The Novice (39 page)

Hearing his footsteps fade behind her, she sighed with relief. From his reaction to her presence, novices were not allowed into this part of the University. Yet he had accepted her presence after noting the incal on her sleeve. Perhaps he assumed she was on some errand for the High Lord. She smiled at that. So long as she looked as if she had a reason to be there, the magicians would leave her alone.

So where to from here?
she asked herself. Unfolding the scrap of paper in her hand, she considered her map again.

Returning from the deck, Dannyl found Tayend sitting cross-legged on the narrow bed in his cabin. The scholar’s drawings and notes were spread over every flat surface.

“I’ve translated what I can. There’s a phrase on the coffin that I suspect is repeated in several ancient languages. I’ll be able to check that when I get back to the library. The third line is in the early Elyne tongue that merged with the Kyralian one a thousand years ago.”

“What does it say?”

“That this woman was fair and honorable. That she protected the islands with high magic. The words for ‘high magic’ were carved deeply. There’s a glyph emphasized in the same way in what I think is an old Vindo tongue—which is what was carved on the walls. The same glyph appears on the walls in several places.”

Handing Dannyl a drawing, Tayend pointed out the glyph. Each time the words for “high magic” occurred, the picture above it represented a figure kneeling before a woman. The woman’s hand was extended to touch the supplicant’s upraised palm, as if to placate or reward.

“That could imply that she’s performing this high magic. What do you think she’s doing?”

Dannyl shrugged. “Healing, perhaps. That would make sense, since Healing would have been very rare a thousand years ago. It was only through cooperation and experimentation that the Guild managed to develop the skill—and it’s still the most difficult discipline to learn.”

“So the term ‘high magic’ is not familiar?”

Dannyl shook his head. “No.”

“The hole we looked through did not look natural to me. It had to have been made by someone. Do you think it might have been made by magic?”

“Possibly.” Dannyl smiled. “I think the last visitor did us a favor.”

“Indeed he did.” The ship dropped sharply. Tayend winced and turned a sickly color.

“You’re not going to spend this journey in misery,” Dannyl said firmly. “Give me your wrist.”

Tayend’s eyes widened. “But…I…”

“You haven’t got any excuses now.”

To Dannyl’s amusement, Tayend blushed and looked away. “I’m still, um, uncomfortable with…well…”

Dannyl waved a hand. “This sort of Healing is quick. And I won’t be reading your mind. Besides, you have to face the truth. You’re not very good company when you’re sick. When you’re not throwing up everywhere, you’re complaining about throwing up.”

“
Complaining
about it!” Tayend protested. “I did not complain!” He thrust his wrist out. “Go on then.”

Tayend closed his eyes tightly. Taking the scholar’s wrist, Dannyl sent his mind out and immediately felt nausea and giddiness. A small effort of will soothed it away. Letting go of Tayend’s wrist, Dannyl watched as the scholar opened his eyes and considered the effect.

“That’s much better.” Tayend gave Dannyl a quick, searching glance, then shrugged and looked down at his notes. “How long will it last?”

“A few hours. Longer as you get used to the rocking.”

Tayend smiled. “I knew I’d brought you along for something. What are we going to do when we get back?”

Dannyl grimaced. “I’ll have to spend a lot of time catching up on my ambassadorial duties.”

“Well, while you do that, I’ll continue our research. We knew where Akkarin travelled to because of the ships’ records. A question here and there will tell us what he did afterward. The Bel Arralade has a party to celebrate her birthday every year and that will be the perfect place to start. An invitation will be waiting at the Guild House for you.”

“How can you be sure? I’ve barely spent more than a few months in Capia, and I haven’t met the Bel Arralade yet.”

“Which is why I’m certain you’ll be invited.” Tayend smiled. “A young, unmarried magician like yourself. Besides, Ambassador Errend always attends. If you didn’t get an invite, he’d insist you accompanied him.”

“And you?”

“I have friends who’ll take me if I ask nicely.”

“Why not come with me?”

Tayend glanced up and down the corridor between their cabins. He leaned forward.

“If we arrive together, there will be assumptions made you might rather weren’t.”

“We’ve been travelling together for months,” Dannyl pointed out. “Assumptions may have already been made.”

