The Magicians' Guild (31 page)

She nodded, but as she looked at the cake she was holding, she felt her stomach clench. Her mouth suddenly seemed too dry for such a sweet thing. Swallowing, she set it aside.

The morning had been murky and dim and by mid-afternoon, heavy clouds hung low and threatening over the city. Everything was shrouded in shadows, as if night had become too impatient to wait for the end of the day. On days like this, the faint glow from the interior walls of the University was more noticeable.

Rothen sighed as, once they were in the University corridor, Dannyl’s stride lengthened. He struggled to keep pace, then gave up.

“How strange,” he said to Dannyl’s back. “Your limp appears to have disappeared.”

Dannyl turned, then blinked in surprise as he saw how far Rothen had fallen behind. As he slowed his pace, the slight hesitation in his stride returned.

“Ah,
there
it is.” Rothen nodded. “Why the hurry, Dannyl?”

“I just want to get it over with.”

“We’re only handing in our reports,” Rothen told him. “I’ll probably end up doing most of the talking.”

“I was the one the High Lord sent off in search of the Thieves,” Dannyl muttered.
“I’ll
have to answer all his questions.”

“He’s only a few years older than you, Dannyl. So is Lorlen, and
he
doesn’t frighten all sense out of you.”

Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again and shook his head. They had reached the end of the corridor.

Stepping up to the door of the Administrator’s room, Rothen smiled when he heard Dannyl take a deep breath. At Rothen’s knock, the door swung inward, revealing a large, sparsely furnished room. A globe light hovered above a desk at the far end, illuminating the dark blue robes of the Administrator.

Lorlen looked up and beckoned to them with his pen.

“Come in, Lord Rothen, Lord Dannyl. Take a seat.”

Rothen looked around the room. No black-robed figure reclined in any of the chairs or lurked in the dim corners. Dannyl let out a long sigh of relief.

Lorlen smiled as they settled into the chairs in front of his desk. Leaning forward, he took the leaves of paper that Rothen offered. “I’ve been looking forward to reading your reports. I’m sure Lord Dannyl’s will be fascinating.”

Dannyl winced but said nothing.

“The High Lord sends his congratulations.” Lorlen’s eyes flickered from Rothen’s to Dannyl’s. “And I offer mine as well.”

“Then we offer our thanks in return,” Rothen replied.

Lorlen nodded, then smiled crookedly. “Akkarin is particularly pleased that he can sleep uninterrupted now there are no crude attempts at magic waking him through the night.”

Seeing Dannyl’s eyes widen, Rothen smiled. “I guess there are drawbacks to having such fine senses.”

He tried to imagine the High Lord pacing his rooms at night, cursing the elusive slum girl. The image didn’t quite suit the solemn Guild leader. He frowned. How much interest was Akkarin going to take in Sonea now that she had been found?

“Administrator, do you think the High Lord will be wanting to meet Sonea?”

Lorlen shook his head. “No. His main concern was that we might not find her before her powers became destructive— and the King had started to question our ability to take care of our own.” He smiled at Rothen. “I think I understand why you are asking. Akkarin can be quite intimidating, especially to the younger novices, and Sonea will be easily frightened.”

“That brings me to another point,” Rothen said, leaning forward. “She
is
easily frightened, and also very suspicious of us. It will take time for me to overcome her fear. I’d like to keep her isolated until she has gained some confidence, then begin introducing her to people one at a time.”

“That sounds sensible.”

“Fergun asked to see her this morning.”

“Ah.” Lorlen nodded and drummed his fingers on the table. “Hmmm. I can see all the arguments he’ll use to get his way. I could rule that nobody shall see her until she is ready, but I don’t think he’ll be satisfied until I specify what ‘ready’ is, and I’ve set a date.”

He rose and began to pace back and forth behind his desk. “The two guardianship claims have complicated matters, too. People accept that, since you have plenty of experience in teaching Control, you should be the one to teach that to her. But if Fergun is excluded from Sonea’s early training, people will support Fergun’s claim for guardianship out of sympathy.” He paused. “Can Fergun be one of these people you introduce to her?”

