The Magicians' Guild (37 page)

She looked at him, her eyebrows rising. “Punishment?”

“For childish pranks or being disrespectful to their elders,” he explained. “They’re a bit old for smacking.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, and she looked back out of the window. “So that’s why he looks so grumpy.”

Noting that her fingers were drumming softly on the frame of the window screen, Rothen sighed. For two days she had been learning rapidly, grasping the Control exercises faster than any novice he had taught before. Today, however, her concentration had failed several times. Though she kept it well hidden, showing that her mental discipline had improved, it had been clear that something was on her mind.

At first he had blamed it on himself. He had not told her of Dannyl’s visit, believing that the prospect of meeting a stranger would distract her from her lessons. She had sensed that he was keeping something from her, and had become suspicious.

Realizing his error, he told her of the visit.

“I was wondering when I’d meet more of you,” she had said.

“If you don’t want visitors tonight, I can tell him to come another time,” he had offered.

She had shaken her head. “No, I’d like to meet your friend.”

Surprised and pleased by her reaction, he had tried to resume the lessons. She still had trouble keeping her attention on the exercises and he had sensed her frustration and impatience growing. Each time they had taken a break, she had returned to the window to stare outside.

He looked at her again and thought about how long she had been locked in his rooms. It was easy to forget that his living quarters were a prison to her. She must be tired of her surroundings, and was probably bored.

Which made it a good time to introduce her to Dannyl, he decided. The tall magician intimidated those who didn’t know him, but his friendly manner usually put them quickly at ease. He hoped she would grow accustomed to Dannyl’s company before Lorlen visited.

After that? Watching her drumming fingers, he smiled. He would take her out and show her the Guild.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. Rising, he opened the main door. Dannyl stood outside, looking a little tense.

“You’re early,” Rothen noted.

Dannyl’s eyes brightened. “Should I come back later?”

Rothen shook his head. “No, come in.”

Looking back, Rothen watched Sonea’s face as Dannyl stepped into the room. She gave the tall magician an assessing look.

“Dannyl, this is Sonea,” he said.

“Honored to meet you,” Dannyl said, inclining his head.

Sonea nodded. “And I you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile crept over her face. “I think we’ve met before.” She looked down. “How is your leg?’”

Dannyl blinked, then his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Better, thank you.”

Covering his mouth, Rothen tried unsuccessfully to choke back a laugh. Pretending to cough, he waved toward the chairs. “Sit down. I’ll prepare some sumi.”

Sonea left the window and took a seat opposite Dannyl. The pair regarded each other warily. Moving to a side table, Rothen placed the utensils for making sumi onto a tray.

“How are your lessons going?” Dannyl asked.

“Good, I think. What about you?”

“Me?”

“You’re teaching Rothen’s class, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Yes. It’s … challenging. I haven’t taught anyone before, so I almost feel as if I’ve got more to learn than the novices.”

“What do you normally do?”

“Experiments. Small projects, mostly. Sometimes I assist with larger work.”

Rothen carried the tray to the table and sat down. “Tell her about the thought imprinter,” he suggested.

“Oh, that’s just a hobby.” Dannyl waved a hand dismissively. “Nobody’s interested in it.”

“What is it?” Sonea asked.

“A way to transfer images from the mind onto paper.”

Sonea’s eyes brightened with interest. “Can you do that?”

Dannyl accepted a cup of sumi from Rothen. “No, not yet. Lots of magicians have tried over the centuries, but nobody’s been able to find a substance that can hold a picture for long.” He paused to sip the hot drink. “I’ve made up a special paper out of the leaves of anivope vines which can hold the image for a few days, but the edges blur and the colors start to lose their intensity after about two hours. Ideally, the picture would be permanent.”

“What would you use them for?”

Dannyl shrugged. “Identification, for a start. It would have been handy to be able to do this when we were looking for you, for example. Rothen was the only one of us who had seen you. If he’d been able to make pictures of you, we could have carried them with us to show people.”

Sonea nodded slowly. “What do the pictures look like when they’ve lost colors?”

“Faded. Blurry. But you can still see what they were, in some cases.”

“Can … can I see one?”

