The Novice (55 page)

Lorlen didn’t answer, his mind still struggling to accept that a novice as young as Sonea could already be so powerful. Akkarin leaned toward him, his dark eyes glittering.

“Every time they attack her she stretches herself,” he said quietly. “She’s learning to defend herself in ways neither Balkan nor Yikmo can teach her. I’m not going to stop Regin and his accomplices. They’re the best teachers she has.”

“But…why do you want her stronger?” Lorlen breathed. “Aren’t you afraid she will turn against you? What will you do when she graduates?”

Akkarin’s smile vanished. “She is the High Lord’s chosen novice. The Guild expects her to excel. But she will never grow strong enough to be a threat to me.” He looked away and his expression hardened. “As for graduation, I’ll decide how to deal with that when the time comes.”

Seeing the calculating look in Akkarin’s eyes, Lorlen shivered. A memory of his visit to the Guard House returned. The images of the bodies of the murdered young man and his father were hard to forget. Though more gruesome, the young man’s death had not chilled Lorlen as much as the other. The father’s wrists had shallow cuts, and he had lost little blood. Yet he was dead.

At Akkarin’s instruction, Lorlen had explained to Barran he would not be sending magicians out in a hunt for the rogue, as he had done with Sonea. The previous search had driven Sonea to seek the help of the Thieves, and they had kept the Guild from finding her for months. Though the Thieves were rumored to be hunting for the murderer as well, it was not impossible that they would strike a deal if he came to them for help. So it was better that the Guild gave the murderer no reason to hide himself too carefully. The Guard must locate him, then Lorlen would arrange for magical assistance to capture him. Barran had agreed that this was the wisest action.

But this would never happen if the murderer was Akkarin. Lorlen considered the black-robed man. He wanted to ask Akkarin directly if he had anything to do with the murders, but he was afraid of the answer. And even if the answer was no, could he believe such a denial, anyway?

“Ah, Lorlen,” Akkarin sounded amused. “Anyone would think Sonea was
your
adopted novice.”

Lorlen forced his mind back to the subject. “If a guardian is neglecting his obligations, it is my duty to correct the situation.”

“And if I tell you to leave this alone, will you?”

Lorlen frowned. “Of course,” he said reluctantly.

“Can I trust you to?” Akkarin sighed. “When you have not done as I have asked concerning Dannyl?”

Surprised, Lorlen frowned at Akkarin. “Dannyl?”

“He has continued his investigations.”

Lorlen could not help feeling a trickle of hope at this news, but it quickly evaporated. If Akkarin knew this, whatever good might have come from it was already lost. “I sent him orders to abandon the work.”

“Then he hasn’t followed them.”

Lorlen hesitated. “What will you do?”

Akkarin drained his glass, then rose and walked toward the drinks table. “I haven’t decided. If he goes where I fear he may go, he will die—and not by my hand.”

Lorlen’s heart skipped a beat. “Can you warn him?”

Placing his glass on the table, Akkarin sighed. “It may be too late already. I shall have to weigh the risks.”

“Risks?” Lorlen frowned. “What risks?”

Akkarin turned and smiled. “You are full of questions tonight. I wonder if there is something in the spring water lately. Everyone seems to have grown so bold.” He turned away and refilled his glass, and another. “That is all I can tell you, for now. If I was free to tell you what I know, I would.”

He crossed the room and handed Lorlen a glass.

“For now, you’ll just have to trust me.”

As they reached the curve of the road from where they had first seen Dem Ladeiri’s home, Dannyl and Tayend halted their mounts and turned to regard the building one last time. Their servants continued ahead, their horses walking slowly down the winding road.

“Who would have thought we’d find the answers to so many questions in that old place?” Tayend said, shaking his head.

Dannyl nodded. “It has been an interesting few days.”

“Now
that’s
an understatement.” Tayend’s lips curled up at one side, and he gave Dannyl a sidelong glance.

Smiling at the scholar’s expression, Dannyl looked up at the mountains above the Ladeiri house. The ruins of Armje lay beyond one of the ridges, hidden from sight.

