Black Magician-01-The_Magicians' Guild

by Trudi Canavan

  Sonea sighed and pressed her hands to her temples. "What are they doing now?"

  "They're still snooping around the slums," he told her. "Waiting for you to use your magic."

  Sonea thought of her aunt and uncle, and the child they were expecting. Until the magicians stopped searching, she would not be able to see them. How she longed to talk to them. She looked down at the book and felt a surge of frustration and anger. "Don't they ever give up?"

  She jumped as a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a light patter of something scattering over the floor. Looking down, Sonea saw fragments of a white ceramic vase.

  "Now Sonea," Faren said, shaking his finger at her. "I don't think this is a nice way to repay Serin for—" He stopped abruptly, then slapped his forehead and groaned. "They'll know you're in the city." He swore, then frowned at her disapprovingly. "There's more than one reason why I told you to avoid using magic while you're here, Sonea."

  Sonea flushed. "I'm sorry Faren, but I didn't mean it." She reached down and picked up one of the fragments. "First I can't make it happen when I want to, and now it happens when I'm not even thinking about it."

  Faren's expression softened. "Well, if you can't help it, you can't help it." He waved a hand, stiffened and turned to stare at her.

  "What?" she asked.

  He swallowed and looked away. "Nothing. Just ... a thought. The magicians won't have been close enough to us to work out your location, though they'll probably be all over the North Quarter tomorrow. I don't think I need to move you yet—just try not to use your magic again."

  Sonea nodded. "I'll try."

  "Larkin the merchant?"

  Dannyl turned to see a bolhouse worker standing beside him. He nodded. The man jerked his head to indicate that Dannyl should follow him.

  For a moment, Dannyl stared at the man, unable to believe that he was finally getting somewhere, then hastily rose from the stool. Following the man through the crowd, he considered the contents of his letter to Gorin. What had made the Thief agree to see him this time?

  Snow was falling outside. The guide hunched his shoulders and drew his coat tighter, then started down the street at a rapid pace. As they reached the entrance of a nearby alley, a cloaked figure stepped out in front of Dannyl, blocking his path.

  "Lord Dannyl. What a surprise! Or should I say, what a disguise ?"

  Fergun was smiling broadly. Dannyl stared at the magician, his disbelief rapidly turning to annoyance. Remembering other times, many years before, when he had been pursued and taunted by a younger Fergun, an uneasiness began to nag at him—then he became annoyed with himself. Straightening his shoulders, he drew a little petty satisfaction out of being a head taller than the other magician.

  "What do you want, Fergun?"

  Fergun's fine brows rose. "To know why you're wandering about the slums in such a state, Lord Dannyl."

  "And you expect me to tell you?"

  The warrior's shoulders rose. "Well, if you don't, I'll be forced to speculate, won't I? I'm sure my friends will be happy to help me guess your reasons." He put a finger to his lips. "Hmm, obviously you don't wish it to be known why you are here. Is there a scandal you are hiding? Are you involved in something so embarrassing that you must dress like a beggar to avoid discovery? Ah!" Fergun's eyes widened. "Are you visiting the brothels?"

  Dannyl looked over Fergun's shoulder. As he had expected, the guide had disappeared.

  "Oh, was he the one then?" Fergun asked, glancing behind. "A bit rough looking. Not that I have any idea what your specific tastes are."

  Anger rushed over Dannyl like icy water. It had been years since Fergun had confronted him like this, but the hatred the jibe provoked was as strong as it had ever been. "Get out of my way, Fergun."

  Fergun's eyes flashed with pleasure. "Oh, no," he said, his voice no longer mocking. "Not until you tell me what you're up to."

  It would not be hard to knock Fergun off his feet, Dannyl mused.

  Dannyl controlled his anger with an effort. "Fergun, you couldn't keep your mouth shut or out of the gutter if you wanted to—and everybody knows it. Nobody will believe a word you say. Now get out of my way before I'm forced to report you."

  The Warrior's eyes became steely. "I'm sure the Higher Magicians will be more interested in your actions. From what I remember, there's a rather strict law concerning magicians and where they must wear robes. Do they know you're breaking it?"

