Sonea smiled. "Thanks, Tania."
The servant grinned. "Good night."
"Good night."
The servant slipped out of the door, leaving Sonea alone. Sighing, she stared out of the window. Outside it was snowing again, white flakes dancing in the night.
Where are you, Cery?
Thinking of the dagger Fergun had shown her, she frowned. It was possible that he had found it; that he did not have Cery locked away . . .
Leaving the window, she dropped into a chair. There was so much to think about: Cery, Fergun, the Hearing, guardianship. Despite Tania's assurances, she was not going to get much sleep during the next few weeks.
Every Threeday, Dannyl joined Yaldin and his wife for the evening meal. Ezrille had started the routine years before when, concerned that Dannyl had not found himself a wife, she began to worry that he would grow lonely if he had to end every day by himself.
As he relinquished his empty plate to Yaldin's servant, Dannyl gave a little sigh of contentment. Though he doubted he would ever sink into the melancholy Ezrille feared, it was certainly better eating in company than by himself.
"I have heard rumors about you, Dannyl," Yaldin said.
Dannyl frowned, his contentment evaporating. Surely Fergun wasn't at it again. "Oh, what rumors?"
"That the Administrator is so impressed with your negotiations with the Thieves that he is considering you for an ambassadorial role."
Dannyl straightened and stared at the old magician. "He is?"
Yaldin nodded. "What do you think? Does travelling appeal?"
"I. . ." Dannyl shook his head. "I've never considered it. Me? An ambassador?"
"Yes." Yaldin chuckled. "You're not as young and foolish as you once were."
"Thanks," Dannyl replied dryly.
"This could be good for you," Ezrille said. She smiled and pointed a finger at him. "You might even bring back a wife."
Dannyl gave her a withering look. "Don't start that again, Ezrille."
She shrugged. "Well, since there's obviously no woman in Kyralia who is good enough for—"
"Ezrille," Dannyl said sternly. "The last young lady I met stabbed me. You know I'm cursed when it comes to women."
"That's ridiculous. You were trying to catch her, not romance her. How is Sonea doing, anyway?"
"Rothen says she's progressing well with her lessons, though she's still determined to leave. She's become quite chatty with Tania."
"I suppose she'll feel more comfortable with servants than with us," Yaldin mused. "They're not as high above her status as we are."
Dannyl winced. Once he wouldn't have questioned the remark—he would have agreed with it—but now that he had conversed with Sonea, it seemed unfair, even insulting. "Rothen would not like to hear you say that."
"No," Yaldin agreed. "But he is unique in his opinions. The rest of the Guild feel that class and status are very important."
"What are they saying now?"
Yaldin shrugged. "It's got beyond friendly wagers over the guardianship claim now. A lot of people are questioning the wisdom of having someone with her dubious background in the Guild at all."
"Again? What are their reasons this time?"
"Will she honor the vow?" Yaldin said. "Will she be a bad influence on other novices?" He leaned forward. "You've met her. What do you think?"
Shrugging, Dannyl wiped the sugar from his fingers onto a napkin. "I'm the last person you should ask. She stabbed me, remember?"
"You're not ever going to let us forget it," Ezrille remarked. "Come now, you must have noticed more than that."
"Her speech is rough, though not as bad as I expected. She has none of the manners we're used to. No bowing or 'my Lord.' "
"Rothen will teach her that when she's ready," Ezrille said.
Yaldin snorted softly. "He better make sure she knows before the Hearing."
"You're both still forgetting that she doesn't want to stay. Why would he bother to teach her etiquette?"
"Perhaps it would be easier all round if she did leave."
Ezrille gave her husband a reproachful look. "Yaldin," she scolded. "Would you send the girl back to poverty after showing her all the wealth here? That would be cruel."
The old man shrugged. "Of course not, but she wants to go and it'll be easier if she does. No Hearing for a start, and the whole issue about taking in people from outside the Houses will be forgotten."
