The Novice bmt-2

by Trudi Canavan

  “Stop what?” Dannyl asked slyly.

  The scholar looked at him in horror, then flung himself at the railing and vomited. Dannyl immediately felt ashamed of his teasing remark.

  “Here.” He took Tayend’s hand and placed his palm on the man’s wrist. Closing his eyes, he sent his awareness into the scholar’s body, but the sense of it vanished as the scholar snatched his hand away.

  “No. Don’t.” Tayend had flushed a bright red. “I’ll be fine. It’s seasickness, right? I’ll get used to it.”

  “You don’t have to be ill,” Dannyl said, puzzled by the scholar’s reaction.

  “Yes, I do.” Tayend leaned over the railing again. After a moment, he slumped against the rail and wiped his mouth on a nosecloth. “It’s all part of the experience, you see,” he told the waves. “If you stop me feeling it, I won’t have any good stories to tell.”

  Dannyl shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind...”

  Tayend coughed. “I’ll let you know.”

  As the last rays of light left all but the highest leaves within the forest, Lorlen stepped out of the University and made his way toward the High Lord’s Residence.

  Once again, he must endeavor to store all he knew in some dark part of his mind. Once more he would make friendly conversation, tell a few jokes, and drink the best wine in the Allied Lands.

  He would have trusted his life to Akkarin, once. They had been close as novices, confiding in each other, defending each other. Akkarin had been the one most likely to break Guild rules and propose mischief. Lorlen frowned. Had that led to this interest in black magic? Was Akkarin just bending the rules for the sake of his own entertainment?

  He sighed. He didn’t like fearing Akkarin. It was easier, on nights like this, to invent a good reason for Akkarin to be using black magic. But doubts always remained.

  “The fight has weakened me. I need your strength.”

  What fight? Who had Akkarin battled? Remembering the blood that had covered Akkarin in Sonea’s memory, Lorlen could only conclude that the adversary had been badly hurt. Or murdered.

  Lorlen shook his head. The stories Derril and his son had told were strange and disturbing. Both involved victims who appeared to be dead despite wounds that weren’t severe. This wasn’t enough to prove a black magician had been at work, however. He could not help thinking that, if he wasn’t worried about Akkarin, he might have been more inclined to bring the deaths to Vinara’s attention. The Healer might know a way to detect if a person had been killed with black magic.

  But if the Guild started looking for a black magician, would it all lead to a premature confrontation with Akkarin?

  Stopping at the door of the High Lord’s Residence, Lorlen sighed. He must push these things from his mind. Some of the magicians actually suspected that the High Lord could read thoughts from a distance. While he didn’t believe this, Akkarin did have an uncanny ability to discover secrets before anyone else.

  As always, the door swung inward as soon as he knocked. Stepping inside, he found Akkarin standing a few steps away, holding out a glass of wine.

  Lorlen smiled and accepted the glass. “Thank you.”

  Taking another glass from a nearby table, Akkarin lifted it to his lips. He regarded Lorlen over the brim. “You look tired.”

  Lorlen nodded. “I’m not surprised.” He shook his head and turned away, starting toward a chair.

  “Takan says dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Akkarin said. “Come upstairs.”

  Moving to the left side of the room, Akkarin opened the door to the stairs and waved Lorlen through. As he climbed, Lorlen felt an uneasiness steal over him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the black-robed magician following behind him. He pushed the feeling away and stepped into the long corridor at the top of the stairs.

  Halfway along, a pair of doors stood open, inviting Lorlen into the dining room. Takan stood within. As the servant bowed, Lorlen resisted looking too closely at the man, though he’d had few opportunities to examine Takan since learning of Akkarin’s activities.

  Takan moved to a chair and drew it out. Settling into it, Lorlen watched the man perform the same service for the High Lord, then hasten away.

  “So what is bothering you, Lorlen?”

  Lorlen looked at Akkarin in surprise. “Bothering me?”

  Akkarin smiled. “You seem distracted. What is on your mind?”

