Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 03] - The High Lord

  So Sonea had skipped a class, as Tania had said. He wondered why and where she had gone instead. She had no friends to slip away with, and no other hobbies or interests that might tempt her away from lessons. She knew that he and Lorlen would quickly become suspicious if she went missing. If she had risked alarming them, she must have had a better reason for skipping the class than a rebellious whim.

  The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He listened as the boys resumed the conversation, hoping to glean more information.

  “She’ll turn you down. She turned Seno down.”

  “Maybe she turned Seno down because she doesn’t like him.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter, anyway. The punishment was for a week. That probably includes Freeday. She won’t be able to come with us.”

  Rothen resisted the urge to turn and stare at them in surprise. They were still talking about Sonea. Which meant that they, and another boy named Seno, had considered inviting her out to the races. He felt his mood lighten a little. He had hoped the other novices would eventually accept her. Now it looked as if some might even be interested in more than just friendship.

  Then Rothen sighed. She had turned down this boy called Seno, and he knew she would probably turn down any other offers, too. It was a cruel irony that now the novices had started to accept her, she dared not befriend any for fear of complicating the situation with Akkarin.

  As the carriage pulled up outside the mansion, Dannyl and Tayend regarded each other doubtfully.

  “Nervous?” Tayend asked.

  “No,” Dannyl assured him.

  Tayend snorted. “Liar.”

  The door of the carriage opened, and the driver bowed as they stepped out. Like many Elyne mansions, the front of Dem Marane’s house was open to the air. Arched openings allowed access to a tiled room decorated with sculptures and plants.

  Dannyl and Tayend stepped through an archway and crossed the room. A large wooden door barred entry into the enclosed part of the house. Tayend tugged a rope hanging beside the door. A distant ringing sounded somewhere above.

  They heard muffled footsteps inside the house, then the door opened and Dem Marane greeted them with a bow.

  “Ambassador Dannyl. Tayend of Tremmelin. You are most welcome in my home.”

  “We were honored by your invitation, Dem Marane,” Dannyl replied.

  The Dem ushered them into a luxuriously furnished room. He continued through two more, until they arrived at another open room. Archways allowed views of the sea and the carefully tended garden falling in tiers to the beach below. On the opposite wall, benches lined with cushions supplied seating for six other men. A woman sat demurely on a small couch in the center of the room.

  The strangers stared at Dannyl. They looked tense, and fearful. He knew the combination of his height and robes made him an imposing figure.

  “May I introduce the Second Guild Ambassador to Klyne, Lord Dannyl,” Royend announced. “And some of you already know his companion, Tayend of Tremmelin.”

  One of the men stood and bowed, and the others hesitantly followed suit. Dannyl nodded politely in return. Was this all there was of the group? He doubted it. Some would not reveal themselves until they were sure he could be trusted.

  The Dem introduced them one by one. Royend was the oldest, Dannyl guessed. All were Elyne aristocrats of one wealthy family or another. The woman was the Dem’s wife, Kaslie. When he was finished, she invited them all to sit while she fetched some refreshments. Dannyl chose an empty bench, and Tayend sat close beside him. Dannyl could not help feeling a twinge of anxiety as he saw the others taking note of this.

  Idle talk followed. Dannyl was asked the usual questions: what he thought of Elyne, if he had met certain famous and important people yet. Some demonstrated that they had gathered information about him by asking about his journey to Lonmar and Vin.

  Kaslie returned with servants carrying wine and plates of food. After all had been given a drink, the Dem sent the servants away and surveyed the room.

  “It is time to talk of the business that has brought us here. We have come together because of a common loss. The loss of opportunity.” The Dem looked at Tayend. “Some of us were offered this opportunity and were forced by circumstances to turn it down. Others were never offered that choice, or were given it, then had it taken away. Still more wish for an opportunity that does not require being shackled to an institution whose principles they do not agree with, based in a country they do not belong to.” The Dem paused to look around the room. “We all know the opportunity I speak of. The opportunity to learn magic.”

