Black Magician-02 The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  Then the Dem Agerralin: "We are all very curious about you..."

  We?

  Tayend himself, in the Palace: "The Elyne court is both awful in its decadence, and wonderful for its freedom. We expect everyone to have a few interesting or eccentric habits."

  Tayend had been uneasy for their whole stay in Lonmar. Dannyl knew what they had witnessed in Judgment Square had shocked Tayend, but he had expected the scholar would eventually forget the incident and enjoy the rest of the "adventure." But Tayend had remained fearful and quiet.

  And now, of course, he's worried how I will react. We Kyralians aren't exactly known for our tolerance of men like Tayend. I know that only too well. No wonder he was afraid of being Healed. He believes that Healers can sense if a man desires other men, as if it's an illness.

  Dannyl frowned. So what should he do now? Should he let Tayend know that he had discovered his secret, or would it be better to pretend that he hadn't noticed anything?

  I don't know. I need more time to consider. For now . . . yes, I will pretend I don't know.

  Opening his eyes, he found Tayend staring at him. Smiling, Dannyl drew away his hand. "Are you—?"

  "My lord?"

  Looking up, Dannyl saw that a crowd had gathered around him. The man who had addressed him was a Vindo guard. Other guards were questioning people. One inspected the prone mugger, then extracted Tayend's money bag from the man's hand.

  The guard standing over Dannyl nudged a bloodied knife on the ground by Tayend's foot with the toe of his sandal. "No trial," he said, meeting Dannyl's eyes nervously. "People say you kill bad man. You in right."

  Looking through the crowd, Dannyl saw the staring eyes of the mugger. Dead. A shiver ran down his spine. He had never killed before. That was something else he would have to think about later. As the guard moved away, Dannyl turned to Tayend and gave the scholar a questioning look.

  "Are you recovered?"

  Tayend nodded quickly. "If you don't count the fact that I'm still shaking."

  The wine merchant stood in the doorway of his shop, looking uncertain and frightened. A younger man stood beside him with the box of wine in his arms. "Come on, then. Let's get our wine. I don't know about you, but I just got a lot thirstier."

  Tayend took a few unsteady steps, then seemed to regain his confidence. A guard pressed the money bag into his hands. Dannyl smiled at the scholar's expression, then, indicating that the merchant's companion should follow, started toward the Guild House.

  The words on the page before Sonea suddenly disappeared under fat black droplets. She looked over her shoulder, but no one stood nearby. Hearing more drops hit the page, she looked up and saw an ornate ink bottle hovering high above her.

  From behind the shelves of books to her left she heard giggles. The bottle moved, threatening to splash ink on Sonea's robes. Narrowing her eyes at it, she sent out a flash of power. At once the ink sizzled and dried, and the ink bottle began to glow red. It shot away toward the shelves, and she heard a yelp.

  Smiling grimly, she looked down again, but her smile vanished as she saw the ink drying on the page. She drew out a nosecloth and dabbed at the spots. Then she muttered a curse as the ink spread.

  "Bad idea. You're only making it worse," said a voice at her shoulder.

  She jumped and turned to find Dorrien standing behind her. Before she could stop herself, she snapped the book shut.

  He shook his head. "That certainly won't help."

  Sonea frowned with annoyance and searched for a retort, but he reached out to take the book from her.

  "Here, let me have a look." He laughed. "First Year Alchemy. This isn't even worth saving!"

  "But it's from the library."

  Dorrien leafed through to the stained pages and grimaced. "There's nothing you can do to fix this," he said, shaking his head. "But don't worry. Rothen can have another copy made."

  "But. . ."

  Dorrien's brows rose. "But?"

  "It will cost—"

  "Money?" Dorrien finished. "That's hardly a problem, Sonea."

  Sonea opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again.

  "You don't think it's fair for him to pay for it, do you?" Dorrien dropped into one of the chairs beside her. "After all, you didn't damage the book."

