The Magicians' Guild

  “Who is it?”

  “A friend,” came the muffled reply.

  “Rothen’s not here.”

  “I don’t want to talk to Rothen. I want to talk to you, Sonea.”

  She stared at the door, her heart starting to race.

  “Why?”

  The reply was fainter. “I have to tell you something important, something he won’t tell you.”

  Rothen was keeping something from her? Alarm and excitement set her heart beating even faster. Whoever this stranger was, he was willing to defy the magicians for her sake. She wished she could see through the door to see who the visitor was.

  But was it a good idea to learn something disturbing about Rothen right now, when she needed to trust him?

  “Sonea. Let me in. The corridor is empty, but it won’t be for long. This is my only chance to talk to you.”

  “I can’t. The door’s locked.”

  “Try it again.”

  She regarded the door handle. Though she had tried it several times during her first days in the rooms, it had always been locked. Reaching out, she twisted the handle, then drew in a surprised breath as the door swung open.

  A red sleeve appeared, then the full red robes of a magician. Backing away, she stared at the magician in dismay. She had expected a servant, or a rescuer disguised as a servant—unless this man had dared to don robes so he could reach her…

  The man closed the door gently behind him, then straightened and looked at her.

  “Hello, Sonea. We meet at last. I am Lord Fergun.”

  “You’re a magician?”

  “Yes, not a magician such as Lord Rothen is.” He placed a hand on his chest.

  Sonea frowned. “You’re a Warrior?”

  Fergun smiled. He was much younger than Rothen, she noted, and quite attractive. His hair was pale and neatly combed, and his facial features were both fine and strong. She knew she had seen him before, but couldn’t remember where.

  “I am,” he said. “But that is not the difference I speak of.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I am on your side.”

  “And Rothen isn’t?”

  “No, though he means well,” he added. “Rothen is the sort of man who believes he knows what’s best for others, particularly a young woman like yourself. I, however, see you as an adult who ought to be allowed to make her own choices.” He raised an eyebrow. “Will you listen to me, or shall I leave you in peace?”

  Though her heart was still racing, she nodded and gestured to the chairs. “Stay,” she said. “I will listen.”

  Inclining his head politely, he glided to a chair. Taking the seat opposite, she looked at him expectantly.

  “Firstly, has Rothen told you that you may join the Guild?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And has he told you what you must do to become a magician?”

  She shrugged. “A little. There is a vow, and years of training.”

  “And do you know what you must vow?”

  She shook her head. “No, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to join the Guild.”

  He blinked. “You don’t want to join the Guild?” he repeated.

  “No.”

  He nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair. For a while he was silent and thoughtful, then his gaze shifted to hers again.

  “May I ask why?”

  Sonea considered him carefully. Rothen had told her that many of the magicians would be surprised when she refused the Guild’s offer.

  “I want to go home,” she told him.

  He nodded again. “Do you know that the Guild does not allow magicians to exist outside its influence?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Everybody knows that.”

  “So you know they will not just let you walk out of here.”

  “I won’t be able to use my powers, so I won’t be a threat.”

  He raised his eyebrows again. “So Rothen has told you that the Guild will block your powers?”

  Sonea frowned. Block her powers?

  He nodded slowly. “No, I thought not. He is only telling you part of the truth.” He leaned forward. The Higher Magicians will cage your powers within you so that you cannot reach for them. It’s…not a pleasant procedure, not at all, and the cage will be there for the rest of your life. You see, even though you will not know how to use your powers, there is always a chance you will discover how to use them yourself, or encounter a rogue magician willing to teach you—though that is highly unlikely. By law, the Guild must make sure you cannot use magic, even if you had all the help you needed.”

  A chill had grown within Sonea as he spoke. Looking down at the table, she considered what Rothen had told her. Had he deliberately phrased the truth so that it sounded less frightening? Probably. Her suspicions grew stronger as she realized that Rothen had only voiced the revelation that she would be freed. She had not seen it in his mind and known it to be true…

  She looked up at the red-robed magician. How could she trust anything he said? She could not think what he had to gain from lying, however, since she would discover the truth once she had learned Control.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Like I said, I’m on your side. You need to know the truth and…I can offer you an alternative.”

  She straightened. “What alternative?”

  He pursed his lips. “It will not be easy. Has Rothen explained about guardianship yet?”

