The Novice (37 page)

“Are you feeling well?” Dannyl murmured.

Tayend nodded and gestured to the hull of the boat. “Hardly rocks at all.”

A soft scraping came from the bottom of the boat. The rowers leapt out nimbly and pulled the craft up onto the beach. Tayend stood up and, carefully gauging the rhythm of the waves swirling around the boat, leapt out when the water had withdrawn. He cursed as his fine shoes sank into the wet sand.

Chuckling, Dannyl stepped out and started across the beach toward the torch-lined path. He paused as a large group of mourners started their procession up the stairs carved into the cliff face. Leaving a respectful gap behind the group, Dannyl and Tayend followed.

At the full moon every month, the people of Vin visited these caves. Within them were tombs of the dead. Gifts were laid by the remains of ancestors, and requests were asked of their spirits. Some tombs were so ancient, no descendants remained to visit them, and it was one of the oldest tombs that Dannyl and Tayend had come to see.

Remembering the customs they had been told about, they remained silent as they climbed. They passed several caves, climbing steadily. Tayend was breathing hard when the group of mourners in front of them turned into a cave entrance. After a short rest, he and Dannyl continued up the narrow stairs.

“Wait. Look at this.”

Hearing the whisper, Dannyl turned to find Tayend pointing back at a cave entrance he had walked past without noticing. A slight fold in the cliff had hidden a narrow crack barely wide enough for a man to slide through sideways. Above it was carved a symbol.

Recognizing the symbol, Dannyl moved to the crack and peered through. He could see only blackness. Stepping back, he created a globe light and sent it inside.

Tayend gave a half-smothered yelp as the light revealed a staring face. The man squinted at Dannyl and said something in Vindo. Realizing that this was a tomb guard, Dannyl spoke the ritual greeting that he had been taught.

The man gave the appropriate reply, then stepped back and beckoned. As Dannyl slipped through, his globe light set the man’s polished ceremonial armor and short sword glittering. The guard bowed stiffly.

They stood in a small room. A low corridor led deeper into the cliff side. The walls were covered in paintings. Tayend examined them closely, humming with appreciation.

“You must have watcher,” the guard said. “So you not get lost. You must not take anything away, not even rock.” He drew out a small flute and blew a single note. After a moment a boy in a simple belted shift appeared in the doorway. He beckoned and, as Dannyl and Tayend stepped through the door, indicated that they should go first. As they started down a narrow tunnel, he followed silently.

Tayend set the pace, walking slowly as he examined the wall paintings.

“Anything interesting?” Dannyl asked when the scholar stopped for the third time.

“Oh, yes,” Tayend breathed. He looked up at Dannyl, then smiled apologetically. “Just not related to what you’re looking for.”

Straightening, he continued at a faster pace, his attention still on the walls, but his expression less distracted. As time passed, Dannyl grew conscious of the weight of earth above him, and the closeness of the walls. If the tunnel was to collapse, he was sure he could prevent them being crushed by throwing up a barrier. He had done much the same thing a year ago when, to prevent him catching Sonea, the Thieves had collapsed one of their tunnels.

But here it was different. There was a lot more rubble and dirt above him. He could probably stop them from being crushed, but he wasn’t sure what he would do then. Could he shift the earth around and behind his barrier, and so tunnel a way out? Would he have time before the air inside ran out? Did he have the magical strength to do it? If he didn’t, he would slowly weaken until the weight of the earth won out.

Disturbed by the thought, he tried to think of something else. The footsteps of the boy following behind were faintly discernible. He wondered whether the boy worried about being buried alive. He found himself thinking of another day, when he had entered the tunnels under the University to see why Fergun had been snooping around down there. He had fought off the suspicion that someone was following him, only to find that that someone was the High Lord.

“Are you all right?”

Dannyl jumped at the question. Tayend was regarding him closely.

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re breathing a bit fast.”

“Oh. Was I?”

“Yes.”

After a few more steps, Dannyl quietly took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then started practicing a calming exercise.