  Sonea chewed on her lip. "You saw them?"

  "I passed a novice nursing burned fingertips and another holding what looked like a melted ink bottle. When I saw you trying to rescue this book, I guessed the rest." His lips twitched. "Rothen has told me of your admirers."

  She regarded him silently. He laughed at her expression, but it was a laugh edged with bitterness.

  "I wasn't very popular in my First Year of University, either. I understand a little of what you're going through. It's torture, but you can get yourself out of it."

  "How?"

  He put the book down on the table and leaned back in the chair. "Before I say anything, you had better tell me what they've done to you so far. I need to get an idea what these novices are like, particularly Regin, before I can help you."

  "Help me?" She regarded him dubiously. "What can you do that Rothen can't?"

  He smiled. "Maybe nothing, but we won't know that if we don't try."

  Somewhat reluctantly, she told him about the first day, about Issle and how all the class turned from her. She related how she had worked until she could join the next class only to have Regin follow her, and how soon after he had put Narron's pen in her box so that everyone would think she was a thief. And then she described the ambush in the forest.

  "I don't know why, but I left that meeting with the Higher Magicians with a feeling that something else was going on that I didn't know about," she finished. "They didn't ask the sort of questions I expected."

  "What were you expecting?"

  Sonea shrugged. "Questions about who started the whole thing. They only asked if I was tired."

  "You had just demonstrated how strong you were, Sonea," Dorrien pointed out. "They would have been more interested in that than some squabble between you and the novices."

  "But they banned Regin from Balkan's class until the middle of next year."

  "Oh, they had to punish him," Dorrien waved a hand dismissively, "but that's not why they questioned you. They wanted you to confirm his story, but mostly they wanted to gauge your limits."

  Sonea thought back to that interview and nodded slowly.

  "From what I've heard, you're stronger than many of the lower-level teachers now," he continued. "Some believe your powers have developed young and won't grow much further, others think you'll continue at this rate and become as powerful as Lorlen. Who knows? It doesn't mean anything until you know how to use that power."

  Dorrien leaned forward and rubbed his palms together. "But the magicians have to acknowledge that Regin and his friends are ganging up on you now. Unfortunately, they can only do something about it when there's proof. We have to give them that proof. I think we should convince them that he was the one who planted Narron's pen in your box."

  "How?"

  "Hmmm." Dorrien leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the cover of the book. "Ideally, it should involve him trying to set you up as a thief again. Then when he's caught, everyone will have to consider that you were set up before. Yet we'll have to make sure there's no possibility that they'll think we set him up ..."

  As they tossed ideas back and forth, Sonea felt her spirits lighten. Perhaps Dorrien could help her. He was certainly nothing like she had expected him to be. In fact, she decided, he was nothing like any magician she had met before.

  I think I actually like him, she mused.

  Chapter 18

  Friendship

  Opening the door to her room, Sonea blinked in surprise.

  "Enough studying," Dorrien announced. "You've been stuck in there every night this week. It's Freeday, and we're going out."

  "Out?" Sonea repeated.

  "Out," he affirmed.

 
; "Where to?"

  "That," Dorrien's eyes twinkled, "is a secret."

  Sonea opened her mouth to protest, but he put a finger to her lips. "Shh," he said. "No more questions."

  Curious despite her annoyance, she pulled the door closed and followed him down the corridor of the Novices' Quarters. She caught a soft sound behind her and looked back over her shoulder. Regin was peering out from the open doorway of a room, his lips curled into a sly smile.

  Turning away, she followed Dorrien outside. The sun was shining, though the grounds were still buried deep under snow. Dorrien walked fast, and she had to hurry to keep up with him.

  "How far away is this secret place?"

  "Not far." Dorrien smiled.

  Not far. Like most of Dorrien's answers, it told her nothing. She pressed her lips together, determined to ask no more questions.

  "Have you been out of the grounds many times since you came here?" he asked, slowing his stride as they entered the University.

