spark of anger as he realized what this meant. “Once she had, though, Regin could do anything to her. She’d be too tired to even fight him off physically.”

Tania drew in a sharp breath. “He wouldn’t dare hurt her, would he?”

“Not in any way that would do lasting damage, or have him expelled.” Rothen scowled at the table.

“Why doesn’t the High Lord put a stop to it—or hasn’t he heard about it? Perhaps you should tell him.”

Rothen shook his head. “He knows. It’s his place to know.”

“But—” Tania stopped at a knock on the door. Relieved at the interruption, Rothen willed it open. A messenger stepped inside, bowed, and handed Rothen a letter, before retreating from the room again.

“It’s for Sonea.” Rothen turned the letter over and felt his heart skip. “It’s from her aunt and uncle.”

Tania moved closer. “Don’t they know she isn’t living in your rooms anymore?”

“No. Sonea thought Regin might get hold of her mail if it came to her in the Novices’ Quarters, and she probably hasn’t contacted them since she moved to the residence.”

“Would you like me to take it to her?” Tania offered.

Rothen looked up, surprised. It was easy to forget that others had no reason to fear Akkarin. “Would you?”

“Of course. I haven’t spoken to her in such a long time.”

Akkarin might grow suspicious if he saw Rothen’s servant delivering a message to Sonea, however. “She’ll want to read this as soon as possible. If you deliver it to her room, she won’t get it until tonight. I think she spends Freedays in the Novices’ Library. Could you give it to Lady Tya?”

“Yes.” Tania took the letter and slipped it into the front of her uniform. “I’ll drop by the library after dropping these dishes off at the kitchen.”

“Agh! My legs hurt!” Tayend complained.

Dannyl laughed quietly as the scholar collapsed onto a boulder to rest. “
You
wanted to visit the ruins. It wasn’t my idea.”

“But Dem Ladeiri made them sound so interesting.” Tayend pulled out his flask and drank a few mouthfuls of water. “And closer.”

“He just neglected to say we’d have to scale a few cliffs to get here. Or that the rope bridge wasn’t safe.”

“Well, I suppose he did tell us it had been a long time since he had come up here. Levitation must really come in handy at times.”

“At times.”

“Why aren’t you breathing hard?”

Dannyl smiled. “Levitation isn’t the only useful trick the Guild teaches us.”

“You’re
healing
yourself?” Tayend threw a small stone at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Then I assume you would refuse my assistance if I offered it.”

“No, I feel it would be only fair that I have the same advantage as you.”

Dannyl sighed in mock resignation. “Give me your wrist, then.” To his surprise, Tayend offered his arm without hesitation, but as Dannyl placed his palm against the scholar’s skin, Tayend looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

Sending a little Healing magic into Tayend’s body, Dannyl soothed the stressed muscles. Most Healers would frown at this waste of magic. There was nothing wrong with Tayend, he was simply unused to the strain of trekking across mountainous territory.

As Dannyl released Tayend’s arm, the scholar stood and looked down at himself.

“That is amazing!” he exclaimed. “I feel like I did this morning, before we left.” He grinned at Dannyl, then began striding up the path. “Come on, then. We haven’t got all day.”

Bemused, Dannyl followed. Only a few hundred paces on, Tayend reached a rise and slowed to a stop. As Dannyl caught up with the scholar, the ruins came into view. Spread over a gentle slope were low walls, marking the outlines of buildings. Here and there an ancient column had survived, and at the center of the small deserted city a larger, roofless structure still stood intact, its walls constructed of huge slabs of stone. Grass and other vegetation grew over and around everything.

“So this is Armje,” Tayend muttered. “Not much left.”

“It is over a thousand years old.”

“Let’s take a closer look.”

The path, as it curved around to meet the city, widened into a grassy road. As it reached the first of the buildings it straightened, leading to the large building. Dannyl and Tayend paused to examine some of the exposed rooms of the smaller buildings.

“Do you think this was some kind of public washroom?” Tayend asked at one point, standing by a stone bench that had holes cut into it at regular intervals.

“Perhaps some kind of kitchen,” Dannyl replied. “The holes might have held pots over a fire or brazier.”

When they reached the large structure at the center, Dannyl noticed a stillness in the air. They passed beneath a heavy lintel into a wide room. The floor was hidden beneath dirt and waist-high grass and herbs.

“I wonder what this place was,” Tayend mused aloud. “Something important. A palace, perhaps. Or a temple.”

Moving into a smaller room, Tayend suddenly darted to one side. He peered at the wall, which was carved with a complex pattern.

“There are words in this,” he said. “Something about laws.”

Dannyl looked closer, then felt his heart skip a beat as he saw a carved hand. “Look.”

“That’s the glyph for magic,” Tayend said dismissively.

“A hand is the sign for magic in ancient Elyne?”

“Yes—and it is in many ancient writings. Some scholars believe that the modern letter ‘m’ is derived from the symbol of a hand.”

“So half of the Charkan King’s title indicates magic. What does the crescent moon mean, then?”

Tayend shrugged and moved farther into the ruin. “Moon magic. Night magic. Does magic ever follow the cycles of the moon?”

“No.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with women. Women’s magic. Wait—look at this!”