  Dannyl smiled. "It's not entirely unknown."

  A flicker of doubt broke Fergun's gaze. "They're letting you?"

  "They—or I should say he—instructed me to," Dannyl replied. He let his gaze become distant, then shook his head. "I've never been able to tell if he's watching or not. He'll need to know about this. I will have to tell him when I get back."

  Fergun's face had turned a shade whiter. "No need! I will talk to him myself." He stepped aside. "Go. Finish your work." Taking another step back, he turned and hurried away.

  Smiling, Dannyl watched the Warrior disappear into the thickening snow. He doubted that Fergun would speak a word to the High Lord.

  His satisfaction died as he found himself alone in an empty street. He searched the shadows where the guide had disappeared. Fergun would have to show up when the Thieves had finally agreed to a meeting. Sighing, Dannyl started back along the street toward the North Road and the Guild.

  Hurried footsteps crunched the fresh snow behind him. He glanced back and blinked in surprise as he saw the guide approaching. Stopping, he let the man catch up.

  "Hai! What was that about?" the man asked.

  "One of our searchers got a little over-curious." He smiled. "I guess you'd call him a nosy tag."

  The man grinned, revealing stained teeth. "I get you." He gave a little shrug, then a tilt of his head to indicate that Dannyl should follow. Checking to make sure Fergun hadn't hung about to watch, Dannyl started through the falling snow again.

  " 'Gradually increase the amount of power until the heat melts the glass,' " Serin read.

  "But that's nothing like how it works!" Sonea exclaimed. She rose and paced the room. "It's more like a... a water skin with a tiny hole in it. If you squeeze the bag, the water squirts out, but you can't aim it, or make it—"

  She stopped as a knock sounded on the door. Serin rose and checked the spy hole before opening the door.

  "Sonea," Faren said, waving the scribe out of the room. "I have some visitors for you."

  He stepped inside, grinning. Behind him was a stocky man with sleepy eyes and a short woman with a heavy scarf draped over her head.

  "Ranel!" Sonea cried. "Jonna!" She dashed around the table and hugged her aunt.

  "Sonea." Jonna gave a little gasp. "We were so worried about you." Holding Sonea at arm's length, she nodded approvingly. "You look well enough."

  To Sonea's amusement, Jonna narrowed her eyes at Faren. The Thief leaned against the back wall, smiling. Sonea moved to Ranel and hugged him.

  He gave her a searching look. "Harrin told us you've been doing magic."

  Sonea grimaced. "That's right."

  "And the magicians are looking for you."

  "Yes. Faren's hiding me from them."

  "For what price? Your magic?"

  Sonea nodded. "That's right. Not that it's doing him much good at the moment. I'm not very good at it."

  Jonna snorted softly. "You can't be that bad at it, or he wouldn't be hiding you." She looked around the room and nodded. "Not as bad as I thought." Moving to a chair, she sat down, pulled off her scarf and exhaled a long breath.

  Sonea dropped to her haunches beside the chair. "I heard you were starting a new trade."

  Her aunt frowned. "New trade?"

  "Making cousins for me, I think."

  Her aunt's frown softened and she patted her belly. "Ah, so the news reached you. Yes, there'll be another member in our little family next summer." Jonna looked up at Ranel, who smiled broadly.

  Looking at them, Sonea felt a su
rge of affection and longing. A familiar sensation slipped through her mind, and she drew in a sharp breath. Rising, she cast about, but saw nothing out of place.

  "What?" Faren asked.

  "I did something." She flushed as she realized that her aunt and uncle were staring at her. "Well, it felt like I did."

  The Thief looked around the room, then shrugged. "Perhaps you moved a bit of dirt behind the walls."

  Jonna looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  "I used magic," Sonea explained. "I didn't intend to. It happens sometimes."

  "And you don't know what you did?" Jonna's hand tightened on her belly.

  "No." Sonea swallowed and looked away. The alarm in her aunt's gaze saddened her, but she understood why Jonna feared. The thought that she might accidentally harm . . .

