The Novice (16 page)

Several groups of novices stood around the entrance. They stopped their conversations to stare at her, some leaning closer together to whisper. She gave them a mild glance as she passed, then stepped through the open doors.

More novices roamed along the corridor inside, and Sonea resisted the urge to scan for familiar faces. Tania moved to the right of the entrance and knocked on a door.

As they waited, Sonea watched the novices in the corridor from the corner of her eye. She wondered where Regin was. Surely he’d be present for this little moment of victory.

The door opened and a thin, sharp-featured Warrior looked down at Sonea. She bowed and considered the mutterings and complaints she’d heard about the Director of the Novices’ Quarters. Ahrind wasn’t liked.

“So. You’re here,” he said coldly. “Follow me.”

He strode down the corridor, novices carefully veering out of his path, and stopped at a door not far along. It clicked open to reveal a room as plain and small as the ones she remembered.

“No changes to the room,” Ahrind said. “No visitors after the evening gong. If you are to be absent for any number of nights, please inform me two days prior to the first evening. The room is to be kept clean and tidy. Make arrangements with the servants as necessary. Am I clear?”

Sonea nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

He turned and strode away. Exchanging a glance with Tania, Sonea entered the room and looked around.

It was slightly bigger than her bedroom had been, containing a bed, a cupboard for her clothes, a desk and some shelves. Moving to the window, she looked out at the Arena and the gardens. Tania set the box down on the bed and began unpacking.

“I didn’t see that boy,” Tania noted.

“No. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t watching, or one of his followers.”

“It’s good that you’re so close to the entrance.”

Nodding, Sonea took her notebooks, pens and paper out of the box and stowed them in the drawers of the desk. “Ahrind probably wants to keep an eye on me. Make sure I’m not a bad influence.”

Tania made a rude noise. “The servants don’t like him much. I’d give him no reason to notice me, if I were you. What are you going to do about meals?”

Sonea shrugged. “I’ll have dinner with Rothen. Otherwise…the Foodhall, I expect. I might be able to slip in, take something, and slip away again before Regin finishes.”

“I’ll bring you something to eat here, if you like.”

“You shouldn’t,” Sonea sighed. “You’ll just make yourself a target.”

‘I’ll come with one of the other servants, or get one to drop something off for you. I’m not going to let that boy deprive you of food.”

“He won’t, Tania,” Sonea assured her. “Now, everything’s unpacked.” She rested her palm over the cupboard door, then over the drawer of the desk. “Everything’s locked. Let’s meet Rothen at the Magicians Library.”

Smiling, Sonea shooed the servant out of the room, locked the door, and set off for the University.

“What’s this in my pocket?” Drawing a slip of paper out of his coat, Tayend examined it. “Ah, my notes from my visit to the wharf.” He read them and frowned. “Akkarin was gone for six years, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Dannyl replied.

“That meant he spent five of them here, after he returned from the Vin Islands.”

“Unless he travelled overland to somewhere else,” Dannyl pointed out.

“Where to?” Tayend frowned. “I wish we could ask the family he stayed with, but they’re likely to let Akkarin know someone was asking about him and you seem to want to avoid that.” He drummed his fingers on the railing of the ship.

Dannyl smiled and turned his face into the wind. He had come to like the scholar since they had begun working together. Tayend had a quick mind and a good memory, and was companionable as well as a good assistant. When Tayend had offered to accompany Dannyl on his journey to Lonmar, Dannyl had been surprised and pleased. He’d asked if Irand would allow it.

“Oh, I only work here because I want to,” Tayend had replied, clearly amused. “In fact, I don’t
work
as such. I get the run of the library in exchange for making myself useful to visitors and researchers.”

When Dannyl had expressed his desire to visit Lonmar and Vin he had been sure that the First Ambassador would disapprove. After all, he’d only been in Elyne a few months. But Errend had been delighted. It seemed that Lorlen had asked him to visit these countries to deal with some ambassadorial matters, and Errend was not at all fond of ship travel. He’d promptly decided that Dannyl would go in his place.

This was all suspiciously convenient…

“How did he get back to the Guild?”

Dannyl started, then turned to regard Tayend. “Who?”

“Akkarin.”