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lorlen sighed. “I had to make an unpleasant decision this week.”

  “Oh? Is Lord Davin trying to purchase more materials for his weather experiments?”

  “No - well, that too. I had to move Sonea to the Novices’ Quarters. It seemed cruel when she’s obviously not getting along well with her classmates.”

  Akkarin shrugged. “She was fortunate to spend as long with Rothen as she did. Someone was bound to protest eventually. I’m surprised the issue wasn’t raised earlier.”

  Nodding, Lorlen waved a hand. “It is done. I can only try to keep an eye on the situation between her and her classmates, and urge Lord Garrel to curb Regin’s antics.”

  “You can try, but even if you asked Garrel to follow his novice about it wouldn’t stop the boy doing whatever he’s doing. She will have to learn to fend for herself if she’s to gain the other novices’ respect.”

  Takan arrived with a tray, and set down small bowls of soup. Cupping the bowl in one long-fingered hand, Akkarin sipped experimentally, then smiled.

  “You always mention Sonea when you come here,” he remarked. “It’s not like you to show an interest in a particular novice.”

  His mouth full of the salty soup, Lorlen swallowed carefully. “I’m curious to see how well she fits in - to see how much her background hampers her progress. It is in all our interests to see she adapts to our ways, and fulfils her potential, so I take note of her progress from time to time.”

  “Thinking of recruiting more from the lower classes, perhaps?”

  Lorlen grimaced. “No. Are you?”

  Looking away, Akkarin lifted his shoulders slightly. “Sometimes. There must be a lot of potential we miss by ignoring so much of the population. Sonea is proof of that.”

  Lorlen chuckled. “Not even you could persuade the Guild to try it.”

  Returning with a large platter, Takan set it down between Lorlen and Akkarin. He removed the empty bowls and replaced them with plates. As the servant disappeared again, Akkarin began selecting from the many dishes arranged on the platter.

  As he followed suit, Lorlen allowed himself a little sigh of contentment. It was good to be eating a proper formal dinner again. The rushed meals he ate in his office were never as good as freshly prepared food.

  “What news do you have?” he asked.

  Between mouthfuls, Akkarin described the antics of the King and his court. “I’ve heard good reports of our new Ambassador in Elyne,” he added. “Seems that more than a few young unmarried women have been presented to him, but he has been politely disinterested in all of them.”

  Lorlen smiled. “I’m sure he’s enjoying himself.” Pausing, he decided this was a good opportunity to pose a question about Akkarin’s travels. “I envy him. Unlike you, I never had the opportunity to travel, and I don’t know if I will ever get the time now. I don’t suppose you kept a diary? I know you used to when we were novices.”

  Akkarin regarded Lorlen speculatively. “I remember a certain novice who used to try to read my diary at every opportunity.”

  Chuckling, Lorlen looked down at his plate. “Not anymore. I’m just looking for a travel story to read late at night.”

  “I can’t help you,” Akkarin said. He sighed and shook his head. “My journal and all the notes I made were destroyed during the last part of my journey. I have often wished that I had made a copy, and sometimes I have a fancy to return and collect all the information again. Like you, I have responsibilities that keep me in Kyralia. Perhaps when I’m an old man I’ll slip away again.”

 
Lorlen nodded. “Then I’ll have to look elsewhere for travel stories.”

  As Takan returned for the platter, Akkarin began to suggest books. Lorlen nodded and tried to look attentive, but a part of his mind was racing ahead. Knowing Akkarin, there probably was a diary. Had it contained references to black magic? Was it really destroyed, or was Akkarin lying? It might be in the High Lord’s Residence somewhere. Could he sneak in and search for it?

  But as Takan served bowls of stewed piorres laced with wine Lorlen knew that such a search would be risky. If Akkarin found even the slightest evidence of an intruder, he would be alerted to the possibility of someone knowing his secret. Better to wait and see if Dannyl discovered anything before trying something that dangerous.