  No, she thought. Don't think about it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  "Faren, I think you should take them away. Just in case."

  He nodded. Jonna rose, her face lined with anxiety. She turned to Sonea and opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head and held out her arms. Sonea gave her aunt a tight hug before drawing away.

  "I'll see you again," she told them. "When all this has sorted itself out."

  Ranel nodded. "Take care of yourself."

  "I will," she promised.

  Faren ushered the couple out of the room. Turning away, Sonea listened to their footsteps ascending the stairs. An unfamiliar patch of color on the floor caught her attention. Her aunt's scarf.

  Picking it up, she hurried to the door and up the stairs. As she climbed, she saw that her aunt and uncle were standing with Faren in Serin's kitchen, staring at something in the room. Reaching them, she saw what had captured their attention.

  The floor had once been covered by large stone slabs. Now it was a jagged jumble of stone and dirt. A heavy wooden table had dominated the room, but all that remained was twisted, splintered wood.

  Sonea felt her mouth go dry, then her mind shifted again and the table suddenly burst into flame. Faren turned to her and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before speaking.

  "As I said," he said. "She's probably just going through a difficult phase. Sonea, go back downstairs and pack your bag. I'll take your visitors home and get someone to put out the fire. Everything will be fine."

  Nodding, Sonea handed her aunt the scarf and fled back down the stairs to the basement.

  Chapter 14

  An Unwilling Ally

  Pausing to rest in an alley, Rothen closed his eyes and drew up a little power to chase away his weariness.

  He opened his eyes and considered the snow piled against the side of the buildings. The milder weather of the previous weeks was a distant memory now that the winter blizzards had reached Imardin. Checking that his robes were well covered by his cloak, he prepared to step out into the street.

  He paused as a familiar buzzing began at the back of his head. Closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath as he realized how far away he was from the source. Shaking his head, he stepped out into the street.

  — Dannyl?

  —I heard her. She's a few streets away from me now.

  —Has she moved?

  —Yes.

  Rothen frowned. If she had fled, why was she still using her powers?

  —Who else is near?

  —We're closer, Lord Kerrin called. She must be no more than a hundred paces from us.

  —Sarle and I are about the same distance away, Lord Kiano sent.

  —Move closer, Rothen told them. Don't approach her alone.

  Rothen crossed the street and hurried down an alley. An old beggar stared blindly as he passed.

  —Rothen ? Dannyl called. Look at this.

  An image flashed into Rothen's mind of a house clothed in orange flames, smoke billowing into the sky. A feeling of suspicion and dread came with the image.

  —Do you think she's .. . ?

  —We'd see something more dramatic than this, Rothen replied.

  At the end of the alley, Rothen stepped into a wider street. He checked his stride as he saw the burning house. People were already gathering to watch, and as he drew closer he saw the occupants of the neighboring homes emerging, their arms laden with belongings.

  A tall shadow detached itself from the darkness of another alley and approached him.

  "She'll be close," Dannyl said. "If we ..."

  They both stiffened as a stronger, shorter buzz hit their senses.

  "Behind that building," Rothen said, pointing.

  Dannyl started forward. "I know this area. There's an alley beside that house that meets with two others."

  They strode into the darkness between two buildings. Rothen checked his stride as he felt another sharp vibration a hundred paces to the left of the previous one.

  "She's moving fast," Dannyl muttered, breaking into a jog.

  Rothen hurried after. "Something's not right," he panted. "Silence for weeks, then this week every day—and why is she still using her powers?"

  "Perhaps she can't help it."

  "Then Akkarin was right."

  Rothen sent out a mental call.

  —Kiano?

  —She's moving toward us.

  —Kerrin?

  —She crossed our path a moment ago, heading south.

  —We have her surrounded, Rothen told them. Be careful. She may be losing control of her powers. Kiano and Sarle, move in slowly. Kerrin and Fergun, keep to her right. We'll come in on her—

  — I've found her, Fergun sent.

  Rothen frowned.— Fergun, where are you?

  There was a pause.