Tayend glanced at him and smiled. “Does being underground bother you?”

“No.”

“Lots of people feel uncomfortable in places like this. I’ve had plenty go all panicky in the library, so I’ve learned to recognize the signs. You will tell me if you’re going to get panicky, won’t you? I don’t much like the idea of being near a panicky magician.”

Dannyl smiled. “I’m fine. I’m just…remembering a few unpleasant experiences I’ve had in similar places.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Somehow, relating the two experiences made Dannyl feel better. Describing how the Thieves came to bury him led to stories about the search for Sonea. As he reached the part where he had entered the tunnels under the University and encountered the High Lord, Tayend’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re scared of
him,
aren’t you?”

“No. Not scared so much as…well, it depends on the situation.”

Tayend chuckled. “Well, if someone as scary as you is afraid of the High Lord, then I’m definitely keeping out of his way.”

Dannyl checked his stride. “
I’m
scary?”

“Oh, yes.” Tayend nodded. “Very scary.”

“But…” Dannyl shook his head. “I haven’t done anything to—” He stopped as he remembered the mugger. “Well, I guess I have now—but surely you weren’t scared of me before then?”

“Of course I was.”

“Why?”

“All magicians are scary. Everyone has heard what they can do—but it’s what you
don’t
know they can do that is scarier.”

Dannyl grimaced. “Well, I guess you’ve seen what I can do, now. And I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Tayend regarded him silently for a few steps. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Not great,” Dannyl admitted. “You?”

“I’m not sure. It’s like I’ve got two different and opposing views at the same time. I’m not sorry you killed him, but I do think killing is wrong. I suppose it’s the uncertainty that bothers me most. Who really knows whether it was right or wrong? I’ve read more books than most people I know, and none of them agree on anything. But there’s one thing I do want to say to you.”

Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend’s eyes. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” Tayend’s expression was sober. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Something inside Dannyl loosened, like a knot unravelling. He realized he had needed Tayend’s gratitude. It did not make his conscience any easier to live with, but it helped him to keep the whole event in perspective.

Looking ahead, he noticed that his globe light was failing to illuminate the walls in the distance. He frowned, then realized they were approaching a larger cavern. As they neared this, a mineral smell caught Dannyl’s attention. The tang in the air grew more distinct as they arrived at the opening. Dannyl sent his globe light out and Tayend gasped.

The chamber was as wide as the Guildhall, and filled with glistening curtains and spires of white. The sound of dripping water echoed through the space. Looking closely, Dannyl could see moisture falling from the ends of the stalactites. Between the fang-like stalagmites a shallow stream trickled.

“The Tombs of White Tears,” Tayend murmured.

“Formed by water seeping through the roof, depositing minerals wherever it flows,” Dannyl explained.

Tayend rolled his eyes. “I knew that.”

A slippery path led down into the chamber. Descending carefully, they made their way along the uneven floor. As they passed the fantastic white structures, more came into sight. Suddenly Tayend stopped.

“The Mouth of Death,” he said in a hushed voice.

Ahead, a row of stalagmites and stalactites crossed the chamber. Some had grown into each other and were slowly thickening to form columns. The gaps between others were so small, it seemed as if they would meet in mere moments. Each was colossal at the floor or ceiling, tapering to fine white points, so that the whole arrangement looked like the teeth of a huge animal.

“Shall we see if there’s a stomach?” Tayend asked. Not waiting for an answer, he ducked through two of the teeth and disappeared.

Following, Dannyl found Tayend standing on one side of a tunnel, beckoning furiously. The walls on either side were curtains of glistening white, broken here and there by shallow horizontal alcoves. Moving to Tayend’s side, he saw that a skeleton lay within a small alcove. A new curtain of white had formed, half covering the alcove.

“They must have cut the tombs knowing that the walls would grow down to cover them,” Tayend said quietly.

Moving on, they found another tomb, then another. The farther they travelled, the older and more numerous the tombs. Eventually there were no skeletons to be seen, just walls that had covered the alcoves completely.