  He looked at Dannyl. “For the last two centuries the only legal way a man or woman could learn magic was to join the Guild. For us to learn to use magic outside of the Guild’s influence, we must break a law. Ambassador Dannyl has complied with this law. But he, too, laments the loss of opportunity. His companion, Tayend of Tremmelin, has magical talent. Ambassador Dannyl wishes to teach him how to protect or Heal himself. A reasonable—no, an honorable wish.”

  The Dem looked at the others, who were nodding. “But should the Guild ever discover this, Tayend will need people who can hide and protect him. We have the right connections and arrangements. We can help him.”

  He turned back to regard Dannyl. “So, Ambassador, what will you give us in exchange for protecting your friend?”

  The room fell silent. Dannyl smiled and glanced around at the faces.

  “I can offer you the opportunity you have lost. I can teach you a little magic.”

  “A little?”

  “Yes. There are some things I will not teach you, and some things I cannot teach you.”

  “Such as?”

  “I would not teach the offensive Warrior Skills to anyone I did not trust. They are dangerous in the wrong hands. And I am an Alchemist, so my knowledge of Healing is limited to the basics.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “And I must be sure that you are able to protect Tayend, before I teach you anything.”

  The Dem smiled. “And we, of course, don’t wish to give away any secrets until we are sure you will uphold your side of the bargain. For now I can only swear on my honor that we can protect your friend. I will not show you how it can be done yet. Not until you have demonstrated to us that you can be trusted.”

  “How do I know you can be trusted?” Dannyl asked, gesturing around the room.

  “You don’t,” the Dem said simply. “But I think you have the advantage over us tonight. A magician considering teaching a friend is not taking as great a risk as a group of non-magicians gathering for the purpose of learning magic. We have committed ourselves to the purpose, you have only dallied with an idea. It is unlikely the Guild will execute you for that, whereas we might face that penalty just for meeting like this.”

  Dannyl nodded slowly. “If you have evaded the Guild’s notice for so long, perhaps you can keep Tayend from them. And you would not invite me here if you did not have a plan to escape should I prove to be a Guild spy.”

  The Dem’s eyes flashed. “Exactly.”

  “So what must I do to gain your trust?” Dannyl asked.

  “Help us.”

  Kaslie had spoken. Dannyl looked at her in surprise. Her voice had betrayed urgency and concern. She stared at Dannyl, her eyes filled with a desperate hope.

  A suspicion slowly stole over Dannyl. He remembered Akkarin’s letter. Only recently have they had some success. Now that at least one of them has managed to develop his powers, the Guild is entitled and obliged to deal with them.

  Developed his powers, but not learned to control them. Thinking back quickly, Dannyl counted the weeks since he had received the letter, and added two for it to reach him. He looked up at the Dem.

  “Help you with what?”

  The man’s expression was sober. “I will show you.”

  As Dannyl rose, Tayend followed suit. Royend shook his head. “Stay, young Tremmelin. For your safety, it is best only the
Ambassador come.”

  Dannyl hesitated, then nodded at Tayend. The scholar dropped back onto the seat, frowning.

  The Dem gestured for Dannyl to follow him. They left the room and started down a corridor. At the end was a stairway which descended to another corridor. They stopped before a heavy wooden door. The faint smell of smoke tainted the air.

  “He’s expecting you, but I have no idea what he’ll do when he sees you,” the Dem warned.

  Dannyl nodded. The Dem knocked on the door. After a long pause, he lifted a hand to knock again, but paused as the handle turned and the door swung inward.

  A young man peered out. His eyes slid to Dannyl and widened.

  A crash came from inside the room. The young man glanced inside and cursed. When he turned to look at Dannyl again, his expression was anxious.

  “This is Ambassador Dannyl,” the Dem told the young man, then looked at Dannyl. “This is my wife’s brother, Farand of Darellas.”

  “Honored to meet you,” Dannyl told the man. Farand mumbled a reply.