"They're wasting their breath arguing about it," Dannyl said. "We all know that the King wants her here, under our control."
"Then he won't be too happy if she sticks to her intention to leave."
"No," Dannyl agreed. "But he can't make her take the vow if she doesn't want to."
Yaldin frowned, then glanced at the door as someone knocked on it. He waved a hand lazily, and the door swung open.
Rothen stepped inside, beaming. "She's staying!"
"Well, that settles that," Ezrille said.
Yaldin nodded. "Not everything, Ezrille. We still have the Hearing to worry about."
"The Hearing?" Rothen waved a hand dismissively. "Leave that to another time. For now, I only want to celebrate."
Chapter 27
Somewhere Under the University
Curling up in a chair, Sonea yawned and considered the day so far.
In the morning, Administrator Lorlen had visited to ask her about her decision, and to explain, over again, about guardianship and the Hearing. She had felt a pang of guilt as he expressed genuine pleasure that she was staying—a feeling she grew familiar with as the day continued.
Other visitors had come: Dannyl, then the stern and intimidating Head of Healers, and an old couple who were friends of Rothen's. Each time someone had knocked at the door she had tensed, expecting Fergun, but the Warrior had not appeared.
Guessing that he would not visit until she was alone, she was almost relieved when Rothen left after dinner, saying he would be absent until late and that she should not wait up for him.
"I'll stay and chat with you, if you like," Tania offered.
Sonea smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, Tania, but I think I'd like to be alone tonight."
The servant nodded. "I understand." She turned back to the table, then paused as a knock came from the door. "Shall I answer that, Lady?"
Sonea nodded. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the servant opened the door a crack.
"Is the Lady Sonea present?"
Hearing the voice, Sonea felt her stomach sink with dread.
"Yes, Lord Fergun," Tania replied. She glanced anxiously at Sonea. "I will ask if she wishes to see you."
"Let him in, Tania."' Though her heart had begun to race, Sonea managed to speak calmly.
As the servant stepped away from the door, the red-robed magician moved into the room. Inclining his head to Sonea, he placed a hand on his chest.
"I am Fergun. I believe Lord Rothen has told you about me?"
His eyes shifted to Tania, then back again. Sonea nodded.
"Yes," she said. "He has. Will you sit down?"
"Thank you," he said, bending gracefully into a chair.
— Send the woman away.
Swallowing, Sonea looked up at Tania. "Is there anything more you need to do, Tania?"
The servant glanced at the table, then shook her head. "No, Lady. I will return later for the dishes." She bowed, then slipped out of the room.
As the door closed behind her, Fergun's friendly expression vanished. "I was only told this morning that Rothen has announced you ready. It took you some time to tell him."
"I had to wait for the right moment," she replied. "Or it would have seemed strange."
Fergun stared at her, then waved a hand dismissively. "It is done. Now, just to make sure you understand my instructions, I want you to repeat them to me."
He nodded as she recited what he had told her to do.
"Good. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes," she told him. "How do I know if you reall
y have Cery? All I've seen is a dagger."
He smiled. "You'll just have to trust me."
"Trust you?" She snorted loudly and forced herself to stare into his eyes. "I want to see him. If I don't, I might have to ask Administrator Lorlen if blackmail is a crime in the Guild."
His lip curled into a sneer. "You're in no position to make such threats."
"Aren't I?" Rising, she strolled to the high table and poured herself a glass of water. Her hands shook and she was glad she had her back to him. "I know all about this kind of blackmail. I've lived with the Thieves, remember? You need to make it clear that you can carry out your threat. All I've seen is a dagger. Why should I believe you have its owner?"
She turned to meet his gaze and was gratified to see his stare falter. He clenched his fists, then slowly nodded.
"Very well," he said, rising. "I will take you to him."
She felt a thrill of triumph, but it quickly faded. He wouldn't have agreed if he didn't have Cery locked away. She also knew that, when someone's life was being traded for something, the hardest part was stopping the kidnapper from killing their captive as soon they had what they wanted.
