Black Magician-02 The Novice

by Trudi Canavan

  "Because he's still there," Regin said, smiling slyly. "And you're too scared to face him."

  She regarded him carefully, weighing up possible responses. He would not believe a denial, and saying nothing would only confirm his suspicions.

  "Scared?" She snorted. "No more than you."

  "Really?" He took a step closer. "What are you waiting for then? The gong has rung. You're late, and your guardian is around to notice. So why are you still delaying? Or perhaps I should call out and let him know you're hiding down here."

  She glared at him. Would he? Probably, if he thought it would get her in trouble. Yet if she left now, she would be giving in to his goading.

  Better to give in than to have him call out to Akkarin. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and stalked down the passage. As she neared the end, a black figure strode past the passage entrance and she froze.

  To her relief, Akkarin didn't notice her. He walked past and she heard his footsteps fading as he continued along the corridor. She heard a chuckle of satisfaction from behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Regin watching her, smiling.

  She turned away and stepped into the corridor. Why was he so interested in whether she was scared of Akkarin or not? She shook her head. Of course, any sign that she was unhappy would give him pleasure.

  But why hadn't he been in class? What reason could he possibly have for being in this part of the University?

  Surely he hadn't been following her ...

  A gust of cold air greeted Lorlen as he opened the door to his office. The draft picked up a number of messages that had been slipped under the door for him and blew them out into the corridor. Seeing the number of them, he sighed and swept them inside again with a little magic.

  Closing the door, he stomped across the room to his desk.

  "You're not in the best mood today."

  Jumping at the voice, Lorlen cast around for the owner. Akkarin was sitting in one of the chairs, his dark eyes reflecting the light diffused by the window screens.

  How did he get in here? Lorlen stared at Akkarin, tempted to demand an explanation. But the temptation faded as the High Lord returned his stare. Looking away, Lorlen concentrated on the messages scattered around the floor. He sent them fluttering across the room and into his hand, then sorted through them.

  "What's bothering you, my friend?"

  Lorlen shrugged. "Peakin and Davin are still at each other's throats, Garrel wants me to allow Regin to resume lessons with Balkan, and Jerrik just passed on another request from Tya for an assistant."

  "All within your ability to solve, Administrator."

  Lorlen snorted at the use of his title. "What would you have me do, High Lord?" he asked mockingly.

  Akkarin chuckled. "You know our little family better than I, Lorlen." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Say 'yes' to Garrel, 'no' to Lady Tya, and as for Davin . . . his idea that we rebuild the Lookout so he can observe the weather is interesting. The Guild hasn't built anything for a long time, and a lookout tower has military value—which would please Captain Arin. He's been trying to persuade me to rebuild the Outer Wall since he became Military Adviser to the King."

  Lorlen frowned. "Surely you're not serious. A project like that would be expensive and time-consuming. Our time would be better spent..." Lorlen paused. "Did you say 'yes' to Garrel? Would you have Regin's punishment for attacking Sonea ended six months early?"

  Akkarin shrugged. "Do you really think he'll cause Sonea trouble now? The boy has talent. It is a shame to waste it."

  Lorlen nodded slowly. "It would . . . reduce the sting of having his adversary favored by the High Lord."

  "Balkan would agree."

  Placing the messages on his desk, Lorlen moved to his seat. "But this isn't what you came to see me about, is it?"

  Akkarin's long fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. "No." His eyes were thoughtful. "Is there any way we can take Rothen from Sonea's Second Year schedule without the change looking suspicious?"

  Lorlen sighed. "Must we?"

  Akkarin's expression darkened. "Yes. We must."

  * * *

  The scrape of her dragging footsteps echoed in the passage. The morning lesson with Lord Yikmo had been a disaster. Her encounters with Rothen and Regin had also left her feeling too edgy and distracted for memorizing plant names in medicines, and too tired to grasp the evening mathematics lesson.

  All things considered, it had been a day she would be happy to see end.

