“Next, I saw a flash of blue light in the corner of my eye and felt a disturbance in the shield. I caught a glimpse of an object coming toward me, but before I could react it struck Lord Fergun on the temple, rendering him unconscious. I caught him as he fell, lowered him to the ground and made sure his injury was not serious. Then, as others came to assist, I searched for the stone’s thrower.”
Rothen smiled wryly as he remembered. “I saw that, while most of the youths looked confused and surprised, one young woman was staring at her hands with amazement. I lost sight of her as my colleagues arrived, and when they could not locate the stone thrower they called on me to point her out.”
He shook his head. “When I did, they mistakenly believed I was pointing to a youth standing next to her and…and they retaliated.”
Lorlen gestured for Rothen to stop. He looked at the magicians in the row of seats below him, his eyes settling on Lord Balkan, the Head of Warriors.
“Lord Balkan, what have you discovered from questioning those who struck the youth?”
The red-robed magician rose. “All nineteen magicians involved believed that one of the boys in the crowd was the attacker, as they thought it unlikely that a girl would be trained as a rogue magician. Each intended to stun the boy, not harm him. From the description of the strikes from witnesses, I have been convinced that this is, indeed, what happened. I have also concluded from these reports that some of the stunstrikes had combined to form an unfocused firestrike. It was this that killed the boy.”
A memory of a smoldering form flashed into Rothen’s mind. Sickened, he looked down at the floor. Even had the strikes not combined, the battering from nineteen stunstrikes would have shocked the boy’s body excessively. He could not help feeling responsible. If only he had taken action himself, before the others could react…
“This raises difficult questions,” Lorlen said. “It is unlikely that the public will believe us if we tell them we simply made a mistake. An apology is not enough. We must make some attempt at reparation. Shall we compensate the family of the youth?”
Several of the Higher Magicians nodded, and Rothen heard murmurs of approval behind him.
“If they can be found,” one of the Higher Magicians added.
“I fear compensation will not repair the damage we have done to our reputation.” Lorlen frowned. “How can we regain the respect and trust of the people?”
Murmuring followed, then a voice called out: “Compensation is enough.”
“Give it time—people will forget,” said another.
“We’ve done all we can.”
And quieter, to Rothen’s right: “—just a slum boy. Who cares?”
Rothen sighed. Though the words did not surprise him, they roused in him a familiar anger. The Guild existed by law to protect others—and that law made no distinction between rich and poor. He had heard magicians claim that slum dwellers were all thieves and didn’t deserve the Guild’s protection.
“There is little more we can do,” Lord Balkan said. “The higher classes will accept that the boy’s death was an accident. The poor will not, and nothing we do or say will change their minds.”
Administrator Lorlen looked at each of the Higher Magicians in turn. All nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “We will review this matter again during the next Meet, when we have had time to gauge the effects of this tragedy.” He drew in a deep breath, straightened, and swept his eyes around the hall. “Now for the second matter: the rogue magician. Did anyone apart from Lord Rothen see this girl, or witness her throw the stone?”
Silence followed. Lorlen frowned, disappointed. Most discussion in the Guild Meets was dominated by the three Heads of Disciplines: Lady Vinara, Lord Balkan and Lord Sarrin. Lady Vinara, Head of Healers, was a practical and stern woman, but could be surprisingly compassionate. The robust Lord Balkan was observant and careful to explore all sides to an issue, yet was unflinching in the face of difficult or rapid decisions. The oldest of the trio, Lord Sarrin, could be harsh in his judgments but always acknowledged the others’ views as valid.
It was these Higher Magicians that Lorlen considered now. “We must begin by examining those facts that are clear and confirmed by witnesses. There is no doubt that, remarkable as it may sound, a mere stone penetrated a magical shield. Lord Balkan, how is this possible?”
The Warrior shrugged. “The shield used to repel stones in the Purge is a weak one: strong enough to stop missiles, but not magic. It is clear from the blue flash, and the sense of disturbance described by those holding the shield, that magic was used. However, for magic to break through a shield it must be shaped to that purpose. I believe the attacker used a strike—a simple one—sent with the stone.”
“But why use a stone at all?” Lady Vinara asked. “Why not just strike with magic?”
“To conceal the strike?” Lord Sarrin suggested. “If the magicians had seen a strike coming, they may have had time to strengthen the shield.”
“That is possible,” Balkan said, “but the force of the strike was used only to break through the harrier. If the attacker’s intent had been malicious, Lord Fergun would have more than a bruised temple.”
Vinara frowned. “So this attacker did not expect to do much harm? Why do it, then?”
“To demonstrate her power—to defy us, perhaps,” Balkan replied.
Sarrin’s wrinkled face creased into a disapproving frown. Rothen shook his head. Catching the movement, Balkan looked down and smiled. “You do not agree, Lord Rothen?”
“She didn’t expect to do anything at all,” Rothen told him. “By her expression, she was clearly shocked and surprised by what she had done. I believe she is untrained.”
“Impossible.” Sarrin shook his head. “Someone must have released her powers.”
“And trained her to control them, we hope,” Vinara added. “Or we have a serious problem of a different kind.”
