The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  22

  Avoiding the High Lord

  As Sonea left the Healers’ Quarters, novices hurried past her, some running or leaping about and whooping. Sonea listened to the laughter and excitement around her. With the final gong still ringing in their ears, novices of all ages and levels were talking of riding horses, attending court dances and playing games she had never heard of.

  For the next two weeks brown robes would be a rare sight on the grounds, as the novices—and not a few magicians—returned to their families for the winter break. If only I could leave, too. She thought wistfully of spending the days with her aunt and uncle, and their baby, in the slums. But he would never let me.

  Reaching the University, she paused as several older novices rushed out. A few stragglers hurried past her as she climbed the stairs. Once she had reached the second floor, however, she found herself abruptly alone.

  The silence in the corridor had an emptiness to it that she hadn’t experienced before, even late at night. Clasping her box to her chest, Sonea hurried to a side passage.

  While the Magicians’ Library was on the ground floor of the University, close to the rear of the building, the Novices’ Library was reached via a confusing and twisted series of passages on the second level. Sonea hadn’t been able to find it the first time she had looked, and had eventually resorted to following other novices.

  Reaching the library, she saw that it, too, was empty of novices. Opening the door, she heard footsteps and bowed as the librarian, Lady Tya, appeared.

  “I’m sorry, Sonea,” Tya said, “the library is closing now. I’ve just finished packing up for the year.”

  “Will it be open over the break, my lady?”

  The librarian shook her head. Nodding, Sonea backed out of the door and turned away.

  At the next crossing of passages she stopped. Cursing, she leaned back against the wall. Where could she go now? Anywhere but the High Lord’s Residence. Shivering, she considered the passages to her left and right. The one on the right led back to the main corridor. To the left the passage led to…where?

  Starting down it, she reached another intersection. She stopped, remembering the confusing journey Dorrien had taken her on to get to the roof of the University. He had said he knew every passage and room in the building. Growing up in the Guild had its advantages, he’d told her.

  Sonea pursed her lips. She needed every advantage she could get. It was time she knew her way around this place.

  But what if she got lost?

  Sonea chuckled. She had hours to fill. For the first time in six months, she didn’t need to be anywhere. If she lost her way, she’d find it again.

  Smiling grimly, she started walking.

  Four firm knocks rapped on the door. Lorlen’s blood turned to ice.

  This was not Osen’s polite rapping, or the timid tap of Lorlen’s servant. Nor was it the unfamiliar tap of another magician. It was a knock he had been dreading; a knock he had known would come.

  Now that it had he couldn’t move. He stared at the door hoping in vain that the visitor would think him absent, and go away.

  —Open the door, Lorlen.

  The communication jolted him. It sounded different, as if an actual voice had spoken within his mind.

  Lorlen drew in a deep breath. He would have to face Akkarin eventually. Why prolong the moment? Sighing heavily, Lorlen willed the door to open.

  “Good evening, Lorlen.”

  Akkarin stepped inside, wearing the same half-smile that he usually greeted Lorlen with. As if they were still good friends.

  “High Lord.” Lorlen swallowed. His heart was beating too fast and he wanted to shrink into his chair. He felt a flash of irritation at himself. You’re Administrator of the Guild, he told himself, at least be dignified. He forced himself to rise and face Akkarin.

  “Not visiting the Night Room tonight?” Akkarin asked.

  “I wasn’t in the mood.”

  There was silence, then Akkarin crossed his arms.

  “I did not harm them, Lorlen.” Akkarin’s voice was quiet. “Nor you. Sonea will actually benefit from my guardianship. Her teachers were neglecting her, despite Rothen’s influence. Now they will go out of their way to help her—and she will need their help if she is to fulfil the potential I saw in her.”

  Lorlen stared at Akkarin, shocked. “You read her mind?”

  An eyebrow rose. “Of course. She may be small, but she is no child. You know this, Lorlen. You have read her mind, too.”

  “That was different.” Lorlen looked away. “I was invited.” No doubt Akkarin had read Rothen’s mind as well. He felt another wave of guilt.

  “But that is not why I’m here,” Akkarin said. “Nothing has ever kept you from the Night Room when so much gossip and speculation was sure to be had. They will expect you to attend. It is time you stopped moping, my friend.”

  Friend? Lorlen scowled and looked down at the ring. What kind of friend did this? What kind of Administrator allows a black magician to take a novice hostage? He sighed. One who has no choice.

  To protect Sonea, he must pretend that nothing had happened. Nothing more extraordinary than the High Lord finally claiming a novice’s guardianship and surprising all by choosing the slum girl. He nodded.

  “I will go. Are you coming?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

  “No, I will return to my residence.”

  Lorlen nodded again. If Akkarin appeared in the Night Room, his presence would discourage gossip. In his absence, however, the questions that none dared ask the High Lord would be asked of the Administrator. As usual, Akkarin would expect a report.

  Then Lorlen remembered the ring and Akkarin’s words: “I will be able to see and hear everything around you.” Akkarin did not need to wait for a report. He would be listening to all that was said.

