The Novice

  Rothen turned to regard his companion. “But last year your nephew was among the entrants.”

  Dannyl shrugged. “I hardly know him. I know Sonea, though.”

  Pleased, Rothen turned back to watch the ceremony. While Dannyl could be very charming if he wanted to, he did not make friends easily. This was largely because of an incident that had happened years before, when Dannyl was a novice. Accused of “inappropriate” interest in an older boy, Dannyl had endured speculation from novices and magicians alike. He had been shunned and taunted, and this was the reason, Rothen believed, that Dannyl didn’t trust or befriend many people even now.

  Rothen had been Dannyl’s only close friend for years. As a teacher, Rothen had regarded Dannyl as one of the more promising novices in his classes. When he had seen the ill effects the rumor and scandal were having on Dannyl’s learning, he had decided to take on the boy’s guardianship. With a little encouragement, and a lot of patience, he had turned Dannyl’s quick mind from gossip and vengeful pranks back to magic and knowledge.

  Some magicians had expressed doubts that Rothen could “straighten Dannyl out.” Rothen smiled. Not only had he succeeded, but Dannyl had just been appointed Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne. Looking down at Sonea, Rothen wondered if she, too, would one day give him a reason to feel this smug.

  Dannyl leaned forward. “They’re just children compared to Sonea, aren’t they?”

  Looking at the other boys and girls, Rothen shrugged. “I don’t know their exact ages, but the average for new entrants is fifteen. She’s nearly seventeen. A few years will make little difference.”

  “I think it will,” Dannyl murmured, “but hopefully it will be an advantage to her.”

  Below, Lord Osen slowly walked along the line of University entrants, announcing names and titles according to the custom of each boy or girl’s homeland.

  “Alend of the family Genard.” Osen took two more steps. “Kano of the family Temo, Shipbuilder’s Guild.” Another step. “Sonea.”

  Osen paused, then moved on. As he announced the next name, Rothen felt a pang of sympathy for Sonea. The lack of a grand title or House name had publicly declared her an outsider. It could not be helped, however.

  “Regin of the family Winar, House Paren,” Osen finished as he reached the last boy.

  “That’s Garrel’s nephew, isn’t it?” Dannyl asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve heard that his parents asked if he could join last winter’s class three months after it had started.”

  “That’s odd. Why did they do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Dannyl shrugged. “I didn’t catch that bit.”

  “Have you been spying again?”

  “I don’t spy, Rothen. I listen.”

  Rothen shook his head. He might have stopped Dannyl-the-novice from indulging in vengeful pranks, but he hadn’t yet managed to discourage Dannyl-the-magician from gathering gossip. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave. Who will keep me informed about all the Guild’s little intrigues?”

  “You’ll just have to pay more attention,” Dannyl replied.

  “I have wondered if the Higher Magicians are sending you away to stop you ‘listening’ so much.”

  Dannyl smiled. “Ah, but they say the best way to find out what is going on in Kyralia is to spend a few days listening to gossip in Elyne.”

  Echoing footsteps drew their attention back to the hall. University Director Jerrik had risen from his seat among the Higher Magicians, and was descending the stairs to the front. He stopped in the center of the floor and swept his eyes across the line of entrants, his face set in its usual sour and disapproving scowl.

  “Today, each of you take the first step to becoming a magician of the Guild of Kyralia,” he began, his voice stern. “As a novice you will be required to obey the rules of the University. By the Treaties that bind the Allied Lands, these rules are endorsed by all rulers, and all magicians are expected to enforce them. Even if you do not graduate, you are still bound to them.” He paused, looking intently at the entrants. “To join the Guild you must make a vow, and that vow has four parts.

  “Firstly, you must vow never to harm another man or woman unless in defense of the Allied Lands. This includes people of any class, station, criminal status, or age. All vendettas, whether personally or politically motivated, end here today.

  “Secondly, you must vow to obey the rules of the Guild. If you do not already know these rules, make it your first task to learn them. Ignorance is no excuse.