  Remembering Regin's smug expression, she wondered again what he had concluded. Perhaps he simply enjoyed the thought that she was unhappy about her change of guardian.

  So what? she thought. So long as he leaves me alone, I don't care what he thinks.

  But would he leave her alone? If he decided she was too scared of Akkarin to report his harassment, he might start bothering her again. He would have to be careful to do it when other magicians wouldn't see, however . . .

  Only a blurred movement in the corner of her eye warned her. She had no time to dodge away. An arm wrapped around her neck, the other around her waist. The attacker's momentum spun them both around, but the arm about her neck did not loosen.

  She struggled, but quickly realized that her attacker was too strong for her. Then a trick Cery had taught her flashed into her mind. The memory was so vivid, she could almost hear Cery's voice ...

  If someone does this, brace your legs— that's right— then reach back and.. .

  She felt the man toppling and gave a short laugh of satisfaction as he fell to the floor. He did not sprawl on his face, however, but nimbly rolled aside and sprang to his feet. Alarmed, she backed away, groping for a knife that wasn't . . . then she stopped and stared at her attacker in surprise.

  Lord Yikmo looked strangely unfamiliar in ordinary clothing. A plain sleeveless shirt revealed surprisingly muscular shoulders. He crossed his arms and nodded.

  "I thought so."

  Sonea stared at him, her surprise slowly turning to annoyance.

  The Warrior smiled. "I may have found the source of your problem, Sonea."

  She swallowed an angry retort. "What is it, then?"

  "From your reaction just now it's clear that your first response to an attack is physical. You learned that defensive maneuver in the slums, didn't you?"

  She nodded reluctantly.

  "Did you have a particular trainer?"

  "No."

  He frowned. "How did you know what to do?"

  "My friends taught me."

  "Friends? These would be young people, yes? No older trainers?"

  "An old whore once showed me how to use my knife if I was ... in a certain situation."

  His brows rose. "I see. Street fighting. Defensive maneuvers. Little wonder you use it first. It's what you know best, and you know it works. We have to change that." He waved a hand, gesturing for her to walk beside him, and started down the passage toward the main corridor.

  "You have to learn to react magically rather than physically," he told her. "I can devise exercises that will help you do that. I have to warn you, though, this kind of relearning can be quite slow and difficult. Persevere, however, and you'll be using magic without thinking by the end of the year."

  She shook her head. "Without thinking? That's the opposite from what the other teachers say."

  "Yes. That is because most novices are too eager to use magic. They must be taught restraint. But you are no ordinary novice, and so ordinary teaching methods may be discarded."

  Sonea considered that. It made sense. Then something else occurred to her. "How do you know that I didn't think of using magic first, but decided not to?"

  "I know you were acting on your instincts. You went looking for a knife. You didn't stop to think about that, did you?"

  "No, but that's different. If someone attacks me like that, I have to assume he really wants to hurt me."

  "So you were quite prepared to hurt me in return?"

  She nodded. "Of course." />
  His brows rose. "Few would condemn an ordinary man or woman if he or she killed another in self-defense, but if a magician kills a non-magician it is an outrage. You have the power to defend yourself, so there is no excuse for killing, no matter what your attacker's intent—not even if the attacker is a magician. When confronted with such an attack your first reaction should be to shield yourself. That is another good reason to change your first reaction to a magical rather than physical one."

  As they reached the main corridor, Yikmo smiled and patted her shoulder.

  "You're not doing as badly as you think, Sonea. If you'd struck out at me with magic, or simply froze or screamed, I would have been disappointed. Instead, you kept calm, thought quickly, and succeeded in throwing me off. I think that's an impressive start. Good night."

  She bowed and watched him stride down the corridor toward the Magicians' Quarters. Turning away, she walked in the other direction.

  "You have the power to defend yourself, so there is no excuse for killing, no matter what your attacker's intent— not even if the attacker is a magician." Yet when she had reached for a knife, she had been prepared to kill. It would have seemed reasonable once, but now she wasn't so sure.