Tayend had stopped before another carved wall. He was pointing at a section high up where some of the stone had fallen away, leaving only part of the carving behind. Then Dannyl drew in a sharp breath. The scholar wasn’t pointing at one of the carved glyphs. He was pointing at a familiar name written in modern lettering.

“Dem Ladeiri didn’t mention anything about Akkarin coming up here,” Tayend said.

“Perhaps he forgot. Perhaps Akkarin didn’t tell him.”

“But he really wanted us to come here.”

Dannyl stared at the name, then looked at the rest of the wall. “What does the ancient writing say?”

Tayend looked closer. “Give me a minute…”

As the scholar examined the glyphs, Dannyl stepped back and looked around the room. Below Akkarin’s name was a relief carving of an archway. Or was it? He scuffed the dirt and grass away from the base and smiled as he uncovered a crack.

Tayend drew in a sharp breath. “According to this, this is a—”

“Door,” Dannyl finished.

“Yes!” Tayend tapped the wall. “And it leads to a place of judgment. I wonder if it can still be opened.”

Looking at the door, Dannyl extended his senses. He detected a simple mechanism, designed to be opened from the inside only—or by magic.

“Stand back.”

As Tayend moved out of the way, Dannyl exerted his will. The mechanism turned reluctantly, straining against the dirt, dust and grass clogging the doorway. A loud rumble and scraping noise filled the room as the stone door swivelled inward, revealing a dark passage.

When the door had opened wide enough for a man to slip through sideways, Dannyl released the mechanism, afraid he would do lasting damage if he forced it farther. He exchanged a look with Tayend.

“Shall we go in?” the scholar whispered.

Dannyl frowned. “I will go first. It might be unstable.”

Tayend looked as if he would protest, but seemed to change his mind. “I’ll continue translating this.”

“I’ll come back as soon as I know it’s safe.”

“You’d better.”

As Dannyl slipped through the door, he willed a globe light into existence and sent it ahead. The walls were unadorned. At first he had to brush aside fine cascades of roots and faren webs, but after twenty steps the way was clear. The floor sloped downward slightly, and the air grew rapidly colder.

There were no side passages. The roof was low and soon Dannyl felt a familiar uneasiness stealing over him. Counting his steps, he had passed two hundred when the walls ended. The floor continued, however, as a narrow ledge leading into utter darkness. Cautiously, he stepped out on this ledge, ready to levitate if it should collapse under his feet. From the way his footsteps echoed, the drop on either side was considerable.

The ledge widened to form a circular platform after about ten paces. Willing his globe light to brighten, Dannyl gasped as the light reflected off a glittering dome. The surface sparkled and shimmered as if covered by innumerable gemstones.

“Tayend!” he called. “Come look at this!” Glancing back at the black opening of the passage, Dannyl flexed his will, creating small globe lights along the length of it.

Something shifted in the corner of his eye. He turned to see that a section of the dome was glittering brighter than the rest. Rivulets of light appeared, shivering toward each other. Staring in fascination, he watched as they raced to meet. It looked like the Arena barrier when it had been struck, except in reverse…

Some instinct warned him and he threw up a shield just in time to meet the streak of power from the dome. He exclaimed in surprise at the strength of it—then again in shock as he felt another attack from behind. Turning, he saw a second starburst of power in the stones…and two more rapidly forming.

He took a step toward the passage entrance, then another, and felt the sting of a barrier blocking his way.
What is going on! Who is doing this?

But there was nobody else here. Only Tayend. Dannyl looked at the passage, but it was empty. As more attacks came, Dannyl spread his hands before the barrier and sent out a bolt of magic. The barrier held. Perhaps, if he put all his strength into it…but he needed power to shield.

He felt panic rising. Every strike tired him further. He had no idea how long this attack would continue. If he waited, this place—this trap—might kill him.

Think!
he told himself. The strikes from the walls were directed at a point above the center of the platform. If he squeezed himself up against the barrier, the strikes might miss him when his shield failed. And if he let his shield drop and put all his power into breaking the barrier it might fall before the next strike hit.

It was all he could think of. He had no time to come up with a better idea. Closing his eyes, he ignored the sting of magic as he pushed up against the barrier. He drew in a breath, then simultaneously dropped his shield and blasted out all his power.

He felt the barrier waver. At the same time, he was conscious of the last of his strength leaving him. He braced himself for pain, but instead felt himself falling. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness…a darkness he continued to fall into long after he ought to have hit the ground…

“Lady Sonea.”

Looking up, Sonea felt her heart skip. “Tania!”

As the servant smiled, fond memories of early morning chats brought an ache of longing. Sonea patted the seat next to her, and Tania sat down.

“How are you?” Tania asked. Something about the way the servant looked at Sonea suggested she didn’t expect a favorable answer.

“Well.” Sonea forced a smile.

“You look tired.”

Sonea shrugged. “Too many late nights. There’s so much to learn now. How are you? Is Rothen keeping you run off your feet?”

Tania chuckled. “He’s no trouble, though he misses you terribly.”

“I miss him, too—and you.”

“I have a letter for you, my lady,” Tania said. She drew it out of her clothes and put it on the table. “Rothen said it was from your aunt and uncle and said you might want to read it straightaway, so I offered to deliver it to you here.”