The Magicians' Guild (38 page)

“Why?”

“So we can make their lives a misery,” Dannyl replied. Sonea gave him a very direct look, then snorted softly.

“The novices are removed from their family’s influence when they come here.” Rothen told her. “We have to wean them off the little intrigues the Houses are always indulging in.”

“We get plenty of new novices who have never needed to get out of bed before midday,” Dannyl added. “It comes as quite a shock to them when they learn how early they have to rise for class. We’d have no hope of getting them to lessons on time if they lived at home.”

He pointed at the circular building on the plan. “This is the Healers’ Quarters. Some of the Healers live there, but most rooms are reserved for treatment and classes.” His finger moved to a smaller circle within the garden. “This structure is the Arena. It is used as a practice area for the Warriors. There is a shield around it, supported by the masts, which absorbs and contains the magic of those within and protects everything outside. We all add our power to the shield from time to time to keep it strong.”

Sonea stared at the plan, watching as Dannyl’s finger moved to the curved building next to the Magicians’ Quarters.

“This is the Baths. It is built where a stream once ran down the hill from a spring up in the forest. We have piped the water into the building where it can be drawn into tubs and heated. Next to it is the Seven Arches, which contains rooms for entertaining.”

“What are the Residences?” Sonea asked, drawing his attention to a label and an arrow that pointed off the page.

“Several little houses where our oldest magicians live,” Dannyl explained. “Here, you can see them on this older map.”

They crossed the room to a yellowing map of the city. Dannyl pointed to a row of tiny squares. “There, beside the old cemetery.”

“There are only a few buildings in the Guild on this map,” Sonea noted.

Dannyl smiled. “This map is over three hundred years old. I don’t know how much of Kyralian history you know. Have you heard of the Sachakan War?”

Sonea nodded.

“After the Sachakan War, there wasn’t much left of Imardin. When the city was rebuilt, the greater Houses took the opportunity to set out a new city plan.

“You can see how it was built in concentric circles.” He pointed to the center. “First, a wall was erected around the remains of the old King’s Palace, then another around the city. The Outer Wall was constructed a few decades later. The old city was named the Inner Circle, and the new area was divided into the four Quarters.

His finger circled the Guild. “The entire Eastern Quarter was given to the magicians in gratitude for driving out the Sachakan invaders. The decision wasn’t made carelessly,” he added. “The Palace and Inner Circle drew water from the spring in those days and building the Guild around the supply reduced the chance of anyone poisoning it—as had been done during the war.”

He pointed to the small rectangle in the Grounds. “The first structure made was the Guildhall,” Dannyl continued. “It was built with the local hard gray stone. It housed both magicians and their apprentices and provided space for teaching and debate. According to the history books, a spirit of unity had taken hold of our predecessors. Through the sharing of knowledge, new ways to use and shape magic were discovered. It did not take long before the Guild had become the largest and most powerful school of magicians in the known world.”

He smiled. “And it kept growing. When Lonmar, Elyne, Vin, Lan and Kyralia formed the Alliance, part of the agreement was that magicians from all lands would be taught here. Suddenly, the Guildhall wasn’t big enough, so they had to construct several new buildings.”

Sonea frowned. “What happens to magicians from other lands when they finish learning?”

“Usually they return to their homeland,” Rothen told her. “Sometimes they stay here.”

“Then how do you keep an eye on them?”

“We have ambassadors in each land who keep track of the activities of foreign magicians,” Dannyl told her. “Just as we vow to serve the King and protect Kyralia, they swear service to their own ruler.”

Her eyes moved to a map of the region hanging nearby. “It doesn’t seem smart to teach magicians of other lands. What if they invade Kyralia?”

Rothen smiled. “If we didn’t allow them to join the Guild, they would start their own, as they did in the past. Whether we teach them or not won’t prevent an invasion, but by doing so, we control what they are taught. We do not teach our own people differently, so they know they are not being treated unfairly.”