Dannyl smiled. “Of course. I’ll bring some around.”

Sonea’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. If Dannyl set up his experiment here, Rothen mused, she could see it for herself. Looking around, he pictured transferring the clutter of vials and presses from Dannyl’s guestroom to his—

“I’m sure Dannyl won’t mind if we visit his rooms for a demonstration,” he said.

Dannyl’s eyes went round. “Now?”

Rothen opened his mouth to reassure his friend, then hesitated. Sonea was watching eagerly. He considered them both.

Dannyl obviously did not intimidate her at all. Of the two of them, she seemed the least bothered by the other’s presence. Dannyl’s rooms were on the lower floor of the Magician’s Quarters, so they would not be going far.

“I don’t see why not,” he replied.

—
Are you sure that’s wise?
Dannyl sent.

Sonea’s eyes flickered toward him. Ignoring the question, Rothen regarded Sonea carefully. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” she replied, turning to look at Dannyl. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Dannyl glanced at Rothen. “It’s just … my rooms are a bit untidy.”

“A bit?” Rothen lifted his cup to finish the last of his sumi.

“Don’t you have a servant?” Sonea asked.

“Yes,” Dannyl replied. “But I have warned him not to touch any of my experiments.”

Rothen smiled. “Why don’t you go on ahead and make sure we have somewhere to sit.”

Sighing, Dannyl rose. “Very well.”

Following his friend to the door, Rothen slipped outside. At once, Dannyl spun about to stare at him.

“Are you mad? What if someone sees you both?” Dannyl whispered. “If you’re seen taking her outside your room, Fergun will say you have no reason to keep him from her.”

“Then I’ll let him visit.” Rothen shrugged. “The only reason I wanted her isolated was to stop him visiting at a time when any unfamiliar magician would have frightened her. But if she is this calm and confident around you, I don’t think she’ll be worried by Fergun.”

“Thanks,” Dannyl replied dryly.

“Because you look more intimidating than him,” Rothen explained.

“Do I?”

“And he is much more charming,” Rothen added, smiling. He waved toward the stairs. “Go on. Get downstairs. When you’re ready—and the corridor is clear—let me know. Just don’t take too long cleaning up, or we’ll
both
think you had to hide something.”

As his friend hurried away, Rothen returned to his room. Sonea was standing before her chair, looking a little flushed. She sat down again as he cleared the table.

“He doesn’t sound like he wants visitors,” she said doubtfully.

“He does,” Rothen assured her. “He just doesn’t like surprises.”

Picking up the tray, he carried it to the side table, then took a sheaf of paper out of a drawer and wrote a quick note to Tania, letting the servant know where they were. As he finished, he heard Dannyl call his name.

—
There’s a bit of space here now. Come down.

Sonea rose and looked at Rothen expectantly. Smiling, he moved to the door and opened it. Her eyes flickered about as she stepped outside, taking in the wide corridor and its numerous doors.

“How many magicians live here?” she asked as they started toward the stairs.

“Over eighty,” he told her, “and their families.”

“So there are people other than magicians here?”

“Yes, but only the spouses and children of magicians. No other relatives are allowed.”

“Why not?”

He chuckled. “If we had every relative of every magician living here, we would have to move the entire Inner Circle into the Grounds.”

“Of course,” she said dryly. “What happens when the children grow up?”

“If they have magical potential, they usually join the Guild. If they don’t, they must leave.”

“Where do they go?”

“To live with relations in the city.”

“In the Inner Circle.”

“Yes.”

She considered this, then looked up at him. “Do any magicians live in the city?”

“A few. It’s discouraged.”

“Why?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “We’re supposed to keep an eye on each other, remember, to make sure none of us get too deeply involved in politics, or plot against the King. It’s harder to do that if too many of us live outside the Guild.”

“So why are some allowed to?”

They had reached the end of the corridor. Rothen started down the spiral staircase, Sonea following.

“Many reasons, all unique to the individual. Old age, illness.”

“Are there any magicians who decided not to join the Guild—who learned Control but not how to use magic?”

He shook his head. “No. The young men and women who join us haven’t had their powers released yet. After that they learn Control. Remember, you are unique in that your power developed on its own.”