  “Thirdly, you must vow to obey the orders of any magician unless those orders involve breaking a law. That said, we treat this with some flexibility. You are not required to do anything that you feel is morally wrong or conflicts with your religion or traditions. But do not presume to decide yourself when and how flexible we should be. In such a circumstance you should bring the matter to me, and it will be dealt with appropriately.

  “And finally, you must vow that you will never use magic unless instructed by a magician. This is for your protection. Do not perform any magic without supervision, unless you have been given permission to do so by your teacher or guardian.”

  Jerrik paused, and the silence that followed was devoid of the usual shifting and shuffling. His expressive eyebrows rose, and he straightened his shoulders.

  “As tradition states, a Guild magician may claim guardianship of a novice, to guide his or her training in the University.” He turned to face the tiers behind him. “High Lord Akkarin, do you wish to claim guardianship of any of these entrants?”

  “I do not,” spoke a cool, dark voice.

  While Jerrik posed the same question to the other Higher Magicians, Rothen looked up at the black-robed leader of the Guild. Like most Kyralians, Akkarin was tall and slim, his angular face accentuated by the old-fashioned style of wearing his hair long and tied at the nape of the neck.

  As always, Akkarin’s expression was distant as he watched the proceedings. He had never shown any interest in guiding the training of a novice, and most families had given up hoping that their son might be favored by the Guild leader.

  Though young for a High Lord, Akkarin had a presence that inspired respect from even the most conservative and influential magicians. He was skilled, knowledgeable and intelligent, but it was his magical strength that earned him the awe of so many. His powers were known to be so great that some estimated he was stronger than the rest of the Guild combined.

  But thanks to Sonea, Rothen was one of only two magicians who knew the real reason behind the High Lord’s immense strength.

  Before the Thieves had handed her over, Sonea and her thief-friend, Cery, had explored the Guild late one night. They had come in the hope that, by watching magicians using magic, she might learn to control her powers. Instead, she had witnessed the High Lord performing a strange ritual. She had not understood what she had seen, but when Administrator Lorlen had truth-read her to confirm Fergun’s crimes, during the guardianship Hearing, he had seen her memory of that night and recognized the ritual.

  High Lord Akkarin, leader of the Guild, practiced black magic.

  Ordinary magicians knew nothing about black magic, except that it was forbidden. The Higher Magicians knew only enough to recognize it. Even knowing how to perform black magic was a crime. From Sonea’s communication with Lorlen, Rothen now knew that black magic enabled a magician to strengthen himself by drawing power from other people. If all power was taken, the victim died.

  Rothen could not guess what it had been like for Lorlen to discover that his closest friend not only had learned about black magic, but was using it. It must have been a shock. Yet at the same time, Lorlen had realized that he could not expose Akkarin without endangering the Guild and the city. If Akkarin chose to fight, he could easily win, and with each kill he would grow stronger. So Lorlen, Sonea and Rothen must keep their knowledge secret for now. How hard must it be, Rothen wondered, for Lorlen to pretend friendship when he knew w
hat Akkarin was capable of?

  Despite this knowledge, Sonea had agreed to join the Guild. This amazed Rothen at first, until she had pointed out that if she left with her powers blocked—as the law required for magicians who chose not to join the Guild—she would have been a tempting source of power for the High Lord. Strong in magic, but unable to use it to defend herself. Rothen shuddered. At least, in the Guild, it would be noticed if she died under strange circumstances.

  Even so, it had been a brave decision, knowing what lay at the heart of the Guild. Looking at her, standing among the sons and daughters of some of the richest families in the Allied Lands, he felt both pride and affection. In the last six months he had come to think of her more as a daughter than a student.

  “Do any magicians wish to claim guardianship of any of these entrants?”

  Rothen jumped as he realized that his turn to speak had come. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything another voice spoke the ritual words.

  “I have made a selection, Director.”

  The voice came from the other side of the hall. All the entrants turned to see who had risen from their seat.

  “Lord Yarrin,” Jerrik acknowledged. “Which entrant do you wish to claim guardianship of?”