  —She's in the tunnels beneath me. I can see her through a grille in the wall.

  —Stay there, Rothen ordered. Do not approach her alone.

  A moment later Rothen felt another vibration, and then several more. He sensed the other magicians' alarm and lengthened his stride.

  —Fergun? What's happening?

  —She saw me.

  —Don't approach her! Rothen warned.

  The buzz of magic stopped abruptly. Dannyl and Rothen exchanged a glance, then hurried on. Reaching a crossroads, they saw Fergun standing in one of the alleys, looking through a grille in a nearby wall.

  "She's gone," he told them.

  Dannyl hurried to the grille, opened it and looked inside the passage.

  "What happened?" Rothen asked.

  Fergun replied. "I was waiting for Kerrin to meet me when I heard noises through the grille."

  Dannyl rose to his feet. "So you went in by yourself and frightened her off."

  Fergun narrowed his eyes at the tall magician. "No. I remained here, as ordered."

  "Did she see you watching and become frightened?" Rothen asked. "Was that why she started using her powers?"

  "Yes." Fergun shrugged. "Until her friends knocked her out and ran."

  "You didn't follow them?" Dannyl asked.

  Fergun brows rose. "No. I stayed here, as ordered," he repeated.

  Dannyl muttered something under his breath and stalked back down the alley. As the other magicians arrived, Rothen walked forward to meet them. He explained what had happened, then sent them and Fergun back to the Guild.

  He found Dannyl sitting on a doorstep, shaping a handful of snow into a ball.

  "She's losing control."

  "Yes," Rothen agreed. "I'll have to call off the search. A chase or a confrontation will probably undo the little control she has."

  "What can we do, now?"

  Rothen looked at his friend pointedly. "Negotiate."

  The smell of smoke was heavy and rough in Cery's lungs. He hurried along the passage, dodging half-seen shapes of other men travelling the Road. Coming to a stop outside a door, he paused to catch his breath.

  The guard who opened the door nodded as he recognized Cery. Hurrying up the narrow wooden stairs beyond, Cery pushed open the trapdoor at the top and climbed into a dimly lit room.

  He quickly took in
the three bulky guards lurking in the shadows, the dark-skinned man standing at the window, and the figure lying asleep in a chair.

  "What happened?"

  Faren turned to regard him.

  "We gave her a drug to put her to sleep. She was worried she would do more damage."

  Moving to the chair, Cery bent to examine Sonea's face. A dark, swollen bruise marked her temple. Her skin was pale and her hair slick with sweat. Looking down, he saw that the hem of her sleeve was charred, and her hand was bandaged.

  "The fire is spreading," Faren observed.

  Rising, Cery joined the Thief at the window. Three of the houses across the street were afire, flames making glowing eyes out of the windows and rising like wild orange hair where the roofs had once been. Smoke had begun to billow out of the windows of another house.

  "She said she was dreaming—a nightmare," Faren told him. "When she woke up there were fires in her room. Too many to put out. The more frightened she became, the more fires started." Faren sighed. For a long time they remained silent, then Cery took a deep breath and turned to regard the Thief.

  "What will you do now?"

  To his surprise, Faren smiled. "Introduce her to the friend of an old acquaintance of ours." He turned and pointed to one of the men lurking in the shadows. "Jarin, carry her."

  A large, muscular man moved out of the shadows and into the orange light cast by the fires. He bent to pick up Sonea, but as he grasped her shoulders her eyes fluttered open. Snatching his hands back, Jarin quickly backed away.

  "Cery?" she murmured.

  Cery hurried to her side. She blinked slowly, her eyes struggling to focus on him.

  "Hello," he said, smiling.

  Her eyes closed again. "They didn't follow, Cery. They let us go. Isn't that strange?"

  She opened her eyes again and her gaze shifted over her shoulder. "Faren?"

  "You're awake." Faren observed. "You should have slept for at least another two hours."

  She yawned. "I don't feel awake."

  Cery chuckled. "You don't look real awake either. Go back to sleep. You need the rest. We're going to take you somewhere safe."