She frowned. “Has anyone left the Guild before?”

“No.”

She considered this, her expression intent. From below came Dannyl’s voice, and another. Rothen slowed, giving Sonea plenty of time to become aware of the other magician.

Then she shied to one side as a magician floated up the stairwell, his feet resting on nothing but air. Recognizing the magician, Rothen smiled.

“Good evening, Lord Garrel.”

“Good evening,” the magician replied, raising his eyebrows as he noticed Sonea.

Sonea stared at the magician, her eyes wide. As Garrel’s feet reached the level of the higher floor, the magician stepped onto the solid surface of the corridor. He glanced down at Sonea once, his gaze bright with interest, then strode away.

“Levitation,” Rothen told Sonea. “Impressive, isn’t it? It takes more than a little skill. About half of us can do it.”

“Can you?” she asked.

“I used to all the time,” Rothen told her. “But I’m out of practice now. Dannyl can.”

“Ah, but I’m not the show-off that Garrel is.”

Looking down, Rothen saw Dannyl waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“I prefer to use my legs,” Rothen told Sonea. “My former guardian always said that physical exercise is as necessary as mental exercise. Neglect the body and—”

“—and you neglect the mind,” Dannyl finished with a groan. “His guardian was a wise and upright man,” he told Sonea as she reached his side. “Lord Margen even disapproved of wine.”

“Which must be why
you
never liked him much,” Rothen observed, smiling.

“Guardian?” Sonea echoed.

“A tradition here,” he explained. “Lord Margen chose to guide my training when I was a novice, as I chose to guide Dannyl’s.”

She fell into step beside him as he started toward Dannyl’s rooms. “How did you guide him?”

Rothen shrugged. “Many ways. Mostly, I filled in the gaps in his knowledge. Some were there because of the neglect of a few teachers, others were due to his own laziness or lack of enthusiasm.” Sonea glanced at Dannyl, who was smiling and nodding in agreement.

“By helping me with my work, Dannyl also learned more through experience than he would in classes. The idea of guardianship is to help a novice excel.”

“Do all novices have guardians?”

Rothen shook his head. “No. It is not common. Not all magicians want or have time to take responsibility for a novice’s training. Only those novices who show considerable promise have guardians.”

Her eyebrows rose. “So why …” She frowned, then shook her head.

Reaching his door, Dannyl touched it lightly. It swung inward and a faint smell of chemicals wafted into the corridor.

“Welcome,” he said, ushering them inside.

Though the guestroom was the same size as Rothen’s, half of it was taken up with benches. Contraptions covered the surfaces, and boxes were stacked beneath. Dannyl’s work was neatly laid out and organized, however.

Sonea looked around the room, obviously amused. Though Rothen had seen Dannyl’s rooms many times, he always found it strange encountering an Alchemy experiment set up in living quarters. Space in the University was limited, so those few magicians who wanted to pursue interests like Dannyl’s often used their own rooms.

Rothen sighed. “It’s easy to see why Ezrille despairs of finding you a wife, Dannyl.”

As always, his friend grimaced. “I’m too young to have a wife.”

“Nonsense,” Rothen replied. “You just don’t have the space for one.”

Dannyl smiled and beckoned to Sonea. She drew closer to the benches and listened as he explained his experiments. He brought out a few faded pictures and she examined them closely.

“It can be done,” he finished. “The only challenge is to stop the image fading away.”

“Couldn’t you get a painter to copy it before it does?” she suggested.

“I could.” Dannyl frowned. “That would circumvent the problem, I suppose. He would have to be a good painter. Fast, too.”

Handing the samples back, she moved to a framed map on the wall nearby.

“You don’t have paintings,” she said, glancing around the room. “They’re all maps.”

“Yes,” Dannyl replied. “I collect old maps and plans.”

She approached another. “This is the Guild.”

Rothen moved to her side. The plan was clearly labelled, in the neat writing of the Guild’s most famous architect, Lord Coren.

“We are here.” Dannyl pointed. “In the Magicians’ Quarters.” His finger slid across to a similar rectangle. “That is the Novices’ Quarters. All novices who come to learn in the Guild are housed there, even if they have homes in the city.”