  “Gennyl, of the family Randa and the House of Saril, and the Greater Clan of Alaraya.”

  A faint murmur of voices rose in the ranks of the magicians. Looking down, Rothen saw that the boy’s father, Lord Tayk, was sitting forward in his chair.

  Jerrik waited until the voices subsided, then tilted his head expectantly toward Rothen.

  “Do any other magicians wish to claim guardianship of one of these entrants?”

  Rothen rose. “I have made a selection, Director.”

  Sonea looked up, her mouth tight as she tried not to smile.

  “Lord Rothen,” Jerrik replied, “which entrant do you wish to claim guardianship of?”

  “I wish to claim guardianship of Sonea.”

  No murmuring followed his choice, and Jerrik merely nodded in acknowledgment. Rothen returned to his seat.

  “That’s it,” Dannyl whispered. “Your last chance has gone. There’ll be no getting out of it now. She’s got you well and truly wrapped around her finger for the next five years.”

  “Shush,” Rothen replied.

  “Do any other magicians wish to claim guardianship of one of these entrants?” Jerrik repeated.

  “I have made a selection, Director.”

  The voice came from Rothen’s left, and was followed by the sound of chairs creaking as people turned or shifted in their seats. The hall echoed with excited chatter as Lord Garrel rose.

  “Lord Garrel,” there was surprise in Jerrik’s voice, “which entrant do you wish to claim guardianship of?”

  “Regin, of the family Winar and the House of Paren.”

  The chatter changed to a collective sigh of understanding. Looking down, Rothen saw that the boy at the end of the line wore a grin. The voices and creaking of chairs continued for several minutes until Jerrik raised his arms for silence.

  “I’d keep an eye on those two novices and their guardians,” Dannyl murmured. “Nobody usually selects a novice in their First Year. They’re probably doing it simply to prevent Sonea having a higher status than the rest of her classmates.”

  “Or, I’ve started a trend,” Rothen mused. “And Garrel may have already seen potential in his nephew. That would explain why Regin’s family wanted him to start classes early.”

  “Are there any other guardianship claims?” Jerrik called. Silence followed, and he dropped his arms. “Would all magicians intending to claim guardianship come to the front.”

  Rothen rose and made his way to the end of the seats, then down the stairs. Joining Lord Garrel and Lord Yarrin, he waited beside Director Jerrik as a young novice, flushed with excitement at having a role in the ceremony, came forward carrying a stack of brown-red cloth. The magicians each selected a bundle.

  “Would Gennyl please come forward,” Jerrik ordered.

  One of the Lonmar boys hurried forward and bowed. His eyes were wide as he faced Lord Jerrik, and as he spoke the Novices’ Vow his voice trembled. Lord Yarrin handed the boy his robes, and guardian and novice stepped aside. Lord Jerrik turned toward the entrants again.

  “Would Sonea please come forward.”

  She walked stiffly toward Jerrik. Though her face was pale, she bowed gracefully and spoke the vow in a clear, unwavering voice. Rothen stepped forward and handed her the bundle of robes.

  “I hereby take guardianship of you, Sonea. Your learning is my concern and task until you graduate from the university.”

  “I will obey you, Lord Rothen.”

  “May you both benefit from this arrangement,” Jerrik finished.

  As they moved aside to stand next to Lord Yarrin and Gennyl, Jerrik called the still smiling youth from the end of the line.

  “Would Regin please come forward.”

  The boy strode confidently to Jerrik, but his bow was shallow and hurried. As the ritual phrases were repeated, Rothen looked down at Sonea, wondering what she was thinking. She was a member of the Guild now, and that was no small thing.

  She looked at the boy to her right, and Rothen followed her gaze. Gennyl stood with his back straight and his face flushed. He’s just about bursting with pride, Rothen mused. To have a guardian, especially at this point, was proof that an entrant was exceptionally gifted.

  Few would believe this about Sonea, however. He suspected that most magicians assumed he had chosen to be her guardian simply to remind all that he had been instrumental in finding her. They would not have believed him if he told them of her strength and talent. But they would find out, and knowing it gave him some satisfaction.

