The Magicians' Guild (17 page)

Faren paused, then the sliver of light from the lamp suddenly vanished and darkness filled the passage. Sonea heard him move to the wall. She crept forward and put her eye to one of the little holes.

The entrance to the room stood open, a rectangle of darkness. At first Sonea thought the hideout was empty, then a figure suddenly strode into sight from one of the side rooms, his green robes swaying as he stopped.

“My people managed to stop them by caving in the passage,” Faren whispered, “but one got through. Don’t be alarmed. No one can get through this door. It’s …” He sucked in a quiet breath. “Interesting.”

Sonea put her eye back to the hole and felt her heart skip. The magician appeared to be staring right at her.

“Can he hear us?” Faren murmured. “I tested the walls many times.”

“Perhaps he can see the door,” Sonea suggested.

“No, he’d have to look very closely. Even if he did start looking for doors, there are five exits leading from this room. Why would he choose this one?”

The magician walked toward them and stopped. He stared at the wood, then closed his eyes. Sonea felt an all-too-familiar sensation pass over her. When the magician opened his eyes again, his frown was gone and he was staring directly at Faren.

“How does he know?” Faren hissed. “Are you doing magic right now?”

“No,” Sonea replied, surprised at the confidence in her own voice. “I can hide myself from him. It’s you. He’s sensing you.”

“
Me
?” Faren turned his head from the hole and stared at her.

Sonea shrugged. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Can you hide me?” Faren’s voice was strained. “Can you hide us both?”

Sonea drew away from the hole. Could she? She couldn’t hide what the magician was sensing without detecting it herself. She looked at Faren, then she _ looked_ at Faren. It was as if she had extended her senses—no, another sense that wasn’t sight or hearing—and could feel a
person
there.

Faren uttered an oath.

“Stop whatever you’re doing!” he gasped. Something brushed against the wall. Faren backed away.

“He’s trying to open it,” he told her. “I was afraid he’d try to blast it down. That gives us some time.” He opened the lamp’s shutter and gestured for her to follow him.

They had only taken a few steps when the sound of a bolt sliding across wood halted them. Faren turned and swore. He raised the lamp until its light illuminated the wall.

One by one the bolts were sliding back, apparently on their own. Sonea saw the cogs of the door mechanism begin to turn, then the passage plunged into darkness as the lamp clattered to the floor.

“Run!” Faren hissed. “Follow me!”

Throwing out a hand to the passage wall, Sonea chased the rapping of Faren’s shoes on the ground. She had run no more than twenty paces when a wedge of light leapt past her, throwing her shadow across the floor. The sound of booted footsteps echoed down the passage behind her.

Bright light suddenly filled the passage and her shadow began to shrink rapidly. Heat flashed against her ear and she shied as a bright ball of light overtook her. It shot past Faren and flashed outward to form a glowing barrier.

Skidding to a halt, Faren spun about to face their pursuer, his face pale in the white light. Reaching his side, Sonea turned. A robed figure strode toward them. Heart pounding, Sonea backed away until she could feel the vibration and heat of the barrier behind her.

Faren made a growling noise deep in his throat, then clenched his fists and started back down the passage toward the magician. Surprised, Sonea could only stare at him with amazement.

“You!” Faren pointed at the magician. “Who do you think you are? This is _ my_ domain. You’re
trespassing!”

His voice echoed in the passage. The magician slowed and regarded the Thief with wary eyes.

“The law says we may go where we must,” the magician told him.

“The law also says you may not harm people or their property,” Faren retorted. “I’d say you’ve done enough of both in the last few weeks.”

The magician stopped and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“We did not mean to kill that boy. It was a mistake.” The magician looked at Sonea and she felt a chill run down her spine. “There is much we must explain to you. You must be taught how to control your powers—”

“Don’t you understand?” Faren hissed. “She doesn’t want to become a magician. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Just
leave her alone.”

“I can’t do that,” the magician shook his head. “She must come with us—”

“No!” Faren shouted.

The magician’s eyes turned cold, sending a chill through Sonea.

“Don’t, Faren!” she called. “He’ll kill you.”