  Rising, Lorlen moved into his bedroom, splashed water on his face from a bowl, and checked his reflection in the mirror. Two dark smudges under his eyes told of the sleepless nights he’d endured. Smoothing his hair, he combed it to the nape of his neck and tied it neatly. His robes were creased, but a small magical exertion fixed that.

  Returning to the guestroom, he met Akkarin’s gaze levelly. A faint smile touched the High Lord’s mouth. Turning away, Lorlen schooled his expression and willed the door open.

  Following Akkarin out, Lorlen saw the magicians in the corridor pause and look at him closely. He nodded politely. They would see the dark circles under his eyes and assume he had been ill. Outside the Magicians’ Quarters, Akkarin bade him good night and disappeared into the University.

  Continuing to the Night Room, Lorlen greeted two magicians as they, too, reached the entrance. As he expected, they asked if he was well. He assured them that he was, and led them inside.

  As the inner doors opened, heads turned to see who had entered. The buzz of voices changed, first diminishing, then growing more intense. Lorlen made his way across the crowded room toward his favorite chair and saw that several magicians, including many of the Higher Magicians, had already gathered around it.

  To his amusement, he found Lord Yikmo in his seat. The young Warrior leapt to his feet.

  “Administrator Lorlen!” he exclaimed. “Please sit down. Are you well? You look tired.”

  “I’m fine,” Lorlen replied.

  “That is good to hear,” Yikmo said. “We were hoping you would come tonight, but I’d sympathize if you decided to avoid all the questions about Sonea and the High Lord.”

  Lorlen managed to smile. “But I couldn’t leave you all wondering, could I?” Lorlen leaned back in the chair, and waited for the first question. Three magicians, including Lord Peakin, spoke at once. They stopped, glanced at each other, then two nodded politely to the Head of Alchemic Studies.

  “Did you know Akkarin was thinking of taking on her guardianship?” Lord Peakin asked.

  “No,” Lorlen admitted. “He has shown no more interest in her than in any other novice. We’ve talked ab
out her from time to time, but otherwise he kept his thoughts to himself. He may have been considering her for weeks, even months.”

  “Why Sonea, then?” Lord Garrel asked.

  “Again, I’m not sure. Something must have attracted his attention.”

  “Perhaps it was her strength,” Lord Yikmo mused. “Those summer intake novices alerted us all to her potential when they combined their powers against her.”

  “Has he tested her, then?”

  Lorlen hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

  The magicians around him exchanged looks of sympathy.

  “What did he find?” Peakin asked.

  “He told me he saw great potential,” Lorlen replied. “He’s eager to oversee her training.”

  One of the magicians standing nearby straightened and moved away to join a newcomer and no doubt spread this information. Beyond the pair, a familiar face caught Lorlen’s eye. As Rothen’s eyes met his, Lorlen felt a pang of guilt.

  That Rothen was present surprised him. Had Akkarin ordered Rothen to keep up appearances, too?

  “Director Jerrik has told me she will be attending evening classes,” Lady Vinara said. “Do you think this is too much to expect from her?”

  Dragging his attention back to the questioners, Lorlen shrugged. “That is news to me. I didn’t know he had already approached Jerrik.”

  “Most of her night classes are to cover those displaced by private Warrior Skills,” Lord Yikmo told them.

  “Why couldn’t she attend those at night?” another asked.

  “Because I don’t teach during the evening,” Yikmo replied, smiling broadly.

  “Forgive me for saying so, but I’d have expected Lord Balkan to teach the High Lord’s favorite,” Lord Garrel said. “But perhaps your unusual teaching style would suit a girl like Sonea.”

  “I have found novices with quick minds and less aggressive temperaments respond well to my methods,” Yikmo replied smoothly.

  Sensing that Rothen was still watching him, Lorlen turned to look into the crowd. Rothen looked away. Returning to the conversation, Lorlen steered it away from Sonea’s classes with Yikmo. Warriors! he thought. Always so competitive.

  Two hours later Lorlen found himself suppressing a yawn. He glanced around at the magicians, then rose.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “It is growing late and I want to have an early night. Good evening.”

  Crossing the room was not easy. Every few steps he was approached and questioned. After politely extracting himself several times, he turned around and found himself facing Rothen.

  They stared at each other in silence. Heart racing, all Lorlen could think was that Akkarin had forbidden them to talk to each other. But faces had turned to watch them, and if they didn’t speak all kinds of speculation would be generated.

  “Good evening, Administrator,” Rothen said.

  “Good evening, Lord Rothen,” Lorlen replied.

  So we’ve disobeyed Akkarin already, Lorlen mused. Rothen’s face was more lined than he recalled. Suddenly remembering the ring, Lorlen clasped his hands behind his back. “I wanted to…to express my sympathy. It must be distressing to lose the guardianship of a novice who you were clearly very fond of.”

  A crease deepened between Rothen’s brows. “It is,” he agreed.