“They say he just walked up to the Guild Gates, all dirty and dressed in ordinary clothes, and nobody recognized him at first.”

Tayend’s eyes widened. “Really? Did he say why?”

Dannyl shrugged. “Possibly. I have to admit, I didn’t pay much attention at the time.”

“Wish we could ask him.”

“If we’re looking for ancient magic, the reason Akkarin turned up looking shabby at the end of his search is probably not going to tell us anything. Lorlen said his quest wasn’t completed, remember.”

“I’d still like to know,” Tayend insisted.

The ship rocked as it passed through the arms of the bay. Looking back, Dannyl sighed with appreciation at the shining city. He was lucky, indeed, to have been assigned the role of Guild Ambassador in such a place. Tayend stowed the slip of paper away.

“Goodbye, Capia,” he said wistfully. “It’s like leaving the arms of a beautiful lover you’ve shamelessly taken for granted. Only in the leaving do you realize what you have.”

“The Splendid Temple is said to be a magnificent place.”

Tayend looked around the ship’s deck. “Yes, and we will be seeing it for ourselves. What an adventure awaits us! What fine sights and memorable experiences—and what a fantastic way to travel.”

“You might want to wait until you see your room before you come up with any more grand descriptions of our journey—though I must say you will find sleeping in it a memorable experience.”

Tayend swayed as the ship rolled through the waves. “It will stop this soon, won’t it? When it gets farther out?”

“Stop what?” Dannyl asked slyly.

The scholar looked at him in horror, then flung himself at the railing and vomited. Dannyl immediately felt ashamed of his teasing remark.

“Here.” He took Tayend’s hand and placed his palm on the man’s wrist. Closing his eyes, he sent his awareness into the scholar’s body, but the sense of it vanished as the scholar snatched his hand away.

“No. Don’t.” Tayend had flushed a bright red. “I’ll be fine. It’s seasickness, right? I’ll get used to it.”

“You don’t have to be ill,” Dannyl said, puzzled by the scholar’s reaction.

“Yes, I do.” Tayend leaned over the railing again. After a moment, he slumped against the rail and wiped his mouth on a nosecloth. “It’s all part of the experience, you see,” he told the waves. “If you stop me feeling it, I won’t have any good stories to tell.”

Dannyl shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind…”

Tayend coughed. “I’ll let you know.”

As the last rays of light left all but the highest leaves within the forest, Lorlen stepped out of the University and made his way toward the High Lord’s Residence.

Once again, he must endeavor to store all he knew in some dark part of his mind. Once more he would make friendly conversation, tell a few jokes, and drink the best wine in the Allied Lands.

He would have trusted his life to Akkarin, once. They had been close as novices, confiding in each other, defending each other. Akkarin had been the one most likely to break Guild rules and propose mischief. Lorlen frowned. Had that led to this interest in black magic? Was Akkarin just bending the rules for the sake of his own entertainment?

He sighed. He didn’t like fearing Akkarin. It was easier, on nights like this, to invent a good reason for Akkarin to be using black magic. But doubts always remained.

“The fight has weakened me. I need your strength.”

What fight? Who had Akkarin battled? Remembering the blood that had covered Akkarin in Sonea’s memory, Lorlen could only conclude that the adversary had been badly hurt. Or murdered.

Lorlen shook his head. The stories Derril and his son had told were strange and disturbing. Both involved victims who appeared to be dead despite wounds that weren’t severe. This wasn’t enough to prove a black magician had been at work, however. He could not help thinking that, if he wasn’t worried about Akkarin, he might have been more inclined to bring the deaths to Vinara’s attention. The Healer might know a way to detect if a person had been killed with black magic.

But if the Guild started looking for a black magician, would it all lead to a premature confrontation with Akkarin?

Stopping at the door of the High Lord’s Residence, Lorlen sighed. He must push these things from his mind. Some of the magicians actually suspected that the High Lord could read thoughts from a distance. While he didn’t believe this, Akkarin did have an uncanny ability to discover secrets before anyone else.

As always, the door swung inward as soon as he knocked. Stepping inside, he found Akkarin standing a few steps away, holding out a glass of wine.

Lorlen smiled and accepted the glass. “Thank you.”

