The Novice (9 page)

Lorlen snorted softly. No doubt Akkarin was referring to attending court and the King.
I just can’t help interpreting what he says in light of what I know.

Visiting Akkarin had never been a trial before Sonea’s Hearing. Now he left the High Lord’s Residence tired and relieved the ordeal was over. He thought of his bed and shook his head. He still had to sit through endless requests and questions in the Night Room before he could slip away to his rooms. Sighing, he lengthened his stride and started through the gardens.

As Sonea waited for the class to begin, she opened her book of notes and started to read. A shadow crossed her desk, and she jumped as a hand flashed in front of her and grabbed one of the sheets of paper. She made a desperate grab for it, but was too slow. The paper was whisked away.

“Well, what do we have here?” Regin strolled to the front of the class and leaned back on the teacher’s desk. “Sonea’s notes.”

She stared at him coldly. The other novices were watching him with interest. Regin scanned the page and laughed with delight.

“Look at this
writing!
” he exclaimed, holding it up. “She writes like a
child.
Oh, and the
spelling!
”

Sonea stifled a groan as he started to read, and made a great show of his “struggle” to decipher words. After a few sentences, he stopped and puzzled aloud over their meaning. She heard several half-smothered laughs and felt her face beginning to burn. Regin grinned and began exaggerating the spelling mistakes on the page by pronouncing each word literally, and the room began to echo with unrestrained laughter.

Placing an elbow on the table before her, Sonea rested her chin in her hand and tried to look unconcerned, while her entire body turned hot, then cold, over and over, as anger and humiliation overtook each other.

Regin straightened suddenly and hurried back to his seat. As the laughter faded, the sound of footsteps could be heard. A purple-robed figure appeared in the doorway. Lord Elben peered down his long nose at the class, then moved to his seat and placed a wooden box on the table.

“Fire,” he began, “is like a living creature and, like a living creature, it has needs.”

He opened the box and lifted out a candle and a small dish. With a quick stab, he speared the candle onto a spike in the center of the dish.

“Fire needs air and food, just as all creatures do. Don’t assume that it
is
a creature.” He chuckled. “That is foolish, but do keep in mind that it often behaves as though it has a mind of its own.”

Behind her someone choked back a laugh. Sonea turned her head. In the corner of her eye she saw Kano pass something to Vallon, and her stomach turned. Unseen by Lord Elben, her handwriting was entertaining the entire class.

Slowly, she drew in a deep breath and sighed quietly. The second week of lessons showed no improvement on the first. All of the novices—except Shern, who had disappeared completely after a strange outburst in which he claimed to have been seeing sunlight coming through the ceiling—now gathered around Regin at every opportunity. It was clear that she was not welcome in this little gang, and that Regin intended to make her the butt of all his jokes and pranks.

She was the outcast. But unlike the boys who had tried and failed to be accepted in Harrin’s gang, she could not find somewhere else to go. She was stuck with them.

So she had adopted the only defense she could think of: ignoring them. If she didn’t entertain Regin and the others by reacting to their jibes, they would eventually grow bored and leave her alone.

“Sonea.”

She jumped and found Lord Elben frowning at her in disapproval. Her heart began to pound. Had he spoken to her? Had she been so engrossed in self-pity that she hadn’t heard him? Would he chastise her in front of the class?

“Yes, Lord Elben?” she said, bracing herself for further humiliation.

“You will make the first attempt to light this candle,” he said. “Now, I’ll remind you that the production of heat is easier when…”

Relieved, Sonea focused her will on the candle. She could almost hear Rothen’s voice as his instructions repeated in her mind.
“Draw a little magic, extend your will, focus your mind on the wick, shape the magic, and release it…”
She felt a sliver of her power jump to the wick and a flame spluttered into life.

Lord Elben blinked at it, his mouth still open. “...thank you, Sonea,” he finished. He looked around the rest of the class. “I have candles for you all. Your task this morning is to learn how to light them, then practice lighting them quickly, with as little thought as possible.”

He gathered candles from the box and set them in front of each novice. At once they began to stare at the wicks. Sonea watched, her amusement growing as she saw that no candle, not even Regin’s, began to burn.