  Whatever the reason, the punishment for a magician who deliberately harmed someone, even if by nonmagical means, was harsh, and that was enough reason to change her thinking. She did not want to spend the rest of her days in prison, with her powers blocked. If her instinctive reaction was to kill, then she had best unlearn it as soon as possible.

  Anyway, what use to her were the tricks that she had learned in the slum now? When she considered what she was capable of, she doubted that she would ever need to wield a knife again. If she needed to defend herself in the future, she thought with a shiver, it would be against magic.

  Chapter 26

  A Jealous Rival

  As the carriage moved away from the Guild House, Dannyl considered everything he knew about the Bel Arralade. A widow of middle years, she was the head of one of the richest families in Elyne. Her four children—two daughters and two sons—had married into powerful families. Though the Bel herself had never remarried, rumors told of many amorous encounters between Arralade and other members of the Elyne court.

  The carriage turned a corner, then another, and stopped. Looking through the window, Dannyl saw that it had joined a long line of fashionably decorated vehicles.

  "How many people attend these parties?" he asked.

  Ambassador Errend shrugged. "Three or four hundred."

  Impressed, Dannyl counted the carriages. The line extended out of view, so he could not guess how long it was. Enterprising street hawkers strode up and down the street, offering their wares to the occupants of the carriages. Wine, sweets, cakes, and all manner of diversions were available. Musicians played and acrobats performed. The best of them were persuaded with a steady stream of glittering coins to linger beside bored courtiers.

  "We could walk faster than this," Dannyl said.

  Errend chuckled. "Yes, we could try, but we would not get far. Someone would call us over and insist we travel with them, and it would be impolite to refuse."

  He bought a small box of sweets and, as they shared them, told stories about previous parties held by the Bel Arralade. It was during times like these that Dannyl was grateful that the First Guild Ambassador was a native to this land, and could explain the Elyne customs. Dannyl was surprised to hear that small children were allowed to attend.

  "Children are indulged here," Errend warned. "We Elynes like to spoil them when they're young. Unfortunately, they can be little tyrants to magicians, expecting us to perform for them like entertainers."

  Dannyl smiled. "All children believe a magician's primary role is to amuse them."

  Much later, the carriage door opened and Dannyl followed Errend out to stand before a typical Capian mansion. Well-dressed servants greeted then directed them through a grand archway. A large room followed, open to the elements as the Palace forecourt had been. The air was chilly, and the guests who had arrived before them were hurrying toward doors at the far end.

  Beyond was a larger, circular room filled with people. The light of several chandeliers fell on myriad brightly colored costumes. A constant buzz of voices echoed back from the domed ceiling and the mingled scents of flowers, fruit and spices were almost overpowering.

  Heads turned, most only long enough to note who had arrived. Dems and Bels of all ages were present. A few magicians stood among them. Children, dressed in miniature versions of adult clothing, ran about or crowded together on bench seats. Servants were everywhere, each dressed in yellow and carrying platters of food or bottles of wine.

  "What a remarkable woman this Bel Arralade must be," Dannyl murmured. "If you put this many members of the Kyralian Houses together—outside of the court—swords would be drawn within half an hour."

  "Yes," Errend agreed. "But weapons will be drawn tonight, Dannyl. We Elynes find words sharper than swords. They don't make such a mess of the furnishings."

  A grand stairway led up to a balcony that ran around the entire room. Looking up, Dannyl saw Tayend watching him from behind the railing. The scholar gave a slight bow. Resisting the temptation to smile at this stiff formality, Dannyl inclined his head in reply.

  Beside Tayend stood a muscular young man. Seeing his companion's half-bow, the man frowned and looked down. As he saw Dannyl, the man's eyes widened in surprise and he quickly looked away.

  Dannyl turned back to Errend. The Ambassador was helping himself to the contents of a platter offered by one of the brightly clad servants.

  "Try these," Errend urged. "They're delicious!"

