As they approached the Magicians’ Quarters, Rothen strode out of the doors to meet them.
“Your horse is waiting out front, Dorrien.” Rothen looked them both up and down, noting the snow on their shoes and robes with raised eyebrows. “You had better dry yourselves.”
Steam wafted up from Dorrien’s clothes as they started down the path alongside the University. Concentrating, Sonea heated the air around her robes to dry them. A servant met them before the University staircase, holding the reins of Dorrien’s horse.
Dorrien enveloped first Rothen, then Sonea, in a firm hug.
“Take care of each other,” he said.
“Take care of yourself,” Rothen replied. “Don’t push yourself through blizzards just to get home sooner.”
Dorrien swung up onto the saddle. “There’s never been a blizzard that could keep me from home!”
“Then what have you been complaining about for these past four weeks?”
“Me? Complain?”
Laughing, Rothen crossed his arms. “Get out of here, Dorrien.”
Dorrien grinned. “Farewell, Father.”
“Farewell, Dorrien.”
Dorrien’s eyes flickered to Sonea’s. She felt a tentative touch at the edges of her mind.
—Farewell, Sonea. Learn fast.
Then Dorrien’s horse galloped away, racing through the gates and out into the snow-covered streets of the city.
For a few minutes they remained staring at the gates. Rothen sighed and turned to look at Sonea. His eyes narrowed.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Something’s going on here.”
She kept her expression neutral. “Like what?”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled knowingly, and started up the University stairs. “I approve. I don’t think the age difference will matter. It’s only a few years. You do realize you have to stay here until graduation, don’t you?”
Sonea opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again as she saw a movement in the Entrance Hall. She caught Rothen’s arm.
“I don’t mind you speculating, Rothen,” she told him quietly. “But I’d appreciate it if you did so privately.”
He frowned and looked at her in surprise. She kept her attention on the hall. As they stepped inside, the room echoed with the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairway treads. Looking up, Sonea glimpsed a familiar novice hurrying upward.
Her stomach turned. She’d had a clear look at the expression on Regin’s face before he slipped out of sight. She might have gained a begrudging sympathy from the teachers now that Regin had been caught setting her up as a thief, but she doubted she was free of his taunting. Preparations for the First Year tests had kept the boy occupied, but she suspected he was planning a particularly nasty revenge.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she told Rothen.
He nodded solemnly. “Good luck, Sonea. I know you’ll do well.”
She smiled, then started up the staircase. Reaching the top, she cautiously entered the corridor. The University was full of novices, their low voices and tense expressions creating an atmosphere of expectation and dread. Reaching her classroom, she stepped inside.
Regin sat in his usual place, watching her closely. Turning away, she bowed to the two teachers standing at the front of the room, and moved to her seat. She opened her box and took out the history project Lord Skoran had set. Flicking through the pages she was relieved to find them still in order, with no damage done. Though they had been intact when she had sealed the box before leaving her room, she had almost expected to find Regin had got at them somehow.
Skoran nodded approvingly as she handed the pages to him. To her satisfaction, he locked them in a box.
All the time, she was conscious of Regin watching her. Returning to her seat, she ignored the face she could see in the corner of her eye. She watched as the last novices entered the class and gave their work to the teacher. When all were present, Lord Vorel stepped forward and stood before them with his arms crossed.
“Today you will complete your First Year tests in Warrior Skills,” he informed them. “You will be required to fight all other members of the class, and will be marked according to skill, Control and, of course, number of victories. Please follow me.”
Sonea rose with the rest of the class. As the first novices filed out of the room, Regin turned and met her eyes. He smiled sweetly.
She had grown practiced at returning his looks with cold indifference. A chill dread now descended upon her. Though she was still far stronger than the other novices, the restrictions Vorel put on her kept her from using her powers to her advantage. Somehow the inner shield he held around novices to protect them as they fought told him if her strikes were more powerful than he thought appropriate. Regin was still better at Warrior Skills than she, and though the boy no longer had lessons with Lord Balkan, nothing had prevented him from having extra lessons with Lord Garrel.