Elben returned to his desk and took out a sphere of glass filled with blue liquid. He brought it to Sonea’s table and set it down.

“This is an exercise that will teach you subtlety,” he told her. “The substance in this container is sensitive to temperature. If you heat it slowly and evenly, it will change to red. If you do not, bubbles will form, and it will take several minutes for them to dissipate. I want to see red, not bubbles. Call me when you have achieved that.”

Nodding, Sonea waited until he had moved back to his desk, then concentrated on the sphere. Unlike lighting a candle, this needed only a warming energy. Drawing in a deep breath, she shaped some magic into a gentle mist so that it would heat the glass evenly. As she released it, the liquid darkened to a deep red.

Satisfied, she looked up and found Elben in discussion with Regin.

“I don’t understand,” the boy was saying.

“Try again,” Elben said.

Regin stared at the candle in his hand, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Lord Elben?” Sonea ventured. The teacher straightened and began to turn toward her.

“So it’s like focusing magic into the wick?” Regin asked, drawing Elben’s attention back to him.

“Yes,” Elben said, a note of impatience entering his voice. As Regin stared at his candle again, the teacher turned to look at Sonea’s sphere. He shook his head.

“Not hot enough.”

Looking down at the sphere, Sonea saw that the liquid was cooling to a purple. Frowning, she focused her will on it again, and the purple brightened to red again.

Regin jumped in his seat, and uttered a bark of surprise and pain. His candle was gone, and his hands were coated with molten wax, which he was frantically trying to peel off. Sonea felt a smile pulling at her lips, and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Are you scalded?” Elben asked, concerned. “You can go to the Healers if you wish.”

“No,” Regin said quickly. “I’m fine.”

Elben’s brows rose. He shrugged, then collected another candle and set it on Regin’s desk. “Back to work,” he snapped at the rest of the class, who were staring at Regin’s reddened hands.

Elben moved to Sonea’s desk, then looked down at the sphere and nodded.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me.”

Once again, Sonea concentrated on the sphere, and the liquid warmed. Elben nodded, satisfied. “Good. I have another exercise for you.” As he returned to the box, she saw Regin watching her. A smile pulled at her lips again, and she saw his hands clench. Then Elben rapped on the boy’s table as he passed.

“Back to work,
all
of you.”

Leaning back on the deck railing, Dannyl breathed in the salty air with relish.

“Sick belly not so bad outside, yai?”

He turned to find Jano approaching, the little man walking along the rocking deck with ease. As Jano reached the railing, he turned and braced his back against it.

“Magicians not get sick on boats,” Jano observed.

“We do,” Dannyl admitted. “But we can Heal it away. It takes concentration, though, and we can’t keep our minds on it all the time.”

“So…you not feel sick when you think about not feeling sick, but you not be able to think about not feeling sick always?”

Dannyl smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jano nodded. From high on the mast, one of the crew rang a bell and called out a few words in the Vindo tongue.

“Did he say Capia?” Dannyl asked, turning to look up.

“Capia, yai!” Jano swung around and stared into the distance, then pointed. “See?”

Dannyl gazed in the direction his companion was pointing, but could see nothing but a spray-clouded line of nondescript coast. He shook his head.

“You have better eyes than me,” he said.

“Vindo have good eyes,” Jano agreed proudly. “Why we are sea-riders.”

“Jano!” a stern voice bellowed.

“Must go.”

Dannyl watched the Vindo sailor hurry away, then turned to regard the coast again. Still unable to see the capital of Elyne, he looked down and watched the bow cutting through the waves, then let his gaze wander over the surface of the water. Throughout the voyage he had found the constant ripple of the water soothing and quite hypnotic, and had been fascinated by the way it changed color depending on the time of day, and the weather.

When he looked up again the land was closer, and he could see rows of tiny pale squares above the shore—distant buildings. A shiver ran over his skin, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He drummed his fingers on the railing as he watched the coast drawing closer.