  She shook her head.

  He rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t told you anything! Listen.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “Guardianship allows magicians to control the training of novices. Rothen has claimed guardianship of you since the Purge. When I heard this, I decided to place a counter-claim. This forces the Guild to hold a Hearing—a meeting—where it will be decided which of us will be your guardian. You will help me win my claim, then—”

  “Why would they hold a Hearing when I’m not going to join the Guild?” Sonea injected.

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hear me out, Sonea.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “If you refuse to join the Guild, your powers will be blocked and you’ll be sent back to the slums. If you agree to stay, however, and I win your guardianship, I can help you.”

  Sonea frowned. “How?”

  He smiled. “You’ll simply vanish one day. You can go back to the slums if you want. I’ll teach you how to make your magic undetectable—and your powers will not be blocked. They will hunt for you at first, but if you are smart, they won’t find you this time.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “But you’d be breaking the Guild’s laws.”

  He nodded slowly. “I know.” Different emotions shifted over his face. He rose and walked to the window. “I don’t like to see people forced to be what they don’t want to be,” he told her. “Look.” Turning, he crossed the room and held out his hand to her. The skin of his palm was callused and scarred.

  “Swordplay. I am a Warrior, as you so astutely noted. It’s the closest I can get to what I once wanted to be. When I was a boy, I dreamed of being a swordsman. I practiced for hours each day. I dreamed of learning under the greatest teachers.”

  He sighed and shook his head. Then my magical potential was discovered. It wasn’t much, but my parents wanted to have a magician in the family. I would bring their House great prestige, they said.

  “So I was made to join the Guild. I was too young to refuse, too full of doubts to know that magic wasn’t my real calling. My powers aren’t strong and, though I have learned to use them well, I don’t enjoy them. I have kept up my fighting skills, though most other magicians regard honest, face-to-face battle with disdain. That is as close as I can get to the life I dreamed of.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes bright. “I won’t let Rothen do the same to you. If you do not want to join the Guild, then I will help you escape. But you must trust me. Guild politics and laws are convoluted and confusing.” He moved bac
k to his chair, but did not sit down. “Do you want me to help you?”

  Sonea looked down at the table. His story, and its passionate delivery, had impressed her, but parts of it made her uneasy. Was keeping her magic worth becoming a fugitive again?

  Then she considered what Cery would say. Why should the higher classes have a monopoly on magic? If the Guild would not accept anyone from the lower classes, then why shouldn’t those classes have their own magicians?

  “Yes.” She looked up and met his eyes. “But I need to think about it. I don’t know you. I want to check this guardianship thing before I agree to anything.”

  He nodded. “I understand. Think on it, but do not take too long. Rothen has managed to convince Administrator Lorlen that he must keep everyone away from you—to keep the truth from you, no doubt—until you have learned Control. I risk much by defying that decision. I will try to visit again soon, but you must have an answer for me. I may not have a third opportunity.”

  “I will.”

  Looking at the door, he sighed. “I had better go. It would do you no good if he found me here with you.”

  Moving to the door, he opened it a crack and peered out. Pausing only to give her one last, grim smile, he slipped out. The door clicked shut behind him.

  Alone again, Sonea sat and stared at the table, the magician’s words running circles in her mind. She could not see any reason for Fergun to lie to her, but she would check every claim he had made: the blocking of powers, guardianship, and his story of broken dreams. By questioning Rothen carefully, she might trick him into confirming much of what Fergun had said.

  But not tonight. She was too unnerved by the visit to be able to put on a calm face if Rothen returned. Rising, she entered her bedroom and closed the door.

  23

  Rothen’s Friend

  “There were no classes today.”

  Rothen looked up from the book he was reading. Sonea was leaning on the window sill, a small circle of mist forming on the glass from her breath.

  “No,” he replied. “It’s a Freeday. We don’t have classes on the last day of the week.”

  “What do you do, then?”

  He shrugged. “That depends on the magician. Some visit the races, or pursue other sports and interests. Some visit their families.”

  “What about novices?”

  “The same, although the older novices usually spend the day studying.”

  “And they still have to clear the paths.”

  Her eyes were following the progress of something beneath the window. Guessing what it was, Rothen chuckled. “Clearing the paths is one of many duties they’re given during their first year of study. After that, they do chores only as punishment.”

  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.”