So Gorin must believe that the Guild was capable of finding the man for them. Dannyl chuckled as the irony of the situation occurred to him. The Thieves had helped the Guild find Sonea, now they wanted the same kind of favor in return. He wondered if they would offer as large a reward.
But why did Gorin think the Guild knew where the man was? Dannyl blinked as the answer came to him.
Sonea.
If Gorin thought that Sonea knew where her friend was, why hadn’t he contacted her directly? Did he believe she would not tell them? The Thieves had sold her to the Guild, after all.
And her companion might have good reasons for disappearing, too.
Dannyl rubbed his brow. He could ask Sonea if she knew what was going on, but if she didn’t know that her friend was missing the news might upset her. She might suspect the Guild of causing her friend’s disappearance. It could ruin all that Rothen had achieved.
A familiar face appeared among the novices before him. Dannyl felt a small twinge of dread, but Fergun did not look up. Instead, the Warrior hurried past and turned into a side passage.
Surprised, Dannyl stopped. What could have absorbed Fergun so completely that he had not even noticed his old foe? Moving back down the corridor, Dannyl peered down the side passage and caught a glimpse of red robes before the Warrior turned another corner.
Fergun had been carrying something. Dannyl hovered at the passage entrance, tempted to follow. As a novice, he would have seized any opportunity to discover any of Fergun’s little secrets.
But he wasn’t a novice anymore, and Fergun had won that war long ago. Shrugging, he started back down the corridor toward Rothen’s classroom. Lessons were due to start in less than five minutes, and he had no time for spying.
After a week of darkness, Cery’s senses had sharpened. His ears could pick up the shuffle of insectile feet, and his fingers could feel the slight roughness where rust nibbled at the metal skewer he had pulled from the hem of his coat.
As he pressed his thumb against the sharp point, he felt his anger simmering. His captor had returned twice more with food and water. Each time, Cery had attempted to find out why he had been imprisoned.
All his efforts to draw Fergun into conversation had failed. He had cajoled, demanded, even begged for an explanation, but the magician had ignored every word. It wasn’t right, Cery fumed. Villains were supposed to reveal their plans, either by mistake or during a bout of gloating.
The faintest rapping reached Cery’s ears. He lifted his head, then leapt to his feet as the sound grew into footsteps. Gripping the skewer, he crouched behind the door and waited.
The steps stopped outside the door. He heard the latch click, and tensed as the door began to slide inward. Light spilled into the room, illuminating the empty plate he had left just before the door. The magician took a step toward it, then paused and turned toward the coat and trousers lying half hidden under a blanket in the corner.
Leaping forward, Cery stabbed the skewer at Fergun’s back, aiming for the man’s heart.
The skewer struck something hard and slipped through his fingers. As the magician spun around, something slammed into Cery’s chest, throwing him backward. He heard a crack as he hit the wall, then pain ripped through his arm. Crumpling to the floor, he cradled his arm, gasping.
From behind came a long, exaggerated sigh.
“That was stupid. Look what you made me do.”
Fergun stood over him, arms crossed. Gritting his teeth, Cery glared up at the magician.
“This is no way to thank me after I went to all the trouble of bringing you blankets.” Fergun shook his head, then dropped into a crouch.
Trying to shrink away only brought another wave of pain. Cery smothered a cry as Fergun grasped the wrist of his injured arm. He tried to pull away, but the movement brought another stab of pain.
“Broken,” the magician muttered. His eyes seemed to have fixed on something far beyond the dusty floor. The pain suddenly dulled, then a warmth spread slowly through Cery’s arm.
Realizing he was being Healed, Cery forced himself to remain still. He stared up at Fergun, noting the sharp jaw and thin lips. The man’s blonde hair, usually combed back, now fell over his brow.
Cery knew he would remember this face for the rest of his life. One day I’ll have my revenge, he thought. And if you have done anything to Sonea, expect your death to be slow and painful.
The magician blinked and released Cery’s arm. He stood up, then grimaced and passed a hand over his brow.
“It is not wholly healed. I can’t waste all my powers on you. Treat it gently, or the bone will come apart again.” His eyes narrowed. “If you try something like that again, I will have to bind you—to stop you harming yourself, you understand.”
He looked down. The plate he had been carrying lay broken, food scattered across the floor. The bottle lay nearby, water slowly leaking from a crack near the cork.
“I wouldn’t waste that if I were you,” Fergun said. Bending, he picked up Cery’s skewer, turned and strode out of the room.
As the door closed, Cery lay on his back and groaned. Had he really expected to be able to murder a magician with a skewer? He carefully prodded his arm with his fingertips. A mild tenderness was all that remained.
In the darkness the smell of fresh bread was strong and brought a growl from his stomach. Thinking of the spilled food, he sighed. His only indication of the time passing was hunger, and he had estimated that the magician’s visits came every two days or more. If he didn’t eat, he would grow weak. Even worse was the thought of the crawling things the food would attract from the corner he used for other bodily functions.
Pushing himself onto his knees, he crawled forward, hands searching the dusty floor.
