Lord Jullen scowled and told her to leave her box on the shelves near the door. She pulled a few sheets of paper out and left the box behind. Dorrien nodded politely to the librarian, then led Sonea into the long rows of shelving.
Deciding to find the books before pursuing the pair, Rothen continued his search, eventually finding the first book on his list several shelves from where it should have been. He silently cursed the magician who had misplaced it.
He was only vaguely aware of somebody approaching Lord Jullen and asking for help, but he did notice that Dorrien had begun a friendly conversation with Lord Galin in the next aisle. A loud coughing started behind him, and he glanced behind to see Lord Garrel holding a nosecloth to his mouth. Then an exclamation drew his attention away.
“Regin!” Galin barked, striding out into the aisle. Looking through the shelves, Rothen could see Regin standing next to Jullen’s desk.
“Yes, my lord?” His expression was all innocence and puzzlement.
“What did you just put in this box?”
“What box, my lord?”
Galin’s eyes narrowed.
“What is the problem, Lord Galin?” Lord Garrel strode down the aisle and approached Jullen’s desk.
“I just saw Regin take something from Jullen’s desk and put it in this box.” Galin pulled Sonea’s box off the shelf and placed it on the desk in front of Regin.
Hearing murmuring voices, Rothen looked around to see magicians gathered in twos and threes, watching this drama unfold. Lord Jullen strode out from behind the shelves. He looked from the magicians to the novice and then to the box. “What is going on here? This is Sonea’s box.”
Galin’s brows rose. “Is it? How very interesting.” He repeated what he’d seen. Lord Jullen’s eyebrows dropped into a disapproving frown.
“Shall we see which of your possessions Regin has decided that Sonea would dearly like to own?”
Regin paled. Rothen felt a smile spread over his face. He nearly yelped in surprise as a hand touched his shoulder. Turning, he found Dorrien standing beside him, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What have you done?” Rothen whispered accusingly.
“Nothing,” Dorrien replied, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Regin did it all himself. I just made sure someone was watching.”
Hearing Sonea’s box click open, Rothen watched as Jullen took out a black, shiny object. “My two-hundred-year-old Elyne inkwell.” The librarian frowned. “Valuable, but leaky. I must congratulate you, Regin. Even if Sonea had managed to return it herself, her notes would still be covered in ink.”
Regin looked at his guardian desperately.
“No doubt he wanted to ruin her notes,” Garrel said. “Just a silly prank.”
“I don’t believe so,” Galin interrupted. “Or he would simply have poured the contents all over her papers and left the inkwell on Lord Jullen’s desk.”
Garrel’s expression darkened, but Galin’s accusing stare remained steady. Lord Jullen looked from one magician to the other, then up at the shelves.
“Lord Dorrien,” he called.
Dorrien stepped into the aisle. “Yes?”
“Please find Sonea and bring her here.”
Dorrien nodded and strode down the rows of shelving. Rothen watched Sonea’s face as she came in sight of the magicians. At once her expresssion became wary. As Jullen explained what had happened her eyes widened, and she gave Regin a glare.
“I’m afraid your notes are ruined, Sonea,” Jullen said, tilting the box toward her. She looked inside and grimaced. “If you’d like, I’ll lock your box in my cupboard from now on.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “Thank you, Lord Jullen,” she said in a quiet voice.
He closed the box and placed it in the cupboard behind his desk. Galin looked at Regin. “You may return to your study, Sonea. Regin and I are going to have a chat with the University Director.”
She glanced at Regin once more, then turned away and walked back to the shelves. Dorrien hesitated, then followed.
Galin eyed Garrel. “Are you coming?”
The Warrior nodded.
As the two magicians and the novice left the library, Dorrien and Sonea approached Rothen. They both wore a look of unconcealed smugness. Shaking his head, Rothen gave them both a stern look.
“That was risky. What if no one had seen?”
Dorrien smiled. “Ah, but I made sure someone did.” He looked down at Sonea. “You managed to look convincingly surprised.”
She smiled slyly. “I was just surprised it worked.”
“Hmph!” Dorrien said. “Has nobody got any confidence in me?” He sobered and looked at Rothen. “Did you notice who took Jullen away from his desk and distracted everyone while Regin was doing his evil deed?”
Rothen thought back. “Garrel? No. Don’t be ridiculous. Regin was taking advantage of the situation. Just because Garrel was the one who asked for help and coughed at the same moment Regin made his move doesn’t mean he’s involving himself in childish pranks.”
“You’re probably right,” Dorrien said. “But I would keep an eye on him if I were you.”
19
The Tests Begin
The sky was just warming with the glow of dawn when Sonea left the Baths. The air was still cold, however, so she created a barrier about herself and heated the air within it. As she paused to straighten her robes, a green-robed figure stepped from the section of the Baths reserved for males.
Recognizing Dorrien, she felt her mood lighten. Since he’d planned to leave early this morning, they’d said their farewells last night over dinner in Rothen’s rooms. But now she had one more opportunity to speak to him before he left.
“I should have guessed you were an early riser,” she said.