  "What happens now?" Dannyl asked, taking one of the little pastry scrolls.

  "We mingle. Stay with me, and I will introduce you to people."

  So for the next few hours Dannyl followed his fellow Ambassador about the room and concentrated on memorizing names and titles. Errend warned him that no meal would be served, that the latest fashion in entertaining was for guests to graze from the platters of delicacies carried around. Dannyl was given a wineglass and it was so regularly topped up that eventually, to keep his mind clear, he slipped it onto one of the platters when a servant wasn't watching.

  When a woman wearing an elaborate yellow dress approached them, Dannyl knew instantly that this was the hostess. Her skin had not been as lined in the portrait he had studied while preparing for his new position, but her bright, alert gaze warned him that she was still the formidable Bel he had heard so much about.

  "Ambassador Errend," she said, bowing slightly. "And this must be Ambassador Dannyl. Thank you for coming to my party."

  "Thank you for inviting us," Errend replied, inclining his head.

  "I could not hold a party without including the Guild Ambassadors on my guest list," she said, smiling. "Magicians have always been the most well-mannered and entertaining guests." She turned to Dannyl. "So, Ambassador Dannyl, have you enjoyed your stay in Capia so far?"

  "I have indeed," Dannyl replied. "It is a beautiful city."

  The conversation continued in this way for several minutes. A woman joined them and drew Errend into conversation. Bel Arralade exclaimed that her feet were already tired, and drew Dannyl aside to a bench seat set within an alcove of the wall.

  "I've heard you've taken to researching ancient magic," she said.

  Dannyl regarded her with surprise. Though he and Tayend had ;asoided discussing the subject of their research with anyone but Librarian Irand, it was possible that their interest had been noted by someone they had met on their journey. Or had Tayend decided that it no longer needed to be a secret now that they were not gathering information for Lorlen, but "helping" Rothen with his book?

  If that were so, a denial would only make her suspicious. "Yes," he replied. "It is an interest of mine."

  "Have you discovered anything new and fascinating?"

  He shrugged. "Nothing very exciting. Just a lot of
books and scrolls filled with old languages."

  "But haven't you recently travelled to Lonmar and Vin? Surely you have gathered some interesting stories there."

  He decided to be vague. "I saw scrolls in Lonmar and tombs in Vindo, but they weren't much more exciting than the musty old books I've been reading. I fear I will bore you if I start describing them in detail—and what will people say if the new Ambassador sends the hostess to sleep at her own party?"

  "That must be avoided, at all cost." She laughed, then her eyes grew misty. "Ah, but the subject brings back pleasant memories. Your High Lord came here on a similar quest, many years ago. He was such a handsome man. Not a High Lord then, of course. He could have talked for hours about ancient magic, and I would have listened just to have the opportunity to admire him."

  Was that, then, the reason for her interest? Dannyl chuckled. "Fortunately for you, I know I am not handsome enough to compensate for rambling on about my research."

  She smiled, her eyes flashing. "Not handsome? I would not say so. Others would say quite the opposite." She paused, her expression becoming thoughtful. "But do not think the High Lord rude. While I said that I would have listened to him talk for hours, he never did so. He attended my birthday party, but he had barely returned from Vin when he left for the mountains, and I have never seen him since."

  The mountains? This was new. "Shall I forward a greeting to him from you, Bel?" he offered.

  "Oh, I doubt he remembers me," she said, waving a hand.

  "Nonsense! No man can forget beauty, even if it is merely glimpsed in passing."

  She smiled broadly and gave him a light pat on the arm. "Oh, I like you, Ambassador Dannyl. Now, tell me: what do you think of Tayend of Tremmelin? He was your companion on these journeys, was he not?"

  Conscious of the way she watched him from between her long eyelashes, Dannyl considered the answers he had discussed with Tayend.

  "My assistant? I found him to be most useful. He has an amazing memory, and his grasp of languages is impressive."

  She nodded. "But what about personally? Did you find him an agreeable companion?"