Dannyl knew that hours had passed. The Vindo forbade visitors to the caves during daylight, and he began to worry that they would not return to the beach in time to meet their boat. When they reached the end of the tunnel he breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s nothing here,” Tayend said, casting about.

Around them the walls were unbroken. Dannyl moved closer to the right, examining them carefully. They almost seemed to be translucent in places. Following suit, Tayend peered at the surface of the left-hand wall intently. After several minutes, he called Dannyl’s name excitedly.

Moving to his friend’s side, Dannyl saw that Tayend was pointing at a small hole.

“Can you get some light in there?”

“I’ll try.”

As Tayend moved aside, Dannyl created a tiny spark and sent it into the hole. He watched as it moved through a finger-width of white mineral deposit, then out into darkness.

Brightening the spark to light the space beyond, he felt a smile spread across his face.

“What is it?” Tayend asked excitedly. “Let me see!”

Stepping aside, Dannyl watched as Tayend bent to peer in the hole. The scholar’s eyes widened. Beyond the curtain of white was a small cave. A carved coffin lay in the center of the room. The walls inside were partly coated in mineral sediment, but much of the original carved decoration was still visible.

Tayend whipped out sheets of paper and a drawing stick from his coat, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How long have I got?”

Dannyl shrugged. “An hour, probably less.”

“That’ll be enough for now. Can we come back again?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Tayend grinned. “We’ve found it, Dannyl! We’ve found what your High Lord was searching for. Evidence of ancient magic!”

As Sonea left the Healers’ Quarters, novices hurried past her, some running or leaping about and whooping. Sonea listened to the laughter and excitement around her. With the final gong still ringing in their ears, novices of all ages and levels were talking of riding horses, attending court dances and playing games she had never heard of.

For the next two weeks brown robes would be a rare sight on the grounds, as the novices—and not a few magicians—returned to their families for the winter break.
If only I could leave, too.
She thought wistfully of spending the days with her aunt and uncle, and their baby, in the slums.
But
he
would never let me.

Reaching the University, she paused as several older novices rushed out. A few stragglers hurried past her as she climbed the stairs. Once she had reached the second floor, however, she found herself abruptly alone.

The silence in the corridor had an emptiness to it that she hadn’t experienced before, even late at night. Clasping her box to her chest, Sonea hurried to a side passage.

While the Magicians’ Library was on the ground floor of the University, close to the rear of the building, the Novices’ Library was reached via a confusing and twisted series of passages on the second level. Sonea hadn’t been able to find it the first time she had looked, and had eventually resorted to following other novices.

Reaching the library, she saw that it, too, was empty of novices. Opening the door, she heard footsteps and bowed as the librarian, Lady Tya, appeared.

“I’m sorry, Sonea,” Tya said, “the library is closing now. I’ve just finished packing up for the year.”

“Will it be open over the break, my lady?”

The librarian shook her head. Nodding, Sonea backed out of the door and turned away.

At the next crossing of passages she stopped. Cursing, she leaned back against the wall. Where could she go now? Anywhere but the High Lord’s Residence. Shivering, she considered the passages to her left and right. The one on the right led back to the main corridor. To the left the passage led to…where?

Starting down it, she reached another intersection. She stopped, remembering the confusing journey Dorrien had taken her on to get to the roof of the University. He had said he knew every passage and room in the building. Growing up in the Guild had its advantages, he’d told her.

Sonea pursed her lips. She needed every advantage she could get. It was time she knew her way around this place.

But what if she got lost?

Sonea chuckled. She had hours to fill. For the first time in six months, she didn’t need to be anywhere. If she lost her way, she’d find it again.

Smiling grimly, she started walking.

Four firm knocks rapped on the door. Lorlen’s blood turned to ice.

This was not Osen’s polite rapping, or the timid tap of Lorlen’s servant. Nor was it the unfamiliar tap of another magician. It was a knock he had been dreading; a knock he had known would come.