Taking another glass from a nearby table, Akkarin lifted it to his lips. He regarded Lorlen over the brim. “You look tired.”

Lorlen nodded. “I’m not surprised.” He shook his head and turned away, starting toward a chair.

“Takan says dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Akkarin said. “Come upstairs.”

Moving to the left side of the room, Akkarin opened the door to the stairs and waved Lorlen through. As he climbed, Lorlen felt an uneasiness steal over him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the black-robed magician following behind him. He pushed the feeling away and stepped into the long corridor at the top of the stairs.

Halfway along, a pair of doors stood open, inviting Lorlen into the dining room. Takan stood within. As the servant bowed, Lorlen resisted looking too closely at the man, though he’d had few opportunities to examine Takan since learning of Akkarin’s activities.

Takan moved to a chair and drew it out. Settling into it, Lorlen watched the man perform the same service for the High Lord, then hasten away.

“So what is bothering you, Lorlen?”

Lorlen looked at Akkarin in surprise. “Bothering me?”

Akkarin smiled. “You seem distracted. What is on your mind?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lorlen sighed. “I had to make an unpleasant decision this week.”

“Oh? Is Lord Davin trying to purchase more materials for his weather experiments?”

“No—well, that too. I had to move Sonea to the Novices’ Quarters. It seemed cruel when she’s obviously not getting along well with her classmates.”

Akkarin shrugged. “She was fortunate to spend as long with Rothen as she did. Someone was bound to protest eventually. I’m surprised the issue wasn’t raised earlier.”

Nodding, Lorlen waved a hand. “It is done. I can only try to keep an eye on the situation between her and her classmates, and urge Lord Garrel to curb Regin’s antics.”

“You can try, but even if you asked Garrel to follow his novice about it wouldn’t stop the boy doing whatever he’s doing. She will have to learn to fend for herself if she’s to gain the other novices’ respect.”

Takan arrived with a tray, and set down small bowls of soup. Cupping the bowl in one long-fingered hand, Akkarin sipped experimentally, then smiled.

“You always mention Sonea when you come here,” he remarked. “It’s not like you to show an interest in a particular novice.”

His mouth full of the salty soup, Lorlen swallowed carefully. “I’m curious to see how well she fits in—to see how much her background hampers her progress. It is in all our interests to see she adapts to our ways, and fulfils her potential, so I take note of her progress from time to time.”

“Thinking of recruiting more from the lower classes, perhaps?”

Lorlen grimaced. “No. Are you?”

Looking away, Akkarin lifted his shoulders slightly. “Sometimes. There must be a lot of potential we miss by ignoring so much of the population. Sonea is proof of that.”

Lorlen chuckled. “Not even
you
could persuade the Guild to try it.”

Returning with a large platter, Takan set it down between Lorlen and Akkarin. He removed the empty bowls and replaced them with plates. As the servant disappeared again, Akkarin began selecting from the many dishes arranged on the platter.

As he followed suit, Lorlen allowed himself a little sigh of contentment. It was good to be eating a proper formal dinner again. The rushed meals he ate in his office were never as good as freshly prepared food.

“What news do
you
have?” he asked.

Between mouthfuls, Akkarin described the antics of the King and his court. “I’ve heard good reports of our new Ambassador in Elyne,” he added. “Seems that more than a few young unmarried women have been presented to him, but he has been politely disinterested in all of them.”

Lorlen smiled. “I’m sure he’s enjoying himself.” Pausing, he decided this was a good opportunity to pose a question about Akkarin’s travels. “I envy him. Unlike you, I never had the opportunity to travel, and I don’t know if I will ever get the time now. I don’t suppose you kept a diary? I know you used to when we were novices.”

Akkarin regarded Lorlen speculatively. “I remember a certain novice who used to try to read my diary at every opportunity.”

Chuckling, Lorlen looked down at his plate. “Not anymore. I’m just looking for a travel story to read late at night.”

“I can’t help you,” Akkarin said. He sighed and shook his head. “My journal and all the notes I made were destroyed during the last part of my journey. I have often wished that I had made a copy, and sometimes I have a fancy to return and collect all the information again. Like you, I have responsibilities that keep me in Kyralia. Perhaps when I’m an old man I’ll slip away again.”