  “Are you going to invite us in?” the Dem said patiently.

  “Oh. Yes,” the young man replied. “Come in.” He pulled the door fully open and sketched an awkward bow.

  Dannyl entered a large room with stone walls. It might have once been a cellar, but now it held a bed and other furniture, all looking battered and scorched. A pile of wood on one side of the room looked suspiciously like the remains of more furniture. On the floor were pieces of a large urn, surrounded by a rapidly spreading pool of water. Dannyl guessed this was what he had heard shatter.

  A magician with no control tended to let loose magic when he or she reacted to strong emotions. For Farand, fear was his main enemy: fear of the magic he wielded, and fear of the Guild. Dannyl needed to reassure the man, before he did anything else.

  He allowed himself a small smile. A situation like this came along so rarely, and yet he now encountered it for the second time in a handful of years. Rothen had managed to teach Sonea control, despite her deep distrust of the Guild. Teaching Farand could only be easier. And it would help if Farand knew that another had survived the same situation.

  “From what I can see, your powers have surfaced, but you have no control of them,” Dannyl said. “This is very rare, but we found another like you only a few years ago. She learned Control within a few weeks and is a novice now. Tell me, were you trying to bring them out, or did it just happen?”

  The man lowered his gaze. “I think I made it happen.”

  Dannyl sat down in one of the chairs. The less intimidating he looked, the better. “May I ask how?”

  Farand swallowed and looked away. “I’ve always been able to hear the thought conversations magicians have. I used to listen every day in the hope of discovering how to use magic. A few months ago I overheard a conversation about releasing magical potential. I tried what they said several times, but I didn’t think it had worked. Then I started doing things without meaning to.”

  Dannyl nodded. “You have released your power, but you do not know how to control it. The Guild teaches the two together. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to have magic, but no control over it. You are fortunate that Royend has found a magician willing to teach you.”

  “You’ll teach me?” Farand whispered.

  Dannyl smiled. “Yes.”

  Farand sagged against the bed with relief. “I was so afraid they would have to send me to the Guild, and everyone would be found out because of me.” He straightened and squared his shoulders. “When can we begin?”

  “I don’t see why we can’t make a start now,” Dannyl said, shrugging.

  A little fear crept back into the man’s eyes. He swallowed, then nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

  Dannyl rose and looked around. He gestured at the chair. “Sit down.”

  Farand blinked at the chair, then hesitantly walked to it and sat down. Dannyl crossed his arms and regarded him thoughtfully. He was aware of the effect this change of position—from Farand standing over him, to him standing over Farand—would have. Now that he had agreed to cooperate, Farand needed to feel that Dannyl was in command, and knew what he was doing.

  “Close your eyes,” Dannyl instructed. “Concentrate on your breathing.” He talked Farand through the standard breathing exercises, keeping his voice low and steady. When he judged that the man had gained a measure of calm, he stepped behind the chair and lightly touched the man’s temples. But before he could send his mind forth, the man jerked away.

  “You’re going to read my mind!” he exclaimed.

  “No,” Dannyl assured him. “It is not possible to read a mind that is unwilling. But I must direct you to that place in your mind where you access your power. The only way I can do that is if you allow me in to show you the way.”

  “Is that the only way?” the Dem asked. Dannyl looked at Royend.

  “Yes.”

  “Is it at all possible that you might see things,” Farand asked, “things I must keep secret?”

  Dannyl regarded him soberly. He could not deny it. Once he was in Farand’s mind the secrets would probably leap out at him. Secrets had a habit of doing that.

  “It is possible,” Dannyl told him. “To be honest, if you are worried about concealing something, then it will be foremost in your thoughts. That is why the Guild prefers to train novices as young as possible. The younger you are, the fewer secrets you have.”

  Farand buried his face in his hands. “Nooo,” he groaned. “Nobody can teach me. I’m going to be like this forever.”

  The covers of the bed began to smoke. The Dem drew in a sharp breath and stepped forward.