  "A few times. Not since I started at the University, though."

  "But that's nearly six months ago." Dorrien shook his head. "Rothen really should take you out more. It's not healthy spending all your time indoors."

  Amused by his disapproval, she smiled. She couldn't imagine him being comfortable indoors for long periods of time. A light tan colored his face and hands, hinting at long hours spent under the sun. His strides were long and easy, and she had to walk fast to keep up.

  She had expected a younger Rothen. While Dorrien's eyes were the same brilliant blue as his father's, his jaw was narrower and his frame was thinner. However, the main difference was in their personalities. Or was it? While Rothen was dedicated to teaching novices, Dorrien was commited to looking after the villages in his care. They just practiced different disciplines and lived in vastly different surrounds.

  "Where did you go?" Dorrien asked.

  "I visited my aunt and uncle in the slums a few times," she told him. "Every time I did, I think a few magicians were worried I might try to run away."

  "Have you ever thought of running away, Sonea?"

  Surprised by the question, she looked at him closely. His gaze was level, and his expression serious.

  "Sometimes," she admitted, lifting her chin.

  Dorrien smiled. "Don't think you're the only novice who ever did," he said quietly. "Nearly all of us think about it at some time—usually just before testing time."

  "But you did get away in the end, didn't you?" Sonea pointed out.

  He laughed. "You could look at it that way."

  "How long have you been working in the country?"

  "Five years." Reaching the end of the corridor, they stepped into the Entrance Hall, and started up the stairs.

  "Do you miss the Guild?"

  He pursed his lips. "Sometimes. I miss Father most, but I also miss having access to all the medicines and knowledge here. If I need to find out how to treat an illness I can communicate with Healers here, but it's a slower process and I often don't have the medicines in my store that I need."

  "Is there another Healers' Quarters where you live?"

  "Oh, no," Domen smiled. "I live in a little house on a hillside, on my own. People come to me to have their illnesses treated, or I visit them. Sometimes I have to travel for several hours, and I have to take everything I might need with me."

  Sonea absorbed this as she followed him up the second flight of stairs. When they reached the top she noted that, while she was a little out of breath, Dorrien wasn't at all affected by the exertion.

  "This way." He beckoned and walked down the main corridor. They were on the third floor of the University. Mystified, Sonea wondered what could be so interesting up here.

  Dorrien turned into a smaller passage. After taking several turns and passing through a small, unused room, he stopped before a door and waved a hand slowly over a panel set into the wood. Sonea heard a click, then the door swung inward. Gesturing for her to follow, Dorrien moved into an unlit staircase. As the door closed behind them a globe of light sparked into existence above Dorrien's head.

  "Where are we?" Sonea breathed. They had taken so many turns that she was completely disorientated. She was sure they were somewhere near the front of the University. There were no floors above, yet the staircase continued upward.

  "We're inside the University," Dorrien told her with an innocent smile.

  "I know that."

  He chuckled and turned toward the stairs. They climbed up to another door, which responded to Dorrien's hand as the other had. As it swung open, a blast of icy wind rushed in to chill her skin.

  "Now we're outside the University," Dorrien said as they stepped through the door.

  Finding herself on a wide pathway, Sonea caught her breath in surprise. They were standing on the University's roof.

  It curved slightly to prevent rain and snow from gathering. She could see the large glass ceiling of the Great Hall in the center. A little snow had gathered around the frame of each panel of glass. The ornate edging that topped the two longer sides of the building formed a sturdy railing at waist height.

  "I didn't know it was possible to get onto the roof," she admitted.

  "Only a few magicians are allowed to come here," Dor-rien told her. "The locks respond to their touch. I was given access by Lady Vinara's predecessor, Lord Garen." Dorrien's expression became wistful. "After mother died, he and I became friends of sorts. He was like an additional grandfather, I suppose. One who was always around to talk to me. He taught me when I decided to b—"

  A blast of wind whisked his words away and grabbed at their robes. Sonea's fringe whipped around her face, stinging her eyes. She reached behind her head and grabbed the clip that held her hair back. Turning to face the wind, she gathered the wayward strands together and fastened them tightly.