“Not necessarily.” Tayend waved a hand. “Not if people observe you treating me as a mere underling. They may assume you don’t know about me. After all, you’re Kyralian. If you knew, you would have found another assistant.”

“We really have a bad reputation, don’t we?”

Tayend nodded. “But we can use that to our advantage. If anyone says anything about me, you should be outraged that they would slander my name. I’ll plead with my friends that they keep you in the dark, because it’s important to my work. If we’re convincing enough, we’ll be able to continue working together without anyone questioning.”

Dannyl frowned. He hated to admit it, but Tayend was right. Though he wanted to shrug and let the gossips talk, any steps they could take to protect his reputation would make both of their lives easier.

“Very well. I’ll act like the arrogant Kyralian magician people expect.” He looked at Tayend. “But I want you to remember, if I say anything harsh or judgmental, I don’t really mean it.”

Tayend nodded. “I know.”

“I’m just warning you. My acting skills are fairly good.”

“Oh, really?”

Dannyl chuckled. “Yes, really. I have my mentor’s words to prove it. He said if I could convince the Thieves I was a poor merchant, I could deceive anyone.”

“We’ll see,” Tayend replied. “We’ll see.”

Lord Osen waited patiently as Lorlen finished the letter. With a wave of his hand, Lorlen dried the ink, then folded the sheet of paper and sealed it.

“What is next?” he asked as he handed the letter to Osen.

“That is all.”

Lorlen looked up, surprised. “We’ve caught up?”

“Yes.” Osen smiled.

Leaning back in his chair, Lorlen regarded his assistant approvingly. “I haven’t thanked you for looking after everything for me last week.”

Osen shrugged. “You needed a rest. In my opinion, you should have taken a longer break. Perhaps visited family for a few weeks like everyone else. You still look worn out.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Lorlen replied. “But leave them all to their own devices for a few weeks?” He shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

The young magician chuckled. “Now you’re starting to sound like your old self. Shall we start preparations for the next Meet?”

“No.” Lorlen frowned as he remembered. “I’m visiting the High Lord tonight.”

“Forgive me for saying, but you don’t sound particularly enthusiastic.” Osen hesitated, then continued in a quieter tone. “Have you two had a disagreement?”

Lorlen considered his assistant. Osen rarely missed anything, but he was discreet. Would he believe a denial? Probably not completely.

—
Tell him we have. Something minor.

Lorlen stiffened at the voice in his mind. Akkarin hadn’t spoken to him through the ring since the conversation outside the Night Room over a week ago.

“I guess you could say we have,” Lorlen replied slowly. “In a manner of speaking.”

Osen nodded. “I thought so. Was it over Sonea’s guardianship? That’s what some of the magicians believe.”

“Do they?” Lorlen could not help smiling. He had become an object of gossip.

—
Well?
he projected at the ring.

—
The answer you are considering will do.

Snorting softly, Lorlen looked up and gave Osen a warning look. “I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Osen. Speculation is fine, but I do not want the others to know the High Lord and I disagreed. For Sonea’s sake.”

Osen nodded. “I understand. I will keep it to myself—and I hope you two resolve your differences.”

Lorlen stood up. “That depends on how well Sonea adapts to the change. It is a bit much to expect of her after all she’s been through already.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in her position,” Osen admitted as he followed Lorlen to the door. “But I’m sure she’ll cope.”

Lorlen nodded.
I hope so.
“Good night, Osen.”

“Good night, Administrator.”

The University corridor echoed with the young magician’s steps as he strode away. Walking into the Entrance Hall, Lorlen felt a cloud of dread gather around him. He stepped between the enormous doors and stopped at the top of the stairs.

Looking across the front of the gardens, he considered the High Lord’s Residence. He hadn’t been back since the night Akkarin had read his mind. Remembering sent a chill down his spine.

Taking a deep breath, he made himself think of Sonea. For her safety, he must make himself cross the garden and face Akkarin again. The High Lord’s invitation was not to be refused.

Lorlen forced himself to move. After a few steps, he quickened his pace. Better to get it over and done with. At the door to the residence he paused, heart beating quickly, then made himself knock. As always, the door swung inward at the first touch. Seeing that the room was empty, Lorlen sighed with relief. He stepped inside.