Tayend shivered. “It makes me nervous, knowing that cavern is up there.”

“I doubt any magicians have visited Armje since Akkarin,” Dannyl said. “And that door can’t be opened without magic—or without breaking down the whole wall. I would have warned the Dem, but I didn’t want to tell him before consulting the Guild.”

Tayend nodded. He nudged his horse forward, and Dannyl’s followed. “We have some more information on this Charkan King, anyway. If we had a few weeks to spare, we could travel into Sachaka.”

“I’m still not sure that’s wise.”

“Akkarin probably went there. Why shouldn’t we?”

“We don’t know for sure if that’s where he went.”

“If we went there we might find evidence that he did. The Sachakans are sure to remember if a Guild magician passed their way. Have any other magicians visited Sachaka in the last ten or so years?”

Dannyl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“If one had, surely he would have heard that another Guild magician had been in the country before him.”

“Perhaps.” Dannyl felt a nagging uneasiness. The thought of being around other magicians reminded him that, one day, he would have to return to the Guild. As if his colleagues might be able to see…

But, of course, they wouldn’t—couldn’t—know that from just
looking
at him. So, as long as he and Tayend were careful about discussing the matter, and he never allowed anyone to truth-read him, and he was cautious during mental communication, who could ever prove anything?

He looked at Tayend.
Rothen would say I was cunning enough to discover—or hide—any secret,
he mused.

—
Dannyl.

Startled, Dannyl sat up straight in the saddle. Then he recognized the personality behind the mental call and was paralyzed by disbelief.

—
Dannyl.

He felt panic rush over him. Why was Akkarin calling him? What did the High Lord want? Dannyl glanced at Tayend. Or had he heard that…but, no, surely that was not important enough to—

—
Dannyl.

He had to answer. He could not ignore a call from the High Lord. Dannyl swallowed hard, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he closed his eyes and sent out a name.

—
Akkarin?

—
Where are you?

—
In the mountains of Elyne.
He sent an image of the road.
I offered to take over Ambassador Errend’s biannual rounds of the Dems so that I might familiarize myself with the country.

—
And so that you could continue your research despite Lorlen’s orders.

It was not a question. Dannyl was surprised at the relief he felt. If Akkarin had heard rumors about Tayend and…but he quickly turned his thoughts from that.

—
Yes,
he confirmed, deliberately thinking of the Tomb of White Tears and the mystery of the Charkan King.
I continued out of my own interest. Lorlen did not indicate that I shouldn’t.

—
Clearly your duties as Ambassador are not overly time consuming.

Dannyl winced. There was a definite feeling of disapproval behind Akkarin’s communication. Was he simply concerned that Dannyl was spending too much time on research or did he resent that another magician was continuing work he had abandoned? Or was he annoyed that someone was tracing a part of his own past?
Does he have something to hide?

—
I want to discuss what you have found in person. Return to the Guild at once, and bring your notes with you.

Surprised, Dannyl hesitated before asking:

—
What of the rest of my journey to visit the Dems?

—
You will return to complete your duties afterward.

—
Very well…I will have to—

—
Report to me when you arrive.

A tone of dismissal told Dannyl that the conversation was over. He opened his eyes and cursed.

“What happened?” Tayend asked.

“That was Ak—the High Lord.”

Tayend’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”

“He has learned about our research.” Dannyl sighed. “I don’t think he’s happy about it. He ordered me to return.”

“Return…to the Guild?”

“Yes. With our notes.”

Tayend stared at him in dismay, then his expression hardened.

“How did he find out?”

“I don’t know.”
How had he?
Remembering the tale of Akkarin’s ability to read unwilling minds, Dannyl shivered again.
There was a moment there, when I thought of Tayend…did he detect anything?

“I’ll go with you,” Tayend said.

“No,” Dannyl said quickly, alarmed. “Believe me, you don’t want to be dragged into this.”