Turning, he blinked in surprise. “Sonea! What are you doing up at dawn?”
“I always start early. I can get a few things done without anyone bothering me.”
He smiled crookedly. “A wise move, though maybe that won’t be nessessary now. Regin has been leaving you alone, hasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Tilting his head slightly, he gave her an odd look. “I was going to visit an old haunt of mine before I go. Want to come?”
“Where is it?”
“In the forest.”
She glanced up at the trees. “Another one of your secret places?”
Dorrien smiled. “Yes, but this time it really is a secret.”
“Oh? But if you show me, then it won’t be a secret.”
He chuckled. “I suppose not. It’s just a place I used to visit when I was a boy. I hid there whenever I was in trouble.”
“Then I’m sure you hid there a lot.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “So, are you coming?”
She looked down at her box. Her next stop was to be the Foodhall. “It won’t take long?”
He shook his head. “I’ll have you back in time for the tests.”
“Very well,” she said.
He started along the path that led up into the forest. Walking beside him, she thought back to the last time she had taken this route. It had been a cold night almost a year before, when she was still a “prisoner” of the Guild. Rothen had decided she needed fresh air and some exercise. Not far into the forest there was an ancient cemetery, and Rothen had explained what happened to magicians when they died.
She shivered as she remembered. When a magician’s life ended, his mind relinquished Control over his power. The remaining magic left in the body consumed it, turning flesh and bone to ash and dust. Since there was nothing to bury, magicians were never interred, so the existence of the ancient cemetery was a mystery.
Dorrien’s strides were long, and she had to walk quickly to keep up. Thinking back to the conversation of the previous evening, she remembered how eager he was to return to his home, but she couldn’t help wishing he could stay a little longer. She couldn’t remember enjoying herself as
much as she had in the last few weeks. Though Rothen was good company, Dorrien was energetic and was always looking for opportunities for fun. He had taught her to levitate, and to play several games. All these games involved magic, and he was obviously relishing having a partner to play them with.
“What’s it like being the only magician among ordinary people?” she asked.
Dorrien considered the question. “It’s satisfying and challenging. People don’t ever forget that you’re different, no matter how close you get to them. They feel uncomfortable because you can do something they don’t understand. Some of the farmers won’t let me touch them, even though they’re happy to let me Heal their animals.”
She nodded. “People in the slums are like that. They’re terrified of magicians.”
“Most of the farmers were afraid of me at first. It took quite a while before they trusted me.”
“Do you get lonely?”
“Sometimes. It’s worth it, though.” They had reached the road now, and Dorrien turned to the left. “There’s something right about what I do. There are people in those mountains who would have died if I hadn’t been around to help.”
“That must be wonderful, knowing you saved someone’s life.”
Dorrien smiled. “It’s the best use magic can be put to. In comparison, the rest is just frivolous games. Father wouldn’t agree, but I’ve always thought Alchemy a waste of power, and Warrior Skills…well, what can I say?”
“The Alchemists say that they have created and invented ways to make people’s lives safer and more comfortable,” Sonea pointed out. “The Warriors say they are essential to the defense of Kyralia.”
He nodded. “The Alchemists have done some good work, and it isn’t wise to let magicians forget how to defend themselves. I guess I have a grudge against those who spend their time indulging themselves when they could be helping others. The ones who waste all their time on glorified hobbies.”
Sonea smiled as she thought of Dannyl’s experiments with transferring mind images to paper—abandoned now that he was a Guild Ambassador in Elyne. Dorrien probably wouldn’t approve of Dannyl’s “hobby.”
“There are too many Alchemists and not enough Healers,” Dorrien continued. “The Healers restrict their time to those with money and status because they don’t have time to treat everyone. We all learn basic Healing. There’s no reason why Alchemists and Warriors couldn’t spend some of their time assisting Healers. Then we could help more people.
“I treat anyone who needs my help: herders, crafters, farmers, passing travellers. There’s no good reason why Healers here shouldn’t do the same. The crafters here pay taxes, and part of that tax goes toward maintaining the Guild. They should have access to the service that their money sustains.”
His voice had grown stronger. Obviously this was something he believed in passionately.
“And the people in the slums?” she prompted.
He checked his stride and turned to look at her. “Yes,” he said, walking at a slower pace. “Though I think we would have to be careful how we went about it.”
She frowned. “Oh?”
“The slums are part of a much bigger problem, and we could easily waste a lot of time and effort. They’re like, if you’ll forgive me saying so, boils on the skin of the city, pointing to deeper troubles in the body. The boils won’t go away until the deeper problems are addressed.”
“Deeper problems?”
“Well,” Dorrien glanced at her again, “if I stick to my analogy I’d say that the city has grown into a fat, sweet-sucking old Warrior. He’s either unaware or uncaring that his greedy habits are destroying the systems of his body or that his paunch is making him ugly. He is already far from fit, but as he doesn’t have any more enemies to worry about, he’s happy to sit back and indulge himself.”
Sonea stared at him, impressed. What he was saying, she realized, was that the King and the Houses were greedy and lazy, and the cost of this was felt by the rest of the city’s citizens—like the dwells. He looked at her again, uncertainty in his eyes.
