Chairs scraped on the wooden floor as the novices got eagerly to their feet. Sonea rose slowly. The teacher’s head turned and he regarded her coldly.
“Except you, Sonea,” he added, belatedly. “You will remain here.”
This time all of the novices turned to stare at her. She blinked from one face to another, feeling strangely guilty as understanding dawned in their eyes.
“Go on,” urged the teacher. The novices turned away. Sonea lowered herself back into her chair and watched the class file out. Only one turned to glance at her again before he stepped through the door. His lips curled up in a sneer. Regin.
“Sonea.”
She jumped and turned to stare at the teacher, surprised that he was still there.
“Yes, my lord.”
His eyes lost a little of their chilliness and he moved across the room to stand beside her seat. “As you have already achieved the First and Second Levels of Control, I have brought you the first book the class will study.” Sonea lowered her eyes to a small paper-covered book he held in his hand. “There will be practical exercises to go with the book, but they will involve all of the class. You will still gain much from studying the information in this.”
He placed the book on the table and turned away.
“Thank you, Lord Elben,” she said to his back.
He paused and turned to regard her with mild surprise, then continued to the door.
The room was empty and silent after he had gone. Sonea looked around at the other desks and chairs. She counted nine crooked seats.
She looked at the book on her desk and read: Six Lessons for New Novices, by Lord Liden, and a date. The book was over a century old. How many novices had worked their way through these exercises? She flicked through the pages. The script, she saw with relief, was clear and easy to read.
Magic is a useful art, but not without limitations. A magician’s natural area of influence lies within his or her body, the skin being the boundary of this area. Minimal effort is required to influence magic within this space. No other magician may influence this space, unless he or she is Healing, which requires skin to skin contact.
To influence what lies beyond the body, more effort is required. The farther away the object to be influenced is from the body, the more effort is required. The same limitation is true of mental communication, though it is not as taxing as most magical tasks.
Rothen had told her as much, but she continued reading. Some time later, after she had read three of the lessons and was beginning on the fourth, two novices returned to the room. The first she recognized as Gennyl, the half-Lonmar boy who had gained a guardian during the ceremony. His companion was the other tall Lonmar boy. They glanced at her once as they moved to seats halfway down the classroom. She could sense a difference about them, as if their presence was amplified. She guessed this meant their powers had been released. They would soon learn to hide it, as she had. It appeared that achieving the First Level wasn’t difficult or slow. The Second Level, she knew, was harder.
A murmuring conversation began, in the liquid language of their homeland. Another novice entered the room—a Kyralian boy with dark circles under his eyes. Sitting down, he remained silent, rigidly staring at his desk.
There was something strange about this one. She could sense an aura of magic about him, too, but it pulsed erratically, sometimes strong, sometimes fading beyond detection. Not wanting to upset him any further by her staring, she looked away. Until the novices had achieved both First and Second Levels of Control, she might sense all kinds of strange things from them.
A laugh outside the doorway caught her attention before she could start reading again. This time five novices filed into the room, leaving only Regin missing. Without a figure of authority to watch them, the novices lounged around, sitting on their desks and talking in little groups. Her senses buzzed with their magical presences.
No one approached Sonea. She was both relieved and disappointed. They didn’t know what to expect from her, she reasoned, so they avoided her. She would have to make the first attempt to be friendly. If she didn’t, then they might decide she didn’t want to mix with them.
The pretty Elyne girl sat nearby, rubbing her temples. Remembering how Control lessons had given Rothen headaches, Sonea wondered if this girl might appreciate a little sympathy. Slowly, trying to look confident, she rose and moved across the room to the girl’s table.
“It isn’t easy, is it?” Sonea ventured.
The girl’s eyes lifted to hers in surprise, then she shrugged and looked back down at her table. When no reply came, Sonea began to suspect, with a growing sickness in her stomach, that the girl was ignoring her.
“I don’t like her,” the girl said suddenly, in a strong Elyne accent.
Sonea blinked in puzzlement. “Like who?”
“Lady Kinla,” the girl said irritably. She pronounced the name as “Keenlar.”
“The one teaching you Control? Hmmm, that would make it hard.”
“It’s not that Lady Kinla’s a bad person,” the girl sighed. “It’s just that I don’t want her in my mind. She’s so…” The girl’s red curls swayed as she shook her head.
The seat in front of the Elyne girl was empty. Sonea lowered herself into it and turned to face the girl.
“You don’t want her to see some things in your mind?” Sonea prompted. “Things that aren’t wrong or bad, but things you don’t want just any person seeing?”
“Yes, that’s it,” the girl looked up, her eyes wide and haunted, “but I have to let her see them, don’t I?”
Sonea frowned. “No, you don’t have to…well, I don’t know exactly what you want to keep from her, but…well…those things can be hidden.”
The girl was staring at Sonea now.
“How?”
“You imagine a kind of doorway and put them behind it,” Sonea explained. “Lady Kinla will probably see what you’ve done but she won’t try to get to them just as Rothen didn’t try to get to mine.”
The girl’s eyes widened further still. “Lord Rothen taught you Control? He was in your mind?” she gasped.