Rothen shook his head. “She is observant and quick to pick up people’s feelings. Fergun has little fondness for me. If I am to convince her that we’re all friendly, well-meaning people, then it won’t help if she notices conflict between any of us. Also, she may mistake his determination to see her as an intention to do harm.”

Lorlen regarded him for a moment, then crossed his arms.

“Everyone wants Sonea to learn Control as quickly as possible,” he said. “I don’t think anyone will disagree if I decide that nothing shall distract her from that. How long do you think it will take?”

“I don’t know,” Rothen confessed. “I’ve taught uninterested, easily distracted novices, but I’ve never tried to teach Control to somebody who distrusts magicians as much as she does. It may take several weeks.”

Lorlen returned to his chair. “I can’t give you that much time. I’ll give you two weeks, during which time you can decide who will see her. After that, I will begin visiting every few days to check how close she is to gaining an acceptable level of Control.” He paused and tapped the table-top with a fingernail. “If you can, introduce her to at least one other magician by then. I will tell Fergun that he may see her after she has learned Control, but remember, the longer it takes, the more sympathy he will gain.”

Rothen nodded. “I understand.”

“People will expect the Hearing to occur during the first Meet after she has learned Control.”

“If I can convince her to stay,” Rothen added.

Lorlen frowned. “Do you think she will refuse to join the Guild?”

“It is too early to say,” Rothen replied. “We can’t force her to say the vow.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lorlen regarded Rothen thoughtfully, his brow creased with concern.

“Is she aware of the alternative?”

“Not yet. Since I’m trying to gain her trust, I felt it better to leave that news until later.”

“I understand. Perhaps, if you choose the right moment, it will convince her to stay.” He smiled wryly. “If she leaves, Fergun will be convinced you talked her out of staying just to spite him. Either way, you are facing some tough battles, Rothen.”

Dannyl frowned. “He has a strong claim, then?”

“It is hard to say. Much may depend on the strength of support each of you gain. But I should not speak about it before the Hearing.” Lorlen straightened and looked from Rothen to Dannyl. “I have no more questions. Do either of you have anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No.” Rothen rose and inclined his head. “Thank you, Administrator.”

Once in the corridor, Rothen considered his companion.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Dannyl shrugged. “He wasn’t there.”

“No.” As another magician stepped out into the corridor Dannyl checked his stride, his steps becoming halting. Rothen shook his head. “You
are
playing up that limp!”

Dannyl looked hurt. “It was a deep cut, Rothen.”

“Not
that
deep.”

“Lady Vinara said that it would be some days before the stiffness disappeared.”

“She did, did she?”

Dannyl’s brows rose. “And it doesn’t do you any harm if I remind people what we went through to catch that girl.”

Rothen chuckled. “I am most grateful for the sacrifice you are making to your dignity.”

Dannyl made a small noise of disgust. “Well, if Fergun can walk around for a week with a bandage over that tiny cut on his temple, then I can have my limp.”

“I see.” Rothen nodded slowly. “Then it’s all right then.”

They reached the back doors of the University and stopped. The air outside was thick with falling snow. Exchanging mutual looks of dismay, they stepped out into the swirling whiteness and hurried away.

A week of worsening weather had buried the Guild grounds in a thick layer of snow. Lawns, gardens, and roofs had vanished under a sparkling white blanket. Cozy within the protection of his own magical shield, Dannyl could appreciate the spectacle without enduring the discomfort.

Novices hovered around the University entrance. As he entered the building a trio hurried past him, their cloaks wrapped tightly around their shoulders. Part of the midwinter intake, he surmised. It took several weeks of training before the new novices learned how to ward off the cold.

Climbing the stairs, he found a small group of novices waiting outside the Alchemy room where Rothen taught his classes. Waving them through the door, he started to follow.

“Lord Dannyl.”

Recognizing the voice, Dannyl suppressed a groan. He turned to find Fergun strolling along the corridor toward him, Lord Kerrin at his side.

Stopping a few paces from Dannyl, Fergun eyed the classroom door. “Is that Rothen’s class you’re entering?”

“Yes,” Dannyl replied.

“You’re teaching them?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Fergun turned away, Kerrin following. In a quiet voice, pitched loud enough for Dannyl to hear, he added, “I’m surprised they allow it.”