Sonea caught her breath as the blue-robed magician stepped into the room. Tall, slim, with his dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, he could have been the assassin she had seen under the High Lord’s house. Then the man turned to face her and she saw that his features were not as harsh as those of the man she remembered.
“This is Administrator Lorlen,” Rothen told her.
She nodded at the magician. “Honored to meet you.”
“I am honored to meet you, Sonea,” the man replied.
“Please, sit down,” Rothen said, waving toward the chairs.
As they settled into chairs, Tania served the bitter drink the magicians seemed to prefer. Accepting a glass of water, Sonea watched the Administrator sip from his cup. He smiled appreciatively, but as he looked at her his expression became sober.
“Rothen was concerned that you would be frightened if I was to approach you when you first came here,” he told her. “So you must forgive me for not coming sooner. As Administrator of the Guild, I wish to offer a formal apology for the trouble and distress we have caused you. Do you now understand why we had to find you?”
Sonea felt her cheeks warm. “Yes.”
“That is a great relief to me,” he told her, smiling. “I have some questions, and if you have any, please don’t hesitate to ask. Are your Control lessons going well?”
Sonea glanced at Rothen and received a nod of encouragement.
“I think I’m improving,” she replied. “The tests are getting easier.”
The Administrator considered this, nodding slowly. “It’s a bit like learning to walk,” he said. “You have to think about it at first, but once you have done it for a while, you don’t need to think about it at all.”
“Except that you don’t walk in your sleep,” she added.
“Not usually.” The Administrator laughed, then his gaze became keen. “Rothen has told me you don’t wish to stay with us. Is that true?”
Sonea nodded.
“May I ask why not?”
“I want to go home,” she told him.
He leaned forward. “We will not stop you seeing your family and friends. You could visit them on Freedays.”
She shook her head. “I know, but I don’t
want to stay here.”
Nodding, he relaxed against the back of his chair. “We will regret losing someone of such potential,” he told her. “Are you sure you want to give up your powers?”
Remembering Fergun’s words, her heart skipped. “Give up my powers?” she repeated slowly, glancing at Rothen. “That is not how Rothen described it.”
The Administrator’s eyebrows rose. “What has he told you?”
“That I won’t be able to use them because I won’t know how.”
“Do you believe you could teach yourself?”
She paused. “Could I?”
“No.” The Administrator smiled. “What Rothen has told you is true,” he said. “But knowing how the success of your lessons depended on maintaining trust between you, he has left it to me to explain the laws regarding the release of magicians from the Guild.”
As she realized he was about to confirm whether Fergun had spoken the truth, Sonea’s heartbeat quickened.
“The law states that every man and woman whose powers are active must either join the Guild or have his or her powers blocked,” he told her. “Blocking can’t be done until full Control is established but once in place, it effectively prevents a magician from using magic in any way.”
In the silence that followed the two magicians watched her closely. She looked away, avoiding their eyes.
So Rothen had been keeping something from her.
Yet she understood why he had. The knowledge that magicians were going to meddle with her mind would not have made it easy for her to trust him.
Fergun had been right, though…
“Do you have any questions, Sonea?” Lorlen asked.
She hesitated, remembering something else that Fergun had said. “This blocking isn’t…uncomfortable?”
He shook his head. “You won’t feel anything. There is a sensation of resistance if you try to perform magic, but it is not painful. Since you are not used to using magic, I doubt you’ll ever notice the block at all.”
Sonea nodded slowly. The Administrator regarded her silently, then smiled. “I’m not going to try and talk you into staying,” he said. “I only wish you to know there is a place here for you if you want it. Do you have any other questions?”
Sonea shook her head. “No. Thank you, Administrator.”
He stood, his robes rustling. “I must return to my duties now. I will visit you again, Sonea. Perhaps we can have a longer talk.”
She nodded and watched Rothen usher the Administrator from the room. As the door closed, Rothen turned to regard her.
“What do you think of Lorlen, then?”
She considered. “He seems nice, but he’s very formal.”
Rothen chuckled. “Yes, he can be.”
He moved into his bedroom, then returned wearing a cloak. Surprised, Sonea watched him stride toward her. Another cloak was draped over his arm.
“Stand up,” he said. “I want to see if this will fit you.”
Rising, she stood still as he draped the cloak over her shoulders. It fell almost to the floor.
“A bit long. I’ll have it shortened. For now, you’ll have to take care not to trip.”
“This is for me?”
“Yes. To replace your old one.” He smiled. “You’ll need it. It’s quite cold outside.”
She looked at him sharply. “Outside?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I thought we’d take a walk. Would you like that?”
Nodding, she looked away, not wanting him to see her face. The thought of getting out had filled her with an intense longing. She had been inside his rooms for less than three weeks but she felt as if months had passed.
“We’re meeting Dannyl downstairs,” he told her, moving toward the door.
“Now?”
He nodded and beckoned. Taking a deep breath, she approached the door.
Unlike the previous time, the corridor was not empty. A pair of magicians stood several paces to the right, and a woman in ordinary dress walked to the left, flanked by two small children. All stared at Sonea in surprise and curiosity.