“That is,” he added quickly, “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything because it’s too big a problem. We should be doing something.”
“Like what?”
He smiled. “Ah, but I don’t want to spoil our walk by ranting and raving. Here, we’ve reached the road.”
Stepping onto the road, Dorrien led her past the houses of the older, retired Guild residents. As they reached the end of the road he continued into the forest, his boots crunching through the snow. Sonea followed behind, walking in his footsteps.
Soon the ground became uneven. Her heavy box made negotiating the forest difficult, so she left it sitting on a log, protected by a barrier of magic. The steep slope soon had her breathing hard. Eventually Dorrien stopped and placed his hand on the trunk of an enormous tree.
“The first marker. Remember this tree, Sonea. Walk in the same direction that the road leads until you reach it, then turn east and climb until you find the wall.”
“The Outer Wall?”
He nodded. Sonea suppressed a groan. The Outer Wall had to be a long way into the forest. They tramped uphill through the snow for several minutes, until Sonea was gasping for breath.
“Stop!” she cried when it seemed her legs couldn’t carry her any farther.
Dorrien turned and grinned, and she was gratified to see he was breathing hard. He gestured at a pile of snow-covered rocks ahead.
“The wall.”
Sonea stared at the snow, then realized that the rocks underneath were actually huge slabs of stone, scattered through the forest. This rubble was all that was left of the Outer Wall.
“Now,” Dorrien said between breaths. “We head north again.”
Before she could protest he was striding away. No longer climbing uphill, it was easier walking and she gradually caught her breath. Dorrien reached an outcrop of rocks, clambered over them and disappeared. Sonea followed his scrapings in the snow and found herself standing inside a small circle of boulders. From the profusion of trees she could see that this place would be well hidden when their leaves grew back. To one side water rippled down the rocks and gathered in an ice-edged pool before spilling away over more rocks.
Dorrien stood several paces away, smiling.
“This is it. The spring. The source of the Guild’s water.”
Walking to his side, she saw water pouring out of a crack in the rocks.
“It’s wonderful,” she said, looking up at Dorrien. “It must be lovely in summer.”
“Don’t wait for summer.” Dorrien’s eyes shone. “It’s just as wonderful in spring. I used to start visiting as soon as the snow began to thaw.”
Sonea tried to picture Dorrien as a boy, scrambling up the slope and sitting here on his own. The boy who became a novice of the Guild, then a Healer. She would come back, she decided. It would be a place to go when she needed some time alone, away from Regin and the other novices. Perhaps that was what Dorrien had intended all along.
“What are you thinking, little Sonea?”
“I want to thank you.”
His eyebrows rose. “Thank me?”
“For baiting Regin. For taking me up on the roof of the University.” She chuckled. “For teaching me to levitate.”
“Ah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “That was easy.”
“And for making me enjoy myself again. I think I almost believed that fun wasn’t part of being a magician.” She smiled crookedly. “I know you have to go back, but I wish you could stay longer.”
His expression grew serious. “I’ll miss you, too, little Sonea.” He took a step closer, then opened his mouth as if to say something else, but no words came. Putting a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up, bent closer and pressed his lips to her mouth.
Surprised, Sonea pulled away a little. He was very close, his eyes bright and questioning. Suddenly her face was too warm, and her heart was pounding very fast. She was smiling foolish
ly and, though she tried, she couldn’t stop. Dorrien laughed quietly, then bent to kiss her again.
This time his lips lingered and she was conscious of their softness and warmth. She felt a shiver run down her spine, but she wasn’t cold. When he moved away she swayed forward a little, prolonging the touch.
He stepped backward, his smile fading. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair of me.”
She swallowed. Found her voice. “Not fair?”
He looked down at his feet, his expression serious. “Because I’m going away. Because you might want or need someone else between now and who-knows-when and turn them away because of me.”
Sonea laughed, a little bitterly. “I doubt it.”
Dorrien’s gaze became wary. Sonea frowned. Did he now think that she welcomed his attention only because she thought nobody else would ever be romantically interested in her?
Was she? Until a moment ago she hadn’t even considered the possibility that he could be more than just a friend. She shook her head and smiled.
“You’ve given me quite a surprise this time, Dorrien.”
The corners of his lips curled upward.
—Dorrien?
She recognized Rothen’s mind-voice.
—Father, Dorrien replied.
—Where are you?
—I went for a morning walk.
—The stablemaster is here.
—I’ll be there soon.
Dorrien grimaced apologetically. “I’m afraid we took longer getting here than I thought we would.”
She felt a stab of apprehension. Was she late for the First Year tests?
“Come on.”
They scrambled over the rocks and started back. After several minutes hurrying through the forest, they reached the log she had left her box on. Not long after, they arrived at the road and were able to break into a jog.
From time to time she glanced at Dorrien, wondering what he was thinking. Other times she noticed him watching her, and he smiled as she looked up to meet his eyes. He reached out and took her hand. His fingers were warm, and she was disappointed when they came in sight of the Guild and he let his hand fall to his side.
The Novice Page 25