“Yes.” Sonea nodded.
“But he’s a man.”
“Well…he taught me. Is that why you have a lady teacher? Do you have to be taught by a woman?”
“Of course.” The girl was staring at her in horror.
Sonea shook her head slowly. “I didn’t know. I don’t see how it would make any difference being taught by a male or female magician. Perhaps…” She frowned. “If I couldn’t have hidden away all my secret thoughts it would have been better to have a woman teach me.”
The girl had pulled away from Sonea a little. “It would be wrong for a girl of our age to share her mind with a man.”
Sonea shrugged. “It’s just minds. It’s like talking, but quicker. There’s nothing wrong with talking to a man, is there?”
“No…”
“You just don’t talk about certain things.” Sonea gave her a meaningful look.
A slow smile spread across the girl’s face. “No…except on special occasions, I suppose.”
“Issle.” A sharp voice cut across the noise in the room. Sonea looked up to see a middle-aged woman in green robes standing in the doorway.
“You’ve rested long enough. Come with me.”
“Yes, my lady,” the girl sighed.
“Good luck,” Sonea offered as the girl hurried away. She wasn’t sure if Issle had heard, as the girl disappeared through the door without a backward glance.
Sonea looked down at the book in her hands and allowed herself a small smile. It was a start. Perhaps, later, she would talk to Issle again.
Returning to her desk, she continued reading.
Projection:
Moving an object is quicker and easier if in sight. Moving an object outside of view may be done by extending the mind sense to locate it first. This takes more effort and time, however, and…
Bored, Sonea began to wat
ch the novices coming and going. She listened for their names, and tried to guess what they were like. Shern, the Kyralian boy with the dark circles under his eyes, had winced when his teacher returned and called his name. He had looked up at the magician with haunted eyes, and reluctance had been expressed in every movement as he had pushed back his chair and shuffled over to the door.
Regin had befriended two boys, Kano and Vallon. The shy Kyralian girl listened to their conversation attentively, and the Elyne boy drew little pictures in a paper-covered book. When Issle returned she collapsed in her seat and buried her head in her arms. Sonea had heard the others complaining of headaches and decided to leave the girl alone.
When the gong chimed at midbreak, Sonea let out a quiet sigh of relief. All she had done was read lessons she already knew, constantly distracted by the coming and going of the other novices. It hadn’t been a particularly interesting first lesson.
Lord Elben strode into the room, causing the novices to scuttle hastily to their seats. He waited until they had settled, then cleared his throat.
“We will resume Control lessons at the same time tomorrow,” he told them. “Your next class will be Guild history, held in the second history room upstairs. You may leave now.”
Several sighs of relief could be heard around the class. The novices rose, bowed to the teacher and started for the door. Hanging back, Sonea noted that the Elyne boy had joined Regin’s group of new friends. She followed quietly, handing the teacher back his book as she passed, then lengthened her stride to catch up with Issle.
“Was it better the second time?”
The girl looked at Sonea, then nodded. “I did what you said. It didn’t work, but I think it might next time.”
“That’s good. Everything gets easier after that.”
They walked in silence for several paces. Sonea searched for something to say.
“You’re Issle of Fonden, aren’t you?” a voice observed.
Issle turned and stopped as Regin and the other two novices approached.
“Yes,” she said, smiling prettily.
“Whose father is adviser to King Marend?” Regin asked, his brows rising.
“That’s right.”
“I am Regin of Winar,” he bowed with exaggerated politeness, “of House Paren. Can I escort you to the Foodhall?”
Her smile broadened. “I’d be honored.”
“No.” Regin smiled silkily. “It is I who will be honored.”
He stepped forward between Sonea and Issle, forcing Sonea to move backward to avoid him, and took the girl’s arm. Regin’s companions fell in behind the pair as they continued down the corridor. None looked at Sonea, and she found herself at the back of the group. When they had descended the stairs of the University she stopped and watched them walk away without a backward glance.
Issle hadn’t even thanked her. I shouldn’t be surprised, she told herself. They’re rich brats with no manners.
No, she scolded herself. Don’t be unfair to them. If I’d been asked to accept one of them in Harrin’s gang, it wouldn’t have been easy. Eventually they’ll forget that I’m different. Just give them time.
3
Telling Tales
As Rothen’s servant, Tania, set out the morning meal on the table, Sonea dropped into a seat with a sigh. Rothen looked up and, seeing the resigned and unhappy expression on her face, wished that he had been able to return straight after class yesterday, instead of spending hours discussing lessons with Lord Peakin.
“How did it go yesterday?” he asked.
Sonea hesitated before answering. “None of the novices can use magic yet. They’re all still learning Control. Lord Elben gave me a book to read.”
“All novices are unable to use magic when they begin with us. We don’t develop their power until they have spoken the vow. I thought you would have realized this.” He smiled. “There are some advantages in having your power develop naturally.”
“But it will take weeks until they can start lessons. All I did was read the same book—and it was about things I already know.” She looked up, her eyes bright with hope. “Why don’t I stay here until they’ve caught up?”