At once, the hall began to hum with speculation. Lorlen lifted a hand and the voices fell silent.
“When Lord Rothen told me what he witnessed, I called Lord Solend to my room to ask if he, in the course of studying the Guild’s history, had read of magicians whose powers had developed without assistance.” Lorlen’s expression was grave. “It appears that our assumption that a magician’s power can only be released by another magician is wrong.
“It has been recorded that in the early centuries of the Guild’s existence, some of the individuals who sought training were using magic already. Their powers had developed naturally as they physically matured. Since we accept and initiate novices at a young age, natural development of power no longer occurs.” Lorlen gestured to the seats at one side of the hall. “I have asked Lord Solend to gather what he knows of this phenomenon and now call him before us to relate what he has learned.”
An aged figure rose from the rows of robed men and women and started down the stairs. All waited in silence as the old historian reached the floor and shuffled to Rothen’s side. Solend nodded stiffly to the Higher Magicians.
“Until five hundred years ago,” the old man began in a querulous voice, “a man or woman seeking to learn magic would approach individual magicians for apprenticeship. They were tested and chosen according to their strength, and how much they could pay. Because of this tradition, some apprentices were quite mature by the time they began their training, as it could take many years of work, or a generous inheritance, before they were able to pay for the training.
“Sometimes, however, a young man or woman would appear whose powers were already ‘loosed,’ as they termed it in those times. Those people, known as ‘naturals,’ were never turned away. There are two reasons for this. Firstly, their powers were always very strong. Secondly, they had to be taught Control.” The old man paused, and his voice rose in pitch. “We already know what happens when novices are unable to master Control. If this young woman is a natural, we should expect her to be more powerful than our average novice, possibly even more po
werful than the average magician. If she is not found and taught Control, she will be a considerable danger to the city.”
A short silence followed, then a buzz of alarm spread through the hall.
“If her powers have, indeed, surfaced on their own,” Balkan added.
The old man nodded. “There is a possibility, of course, that she has been trained by someone.”
“Then we must find her—and those who have taught her,” a voice declared.
The Hall filled with discussion again, but Lorlen’s voice rose above it. “If she is a rogue, we are bound by law to bring her and her teachers to the King. If she is a natural we must teach her Control. Either way, we must find her.”
“How?” a voice called.
Lorlen looked down. “Lord Balkan?”
“A systematic search of the slums,” the Warrior replied. He turned to look up at the King’s Advisers. “We’ll need help.”
Lorlen’s brows rose and he followed the Warrior’s gaze. “The Guild formally requests the assistance of the City Guard.”
The Advisers exchanged glances and nodded.
“Granted,” one replied.
“We should begin as soon as possible,” Balkan said. “Tonight, preferably.”
“If we want the Guard’s assistance, it will take time to organize. I suggest we start tomorrow morning,” Lorlen replied.
“What of classes?” a voice called.
Lorlen looked at the magician seated beside him. “I think an extra day of private study will not affect the novices’ progress.”
“A day won’t make much difference.” The sour University Director, Jerrik, shrugged. “But will we find her in a day?”
Lorlen pursed his lips. “We will meet here again tomorrow night if we have not found her, to discuss who shall continue the search.”
“If I might make a suggestion, Administrator Lorlen?”
Rothen started in surprise at the voice. He turned to see Dannyl standing amongst the watching magicians.
“Yes, Lord Dannyl?” Lorlen replied.
“The slum dwellers are sure to hamper our search, and the girl will probably hide from us. We may have a better chance of success if we enter the slums in disguise.”
Lorlen frowned. “What disguise would you suggest?”
Dannyl shrugged. “The less conspicuous we are, the better our chances of success. I’d suggest that at least some of us dress as they do. They may be able to tell who we are when we speak, but—”
“Definitely not,” Balkan growled. “How would it be if one of us was discovered dressed as a grovelling beggar? We would be ridiculed throughout the Allied Lands.”
Several voices rose in agreement.
Lorlen nodded slowly. “I agree. We, as magicians, have the authority to enter any house in this city. Our search will be hampered if we do not wear the robes.”
“How will we know what we’re looking for?” Vinara asked.
Lorlen looked at Rothen. “Can you remember what she looked like?”
Rothen nodded. Taking a few steps back, he closed his eyes and called up a memory of a small, skinny girl with a thin, childlike face. Drawing on his power, he opened his eyes and exerted his will. A glow appeared in the air before him, and quickly sharpened to form a slightly transparent face. As his memory filled in the rest, her rough clothing appeared: a colorless scarf around her head, a thick hooded shirt, trousers. The illusion complete, he looked up at the Higher Magicians.
“That’s who attacked us?” Balkan muttered. “She’s barely more than a child.”
“A small package with a big surprise inside,” Sarrin said dryly.
“What if this is not the attacker?” Jerrik asked. “What if Lord Rothen is mistaken?”
Lorlen looked at Rothen and smiled faintly. “For now we can only assume he is correct. We shall know soon enough if the city gossips agree, and witnesses may be found among the public.” He nodded at the illusion. “That will be enough, Lord Rothen.”