  How he wished he could reassure Rothen. Perhaps he could…

  “I’ve just heard she has been enrolled in evening classes for her Second Year. She’ll be spending most of her time in lessons, so I doubt she’ll see much of her new guardian at all—which is probably Akkarin’s way of keeping her out from under his feet.”

  Rothen nodded slowly. “That will agree with her, I’m sure.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Are you well, Administrator?”

  “Yes.” Lorlen smiled wanly. “I just need some sleep. I—” He stopped and smiled as a group of magicians passed. “Thank you for your concern. Good night, Lord Rothen.”

  “Good night, Administrator.”

  Turning away, Lorlen continued to the doors of the Night Room and stepped out into the chill night air. He allowed himself a shallow sigh. Do I really believe Akkarin won’t harm them?

  —They’re safe enough. Reassuring Rothen was a wise move.

  Lorlen stiffened in surprise and looked down at the ring. Glancing around, he was relieved to see that the courtyard was empty and no one had seen his reaction.

  —You’ve told me about Garrel’s conversational skills, but I’ve never seen him in action. Does he do that to everyone?

  Lorlen looked down at the ring. It caught the light of the lamps around the courtyard, looking no different from any ordinary ruby.

  —I told you, Lorlen. Everything you see and hear.

  —And think?

  —When I’m listening—but you won’t know when I’m listening.

  Appalled, Lorlen grasped the ring and began twisting it off.

  —Stop, Lorlen. You’re tormented with enough guilt already. Don’t force me to make it worse.

  Letting the ring go, Lorlen clenched his fingers in frustration.

  —That’s better. Now get some rest. You have work to catch up on.

  Breathing heavily with anger and defeat, Lorlen started toward his rooms.

  Familiarizing herself with the inner passages of the University had turned out to be more difficult than Sonea had expected. The deeper she explored, the easier it was to become lost. So convoluted and unpredictable were the passages, she began to wonder if they had been designed specifically to confuse strangers.

  The layout did not follow a predictable or repetitive pattern. Each passage twisted and turned in different ways. Sometimes they met the main corridor again; sometimes she found a dead end.

  Taking a piece of paper out of her box, she began counting her steps and drawing the turns as she walked. After an hour, she had mapped out a small section of passages. Parts were missing, however. Though she retraced her steps, she found no passages leading into the blank sections on her maps.

  She stopped and sat on her box to rest and think. She had assumed that the convoluted route Dorrien had taken when he took her up to the roof had been a deliberate ploy to confuse her. Perhaps it hadn’t. Thinking back, she remembered an odd little room they had passed through. It had contained a few cabinets with ornaments, but otherwise appeared to have no practical purpose. Perhaps, she thought, its true purpose might be that of a portal or gateway to internal parts of the University.

  Rising, she hurried to one of the dead ends she had encountered. The corridor ended at a plain, unmarked wall, but to her left was a door. She gripped the handle…and paused.

  What if she was wrong and this was an ordinary room? She might walk in on a magician, or interrupt a gathering.

  Perhaps that was exactly what she was supposed to think. Most people would feel reluctant to open the closed door of an unknown room uninvited. She took her hand from the door and stepped back to regard it. Was there any sign or indication that this door led to a portal room rather than an ordinary one?

  It was made of a dark wood. The surface was plain and undecorated. The hinges were blackened iron. She walked back along the passage to examine other doors. They were the same.

  Returning to the first door, Sonea struggled with her reluctance to open it. She imagined herself striding into a room only to find a startled and angry magician staring at her.

  But if she did, she could always apologize and say she had made a mistake. Better still, she could knock first and if anyone answered she could say that she had knocked on the wrong door. Obviously, novices were always getting confused and lost.

  She rapped lightly, then a little louder. After she had counted to fifty, she turned the handle. The door opened with a click and swung outward.

  Stepping through, she entered a room just like the one she remembered Dorrien taking her through. Feeling pleased with herself, she strode across to the other door. It swung inward to reveal another passage.

  This
one was different from those she had already explored. The walls were panelled with wood, and paintings and relief carvings hung along its length. Even the air smelled different—a mix of wood polish and herbs. Sonea wandered slowly from picture to picture, enjoying the satisfaction of having proved her instincts right.

  The portal rooms acted as a barrier, she decided. They kept those who didn’t know their purpose out of these inner passages. Most people would not open a door unless they knew what lay beyond, and even if they opened the door by mistake, they would find an uninteresting room beyond. She wondered how many portal rooms there were. Finding out would give her something to do over the next two weeks.

  She frowned then. If parts of the University had been designed to deter exploration, was she now in a part that was forbidden to novices?

  Hearing a soft creak nearby, she spun about. A door opened a few strides down the passage. Too late to hide, she felt her heart skip as a magician stepped out. He looked up at her and frowned.

  Look like you belong here! Straightening her back, she walked toward him as if she had just paused to view a painting. His eyes dropped to the incal on her sleeve. As she neared, she paused and bowed, then moved past.

  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.

  23

  Akkarin’s Promise

  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.”