Moving to the door, Fergun opened it and waited for her to step through. As she entered the corridor, two magicians stopped and stared at her in alarm, then relaxed as Fergun joined her.
"Has Rothen told you about the buildings of the Guild?" Fergun asked brightly as they started toward the stairs.
"Yes," she replied.
"They were constructed about four hundred years ago," he said, ignoring her. "The Guild had grown too large . . ."
The end of the week at last! Dannyl thought jubilantly as he stepped out of the classroom. The possibility that Sonea would be joining the Guild hadn't occurred to several of the novices. They had been discussing it all day, and he had been forced to keep two back as punishment when they had become too much of a distraction for the others.
Sighing, he placed books, paper and writing box under his arm, and started down the University corridor. As he reached the staircase he froze, unable to believe what he saw in the hall below him.
Fergun and Sonea had just stepped into the University. The Warrior looked around the hall, then checked the stairs opposite Dannyl. Taking a step backward out of sight, Dannyl listened as the pairs' footsteps moved under him, fading as they started down the ground-floor corridor.
Keeping his steps as quiet as possible, Dannyl descended the stairs. He moved across the hall to the lower corridor entrance and peered around the corner. Fergun and Sonea were several paces away, walking quickly. As he watched, they turned into a side passage.
Heart beating faster now, Dannyl made his way down the corridor. He slowed as he reached the side passage, realizing it was the same one that he had observed Fergun hurrying down a few days ago. He risked a quick glance.
The passage was empty. Starting down it, he listened carefully. The faintest sound of Fergun's voice drew him to a door that led to the inner passages of the University. Slipping through, Dannyl followed the voice along a few more passages until, abruptly, it ceased.
The silence sent his skin prickling. Had Fergun realized he was being followed? Was he waiting for his pursuer to catch up?
Reaching a bend in the corridor, Dannyl mouthed a curse. Without Fergun's voice, he had no idea if he was about to stumble upon the magician. Taking a cautious look around the corner, he sighed in relief. It was empty.
He started forward, then slowed as he found himself facing a dead end. It wasn't technically a dead end, as none existed in the University. One of the doors would lead to a side passage that would meet the main corridor. Yet if Fergun had gone that way, Dannyl would have heard a door close. Fergun hadn't been trying to be quiet.
But he might have if he had detected someone following him.
Taking the handle of the door leading to the side passage, Dannyl turned it. The hinge creaked dramatically as the door opened, as if it wanted to reassure Dannyl that he would have heard Fergun opening it. Moving through, Dannyl found the side passage empty.
Exploring further, he saw that the main corridor was also empty. Puzzled, Dannyl retraced his steps and tried other doors, but found no sign of Sonea or Fergun.
Shaking his head, he made his way back out of the University, his head buzzing with questions. Why had Fergun taken Sonea out of Rothen's rooms? Why had he led her into the deserted inner passages of the University? How could they have disappeared?
— Rothen?
— Dannyl.
— Where are you ?
— In the Night Room.
Dannyl scowled. So Fergun had waited until Rothen was absent before approaching Sonea. Typical. — Stay there. I'm coming to meet you.
Pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders, Cery listened to the chattering of his teeth. The temperature of the room had dropped slowly over several days and was now cold enough to freeze the moisture on the walls. Somewhere above, winter was tightening its grip on the city.
The magician now brought a candle with each meal, but it only lasted a few hours. When darkness came again, Cery slept or paced the room to keep his blood warm, counting the steps so that he did not bump into the walls. He hugged the water bottle to his chest to prevent it freezing.
A soft sound caught his attention and he stopped, sure that he had heard footsteps behind his own. Only silence followed. Sighing, he returned to his pacing.