Rothen waved a hand and the illusion vanished. When he looked up again he found Lord Sarrin looking at him appraisingly.
“What are we going to do with her once we’ve found her?” Vinara asked.
“If she is a rogue we will apply the law,” Lorlen replied. “If she is not, we will teach her to control her powers.”
“Of course, but afterward? What then?”
“I think the question Lady Vinara is asking is: should we make her one of us?” Balkan said.
At once the hall filled with voices.
“No! She’s probably a thief!”
“She attacked one of us! She should be punished, not rewarded!”
Rothen shook his head and sighed as the protests continued. While there was no law forbidding the testing of children from the lower classes, the Guild sought magic in the children of the Houses only.
“The Guild hasn’t taken a novice from outside the Houses for centuries,” Balkan said quietly.
“But if Solend is correct, she may be a powerful magician,” Vinara reminded him.
Rothen suppressed a smile. Most women magicians became Healers, and he knew Lady Vinara would happily overlook the girl’s origins if it gained her another powerful helper.
“‘Strength is no blessing if a magician proves corrupt,’” Sarrin quoted. “She could be a thief, or even a whore. What influence would someone with that background have on the other novices? How can we know if she would value our pledge?”
Vinara’s brows rose. “So you would show her what she is capable of, then bind her powers and send her back into poverty?”
Sarrin nodded. Vinara looked at Balkan, who shrugged. Biting back a protest, Rothen forced himself to remain silent. From the row above, Lorlen regarded the three magicians silently, his expression betraying no opinion.
“We should give her a chance at the very least,” Vinara said. “If there is any possibility that she will conform to our rules and become a responsible young woman, then we should offer her the opportunity.”
“The further her powers develop, the harder it will be to bind them,” Sarrin reminded her.
“I know,” Vinara leaned forward, “but it is not impossible. Consider how we will be regarded if we take her in. A little generosity and kindness will go a lot further toward redressing the damage we did to our reputation this morning than blocking her powers and returning her to the slums.”
Balkan’s brows rose. “True, and it may save us the trouble of a search if we make it known that she will be welcomed among us. Once she learns that she could become a magician, with all the position and wealth that entails, she will come to us.”
“And the loss of that wealth may be all the deterrent she will need should she consider returning to any distasteful ways she once had,” Sarrin added.
Lady Vinara nodded. She looked around the hall, then her gaze slid to Rothen and her eyes narrowed. “What do you think, Lord Rothen?”
Rothen grimaced. “I’m wondering if she would believe anything we told her after this morning.”
Balkan’s expression darkened. “Hmm, I doubt it. We will probably need to capture her first and explain our good intentions afterward.”
“Then there is little point in waiting to see if she will come to us,” Lorlen concluded. “We will begin our search tomorrow as planned.” He pursed his lips, then turned to face the seat above him.
Rothen looked up. Between the Administrator’s and King’s seats was a single chair reserved for the Guild’s leader: the High Lord Akkarin. The black-robed magician had not spoken throughout the Meet, but that was not unusual. Though Akkarin had been known to alter the course of a debate with a few mild words, he generally remained silent.
“High Lord, have you any reason to suspect there are rogue magicians in the slums?” Lorlen asked.
“No. There are no rogues in the slums,” Akkarin replied.
Rothen was close enough to see the quick glance that passed between Balkan and Vinara. He smothered a smile. Th
e High Lord was rumored to have particularly fine senses, and nearly all the magicians were at least a little in awe of him. Nodding, Lorlen turned back to face the hall. He struck the gong, and as its peal echoed through the hall, the buzz of voices dropped to a faint murmur.
“The decision whether to teach the girl or not shall be deferred until she is found and her temperament assessed. For now, we will focus on the task of finding her. The search will begin here at the fourth hour tomorrow. Those of you who feel you have valid reason to remain in the Guild, please prepare a request and present it to my assistant tonight. I now declare this Meet ended.”
The Hall filled with the rustling of robes and the clatter of booted feet. Rothen stepped back as the first of the Higher Magicians stepped down from his seat and strode toward the side doors of the hall. Turning, he waited as Dannyl wove through the rest of the magicians and hurried to meet him.
“Did you hear Lord Kerrin?” Dannyl asked. “He wants the girl punished for attacking his dear friend, Fergun. Personally, I don’t think the girl could have found a nicer magician to knock out.”
“Now Dannyl—” Rothen began.
“—and now they’ve got us sorting through rubbish down in the slums,” a voice said behind him.
“I don’t know what’s the greater tragedy: that they killed the boy or that they missed the girl,” another replied.
Appalled, Rothen turned to stare at the speaker, an old Alchemist who was too busy looking glumly at the floor to notice. As the magician shuffled away, Rothen shook his head.
“I was about to lecture you about being uncharitable, Dannyl, but there’s little point, is there?”
“No,” Dannyl agreed, stepping aside as Administrator Lorlen and the High Lord passed.
“What if we don’t find her?” the Administrator asked his companion.
The High Lord gave a low laugh. “Oh, you’ll find her, one way or the other—though I’d say by tomorrow most will be in favor of the more spectacular, less fragrant alternative.”
Rothen shook his head again as the two Higher Magicians moved away.
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