Rothen suppressed a laugh. “We don’t hold a novice back if he or she is a faster learner than the others. You should make the most of the opportunity. Ask for another book to read, or see if your teacher is willing to go through some exercises with you.”
She grimaced. “I don’t think the other novices will like that.”
He pursed his lips. She was right, of course, but he also knew if he asked Jerrik to keep her out of classes until the others were ready, the Director would refuse.
“Novices are expected to compete with each other,” he told her. “Your classmates will always try to outdo you. It will make no difference if you hold yourself back for them. In fact, you will lose their respect if you sacrifice your learning for fear of upsetting them.”
Sonea nodded and looked down at the table. He felt a pang of sympathy for her. No matter how much he counselled her, it had to be confusing and frustrating to be suddenly confined to the small, petty world of the novices.
“You really haven’t had that much of a head start,” he told her. “It took me weeks to teach you Control because you had to learn to trust me. The fastest learners will be ready by the end of the week, the rest will take up to two. They’ll catch up sooner than you expect, Sonea.”
She nodded. Taking a spoonful of powder from a jar, she mixed it with hot water from a jug. The pungent smell of raka reached Rothen’s nose. He grimaced as she drank it, wondering how she could stomach the stimulant. He had persuaded her to try sumi, the drink popular in the Houses, but she had not acquired a taste for it.
Sonea drummed her fingernails against the side of the cup. “Issle said something strange, too. She said male teachers shouldn’t teach female novices.”
“Is this Issle an Elyne girl?”
“Yes.”
“Ah,” he sighed. “The Elynes. They’re fussier than Kyralians about the interaction of young girls with boys. They insist that their daughters are taught by women, and are so shocked if they see a girl of any race taught by a man that we’ve adopted this ‘rule’ for all female novices. Ironically, they’re quite open-minded about the activities of adults.”
“Shocked.” Sonea nodded. “Yes, that’s how she seemed.”
Rothen frowned. “It might have been wiser to let her assume I’d brought in a female teacher for you. Elynes can be very judgmental about things like that.”
“I wish you’d told me that before. She was friendly at first but…” Sonea shook her head.
“She’ll forget about it,” he assured her. “Give it time, Sonea. In a few weeks you’ll have a few companions, and you’ll be wondering why you were so worried.”
She looked down at her cup of raka. “I’d settle for just one.”
In the large, dimly lit office of the Guild Administrator a globe of magical light floated back and forth, sending shadows marching across the walls. As Lorlen reached the end of the letter he stopped pacing and muttered a curse.
“Twenty gold a bottle!”
Striding back to his chair, he sat down, opened a box and lifted out a sheet of thick paper. The decisive scratching of his pen filled the room as he wrote. He paused now and then, narrowing his eyes as he considered his words. Signing the letter with a flourish, he sat back and regarded his work.
Then, with a sigh, he dropped it into the waste box under his desk.
Suppliers of the Guild had been taking advantage of the King’s money for centuries. Any item was two or three times the usual price when the buyer was the Guild. It was one of the reasons the Guild grew its own medicinal plants.
Placing his elbows on the table, Lorlen rested his chin on his palm and reconsidered the price list in the letter from the wine maker. He could simply neglect to order any of the wine. It would have political consequences of course, but none that couldn’t be avoided if he pu
rchased other goods from the same House.
But the wine was Akkarin’s favorite. Made from the tiniest variety of vare berries, it was sweet and rich in flavor. The High Lord always kept a flask in his guestroom, and he would not be pleased if supplies of it ran out.
Lorlen grimaced and reached for a new sheet of paper. Then he paused. He should not be pandering to Akkarin’s whims like this. It had never been his habit in the past. Akkarin might notice the change. He might wonder why Lorlen was acting so out of character.
But Akkarin must surely have noticed that Lorlen rarely dropped by for an evening chat these days. Lorlen frowned as he considered how long it had been since he had gathered the courage to visit the High Lord. Too long.
Sighing, he rested his forehead in his hands and closed his eyes. Ah, Sonea. Why did you have to reveal his secret to me? The memory ran through his mind. Sonea’s memory, not his own, but the details were still vivid…
“It is done,” Akkarin said, then removed his cloak to reveal bloodstained clothes. He looked down at himself. “Did you bring my robes?”
At the servant’s mumbled answer, Akkarin pulled off his beggar’s shirt. Beneath it was a leather belt strapped to his waist from which a dagger sheath hung. He scrubbed himself down, then moved out of sight and returned wearing his black robes. Reaching for the sheath, he removed a glittering dagger and began to wipe it on a towel. As he finished, he looked up at the servant.
“The fight has weakened me. I need your strength.”
The servant dropped to one knee and offered his arm. Akkarin ran the blade over the man’s skin, then placed a hand over the wound…
Lorlen shuddered. Opening his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and shook his head.
He wished he could dismiss Sonea’s memory as a misinterpretation of something innocent by someone who had believed magicians were bad and cruel, but memories that clear could not be false—and how could she have made it all up when she had not understood what she had seen? He almost smiled at her assumption that the black-robed magician was a secret Guild assassin. The truth was far worse and, no matter how much Lorlen wanted to, he could not ignore it.