In his mind, he had rehearsed countless conversations with his captor. After his unsuccessful attempt at killing the magician, Cery had spent many hours considering his situation. Breaking out of the cell was impossible, and he was no threat at all to his captor. His fate was entirely in the magician's hands.
Though it brought a sour taste to his mouth, he knew his only chance of escape lay in gaining the magician's good will. It seemed an impossible task—the magician was not inclined to talk and obviously regarded Cery with disdain. For Sonea's sake, Cery thought, I have to try.
Sonea. Cery shook his head and sighed. It was possible she had been forced to tell him that she needed the Guild to teach her to control her powers, but he doubted it. She hadn't been tense or frightened, only resigned. He had seen how her powers had reacted to her emotions, how dangerous they had become. It was not hard to believe that her magic would have eventually killed her.
Which meant that taking Sonea to the Thieves had been the worst decision he could have made. By putting her in a situation where she was forced to use magic every day, her powers had been encouraged to grow, perhaps speeding her toward losing control of them much sooner.
She would have reached that point eventually, no matter what he had done. Sooner or later, the Guild would have found her—or she would have died.
Grimacing in the dark, Cery thought of the letter the magicians had sent, claiming they did not intend to harm Sonea and offering her a place among them. Sonea hadn't believed them. Neither had Faren.
But Cery had an old acquaintance among the Guild servants. The man might have been able to confirm the truth, but Cery hadn't asked.
I didn't want to know. I wanted us to be together. Sonea and I, working for the Thieves ... or just together...
She was not one for the Thieves—or for him. She had magic. Whether she liked it or not, she belonged with magicians.
He felt a twinge of jealousy then, but he pushed it away. In the dark he had begun to question his hate for the Guild. He could not help thinking that, if the magicians had gone to so much trouble to save her—and many of the slum dwellers— from her powers, they could not be as indifferent as the dwells thought.
And what better future could he imagine for Sonea? She could have wealth, knowledge and power. How could he deny her that?
He couldn't. He had no claim on her. The knowledge brought an ache like bruising after a blow to the chest. Though his heart had leapt the moment she had appeared in his life again, she had never expressed anything more than the fondness of friendship.
&n
bsp; Hearing a faint noise, he stilled. In the distance, he could hear the faint but growing slap of shoes against stone. As the footsteps drew closer, he moved back to allow room for the magician to enter. From the quick pace, it sounded as if Fergun was in a hurry.
The footsteps did not slow as they reached the door, but continued past.
Cery took a step forward. Was it his captor, merely walking past on the way to another destination? Or was it someone else?
He rushed to the door and raised a fist to hammer on it, then froze, seized by doubts. If he was right, and Fergun was using him to blackmail Sonea, would he endanger Sonea by escaping and ruining Fergun's plans?
If Fergun had told Sonea too much, he might kill her to hide his crime. Cery had heard many stories of kidnapping and blackmail gone wrong, and he shivered as he remembered the unpleasant endings of some of those tales.
The footsteps had faded beyond hearing now. Cery rested his head against the door and cursed. It was too late. The stranger was gone.
Sighing, he resolved to keep trying to befriend Fergun, even if only to learn the magician's plans. Once more, conversations ran through Cery's mind. When footsteps reached his ears again, he almost believed he had imagined them.
But as they grew louder he knew they were real. His heart began to race as he realized he was hearing two sets of footsteps. The owners stopped outside the door, and Cery heard Fergun's voice, muffled by the door.
"Stop. We're here."
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. A globe of light hung over Fergun's head, dazzling Cery's eyes. Despite the brightness, Cery recognized the silhouette of the other visitor. His heart leapt.
"Sonea!"
"Cery?"
Sonea reached up to her face and pulled a blindfold away. She blinked at him, then smiled and stepped into the cell.
"Are you all right? You're not sick or hurt?" Her eyes roved over him, looking for signs of injury.
He shook his head. "No. You?"
"I'm well." She glanced at Fergun, who was watching them with interest. "Fergun hasn't hurt you?"
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