  10

  Hard Work Pays Off

  “Sonea has succeeded in completing the half-year tests, Lord Kiano,” Jerrik announced. “I have moved her to this class.”

  Eight pairs of eyes fell on Sonea. The novices were arranged in a half-circle around the teacher’s desk. She looked at each face, trying to read their expressions. None sneered at her, but she saw no welcoming smiles, either.

  The teacher was a short, stocky Vindo with sleepy eyes. He nodded to the University Director and Rothen, then regarded Sonea. “Take a seat from the back of the room and join the others.”

  Sonea bowed and went to the stack of chairs near the far wall. Picking up a seat, she considered the novices. With their backs to her she could not see their faces and know which might care if she sat near them. Then, as she headed back to the front of the room, a boy looked across at her and smiled faintly. She moved toward him and was gratified to see him slide his chair aside a little to make room.

  Rothen and Jerrik had retreated from the doorway. Their echoing footsteps in the corridor quickly faded away. Lord Kiano cleared his throat, looked around the class and resumed his lecture.

  The other novices bent over their notebooks, writing rapidly. As the Healer rattled out a rapid string of illnesses and the medicines that should be used to treat them, Sonea quickly pulled out a sheet of paper and began scribbling down everything she heard. She had no idea what she should be taking down, so she wrote every word in a messy scrawl that she suspected she’d have trouble deciphering later. When Lord Kiano finally paused to draw a diagram on a board she was able to cautiously look around at the other novices.

  One girl and six boys. Aside from a tall Lan youth, an Elyne and a Vindo boy, the rest were Kyralian - though the boy beside her was unusually short and might be half Vindo. His skin was blotchy and his hair hung in limp strands.

  Sensing her gaze he smiled uncertainly, then grinned as she returned the smile. Then his eyes dropped to the page in her hand and he frowned. He turned his notes so she could read them and wrote on the corner of a page.

  Did you get everything?

  Sonea shrugged and wrote on the corner of her page: I hope so - he talks so fast.

  The boy started to write something else, but Lord Kiano then began a detailed explanation of the drawing and both Sonea and her companion realized with a shock that they should have been copying it. For several minutes she scribbled and sketched as fast as she could. Before she had managed to finish, the familiar sound of the midbreak gong echoed through the University.

  Lord Kiano moved to stand in front of the class. “Before the next class I want you to study and memorize the names and potency of the plants with mucolytic qualities as detailed in chapter five. You may go.”

  As one, the novices rose and bowed to the teacher. The teacher turned to the board and waved his hand. To Sonea’s dismay, the diagram disappeared from its surface.

  “How much did you copy?”

  She turned. The boy stood next to her, craning his neck to see her notes. Sonea turned the page to show him. “Not all, but it looks like you caught a few things I missed. Can I... can we compare notes?”

  “Yes. If... if you don’t mind.”

  The other novices had packed away their belongings and were filing out of the class. A few glanced back at her, perhaps curious about their new classmate. She looked at the boy.

  “Are you going to the Foodhall?”

  His smile faded a little. “Yes.”

  “I’ll come with you, then.”

  He nodded. They followed the rest of the class into the corridor. The novices walked in pairs, but stayed close enough to suggest they would all keep together. A few glanced at her, but none moved away or made any obvious attempt to snub her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

  “Poril. Family Vindel, House Heril.”

  “I’m Sonea.” She searched for something else to ask. “You’ve all been here since last winter?”

  “Oh, everyone except me.” Poril shrugged. “I started the summer before last.”

  A slow learner. She wondered what was holding him back. He could be strong magically but still have trouble understanding the lessons, or he might simply be too weak to complete the tasks he was given.

  Poril started to talk about his family, his brothers and sisters - of which there were six - and numerous other details about himself. She nodded and encouraged him, dreading the inevitable questions about herself.

  The class descended to the ground floor of the University, then entered the Foodhall. As they moved to a table Sonea hesitated, but Poril stepped forward and quietly slipped into one of the seats. She sat down beside him, and was relieved that the others accepted this with no protest.