“But—”

“No, Tayend. Better he doesn’t learn how much you know.” Dannyl tapped the flanks of his horse with his heels, urging it into a trot. He thought of the long weeks of riding and sailing that lay between this day and facing Akkarin. He ought to wish he could delay that moment, but instead he wanted to hurry toward it because one thought bothered him more than any other.

What would happen to Tayend if Akkarin took exception to Dannyl continuing his research? Would the High Lord’s disapproval extend to the scholar? Could Tayend lose access to the Great Library?

Dannyl did not care what consequences he might suffer, so long as Tayend was not affected. Whatever happened, Dannyl would make sure the blame rested entirely with himself.

The garden seat was warm. Putting down her box, Sonea closed her eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun on her face. She could hear the chatter of other novices, and the deeper voices of older magicians, coming nearer.

Opening her eyes, she watched as several Healers strolled down the path toward her. She recognized a few as younger graduates. They burst into laughter, then as the two at the front of the group stepped apart Sonea glimpsed a familiar face.

Dorrien!

Her heart skipped. Standing up, she hurried along one of the side paths, hoping he hadn’t seen her. She moved into a small area surrounded by hedges, and sat down on another garden seat.

She had forced Dorrien out of her thoughts, knowing that it would be months, possibly more than a year, before he visited the Guild again. But here he was only a few months after he had left. Why had he come back so soon? Had Rothen told him about Akkarin? Surely not. But perhaps he had unintentionally given Dorrien the feeling that something wasn’t right during one of their mental conversations.

She frowned. Whatever the reason, Dorrien would probably seek her out. She would have to tell him she was no longer interested in him as anything more than a friend. Now
that
was a conversation she would have to prepare herself for.

“Sonea.”

She jumped and looked up to find Dorrien standing in the entrance of the little garden.

“Dorrien!” She fought down panic. He must have seen her, and followed. At least she hadn’t needed to feign surprise. “You’re back already!”

He smiled and moved into the garden. “Just for a week. Didn’t Father tell you?”

“No…but we don’t see much of each other now.”

“So he said.” His smile disappeared. Sitting down, he regarded her questioningly. “He tells me you’re attending lessons at night, and spend most of your time studying.”

“Only because I’m a hopeless Warrior.”

“Not from what I’ve heard.”

She frowned. “What have you heard?”

“That you’ve been fighting several novices at once, and winning.”

Sonea winced.

“Or have I got the winning part wrong?”

“How many people know about this?”

“Most.”

Sonea cradled her head in her hands, and groaned. Dorrien chuckled and patted her lightly on the shoulder.

“Regin is at the head of this, isn’t he?”

“Of course.”

“Why hasn’t your new guardian done anything about it?”

Sonea shrugged. “I don’t think he knows. I don’t want him to know.”

“I see.” Dorrien nodded. “I suppose if Akkarin came to your rescue all the time, people would say you weren’t a good choice. The novices are all jealous of you, not realizing that they would be in the same situation if
they
were the High Lord’s favorite, even if they are from the Houses. Any novice he chose would be a target. Always expected to prove themselves.”

He fell silent, and she could see from his expression that he was thinking hard. “So it’s up to you to stop these novices.”

She laughed bitterly. “I don’t think baiting Regin will make any difference this time.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“So what were you thinking?”

Dorrien smiled. “You have to prove you
are
the best. That you can beat him at his own game. What have you done so far to get him back?”

“Nothing. I can’t do anything. There are too many of them.”

“There must be novices who don’t like him,” he pointed out. “Persuade them to help you.”

“Nobody talks to me at all now.”

“Even now? I’m surprised. Surely some have seen an advantage in being a friend of the High Lord’s favorite.”

“I wouldn’t want their company if that’s all they wanted from me.”

“But so long as you know that is the reason they’re around, why not take advantage of the situation?”

“Perhaps because Regin arranged an accident for the last novice who did.”

Dorrien frowned. “Hmmm, I remember that now. Something else, then.” He fell silent again. Sonea struggled with a vague feeling of disappointment. She had hoped Dorrien would find some inventive way to end Regin’s ambushes, but perhaps the problem was beyond him this time.