In the corner of his eye he saw a movement. A shadow detached itself from the dark rectangle of the right-hand stairway entrance. Akkarin’s black robes rustled quietly as he approached.

Black robes. Black magic. Ironically, black had always been the color of the High Lord.
You didn’t have to take it so literally,
Lorlen thought.

Akkarin chuckled. “Wine?”

Lorlen shook his head.

“Then sit. Relax.”

Relax?
How could he relax? And he resented this friendly familiarity. Lorlen remained standing, and watched Akkarin move to the wine cabinet and pick up a bottle.

“How is Sonea?”

Akkarin’s shoulders lifted. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure where she is exactly. Somewhere in the University, I believe.”

“She’s not here?”

“No.” Akkarin turned and gestured to the chairs. “Sit.”

“Then how do you…you didn’t give her one of these rings?”

“No.” Akkarin took a sip of wine. “I’ve checked on her from time to time. She spent a few days exploring the University, and now that she’s found a few corners to hide in, she fills her time reading books. Adventure stories, from what I can tell.”

Lorlen frowned. He was glad that Akkarin hadn’t forced Sonea to stay in her room for the break, but hearing of her hiding in corners of the University confirmed how frightened and unhappy she must be.

“Are you sure you don’t want any wine? This year’s Anuren dark is very good.”

Lorlen glanced at the bottle, then shook his head. Sighing, he moved to a chair and sat down.

“Taking on her guardianship has not been as troublesome as I had feared,” Akkarin said quietly as he moved to his chair. “It complicates everything, but it is better than the alternative.”

Lorlen closed his eyes and tried not to think what the alternative might be. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then forced himself to meet Akkarin’s eyes.

“Why have you done this, Akkarin? Why black magic?”

Akkarin met his gaze levelly. “Of all people, Lorlen, you are one I wish I could tell. I saw it change how you regard me. If you had thought defeating me was possible, you would have sent the Guild against me. Why didn’t you ask what I was doing when you first learned of it?”

“Because I didn’t know what you would do.”

“After all the years we were friends, you didn’t trust me?”

“After what I saw in Sonea’s mind, I realized I didn’t know you at all.”

Akkarin’s brows rose. “That’s understandable. It is a powerful thing, this belief that black magic is evil.”

“Is it?”

Akkarin frowned, his eyes focusing far beyond the floor. “Yes.”

“Then why practice it?” Lorlen demanded. He held up the hand bearing the ring. “Why this?”

“I cannot tell you. Be assured, I’m not intending to take over the Guild.”

“You don’t have to. You’re already High Lord.”

The corner of Akkarin’s mouth curled up. “I am, aren’t I? Then be assured that I’m not about to destroy the Guild, or anything else you hold dear.” Putting down his glass, he rose and moved to the serving table. Filling another glass, he handed it to Lorlen.

“I will tell you one day, Lorlen. I promise you that.”

Lorlen stared at Akkarin. The dark eyes were steady. Lorlen accepted the glass and reassurance reluctantly.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Akkarin opened his mouth to reply, but stopped at a faint knock from the door. He straightened and narrowed his eyes.

The door swung open. The glow from Akkarin’s globe light barely reached Sonea’s eyes as she stepped inside, head bowed.

“Good evening, Sonea,” Akkarin said smoothly.

She bowed. “Good evening, High Lord, Administrator,” she replied in a quiet voice.

“What did you do today?”

She looked down at the books she was holding to her chest. “Some reading.”

“With the libraries closed, you must have little to choose from. Are there any books you would like to buy?”

“No, High Lord.”

“Other entertainments can be arranged if you wish.”

“No, thank you, High Lord.”

One of Akkarin’s eyebrows rose, and then he waved a hand. “You may go.”

Looking relieved, she hurried to the left-hand staircase. Lorlen felt a pang of guilt and sympathy as he watched her go.

“She must be miserable,” he murmured.

“Hmmm. Her reticence is irritating,” Akkarin said quietly, as if to himself. Moving back to his chair, he retrieved his glass of wine.

“So tell me, have Peakin and Davin resolved their little dispute yet?”