“How are you?” Tania asked. Something about the way the servant looked at Sonea suggested she didn’t expect a favorable answer.
“Well.” Sonea forced a smile.
“You look tired.”
Sonea shrugged. “Too many late nights. There’s so much to learn now. How are you? Is Rothen keeping you run off your feet?”
Tania chuckled. “He’s no trouble, though he misses you terribly.”
“I miss him, too—and you.”
“I have a letter for you, my lady,” Tania said. She drew it out of her clothes and put it on the table. “Rothen said it was from your aunt and uncle and said you might want to read it straightaway, so I offered to deliver it to you here.”
Sonea picked up the letter eagerly. “Thank you.” She tore it open and began to read. The script was formal and stilted. Since her aunt and uncle could not write, they would hire a scribe whenever they wanted to send her a letter.
“My aunt is going to have another child!” Sonea exclaimed. “Oh, I wish I could see them.”
“Of course you can,” Tania said. “The Guild isn’t a prison, you know.”
Sonea considered the woman. Of course, Tania didn’t know about Akkarin. But Akkarin had never said that he forbade family visits. Nor had he told her she must never leave the Guild. The guards at the gate wouldn’t stop her. She could just walk out into the city and go where she pleased. Akkarin wouldn’t like it, but since he had forced her out of the secret passages and left her at the mercy of Regin’s gang, she hadn’t cared too much about being cooperative.
“You’re right,” Sonea said slowly. “I’ll visit them. I’ll visit them today.”
Tania smiled. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you again.”
“Thank you, Tania,” Sonea said, rising. The servant bowed and, still smiling, walked away toward the library door.
Packing her books back into her box, Sonea felt a growing excitement, but as she considered where she was going, she sobered again. She could move through the city easily. Nobody would think twice about the presence of a magician on the streets, not even a novice. But once in the slums her robes would draw attention, possibly hostile attention. It was a problem she hadn’t needed to consider on her previous visits because she hadn’t been a novice then. While she could protect herself from any missiles or harassment with magic, she did not want to be followed around, or draw that sort of attention to her aunt and uncle.
The law said she must wear the uniform at all times, however. She was not too worried about breaking the law, but where was she going to change into the sort of shabby clothing that would disguise her in the slums, even if she managed to find some?
She could buy a coat or cloak from the Market when she got to the North Quarter. For that, however, she needed money, and she kept her money in her room in the High Lord’s Residence. Looking down at her box, she reconsidered her plan. Was she going to let her fear of Akkarin stop her from visiting her family? No. He was rarely in the residence during the day. She probably wouldn’t encounter him.
Picking up her box, she bowed to Lady Tya and left the library. As she walked through the passages of the University, she smiled. She would buy a present for her aunt and uncle, too—and she might drop by Gollin’s inn to see Harrin and Donia afterward, and ask after Cery.
As she entered the High Lord’s Residence, she felt her heartbeat quicken. To her relief, Akkarin was not inside, and Takan, his servant, appeared only long enough to give her a respectful bow and disappear again. Leaving her box, she tucked a money bag into her robes and left her room. When the door of the residence shut behind her, she straightened her back and headed for the gates.
The gate guards glanced at her with curiosity as she passed between them. They had probably never seen her before, since she had only left the Guild a few times in a carriage with Rothen. Perhaps it was simply odd to see a novice leaving on foot.
Once in the Inner Circle, she felt strangely out of place. Looking up at the grand homes that lined the streets, strong memories returned of her few visits to this part of the city years before, to deliver repaired shoes and clothing to servants of the Houses. During those visits the well-dressed men and women of the Inner Circle had regarded her with suspicion and disdain, and she had been forced to show her token of admission several times.
Now those people smiled and bowed politely as she passed them. It felt strange and unreal. The feeling increased as she passed through the gates into the North Quarter. The gate guards stopped and saluted, and even stopped a carriage of House Korin so she could pass without delay.
Once in the North Quarter, polite bows and smiles changed to stares. After several hundred paces, Sonea changed her mind about visiting the Market. Instead, she stepped up to a house advertising “Quality Clothing and Alterations.”
“Yes?” A gray-haired woman answered the door and, upon seeing a young magician on her doorstep, she gasped with astonishment. “My lady! What can I do for you?” she asked, bowing hastily.
Sonea smiled. “I would like to buy a cloak, please.”
“Come in! Come in!” The woman opened the door wide and bowed again as Sonea stepped inside. She ushered Sonea into a room, where racks of clothing hung all around the room.
“I’m not sure if I have anything good enough,” the woman said apologetically, as she lifted several cloaks from the racks. “This one has limek fur around the hood, and that one has a beaded hem.”
Unable to resist, Sonea inspected the cloaks. “This is good work,” she said of the beaded cloak. “I doubt this fur is limek, however. Limek have a double coat.”
“Oh dear!” the woman exclaimed, snatching the cloak back.
“But they’re not what I’m looking for, anyway,” Sonea added. “I need something old and a bit worn—not that I expected to find anything of low quality here. Do any of your servants have a cloak that looks as if it ought to be thrown out any day?”
The woman stared at Sonea in surprise. “I don’t know…” she said doubtfully.
“Why don’t you ask them now,” Sonea suggested, “while I admire some of your work.”
“If that’s what you want…” Curiosity had crept into the woman’s gaze now. She bowed, then disappeared into the house calling a servant’s name.
Moving to the hangers, Sonea looked at some of the clothing. She sighed wistfully. With the law restricting her to robes, she was never likely to wear anything like this, even though she could now afford to.
Hearing hurried footsteps approaching, she turned to see the seamstress enter the room, her arms laden with clothing. A servant followed her in, looking pale and harassed. Seeing Sonea, the girl’s eyes widened.