  “Perhaps Lord Dannyl can swear that he would keep everything he sees to himself,” he suggested.

  Farand laughed bitterly. “How can I trust him to keep a promise when he’s about to break a law?”

  “How indeed?” Dannyl said dryly. “You have my promise that I will not pass on any information I discover. If that is not acceptable, I suggest you put your affairs in order and leave here. Take yourself far from anyone and anything you don’t wish to destroy, for when your powers break free completely they will not only consume you, but everything around you.”

  The man paled. “There really is no choice, is there?” he said in a small voice. “I’ll die if I don’t do this. So it’s death or…” His eyes flashed with sudden anger, then he drew in a deep breath and straightened. “If that’s the only choice, I’ll just have to trust you won’t tell anyone.”

  Amused by this abrupt change, Dannyl talked Farand through the calming exercises once more. When he rested his fingers on the man’s temples, Farand remained still. Dannyl closed his eyes and sent his mind forth.

  Novices were usually taught Control by their teachers, and Dannyl had never been a teacher. He did not have Rothen’s skill, but after several attempts he managed to get Farand to visualize a room and invite him into it. Tantalizing hints of the man’s secret appeared, but Dannyl concentrated on teaching Farand to hide them behind doors. They found the door to the man’s power, but lost track of it as the secrets Farand was struggling to hide leaked out of the doors they had been stowed behind.

  —We both know I’m going to find out anyway. Show me, and we can get on with Control lessons, Dannyl suggested.

  Farand seemed relieved to be able to tell someone his secret. He showed Dannyl his memories of hearing mental conversations as he grew out of childhood. This was unusual, but not unheard of in those with magical potential. Farand was tested for ability and told he could apply to join the Guild when he was older. In the meantime the Elyne King learned of his ability to eavesdrop on magicians’ mental conversations, and Farand was summoned to court where he kept the King informed of what he overheard.

  One day, however, Farand accidentally witnessed the King making an agreement with one of the powerful Dems to have the Dem’s political rival murdered, and upon realizing this the King extracted an oath of silence from him. Later
, when Farand had applied to join the Guild, he was refused. He did not discover until later that the King knew the secret agreement would be revealed during mind-reading lessons, and therefore had prevented him from becoming a magician.

  It was an unfortunate situation, and one which had shattered Farand’s dreams. Dannyl felt genuine sympathy for him. Now that the secret had been told, Farand was not as distracted. He found his source of power easily. After a few attempts to show Farand how to influence it, Dannyl left the man’s mind room and opened his eyes.

  “Is that it?” Farand asked. “Have I got it?”

  “No.” Dannyl chuckled and moved around the chair to face him. “It takes a few sessions.”

  “When will we try again?” There was an edge of panic to the man’s voice.

  Dannyl looked at Dem Marane. “I will try to return tomorrow, if that is convenient.”

  “It is,” the Dem confirmed.

  Dannyl nodded at Farand. “Do not drink wine or take any mind-affecting substance. Novices usually learn Control over a week or two. If you stay calm and avoid trying to use magic, you should be safe.”

  Farand looked relieved, and there was a glint of excitement in Royend’s eyes. The Dem moved to the door and pulled a chain that hung from a small hole in the roof.

  “Shall we return to the others, Ambassador? They will be pleased to hear of our progress.”

  “If you wish.”

  The Dem did not take Dannyl back to the previous room, but to another section of the mansion. They entered a small library, where Tayend and the other members of the group were sitting in comfortable chairs. Royend nodded at Kaslie, and the woman closed her eyes and sighed with relief.

  Tayend was reading a large and very worn book. He looked up at Dannyl, his eyes bright with eagerness.

  “Look,” he said, waving at one of the bookcases. “Books on magic. We might find something here to help us with our research.”

  Dannyl could not help smiling. “It went well. Thanks for asking.”

  “What?” Tayend looked up from the book. “Oh, that. I know you can take care of yourself. What did he show you?” Before Dannyl could reply, Tayend looked up at the Dem. “Can I borrow this some time?”