As she stepped from the classroom, a servant in a messenger’s uniform skidded to a halt beside her.
“Lady Sonea,” the man said. “I have been sent to deliver an urgent request for you to return to Rothen’s rooms immediately.”
Surprised, she looked up at Lord Vorel. The magician frowned.
“We cannot wait for you, Sonea. If you do not return within the hour we will have to arrange a testing early next year.”
Sonea nodded. Thanking the messenger, she started along the corridor.
Why had Rothen sent for her? He would have barely had enough time to reach his rooms since they parted. Perhaps he’d discovered that Regin did have something planned, and had called her away to prevent it.
She shook her head. Rothen wouldn’t do that. He would attempt to alert Vorel to Regin’s plans rather than call her away from an important test.
Unless he wanted to simply tell her what to expect Regin to do. Perhaps he wanted to suggest a way she could turn whatever it was to her advantage. She could always still slip back to the Arena in time for the bouts.
But if that was so, why hadn’t he simply met her outside the classroom?
And why wasn’t he in his classroom, preparing to test his own class?
She frowned as she descended to the ground floor of the University. What if there was some other reason for the summons? The messenger hadn’t said that the message had come from Rothen. In that case Rothen might be the reason she was summoned. He might be ill. He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young, either. He might be—
Stop worrying! she told herself. It’s probably nothing serious. Nevertheless she half ran across the courtyard to the Magicians’ Quarters. Her heart raced as she hurried up the stairs, and down the corridor to Rothen’s door.
The door swung open at her touch. Rothen stood by the window. He turned as she entered the room. She opened her mouth to ask the question hovering on her lips, but caught herself as she saw his warning expression.
She felt the presence first. It was tangible, unhidden. It filled the room like a thick, suffocating smoke. Terror sent her heart racing, but she managed to compose her expression to what she hoped was only surprise and respect. You don’t know why he’s here, she told herself as she turned. Don’t let him see that you’re frightened of him. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she turned to face the visitor and bowed.
“Excuse me, High Lord.”
He didn’t reply.
“Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was low and tense. “Come here.”
She looked at Rothen and felt her stomach twist. His face was pale, almost sickly. He beckoned, and his hand shook slightly. Disturbed by these signs of fear, she hurried to his side.
Rothen’s voice was surprisingly calm as he addressed the High Lord. “Sonea is here, as you requested, High Lord. How may we assist you?”
Akkarin fixed Rothen with a stare that would have turned her to ice.
“I am here to find the source of a certain…rumor. A rumor I drew from the Administrator concerning you and your novice.”
Rothen nodded. He
seemed to choose his next words with great care.
“I thought that rumor about us had passed. Nobody appeared to give it credence and—”
The dark eyes flashed. “Not that rumor. I am referring to a rumor about my nocturnal activities. A rumor that must be stopped.”
A hand seemed to close on Sonea’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Rothen was frowning and shaking his head.
“You are mistaken, High Lord. I know nothing of your—”
“Do not lie to me, Rothen.” Akkarin’s eyes narrowed. “I would not have come here if I was not certain of it.” He took a step toward them. “I have just read it from Lorlen’s mind.”
All color drained from Rothen’s face. He stared at Akkarin in silence. If Akkarin read Lorlen’s mind, she thought, he knows everything! She felt her knees weaken, and, afraid she would sink to the floor, gripped the window sill behind her.
The High Lord smiled thinly. “I saw much that impressed me: how Sonea visited the Guild while she was still a renegade, what she witnessed that night, how Lorlen discovered this while truth-reading her during the guardianship Hearing, and that he ordered you both to keep the discovery a secret so that he could work out how he could possibly enforce the Guild’s law. A sensible decision. And fortunate for you all.”