“What do you mean?” Kerrin asked, his voice growing fainter as the pair walked away.

“Don’t you remember all the trouble he got into as a novice?”

“Oh,
that!”
Kerrin laughed, the sound echoing in the corridor. “I suppose he might be a bad influence.”

Gritting his teeth, Dannyl turned away and found Rothen standing in the doorway.

“Rothen!” Dannyl exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just visiting the library.” Rothen’s gaze remained on Fergun’s back. “It amazes me how long you two have kept this grudge going. Are you ever going to leave the past behind you?”

“It’s not a grudge to him,” Dannyl growled. “It’s sport and he enjoys it too much to stop.”

Rothen raised his brows. “Well, if he behaves like a spiteful novice, people will treat his words accordingly.” He smiled as three novices hurried along the corridor and darted through the classroom door. “How are my novices doing?”

Dannyl grimaced. “I don’t know how you cope, Rothen. You’re not going to abandon me to them for long, are you?”

“I don’t know. Weeks. Months, maybe.”

Dannyl groaned. “Do you think Sonea is ready to begin Control lessons yet?”

Rothen shook his head. “No.”

“But it’s been a week already.”

“Only
a week.” Rothen sighed. “I doubt she’d trust us if we gave her six months to settle in.” He frowned. “It’s not that she dislikes us as individuals, but that she doesn’t believe the Guild means well—and she won’t until she sees proof. We don’t have time for that. When Lorlen visits, he’ll expect us to have begun lessons already.”

Dannyl grasped his friend’s arm. “For now all you have to do is teach her Control, and for that she only has to trust
you,
Rothen. You’re a likeable sort. You’ve got her best interests at heart.” He hesitated. “If you can’t
tell
her, then
show
her.”

Rothen frowned, then his eyes widened in understanding. “Let her see into my mind?”

“Yes. She will
know
you’ve been telling her the truth.”

“It’s … it’s not necessary when teaching Control, but the circumstances are hardly usual.” Rothen frowned.

“There are some things I’ll have to keep her from learning, though…”

“Hide them.” Dannyl smiled. “Now, I have a classroom of your novices waiting, all eager to try out their latest pranks and teacher-torturing antics on me. Lorlen is nothing,
I
expect to hear you’ve made
considerable
progress when we meet tonight.”

Rothen chuckled. “Be reasonable to them, and they’ll be reasonable to you, Dannyl.”

As his friend turned away, Dannyl uttered a short, humorless laugh. Somewhere above them, a striker rang the University gong. Sighing, Dannyl straightened his shoulders and entered the classroom.

Leaning on the window sill, Sonea watched the last of the magicians and novices hurry out of sight. Not all had responded to the University gong, however. Two distant figures remained standing at the other side of the gardens.

One was a woman in green robes with a black sash—the Head of Healers.
So women
did
have some influence in the Guild,
she mused.

The other was a male dressed in blue robes. Thinking back to Rothen’s explanation of the robe colors, she could not recall him mentioning blue. The color was uncommon, so perhaps he, too, was a magician of influence.

Rothen had explained how the magicians in high positions were selected by a vote among Guild members. This method of choosing leaders by the agreement of the majority was intriguing. She had expected that the strongest magicians would rule the others.

According to Rothen, the rest of the magicians spent their time teaching, experimenting, or working on public projects. This included work that ranged from the impressive to the ridiculous. She had been surprised to learn that the magicians had built the Marina, and amused to hear how one magician had spent much of his life trying to make stronger and stronger glues.

Drumming her fingers, she looked around the room again. In the last week she had found opportunities to examine everything, even the room Rothen slept in. A careful search of all cupboards, chests, and drawers had revealed clothes and everyday items. The few locks she had encountered succumbed easily to her picking skills, but old documents had been her only reward.

Catching a movement at the edge of her vision, she turned back to the window. The two magicians had parted, and the blue-robed man was now walking along the edge of the garden toward the two-story residence of the High Lord.

Remembering the night she had peeked into that building, she shivered. Rothen had mentioned nothing of assassin magicians, but that was hardly surprising. He was trying to convince her that the Guild was friendly and useful. If the black-robed magician wasn’t an assassin, then what else could he be?