Ignoring her, Faren braced his legs and placed his hands on the walls on either side of the passage.

“If you want her,” he growled, “you’ll have to come through me.”

The magician hesitated, then took a step forward, his palms turning toward Faren. A metallic clang filled the passage.

The magician threw out his arms and vanished.

Baffled, Sonea stared at the floor where the magician had been standing. A dark square had appeared.

Dropping his arms, Faren threw back his head and began to laugh. Heart still pounding, Sonea crept forward until she stood beside him. Looking down, she saw that the square of darkness was a large hole in the floor.

“Wh-what happened?”

Faren’s laughter subsided to a chuckle. He reached up and swivelled out a brick in the wall. Reaching into the gap beyond, he grasped something and, with a grunt of effort, pulled it forward. A trapdoor slowly swivelled up and clicked into place, covering the hole. Faren kicked some of the dust on the floor over it.

“That was far too easy,” he said, wiping his hands on a nosecloth. He grinned at Sonea, and sketched a quick bow. “Did you like my performance?”

Sonea felt a smile starting to pull at her lips. “I’m still awake, I guess.”

“Ha!” Faren’s brows rose.
“You
seemed to think it was convincing. ‘Don’t, Faren! He’ll kill you!’ ” he said in a high-pitched voice. He placed a hand over his heart and smiled. “I’m so touched at your concern for my safety.”

“Enjoy it,” she told him. “It might not last.” She touched the trapdoor with her toe. “Where does it go?”

He shrugged. “Oh, straight down into a pit filled with iron spikes.”

Sonea stared at him. “You mean … he’s dead?”

“Very.” Faren’s eyes flashed.

Sonea looked down at the trapdoor. Surely not … but if Faren said… though the magician might have managed to…

Suddenly she felt sick and cold. She had never considered that any of the magicians might be killed. Injured, perhaps, but not
killed.
What would the Guild do when they learned that one of their magicians was dead?

“Sonea.” Faren placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s not dead. The trap leads to a sewage pool. It’s meant as an escape route. He’ll wade out of there smelling worse than the Tarali River, but he’ll be alive.”

Sonea nodded, relieved.

“But consider what he would have done to
you,
Sonea. One day
you
may have to kill for your freedom.” Faren lifted an eyebrow. “Have you thought about that?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and regarded the barrier of light and heat that still blocked the passage. He shook his head and began to walk back down the passage toward the hideout. Sonea stepped nervously across the trapdoor and followed him.

“We can’t go back,” he mused aloud as he walked, “in case the other magicians have found another way in. We’ll have to …” He moved closer to the wall to inspect it. “Ah, here it is.” He touched something on the wall.

She gasped as the floor fell away from under her feet. Something hard slapped her backside, then she was sliding down a steep, smooth surface. The air began to warm rapidly and gain a distinctly unpleasant odor.

She was airborne suddenly, then plunging into wet darkness. Water filled her ears and nose, but she kept her mouth tightly closed. Kicking out, she discovered the floor and pushed herself up to the surface of the water. She opened her eyes in time to see Faren fly from a tunnel and splash into the pool. He thrashed around, pushing himself up to the water’s surface with a curse.

“Argh!” he roared. He wiped his eyes and swore again. “Wrong trapdoor!”

Sonea crossed her arms. “So where
did
the magician end up?”

Faren looked up and an evil light filled his yellow eyes.

“The garbage chute of the bol brewhouse a few houses away,” he breathed. “After he wades out of there he’ll stink of fermented tugor mash for a week.”

Sonea snorted and began to wade to the edge of the pool. “That’s worse than this?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps for a magician. From what I hear, they hate the stuff.” He followed her out of the pool, then gave her a speculative look. “I think I owe you a bath and a change of clothing, eh?”

“For nearly failing to protect me?” Sonea shrugged. “It’ll do, but you’ll have to think of something better for dropping me in a sewer.”

He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Though the air was crisp with the gathering winter cold, and the sky was heavy with gray cloud, Rothen’s mood lifted when he stepped outside. It was a Freeday. For most magicians, the fifth and last day of the week was a day of leisure. For novices, it was, in part, dedicated to study, and for teachers it allowed time to review and prepare lessons.