Rothen straightened and raised his head to face Akkarin again. “We have not spoken a word of it to anyone.”
“So you say.” The High Lord’s voice softened, but lost none of its chill. “I would know that for certain.”
Sonea heard Rothen’s sharp intake of breath. The two magicians stared at each other.
“And if I refuse?”
“I will take whatever measures you force me to take, Rothen. You cannot prevent me reading your mind.”
Rothen looked away. Abruptly, Sonea recalled Cery’s description of Akkarin’s mind-reading. Cery had told her that, when Akkarin had discovered him imprisoned in a room under the University by Fergun, he had allowed the High Lord to read his mind to confirm the truth. It had been an easy thing, completely unlike Rothen’s mind-sharing or Lorlen’s truth-read, and she had concluded that the legend about Akkarin being able to read minds, whether they be willing or not, must have some truth in it.
Stiffly, as though his bones were those of a man twenty years older, Rothen moved toward the High Lord. Sonea stared at him, unable to believe he would give in so easily.
“Rothen…”
“It’s all right, Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was strained. “Stay where you are.”
Closing the distance between himself and her guardian in a few strides, Akkarin placed his hands against the sides of Rothen’s head. He closed his eyes and his face smoothed into an unexpectedly peaceful expression.
Rothen drew in a sharp breath and swayed. The hands at his sides clenched, then opened again. Sonea took a step forward and stopped. She dared not interfere. What if it caused Akkarin to harm Rothen? Frustrated, frightened, she clenched her fists until she felt her nails bite into her palms.
The two magicians remained still and silent for an unbearably long time. Then, without warning, Akkarin drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He regarded the man standing before him for a moment, then drew back his hands and stepped away.
Sonea watched anxiously as Rothen took a long, ragged breath and swayed a little. Akkarin crossed his arms, watching the old magician. Sonea cautiously stepped forward and took Rothen’s arm.
“I’m fine,” he said wearily. “I’m all right.” He rubbed his temples and grimaced, then squeezed one of her hands to reassure her.
“Now, Sonea.”
A shock of cold terror rushed through her body. She felt Rothen’s hands tighten their grip.
“No!” Rothen protested hoarsely. He put an arm protectively around her shoulders. “You know everything now. Leave her be.”
“I cannot.”
“But you’ve seen everything,” Rothen protested. “She’s only a—”
“A child?” Akkarin’s eyebrows rose. “A girl? Come now, Rothen. You know this will not harm her.”
Rothen swallowed hard, then slowly turned to her. He looked into her eyes. “He knows everything, Sonea. There is nothing to hide from him. Let him confirm it for himself if he must. It will not hurt.”
His eyes, though rimmed with moisture, were steady. Sonea felt him squeeze her hands, then release them. He stepped away. A terrible feeling of betrayal rose.
—Trust me. We must cooperate. It is all we can do for now.
She heard Akkarin’s footfall behind her. Her heart raced as she turned to face him. The black robes rustled softly as the High Lord moved forward. She backed away and felt Rothen’s hands on her shoulders.
Akkarin frowned as he reached toward her. Cool fingers brushed her face and she flinched. Then his palms pressed firmly against her temples.
A presence touched her mind, but it held no personality. She sensed no thoughts or feelings. Perhaps he didn’t have emotions. The thought wasn’t comforting.
Then an image flashed into her mind. She started, realizing she had been waiting for him to encounter the barriers in her mind. Somehow he had passed them. Checking, she saw that her defenses were intact, but his presence was not tangible enough to meet their resistance.
The same image kept flashing into her mind. It was of the underground room beneath his residence, seen from outside the door. A memory rose of the scene she had witnessed the night she had spied upon him.
Something took hold of that memory and began to sort through the details. Sonea remembered how Lorlen had manipulated her memories, and how she had been able to hide them by willing them out of her thoughts. Perhaps she could do that now. She tried to smother the memory, but the mind-read continued without a pause. Her efforts made no difference, she realized, because Akkarin was in control of the memory, whereas Lorlen had been only guiding and encouraging.