  Servants brought trays of food, and all began to eat and talk. She listened carefully as they discussed people she didn’t know, and the lesson. They seemed distracted by her presence, though, and eventually one of the boys looked at her directly.

  “You’re from Regin’s class, aren’t you?” he asked, waving a hand toward one side of the room.

  Sonea’s stomach turned. So her old class was known as “Regin’s class.”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  He gestured with his cutlery. “They gave you a rough time from what I hear.”

  “At times.”

  The boy nodded, then shrugged. “Well, you won’t get that from us. There’s no time for playing around now. You’ll have to work hard. This isn’t Control exercises anymore.” The other novices nodded.

  She held back a laugh. Control lessons? He obviously didn’t know much about her history... or he did and this was just a more subtle kind of jibe than what she was used to.

  The talk turned to other subjects. Remembering the boy’s gesture when he spoke of Regin, she glanced to her right. Familiar faces watched her from a few tables away. She wondered what they had thought when she hadn’t appeared for lessons that morning. They had probably expected her to fail the mid-year tests.

  It had been hard work. Three months had passed since she had started at the University, and in that time she had completed six months’ work. Next, she had to catch up on the work the winter class had covered, which meant squeezing another six months’ work into three. It was not going to be easy.

  Sensing her gaze, Regin looked up from his plate and stared at her. She met his gaze levelly. His eyes narrowed and he pushed his chair back.

  A stab of apprehension chased away her satisfaction and she quickly looked away. What did he plan to do? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kano lay a hand on Regin’s arm. They spoke for several minutes. Regin drew his chair back to the table and Sonea let out the breath she had been holding.

  She looked up as a servant offered a platter of food, then waved the woman away, her appetite gone. Regin may not be in her class any longer, but that would not stop him harassing her in the Foodhall, or on the way to and from the Novices’ Quarters. In the corner of her eye she could see him turn to stare at her again. No, she wasn’t rid of him completely.

  But she had a chance to make a friend now. Looking at the faces around her, she felt a stirring of hope. She might even become friends with all of them.

  Rothen felt a presence at
his side and looked up.

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” Lord Jullen said stiffly, “but I would like to close the library now.”

  “Of course.” Rothen nodded, rising. “We’ll be out as soon as we’ve packed up.”

  As the librarian moved back to his desk near the door of the Magicians’ Library, Sonea sighed and closed the large book she had been reading. “I never knew people’s bodies were so complicated.”

  Rothen chuckled. “This is just the beginning.”

  They packed everything away efficiently. Books were snapped shut, paper was slipped into boxes, pens and ink bottles safely stowed. Rothen returned a few volumes to the library shelves, then ushered Sonea out of the library.

  The University was dark and quiet, and Sonea was silent as she walked beside him. Unable to work in his rooms for fear of raising suspicions again, he had suggested they use hers instead. She had shaken her head, pointing out that Regin could easily persuade another novice to come up with a story of suspicious noises or overheard conversations.

  Her suggestion of working in the Magicians’ Library was brilliant. The lessons were observed by the librarian, Lord Jullen, and she had access to books other novices needed special permission to use. Regin, like her, could only enter the library under the supervision of his guardian.

  Rothen smiled. He had to admire her ability to turn a bad situation to her advantage. As they stepped outside, he surrounded them both with a shield of magic and warmed the air within. Nights were growing increasingly chilly. Fallen leaves skittered over the courtyard, making quiet scraping noises as they touched the pavement. Winter was only a month away.

  Reaching the Novices’ Quarters, they walked inside. The corridor was empty and silent. Rothen escorted her to her door, then murmured a farewell. He turned away and heard the door click behind him.

  He had taken only a few steps when a figure entered the corridor. Recognizing the boy, Rothen slowed and narrowed his eyes.

  Their gaze locked. As Rothen passed, Regin turned his head to maintain the contact, his gaze unflinching despite the disapproval Rothen knew must show in his expression. The boy’s mouth curled upward slightly before he finally turned away.