The man gave the appropriate reply, then stepped back and beckoned. As Dannyl slipped through, his globe light set the man's polished ceremonial armor and short sword glittering. The guard bowed stiffly.
They stood in a small room. A low corridor led deeper into the cliff side. The walls were covered in paintings. Tayend examined them closely, humming with appreciation.
"You must have watcher," the guard said. "So you not get lost. You must not take anything away, not even rock." He drew out a small flute and blew a single note. After a moment a boy in a simple belted shift appeared in the doorway.
He beckoned and, as Dannyl and Tayend stepped through the door, indicated that they should go first. As they started down a narrow tunnel, he followed silently.
Tayend set the pace, walking slowly as he examined the wall paintings.
"Anything interesting?" Dannyl asked when the scholar stopped for the third time.
"Oh, yes," Tayend breathed. He looked up at Dannyl, then smiled apologetically. "Just not related to what you're looking for."
Straightening, he continued at a faster pace, his attention still on the walls, but his expression less distracted. As time passed, Dannyl grew conscious of the weight of earth above him, and the closeness of the walls. If the tunnel was to collapse, he was sure he could prevent them being crushed by throwing up a barrier. He had done much the same thing a year ago when, to prevent him catching Sonea, the Thieves had collapsed one of their tunnels.
But here it was different. There was a lot more rubble and dirt above him. He could probably stop them from being crushed, but he wasn't sure what he would do then. Could he shift the earth around and behind his barrier, and so tunnel a way out? Would he have time before the air inside ran out? Did he have the magical strength to do it? If he didn't, he would slowly weaken until the weight of the earth won out.
Disturbed by the thought, he tried to think of something else. The footsteps of the boy following behind were faintly discernible. He wondered whether the boy worried about being buried alive. He found himself thinking of another day, when he had entered the tunnels under the University to see why Fergun had been snooping around down there. He had fought off the suspicion that someone was following him, only to find that that someone was the High Lord.
"Are you all right?"
Dannyl jumped at the question. Tayend was regarding him closely.
"Yes. Why?"
"You're breathing a bit fast."
"Oh. Was I?"
"Yes."
After a few more steps, Dannyl quietly took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then started practicing a calming exercise.
Tayend glanced at him and smiled. "Does being underground bother you?"
"No."
"Lots of people feel uncomfortable in places like this. I've had plenty go all panicky in the library, so I've learned to recognize the signs. You will tell me if you're going to get panicky, won't you? I don't much like the idea of being near a panicky magician."
Dannyl smiled. "I'm fine. I'm just... remembering a few unpleasant experiences I've had in similar places."
"Oh? Do tell."
Somehow, relating the two experiences made Dannyl feel better. Describing how the Thieves came to bury him led to stories about the search for Sonea. As he reached the part where he had entered the tunnels under the University and encountered the High Lord, Tayend's eyes narrowed.
"You're scared of him, aren't you?"
"No. Not scared so much as ... well, it depends on the situation."
Tayend chuckled. "Well, if someone as scary as you is afraid of the High Lord, then I'm definitely keeping out of his way."
Dannyl checked his stride. "I'm scary?"
"Oh, yes." Tayend nodded. "Very scary."
"But . . ." Dannyl shook his head. "I haven't done anything to—" He stopped as he remembered the mugger. "Well, I guess I have now—but surely you weren't scared of me before then?"
"Of course I was."
"Why?"
"All magicians are scary. Everyone has heard what they can do—but it's what you don't know they can do that is scarier."
Dannyl grimaced. "Well, I guess you've seen what I can do, now. And I didn't mean to kill him."
Tayend regarded him silently for a few steps. "How are you feeling about that?"
"Not great," Dannyl admitted. "You?"
"I'm not sure. It's like I've got two different and opposing views at the same time. I'm not sorry you killed him, but I do think killing is wrong. I suppose it's the uncertainty that bothers me most. Who really knows whether it was right or wrong? I've read more books than most people I know, and none of them agree on anything. But there's one thing I do want to say to you."
Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend's eyes. "Yes?"
"Thank you." Tayend's expression was sober. "Thank you for saving my life."
Something inside Dannyl loosened, like a knot unravelling. He realized he had needed Tayend's gratitude. It did not make his conscience any easier to live with, but it helped him to keep the whole event in perspective.
Looking ahead, he noticed that his globe light was failing to illuminate the walls in the distance. He frowned, then realized they were approaching a larger cavern. As they neared this, a mineral smell caught Dannyl's attention. The tang in the air grew more distinct as they arrived at the opening. Dannyl sent his globe light out and Tayend gasped.
The chamber was as wide as the Guildhall, and filled with glistening curtains and spires of white. The sound of dripping water echoed through the space. Looking closely, Dannyl could see moisture falling from the ends of the stalactites. Between the fang-like stalagmites a shallow stream trickled.
"The Tombs of White Tears," Tayend murmured.
"Formed by water seeping through the roof, depositing minerals wherever it flows," Dannyl explained.
Tayend rolled his eyes. "I knew that."
A slippery path led down into the chamber. Descending carefully, they made their way along the uneven floor. As they passed the fantastic white structures, more came into sight. Suddenly Tayend stopped.
"The Mouth of Death," he said in a hushed voice.
Ahead, a row of stalagmites and stalactites crossed the chamber. Some had grown into each other and were slowly thickening to form columns. The gaps between others were so small, it seemed as if they would meet in mere moments.
Each was colossal at the floor or ceiling, tapering to fine white points, so that the whole arrangement looked like the teeth of a huge animal.
"Shall we see if there's a stomach?" Tayend asked. Not waiting for an answer, he ducked through two of the teeth and disappeared.
Following, Dannyl found Tayend standing on one side of a tunnel, beckoning furiously. The walls on either side were curtains of glistening white, broken here and there by shallow horizontal alcoves. Moving to Tayend's side, he saw that a skeleton lay within a small alcove. A new curtain of white had formed, half covering the alcove.
"They must have cut the tombs knowing that the walls would grow down to cover them," Tayend said quietly.
Moving on, they found another tomb, then another. The farther they travelled, the older and more numerous the tombs. Eventually there were no skeletons to be seen, just walls that had covered the alcoves completely.
Dannyl knew that hours had passed. The Vindo forbade visitors to the caves during daylight, and he began to worry that they would not return to the beach in time to meet their boat. When they reached the end of the tunnel he breathed a sigh of relief.
"There's nothing here," Tayend said, casting about.
Around them the walls were unbroken. Dannyl moved closer to the right, examining them carefully. They almost seemed to be translucent in places. Following suit, Tayend peered at the surface of the left-hand wall intently. After several minutes, he called Dannyl's name excitedly.
Moving to his friend's side, Dannyl saw that Tayend was pointing at a small hole.
"Can you get some light in ther
e?"
"I'll try."
As Tayend moved aside, Dannyl created a tiny spark and sent it into the hole. He watched as it moved through a finger-width of white mineral deposit, then out into darkness.
Brightening the spark to light the space beyond, he felt a smile spread across his face.
"What is it?" Tayend asked excitedly. "Let me see!"
Stepping aside, Dannyl watched as Tayend bent to peer in the hole. The scholar's eyes widened. Beyond the curtain of white was a small cave. A carved coffin lay in the center of the room. The walls inside were partly coated in mineral sediment, but much of the original carved decoration was still visible.
Tayend whipped out sheets of paper and a drawing stick from his coat, his eyes glowing with excitement. "How long have I got?"
Dannyl shrugged. "An hour, probably less."
"That'll be enough for now. Can we come back again?"
"I don't see why not."
Tayend grinned. "We've found it, Dannyl! We've found what your High Lord was searching for. Evidence of ancient magic!"
Chapter 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 H
igher 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 about 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."
Black Magician-02 The Novice Page 29