  After Regin and Lord Garrel had spoken the ritual words, they moved to Rothen’s left. The boy kept glancing at Sonea, his expression calculating. She either did not notice, or was ignoring him. Instead, she watched intently as Jerrik called the rest of the entrants forward to speak the vow. As each accepted their robes, they formed a line next to the guardians and their novices.

  When the last of the entrants had joined the line, Lord Jerrik turned to regard them.

  “You are now novices of the Magicians’ Guild,” he announced. “May the coming years be prosperous for all of you.”

  As one, the novices bowed. Lord Jerrik nodded and moved to one side.

  “I extend a welcome to our new novices and wish them many years of success.” Sonea jumped as Lorlen’s voice rang out from behind her. “I now declare this Acceptance Ceremony concluded.”

  The Guildhall began to echo with the sound of voices. The rows of robed men and women stirred as if caught by a strong wind. They rose and began to descend to the floor, filling the hall with the clatter of footsteps. As the new novices realized the formalities were over, they moved in all directions. Some rushed to their parents, others examined the bundle in their hands or gazed around at the sudden activity. At the end of the Guildhall the great doors began to open slowly.

  Sonea turned to look up at Rothen. “That’s it, then. I’m a novice.”

  He smiled. “Glad it’s all over?”

  She shrugged. “I get the feeling it’s only just begun.” Her eyes flickered over his shoulder. “Here’s your shadow.”

  Rothen turned to find Dannyl striding toward him.

  “Welcome to the Guild, Sonea.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador Dannyl,” Sonea replied, bowing.

  Dannyl laughed. “Not yet, Sonea. Not yet.”

  Sensing someone new at his side, Rothen turned to find the University Director standing next to him.

  “Lord Rothen,” Jerrik said, giving Sonea a tired smile as she bowed.

  “Yes?” Rothen replied.

  “Will Sonea be moving into the Novices’ Quarters? It never crossed my mind to ask until now.”

  Rothen shook his head. “She’ll be staying with me. I have plenty of room for her in my apa
rtments.”

  Jerrik’s brows rose. “I see. I will tell Lord Ahrind. Excuse me.”

  Rothen watched the old man walk over to a thin, hollow-cheeked magician. Lord Ahrind frowned and glanced over at Sonea as Jerrik spoke to him.

  “What happens now?” Sonea asked.

  Rothen nodded to the bundle in her hands. “We see if these robes fit properly.” He looked at Dannyl. “And I think a little celebration is in order. Coming?”

  Dannyl smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  2

  The First Day

  The sun was warm on his back as Dannyl stepped up to the carriage. He drew on a little magic to lift the first of his chests onto the roof. As the second settled next to it he sighed and shook his head.

  “I suspect I’m going to regret taking so much,” he muttered. “Yet I keep thinking of things I wish I’d packed.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to buy anything you need in Capia,” Rothen told him. “Lorlen has certainly given you a generous allowance.”

  “Yes, that was a pleasant surprise.” Dannyl grinned. “Perhaps you’re right about his reasons for sending me away.”

  Rothen’s eyebrow rose. “He must know it would take more than sending you to another country to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Ah, but I’m going to miss fixing all your problems, my friend.” As the driver opened the carriage door, Dannyl turned to look at the older magician. “Are you coming to the Marina?”

  Rothen shook his head. “Classes start in less than an hour.”

  “For both you and Sonea.” Dannyl nodded. “Then this is it—time to say goodbye.”

  They regarded each other solemnly for a moment, then Rothen gripped Dannyl’s shoulder and smiled. “Take care of yourself. Try not to fall overboard.”

  Dannyl chuckled and returned the clasp. “Take care, old friend. Don’t let that new novice of yours wear you out. I’ll be back in a year or so to check on your progress.”

  “Old friend, indeed!” Rothen pushed Dannyl toward the carriage. After climbing inside, Dannyl turned to see a thoughtful expression on his friend’s face.