A chill went through her. Suddenly she wanted to replace the book, put the cabinet back in place, and get out of the library as quickly as possible. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her fears aside. The library was locked. Even if Jullen or Tya returned, she would hear them coming. Though she would have to move fast, she could probably put the cabinet back before they entered the storeroom.
Opening the book where the slip of paper lay, she examined the pages and recognized some of the text. Nothing strange or unusual explained the marker. Shrugging, she lay the paper bookmark back over the page.
Then her heart skipped. Three tiny, hand-drawn maps of the University had been sketched on the slip of paper—one for each level. Looking closer, she felt a thrill of excitement. On other maps the walls were thick lines; on this they were hollow, and doors were indicated in them where she knew there were none. Mysterious little crosses had been marked inside the walls. The third map, of the ground floor, showed a spider's web of passages outside the University walls.
She had found it! A map of the passages under the University. Or, more accurately, a map of passages throughout the University.
Clutching the map, she stepped back from the cabinet. Should she take it, or would someone notice it missing? Perhaps she could copy it. How much time did she have left? Could she memorize it?
Looking down at the map, she traced the passages with her eyes. She noted a little symbol drawn on one of the inner walls next to the Magicians' Library. Looking closer, she realized it was the wall she was standing next to, marking a place just about...
Turning, she stared at the painting hanging behind the cabinet. Why hang a painting behind a cabinet? Sonea took the frame, lifted it and caught her breath.
A neat square hole had been cut into the wall. Peering inside, she could see a corresponding square of light illuminating a stone wall beyond, an arm's length away.
Hastily, she let the painting fall again. Her heart was pounding now. This was no coincidence. Whoever had made that hole had created it to reach the cabinet.
It might have been done centuries ago. Or it might have been made recently. Looking down at the map again, she knew she could not memorize it, and now that she knew that someone might return to the cabinet and notice it missing, she dared not take it with her. But she couldn't leave empty-handed. An opportunity to get into the cabinet might not come again.
Running to Lord Jullen's desk she found a thin sheet of paper, a pen and his inkwell. Laying the paper over the map, she began tracing as quickly as she could. Her mouth was dry as she worked, her breathing unsteady. It seemed to take much too long, but finally she was done. Folding the tracing up, she put it in a pocket in her robe.
Only then did she hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the library. Cursing softly, she hastily cleaned Jullen's pen and put it away. Running to the storeroom, she replaced the map in the book and slid it back on the shelf. As she pressed the square of wood back into place she heard the footsteps pause at the library door. Dancing away from the wall, she focused her mind on the cabinet.
Steady. Taking a deep breath, she lifted it and turned it back against the wall.
The library door clicked shut.
"Sonea?"
Realizing she was shaking, Sonea decided she didn't trust her voice.
"Mmm?" she replied.
Tya appeared in the storeroom doorway. "Are you done?"
Nodding, Sonea picked up the empty boxes.
"I'm sorry I took so long." Tya frowned. "You look a bit... unsettled."
"It's a bit spooky in here," Sonea admitted. "But I'm fine."
Tya smiled. "Yes, it can be. But, thanks to you, it's all done and we can finally get some sleep."
As Sonea followed Tya out of the library, she placed a hand over the pocket where the map was hidden, and smiled.
Chapter 29
A Revelation
Sonea took a deep breath as she entered Yikmo's practice room. Keeping her eyes lowered, she stopped just inside the door.
"My lord," she began. "I apologize for disobeying you the other night. You helped me and I was rude."
Yikmo was silent for a moment, then he chuckled. "You don't have to apologize for that, Sonea."
Looking up, she was relieved to see that he was smiling. He pointed to a seat and she obediently sat down.
"You have to understand that this is what I do," he told her. "I take novices who are having difficulties with Warrior Skills training and find out why. In all cases but yours, however, the novices I have taught have sought my help willingly. When they realize that I am going to raise personal matters that may be the cause of their problems, they have three choices: accept my method of teaching, find another teacher, or choose another discipline.
"But you? You're here only because your guardian wishes it." He looked at her directly. "Am I right?"
Sonea nodded.
"It's hard to like what one is not good at." The magician regarded her levelly. "Do you want to be better at this discipline, Sonea?"
She shrugged. "Yes."
His eyes narrowed. "I suspect you are saying only what you believe you ought to say, Sonea. I will not repeat your answer to your guardian, if that is what you fear. I will not regard you badly if you say you do not. Consider the question carefully. Do you really wish to master this art?"
Looking away, Sonea thought of Regin and his followers. Perhaps if what Yikmo taught her helped her to defend herself ... but with so many novices allied against her what use was there in skill and strategy?
Was there any other reason to improve? She certainly didn't care about gaining the High Lord's approval—and even if she became as proficient as Yikmo or Balkan, she would never have the strength to fight Akkarin.
But one day the Guild might discover the truth about the High Lord. She wanted to be there to lend her strength in the fight. It would only increase the chances of beating him if she was good at Warrior Skills, too.
She straightened. Yes, that was a good reason to improve her skills. She might not enjoy Warrior Skills classes, but if they helped the Guild oust Akkarin one day she should learn all she could.