Rothen nodded to the watchers and started toward the stairs. Following, Sonea resisted the temptation to glance behind. No floating magicians appeared in the center of the staircase as they descended. Instead, a familiar tall magician waited at the bottom.
“Good evening, Sonea,” Dannyl said, smiling.
“Good evening,” she replied.
Turning, Dannyl gestured grandly at a pair of large doors at the end of the lower-floor corridor. They slowly swung open, letting in a gust of cold air.
Beyond them was the courtyard she remembered seeing when she had explored the Guild with Cery. It had been night then. Now a murky twilight was growing, making everything seem muted and unreal.
Following Rothen through the doors, Sonea felt the bite of cold air. Though it set her shivering, she welcomed it. Outside…
Warmth slid over her skin, and she sensed a vibration in the air around her. Surprised, she cast about, but could see nothing to mark the change. Rothen was watching her.
“A simple trick,” he told her. “It’s a magical shield that holds in warmth. You can walk in and out of it. Give it a try.”
She took a few steps back toward the doors and felt the cold on her face. Her breath began to mist in the air. Reaching out, she felt her hand pass into warmth again.
Rothen smiled encouragingly and beckoned. Shrugging, she moved back to his side.
The back of the University towered to her left. Looking around, she identified most of the buildings she had seen on Dannyl’s plan. Her eye was drawn to an odd structure on the other side of the courtyard.
“What is that?”
Rothen followed her gaze. “That is the Dome,” he told her. “Centuries ago, before we made the Arena, most training for Warriors was held in there. Unfortunately, the only people who could see what was going on were those inside, so teachers had to be strong enough to protect themselves from any stray magic that might be loosed by their pupils. We don’t use it anymore.”
Sonea stared at the structure. “It looks like a big ball has been sunk into the ground.”
“It has.”
“How do you get in?”
“Through an underground passage. There’s a door like a giant round plug which can only be opened inward. The walls are three paces thick.”
The doors to the Novices’ Quarters opened. Three boys hurried outside, wrapped in cloaks. They moved around the courtyard, tapping the lampposts standing around the edge of the paving. At their touch, the lamps began glowing.
Once all the lamps in the courtyard were alight, the three boys separated and ran in different directions. One headed down the front of the Novices’ Quarters, another disappeared into the gardens on the other side of the University, while the third dashed between the Baths and the Magicians’ Quarters, where a long path curved up into the forest.
Dannyl looked at Rothen questioningly. While the two magicians teased each other like old friends, Sonea had noticed that Dannyl always deferred to his former guardian.
“Where to?”
Rothen nodded toward the forest. “This way.”
Sonea stayed beside Rothen as the magician crossed the pavement and started along the path. The novice, having finished lighting the lamps, hurried back toward the Novices’ Quarters.
As she passed the back of the Magicians’ Quarters, a movement in one of the windows caught her eye. Looking up, she saw a fair-haired magician watching and felt a shock as she recognized him. He quickly withdrew into the darkness. Frowning, she turned her attention back to the path. She had no idea when Fergun would visit again, but when he did, he would want to know if she was going to accept his offer. She needed to come to a decision soon.
Until her talk with Lorlen, she hadn’t discovered whether all of the claims Fergun had made were true. She had been waiting for opportunities to steer her conversations with Rothen to vows and guardians, or Fergun himself, but few h
ad come. Could she ask him directly without raising his suspicions?
While Rothen had told her what a guardian did, he hadn’t mentioned that he intended to be hers. She would not be surprised if he had decided that she did not need to know unless she chose to stay.
Once she had learned Control, she had two choices: return to the slums with her powers blocked, or help Fergun win her guardianship so that she could return with her powers intact.
As they reached the forest, Sonea looked into the maze of trunks. Fergun’s plan made her uneasy. It involved a great deal of deception and risk. She would have to pretend that she wanted to stay, possibly lie to ensure Fergun won her guardianship, make a vow she intended to break, then break that vow—and the King’s law—by leaving the Guild.
Had she become so fond of Rothen that the idea of lying to him bothered her? He is a magician, she reminded herself. His loyalties are with the Guild and the King. While she believed that he did not want to lock her away, for instance, he would if ordered to.
Or was it the idea of breaking a vow that worried her? Harrin and his friends cheated and stole all the time, but they regarded the breaking of a vow as an unforgivable offense. To keep their standing with others, they did all they could to avoid making one.
Of course, if a vow could not be avoided, awkward situations could be evaded if it was phrased sloppily…
“You’re very quiet tonight,” Rothen said suddenly. “No questions?”
Sonea looked up at Rothen and found him regarding her fondly. Seeing his smile, she decided it was time to risk asking a few unprompted questions.
“I was wondering about the vow magicians make.”
To her relief, his brows didn’t lower with suspicion, but rose with surprise. “There are two, actually. The Novices’ Vow and the Magicians’ Vow. One is made when novices enter the Guild, the other made at graduation.”
The Magicians' Guild: The Black Magician Trilogy Page 31