The discovery sent panic through her. In desperation, she tried to drown the memory with other thoughts and images.
Stop this.
An undertone of anger accompanied the words. Sonea paused, feeling a thrill of triumph as she understood she had found a way to hamper him. Her fear hardened into determination. She drew up lessons, lists of facts, images of work she had done. She bombarded him with pictures from text books and nonsense poems that she had discovered in the library. She threw memories of the slum, irrelevant, ordinary bits of her old life.
A mental image of a storm appeared—a funnel of images that kept him trapped at its core. She did not know if the picture was real, or something her mind had created…
Pain! Knives ripping through her skull. A cry reached her ears. Realizing that she had made it, she opened her eyes and her consciousness swayed between the outer and the inner world. Hands tightened on her shoulders. A voice came from above.
“Stop fighting me,” it commanded.
Hands pressed hard against her temples. She snapped back into the domain of her mind. Disoriented and shocked by the pain, she tried to regain some sense of balance. The presence returned to the task of digging up the memories he sought. He mercilessly called up image after image. This time she found herself reliving the moments in the North Square. Once more she threw the stone and fled from the fire of the magicians. Rooms and corridors of the slums flickered by. The day she had sensed Rothen’s searching mind and had instinctively hidden her presence. Cery, Harrin and his gang. Faren of the Thieves. Senfel, the Thieves’ magician.
Then she was creeping through the forest on the Guild grounds. The memories sharpened, were examined closely. Once more she climbed the wall of the Healers’ Quarters and watched the novices within. Once again she sensed the vibration around the Arena. She peered through windows into the University. Her journey took her around the back of the Guild again to look into the Novices’ Quarters and through the forest behind. Then, after Cery left to steal the books, she crept down to the strange, gray two-story building. The servant came, forcing her to retreat behin
d the low bushes. Then, seeing light coming through the ventilation holes, she crouched down and peered though.
A faint flicker of annoyance touched her senses. Yes, she thought, I’d be angry, too, if my secrets were discovered so easily. She saw the bloodstained man remove his clothes, clean himself and move away. Returning clad in black robes, the man spoke to his servant. “The fight has weakened me. I need your strength.” The man took an elaborate knife and cut the servant’s arm, then placed his hand over the wound. Once more she sensed the strange magic.
The memory stopped abruptly, and she sensed nothing from the mind that lurked behind hers. What was he thinking, she wondered…?
Have you allowed any to know of this other than Lorlen and Rothen?
No, she thought.
She relaxed, sure that this was all he sought, but a relentless interrogation followed as he quested after further memories. He explored parts of her life, from childhood to her lessons in the University. He sorted through her feelings, from her fondness for Rothen to her lingering loyalty to Cery and the people of the slums, to the new emotions she felt for Dorrien.
And, unbidden, came the anger she felt toward him for doing this to her. He sought her feelings about his practice of black magic, and her mind responded with disapproval and fear. Would she expose him if she could? Yes! But only if she knew Rothen and others would not be harmed.
Then the presence vanished and she felt the pressure against her temples stop. She opened her eyes and blinked. Akkarin had turned his back and was pacing slowly away from them. She felt Rothen’s hands on her shoulders, steady and reassuring.
“You would both expose me if you could,” Akkarin said. He was silent for a time, then turned to face them. “I will claim Sonea’s guardianship. Her abilities are advanced and, as Lorlen surmised, her strength is unusually high. None will question my choice.”
“No!” Rothen gasped. His grip tightened.
“Yes,” Akkarin replied, turning to face them. “She will ensure your silence. You will never cause anyone to know that I practice black magic while she is mine.” His eyes shifted to Sonea’s. “And Rothen’s wellbeing will be my guarantee that you will cooperate.”