  Then the wind abruptly stopped. Sensing the barrier Dorrien had created to shield them, she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes bright in the sunlight.

  "Come down here," he beckoned.

  He strode down to the railing. Sonea followed, noting how the surface of the roof had been carved with grooves to prevent boots slipping when it was wet. Dorrien stopped halfway along the length of the building. Brushing snow off the railing, she leaned over to stare at the ground. It was a dizzyingly long way down.

  A group of servants hurried along the path, making their way through the gardens toward the Healers' Quarters. She could see the roof of the circular building over the treetops. Turning to her right, she saw the Novices' Quarters, the Dome, the Seven Arches building and the Baths. Behind was Sarika's Hill, the forest dusted with snow. At the top of the hill the disused, crumbling lookout was just visible, mostly hidden by trees.

  Turning around completely, she looked at the city, then beyond. A ribbon of blue, the Tarali River, wound away from Imardin toward the horizon.

  "Look," Dorrien said, pointing. "You can see barges on the river."

  Sonea shaded her eyes and saw a long line of flat craft floating on the river just beyond the city outskirts. On each stood tiny men with poles, with which they constantly prodded the riverbed. She frowned.

  "Isn't the river deep?"

  "It is closer to the city," Dorrien told her, "but up there it's still shallow enough for the bargemen. When they arrive in the city a boat will come out and guide them into the port. They're carrying produce from the northwest, most likely," Dorrien noted. "See the road on the other side of the river?"

  Sonea nodded. A narrow brown line ran beside the blue line of the river.

  "When they have delivered their load they will tie the barges to gorin, who will pull them back upstream. The gorin will be used to bring other trade downstream—they're slower and cheaper to hire.

  "To get to my home, you follow that road." Dorrien pointed. "The Steelbelt Ranges appear on the horizon after a few days' riding."

  Sonea followed the direction of his finger. Dark clumps of trees grew along the distant road, and beyon
d them she could see fields stretching to the horizon.

  She had studied maps of Kyralia, and knew that mountains marked the border between Kyralia and Sachaka, just as, in the northwest, the Grey Mountains formed the border of Elyne. As she stared out into the distance, a strange feeling stole over her. There were places out there she had never seen—never even thought to wonder about—but they were still a part of her country.

  And beyond that there were other lands she had only recently begun to learn about.

  "Have you ever been outside Kyralia?"

  "No," Dorrien shrugged. "I might travel one day. Never had a good reason to go, and I don't like being away from my village too long."

  "What about Sachaka? You live right near one of the passes, don't you? Haven't you ever slipped through to have a look?"

  He shook his head. "A few of the herders have, probably to see if it was worth grazing there. There are no towns on the other side, not for many days' ride. Just wasteland."

  "The wasteland from the war?"

  "Yes." He nodded. "You've been paying attention to your history lessons, I see."

  She shrugged. "It's the only interesting part. Everything else—the Alliance and formation of the Guild—is mindlessly boring."

  He laughed, then moved away from the railing. They walked slowly back to the door and entered the little room again. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he placed a hand on her arm.

  "So, did you like my surprise?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "Better than studying?"

  "Of course."

  He grinned and stepped sideways. Sonea gasped as he dropped down the stairwell. A moment later he rose into sight again, floating on a disc of magic. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding.

  "You nearly stopped my heart, Dorrien!" she scolded.

  He laughed. "Want to learn how to levitate?"

  She shook her head.

  "Of course you do."

  "I have three more chapters to read."

  His eyes twinkled. "You can read them tonight. Do you want to learn this when the other novices are watching? If I teach you now, nobody but me will see the mistakes you make."