A large gap between the buildings proved to be the entrance to a bay, well protected from the pounding waves of the sea. The houses were sprawling mansions, surrounded by walled gardens that descended in levels to a white beach. All were constructed of a pale yellow stone that glowed warmly in the morning light. As the ship drew level with the bay entrance, Dannyl caught his breath. The houses on either side formed the arms of a city that embraced the entire bay. Within, he could see grander buildings rising above a high sea wall. Domes swelled behind them and towers rose toward the sky, some linked by great stone archways.

“The captain want you to stand by him, my lord.”

Dannyl nodded at the crewman who had addressed him, then made his way along the deck, to where the captain was standing by a large wheel. The sailors were hurrying about, checking ropes and tossing Vindo words to each other.

“You asked for me, captain?”

The man nodded. “Just want you to stand here, out of way, my lord.”

Positioning himself where Numo had pointed, Dannyl watched as the man stared alternately at the coast, then the sea. Then Numo bellowed an order in his native tongue and began turning the wheel. At once the crew leapt into action. Ropes were pulled. The sails swung about, falling limp as they no longer caught the wind. The ship rocked and tilted as it turned toward the coast.

Then the sails billowed and snapped, filling with wind again. The crew bound ropes into new positions, called confirmations to each other, and settled down to wait.

When they had sailed considerably closer to the coast, the scene was repeated again. This time the ship took them through the entrance of the bay. The captain turned to regard Dannyl.

“You been to Capia before, my lord?”

Dannyl shook his head. “No.”

Numo turned and nodded at the city. “Pretty.”

Simple facades of arches and columns were visible now. Unlike the mansions of Kyralia, few of the buildings bore elaborate decoration, though some towers and domes were sculpted into subtle spiral or fan-like patterns.

“Better when sun sets,” Numo told him. “You hire boat one night and see it.”

“I will,” Dannyl replied quietly. “I definitely will.”

The captain’s mouth twitched into the closest expression of a smile that Dannyl had seen so far. It vanished quickly as the man began shouting orders again. Sails were rolled at their base to make them smaller. The ship slowed, drifting toward a gap between the thousands of watercraft that were anchored in the bay. Ahead, several ships were moored at the high sea wall.

“You get things from room now,” Numo said, glancing over his shoulder at Dannyl. “We arrive soon, my lord. Send man to tell your people you here. They come get you.”

“Thank you, captain.” Dannyl walked down the deck and below to his cabin. As he tidied his room and checked his bag he felt the ship slow and swing about. Muffled orders reached him through the roof, then everything shuddered as the hull met the wall of the wharf.

When he climbed out onto the deck again, the crew was lashing the ship to heavy iron rings on the wall. Large, bulging sacks hung from the side of the ship, protecting it from the wharf. A narrow walkway ran along the side of the wall with stairs at either end leading up to the top.

The captain and Jano stood together beside the rail. “You can be on your way now, my lord,” Numo said, bowing. “It was honor to transport you.”

“Thank you,” Dannyl replied. “It was an honor riding with you, Captain Numo,” he added in Vindo. “Sail well.”

Numo’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He bowed stiffly, then strode away.

Jano grinned. “He like you. Magicians not try be polite our way.”

Dannyl nodded. That didn’t surprise him. As four sailors appeared with Dannyl’s chests, Jano gestured for Dannyl to follow, then they walked across the plank down to the walkway. Dannyl stopped after a few steps, disconcerted by the way the wall seemed to sway and rock under his feet. He stepped aside so that the crewmen carrying the chests could pass. Jano looked back and, noticing Dannyl’s puzzled expression, laughed.

“You must get your legs used to land again,” he called. “Not take long.”

With a hand to the wall, Dannyl followed the sailors along the walkway and up the stairs. At the top he found himself beside a wide, busy road running along the edge of the wharf. The sailors set down the chests, then perched themselves on the wall, apparently pleased to be doing nothing but watching the traffic.

“We had good journey,” Jano said. “Good wind. No storm.”

“No sea leeches,” Dannyl added.

Jano laughed and shook his head. “No eyoma. They swim in north seas.” He paused. “You good man to practice speaking this language with. Learn many new words.”