She looked up at Yikmo. "If it's hard to like what one isn't good at, will I like it more when I am better at it?"
The Warrior smiled broadly. "Yes. I promise that you will. Not all the time, though. We all have to suffer defeat from time to time, and I don't know anyone who enjoys that." He paused, his expression sobering. "But first we have some tougher matters to attend to. You have many weaknesses to overcome, and what you witnessed during the Purge has brought about most of them. Fear of killing has made you reluctant to strike and knowing that you are stronger than others: makes you even more cautious. You have to learn to trust yourself. You have to learn the limits of your strength and Control—and I have devised some exercises that will help you do that. This afternoon we have the use of the Arena."
Sonea stared at him in surprise. "The Arena?"
"Yes."
"Just me?"
"All to yourself—and your teacher, of course." He took a step toward the door. "Come along, then."
Rising, she followed him out of the room and into the passage.
"Isn't the Arena used by other classes every day?"
"Yes," Yikmo replied. "But I convinced Balkan to find something else for his class to do this afternoon." He glanced at her, smiling. "Something fun that took them outside the Guild, so they would not resent your intrusion."
"What are they doing?"
He chuckled. "Blasting rock out of an old quarry."
"What will they learn from that?"
"To respect the destructive potential of their powers." He shrugged. "It also helps to remind them of the damage they could do to their surroundings should they ever fight outside the Arena."
They reached the main corridor and continued to the rear stairway. As they left the building and started on the path to the Arena, Sonea looked up at the University windows. Though she coul
d see no faces, she was suddenly conscious that her "private" lesson was not going to be at all private.
Descending into the Arena's portal, they moved through darkness and into the sunlight again. Yikmo pointed toward the Healers' Quarters.
"Strike at the barrier."
She frowned. "Just... strike?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
He waved a hand dismissively. "Any. It doesn't matter. Just strike."
Taking a deep breath, she focused her will and sent a fire-strike toward the invisible shield. As it hit, hundreds of fine threads of energy rippled out between the curved spires of the Arena. The air vibrated with a muted tinkling.
"Strike again, but stronger."
This time lightning covered the entire domed barrier. Yikmo smiled and nodded.
"Not bad. Now put all your strength into it."
Power flashed through and out of her. It was an exhilarating sensation. The shield crackled with light and Yikmo chuckled.
"Now give it all your strength, Sonea."
"I thought I had."
"I don't think you did. Imagine everything that matters to you depends on one immense effort. Don't hold back."
Nodding, she imagined that Akkarin stood in front of the barrier. She pictured Rothen standing beside her, the target of Akkarin's immense power.
Don't hold back, she told herself as she let loose her magic.
The Arena barrier glowed so brightly she had to shield her eyes. Though the tinkling was no louder, her ears vibrated with the sound. Yikmo crowed quietly.
"That's more like it! Now do it again."
She looked at him. "Again?"
"Stronger, if you can."
"What about the Arena barrier?"
He laughed. "It would take much more than that to break the Arena barrier. Magicians have been strengthening it for centuries. I expect to see the supports glowing red by the end of this lesson, Sonea. Go on. Give it another blast."
After another few strikes, Sonea realized she was beginning to enjoy herself. Though battering the Arena barrier posed no challenge, it was a relief to be able to strike without worrying about precautions or restrictions. Each strike was a little weaker, however, and soon all she could do was send a few ripples of light across the barrier.
"That will do, Sonea. I don't want you falling asleep in your next class." He looked at her questioningly. "How do you feel about this lesson?"
She smiled. "It wasn't as hard as your usual ones."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"I guess."
"In what way?"
She frowned, then suppressed a smile. "It's like . . . seeing how fast I can run."
"Anything else?"
She couldn't tell him that she had imagined she was blasting Akkarin to ashes. But he had noticed her hesitation. Something similar, then? Looking up at him, she smiled mischievously. "It's like throwing stones at magicians."
His eyebrows rose. "Is it really?" Turning, he gestured for her to follow him to the Arena portal. "We've tested your limits today, but not in any way that will measure your strength against others. That will be the next step. Once you know how much power you can safely use against another, then you should stop hesitating before you strike." He paused. "It is two days since Regin exhausted you. Were you tired yesterday?"
"A little, in the morning."
He nodded slowly. "Go to bed early tonight, if you can. You'll need your strength tomorrow."
"So what do you think of my sister?"
Seeing that Tayend was grinning broadly, Dannyl chuckled. "Rothen would say she speaks plainly."
"Ha!" Tayend replied. "That's putting it mildly."
Mayrie of Porreni was as plain as her brother was handsome, though both were slim and small-boned. She had a forthright manner and a bold sense of humor that made her easy to like.
The estate her husband managed produced horses, some food crops, and wines that were sought after in all of the Allied Lands. The house was a sprawling single-story mansion with a verandah all around. After dinner, Tayend had taken a bottle of wine and some glasses and led Dannyl out under the verandah, where chairs were arranged to take in the view of the vines.
"So where is her husband, Orrend?" Dannyl asked.