Rothen usually spent an hour walking in the gardens, then returned to his rooms to work on lessons. He had nothing to prepare this week, however. Officially designated as the organizer of the search, his duties as a teacher had been delegated to another magician.

He spent most of his time coordinating the volunteers. It was an exhausting task—for himself
and
the volunteers. They had spent the last three weeks, including Freedays, searching. Rothen knew that some would withdraw their help if the demands on their time continued, so he had decided to call the search off for a day.

As he turned a corner, the Guild’s Arena came into sight. Eight spires curved up from the circular base, providing a framework for a powerful shield which protected everything outside from the forces thrown about during Warrior classes. Four novices stood within, but today no spectacular show of power was in progress.

Instead, the novices stood in pairs, swinging swords in controlled, synchronized movements. A few paces away stood Fergun, sword in hand, observing the novices closely.

Watching them, Rothen struggled not to disapprove. Surely the novices’ time would be better spent on study than pursuing this redundant martial art?

Sword fighting was not part of the University’s studies. Those novices who were determined to learn the art gave up their spare time to do so. It was a hobby, and Rothen knew it was healthy for the youngsters to have an interest that didn’t involve magic and got them out of their stuffy rooms.

However, he had always believed that robes and swords did not go together well. There were already too many ways a magician could harm another person. Why add a non-magical one to the list?

Two magicians stood on the steps surrounding the Arena, watching intently. Rothen recognized Fergun’s friend, Lord Kerrin, and Lord Elben, a teacher of Alchemy. Both were from the powerful House Maron, as was Fergun. He smiled to himself. Novices and magicians were expected to leave House alliances and enmities behind them when they joined the Guild, but few ever did.

As he watched, Fergun called one of the novices over to him. Teacher and novice saluted each other and dropped into a crouch. Rothen caught his breath as the novice advanced, sword flashing in a confident attack. Fergun stepped forward, his weapon all but vanishing in a blur of movement. The novice froze and looked down to find Fergun’s weapon pressing against his chest.

“Tempted to join Lord Fergun’s classes?” asked a familiar voice behind him.

Rothen turned. “At my age, Administrator?” He shook his head. “Even if I were thirty years younger, I wouldn’t see the value in it.”

“It sharpens the reflexes, I’m told, and is useful in teaching discipline and concentration,” Lorlen said. “Lord Fergun has some support for it now, and has asked us to consider including sword fighting in the University studies.”

“That would be for Lord Balkan to decide, wouldn’t it?”

“Partly. The Head of Warriors must present the addition to the Higher Magicians for vote. When and if he does that is up to him.” Lorlen spread his hands. “I heard you had decided to give the searchers a rest for the day.”

Rothen nodded. “They’ve been working long hours, sometimes late into the night.”

“It has been a busy four weeks for you all,” Lorlen agreed. “Are you making any progress?”

“Not much,” Rothen admitted. “Not since last week. Every time we sense her, we find she has moved to another location.”

“As Dannyl predicted.”

“Yes, but we’ve been looking for repetitions in her movements. If she is returning to some of these hiding places, we might be able to locate them in the same way we did the first time, but over a longer period.”

“And what of this man who helped her escape? Do you think he was one of the Thieves?”

Rothen shrugged. “Perhaps. He accused Lord Jolen of invading his territory, which suggests he was, but I find it hard to believe that one of the Thieves is a Lonmar. The man may simply be a protector and his accusation designed to lure Jolen over the trapdoor.”

“So there’s a possibility she is not involved with the Thieves?”

“A possibility, yes, but it is unlikely. I doubt she has the money to pay for protectors. The men Jolen encountered in the tunnel, and the comfortable rooms she was staying in, suggest that someone well organized and funded is looking after her.”

“Either way, not good news.” Lorlen sighed and looked at the novices in the Arena. “The King is not happy about this, and he won’t be until we have her under our control.”

“Neither will I.”

Lorlen nodded. He pursed his lips, then regarded Rothen again. “There is another matter I should discuss with you.”