“They wouldn’t dare attack us, anyway,” Dannyl added. “Kyralians have strong magical bloodlines. We produce more magicians than any of the other races, and stronger ones.”

“Vindo and Lans are the weakest,” Rothen told her. “Which is why they are not common here. We get more Lonmar and Elyne novices, but their powers are rarely impressive.”

“The Sachakans used to be powerful magicians.” Dannyl looked up at the map. “But the war ended that.”

“Leaving us the most powerful nation in the region,” Rothen finished.

Her eyes narrowed. “So why doesn’t the King invade the other lands?”

“The Alliance was made to prevent it,” Rothen told her. “As you so astutely reminded me the first time we spoke, King Palen refused to sign it at first. The Guild suggested that it might not remain uninvolved in politics if he did not.”

Her mouth curled into a faint smile. “What stops the other lands fighting each other?”

Rothen sighed. “A great deal of diplomacy—which does not always work. There have been several minor confrontations since the Alliance. It is always an awkward situation for the Guild. Disputes usually revolve around borders and—”

Hearing a timid knock, he stopped. He looked at Dannyl and knew from his friend’s expression that they were thinking the same thing. Had Fergun heard that Sonea was out of his rooms already?

“Are you expecting anyone?”

Dannyl shook his head and moved to the door. As it opened Rothen heard Tania’s voice and sighed with relief.

“I brought your meal down,” the servant said as she entered the room. Two other servants followed, carrying trays. Setting their burdens down on the only empty table, they bowed and left.

As the aroma of food filled the room, Dannyl made an appreciative noise. “I didn’t realize so much time had passed,” he said.

Rothen regarded Sonea. “Hungry?”

She nodded, her eyes sliding to the food.

He smiled. “Then I think that’s enough history for now. Let’s eat.”

Reaching the end of the University corridor, Dannyl halted as the door to the Administrator’s office opened. A blue-clad figure stepped out and started toward the Entrance Hall.

“Administrator,” Dannyl called.

Lorlen stopped and turned around. Seeing Dannyl approaching, he smiled. “Good morning, Lord Dannyl.”

“I was just coming to see you. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, but only a moment.”

“Thank you.” Dannyl rubbed his hands together slowly. “I received a message from the Thief last night. He asked if we knew of the whereabouts of a man who was Sonea’s companion while she was hiding from us. I thought it might be that young man who tried to rescue her.”

Lorlen nodded. “The High Lord received a similar inquiry.”

Dannyl blinked in surprise. “The Thief contacted him directly?”

“Yes. Akkarin has assured Gorin that he will let him know if he finds the man.”

“I will send the same reply, then.”

Lorlen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is this the first time the Thieves have contacted you since you captured Sonea?”

“Yes.” Dannyl smiled ruefully. “I had assumed I would never hear from them again. Their message came as quite a surprise.”

Lorlen’s brows rose. “It came as quite a surprise to all of us that you had been talking to them at all.”

Dannyl felt his face grow warmer. “Not all. The High Lord knew, though I have no idea how.”

Lorlen smiled. “Now
that
does not surprise me. Akkarin might not appear to show any interest, but don’t think he isn’t paying attention. He knows more about people, both here and in the City, than anyone else.”

“But you must know more than he when it comes to the Guild.”

Lorlen shook his head. “Oh, he knows more than I ever do.” He paused. “I am meeting him now. Do you have anything you wish me to ask him?”

“No,” Dannyl replied hastily. “I should be going, myself. Thank you for your time, Administrator.”

Lorlen inclined his head, turned and strode away. Starting back down the corridor, Dannyl soon found himself passing through a crowd of novices and magicians. With the first classes of the day about to start, the building was filled with activity.

He considered the Thief’s message again. There had been an undertone of accusation in the letter, as if Gorin suspected that the Guild was responsible for the man’s disappearance. Dannyl did not believe that the Thief would blame the Guild for his problems as easily as the average dwell did—or that he would contact the High Lord if he didn’t have good reason to.

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.