"In Capia," Tayend said. "Mayrie manages everything here. He only comes out to visit once every few months." He looked at Dannyl and lowered his voice. "They don't get along very well. Father married her off to someone he decided she'd be suited to. But, as always, the Mayrie he has in his mind is vastly different from the Mayrie she actually is."
Dannyl nodded. He'd noticed how Mayrie had tensed when her husband's name had been mentioned by one of the dinner guests.
"Mind you, the man she would have chosen had her marriage not been arranged would have been an even bigger mistake," Tayend added. "She'll admit that these days." He sighed. "I'm still waiting for father to select some appropriately disastrous wife for me."
Dannyl frowned. "He'd still do that?"
"Probably." The scholar toyed with his glass, then looked up abruptly. "I've never asked before, but do you have someone waiting for you in Kyralia?"
"Me?" Dannyl shook his head. "No."
"No lady? No sweetheart?" Tayend seemed surprised. "Why not?"
Dannyl shrugged. "I've never had time. Too much to do."
"Like what?"
"My experiments."
"And?"
Dannyl laughed. "I don't know. When I think back, I wonder how I managed to fill my time. Certainly not by attending those court gatherings that seem designed for rinding a wife or husband. They don't attract the sort of woman I'd be interested in."
"So what sort of woman are you interested in?"
"I don't know," Dannyl confessed. "Never met one who interested me enough."
"But what about your family? Haven't they tried to find you a suitable wife?"
"They did once, years ago." Dannyl sighed. "She was a nice enough girl, and I planned to go ahead with the marriage just to keep my family happy. But one day I decided I couldn't do it, that I'd rather remain alone and childless than marry someone I didn't care for. It seemed crueller to do that to her than refuse the marriage."
Tayend's eyebrows rose. "But how did you get out of it? I thought Kyralian fathers arranged matches for their children."
"Yes, they do." Dannyl chuckled, "but one privilege that magicians have is the right to refuse an arranged marriage. I didn't refuse outright, but I found a way to persuade my father to change his mind. I knew the girl admired another young man, so I made sure that certain events occurred that convinced all that he was a better match. I played the part of the disappointed suitor, and everyone felt sorry for me. She is quite happy, I am told, and has had five children since."
"And your father didn't arrange another match?"
"No. He decided that—how did he put it?—if I chose to be contrary, then so long as I didn't scandalize the family by choosing some low-born servant, he'd leave me alone."
Tayend sighed. "Sounds like you got more out of the affair than being able to choose your wife. My father has never accepted my choices. Partly because I am his only son, so he's worried there will be no one to inherit after me. But mostly he disapproves of my . . . well . . . inclinations. He thinks I am being willful, that I am enchanted with perverse things, as if it's only about physical gratification." He frowned, then drained his glass. "It's not, in case you're wondering. At least, not for me. There is a ... a certainty in me about what is natural and right for me that is as strong as his own certainty about what is natural and right. I've read books about eras and places where being a lad was as ordinary as being ... I don't know, a musician or a swordsman. I... I'm ranting, aren't I?"
Dannyl smiled. "A little."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Dannyl said. "We all need to rant a little now and then."
Tayend chuckled and nodded. "Indeed, we do." He sighed. "Well, that's enough for now."
They gazed out over the moonlit fields, the silence stretching comfortably between them. Suddenly Tayend drew in a sharp breath. Leaping out of his chair, he hurried inside the house, swaying a little from the effect of the wine. Wondering what had caused his friend's sudden departure, Dannyl considered going after him, but decided instead to wait and see if he returned.
As he was pouring himself another glass of wine, Tayend appeared again.
"Look at this."
The scholar spread one of the drawings of the tomb over Dannyl's lap, then held out a large book. On the pages of the book was a map of the Allied Lands and neighboring countries.
"What am I looking at?" Dannyl asked.
Tayend pointed to a row of glyphs at the top of the tomb drawing. "These say something about a place—the place the woman came from."
His finger tapped at a particular glyph: a crescent and a hand surrounded by a square with curved corners. "I didn't know what this meant, but it was familiar, and it took a while before I remembered what it reminded me of. There's an old book in the Great Library that's so old the pages crumble into dust if you touch them too roughly. It belonged to a magician many centuries ago, Ralend of Kemori, who ruled part of Elyne before Elyne was one country. Visitors would write their names and titles, and purpose for visiting, in this book—though most of it was in the same handwriting so I suspect a scribe was hired to take the names of those who couldn't write themselves.
"There was a symbol similar to this on one page. I remember it, because it was a mark made by a stamp, not a pen. And it was red—faded but still visible. The scribe had written 'King of Charkan' next to it.
"Now, it's not unreasonable to think that the woman in the tomb came from the same place—the glyph is so similar to the stamp. But where is this place called Charkan?" Tayend smiled broadly and tapped the map. "This is an old atlas Or-rend's great-grandfather owned. Look closely."
Dannyl lifted the book out of Tayend's hands and brought his globe light closer. Near the end of Tayend's finger was a tiny word and a drawing.
"Shakan Dra," Dannyl read aloud.
Black Magician-02 The Novice Page 37