Looking over the cloaks, Sonea chose one with a long, neatly repaired rip down one side. The hem had come unstitched from the lining, too. She looked at the serving girl.
“Is there a garden here? Perhaps a poultry yard?”
The girl nodded.
“Take this cloak and rub the hem in some dirt for me—and throw a little dust over it.”
Looking bemused, the girl disappeared with the cloak. Sonea pressed a gold coin into the seamstress’ hand, then as the servant returned with the soiled cloak, slipped a silver into the girl’s pocket.
Who would have thought I’d end up using my pickpocketing skills to give money away rather than steal it? she mused as she left the house. With the cloak covering her robes, she received no more stares as she continued toward the Northern Gates.
The guards gave her only a cursory glance as she entered the slums. They were more concerned about dwells leaving the slums than who was going in. A smell, both unpleasant and comfortingly familiar, enveloped her as she moved into the winding streets. Looking around, she felt herself relax a little. Here, Regin and Akkarin seemed like distant, petty worries.
Then she noted a man eyeing her from the door of a bolhouse and tensed again. This was still the slums, and though she could protect herself with magic, it wo
uld be better to avoid having to. Keeping alert and within the shadows, she made her way quickly along the streets and alleys.
Jonna and Ranel now lived in a more prosperous part of the slums, where the residents lived in sturdy wooden houses. She slipped into a Market to buy some blankets and a basket filled with vegetables and fresh bread. She wished she could buy something more luxurious, but Jonna had always refused such gifts, saying: “I don’t want anything with the look of the Houses in my home. People will get strange ideas about us.”
As she arrived at the street her family lived in, she tossed a few savory buns to a small gang of boys sitting on some empty crates at the corner. They called out their thanks. She realized she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for months.
Not since Dorrien visited, she thought suddenly. But best not to think of Dorrien.
Reaching the house of her aunt and uncle, she sobered. Since she joined the Guild, they had been uneasy and awkward. They had witnessed her lose Control of her powers over a year before, and Sonea would not have been surprised if they were still afraid of her. But she knew that she would never overcome their fear or awkwardness if she didn’t keep visiting them. They were still her only family and she was not going to let them disappear from her life.
She knocked. A moment later, the door opened and Jonna stared at her in surprise.
“Sonea!”
Sonea grinned. “Hello, Jonna.”
Jonna pushed open the door. “You look different…but I see what you’ve done with the cloak. Is that legal?”
Sonea snorted. “Who cares? I got your letter today, and had to see you. Here, I brought you a present to celebrate.”
Handing over the basket and blankets, Sonea moved into the small, simply furnished guestroom. Ranel stepped into the room and laughed with delight.
“Sonea! How’s my little niece?”
“Well. Happy,” Sonea lied. Don’t think about Akkarin. Don’t spoil the afternoon.
Ranel hugged her. “Thank you for the money,” he murmured.
Sonea smiled and started to take off the cloak, then thought better of it. Seeing a cot at one side of the room, she moved over to it and looked down at her sleeping cousin.
“He’s growing well,” she said. “No problems?”
“No, just a bit of a cough,” Jonna said, smiling. She patted her belly. “We’re hoping for a girl this time.”
As they talked, Sonea was relieved to find them more relaxed in her presence. They ate some of the bread, played with the baby when he woke, and discussed names for the next one. Ranel told Sonea news about old friends and acquaintances, and other events that had concerned the slum dwellers.
“We weren’t in the city, but we heard when the Purge happened,” Ranel said, sighing. He glanced at her. “Did you…?” he asked reluctantly.
“No.” Sonea scowled. “Novices don’t go. I…I guess it was stupid, but I thought they wouldn’t have one, after what happened last year. Perhaps, when I’ve graduated…” She shook her head. What will I do? Talk them out of it? As if they’d listen to a slum girl.
She sighed. She was still a long way from ever being able to help the people she had once felt she belonged among. The idea of persuading the Guild to stop the Purge seemed naive and ridiculous now, as did the hope that they’d ever offer Healing to the dwells.
“What else have we got in here?” Jonna said, poking among the vegetables in the basket. “Are you staying for dinner, Sonea?”
Sonea straightened in alarm. “What time is it?” Looking through one of the high, narrow windows, she saw that the light outside was subdued and golden. “I’ll have to go back soon.”
“You be careful going home,” Ranel said. “You don’t want to run into this murderer everyone’s talking about.”
“He won’t be any rub for Sonea,” Jonna said, chuckling.
Sonea smiled at her aunt’s confidence. “What murderer?”
Ranel’s eyebrows rose. “I’d have thought you’d have known about it already. Been all over the city.” He grimaced. “They say the murderer isn’t one of the Thieves—I’ve heard the Thieves are out for him. Had no luck, though.”
“I can’t see him evading the Thieves for long,” Sonea mused.
“But it’s been going on for months,” Ranel said. “And some dwells say they remember similar killings happening a year ago, and before that.”
“Does anyone know what he looks like?”
“Stories are all different. But most say he wears a ring with a big red gem.” Ranel leaned forward. “The strangest story I heard was from one of our customers. He said that his sister’s husband owns an inn down Southside. This man heard someone yelling in one of the rooms one night, so he checked on them. When he opened the door, the murderer jumped out the window. But instead of falling to the ground, three stories down, he fell upward like he was flying!”
Sonea shrugged. Many people of dubious employment used the paths across the rooftops of the slums, known as the High Road. It was possible the man had swung out on a handhold and climbed up to the roof.
“That wasn’t what was strange,” Ranel continued. “What spooked the innkeeper was that the man staying in the room was dead, but all he had on his body were shallow cuts.”
Sonea frowned. Dead, but without any wounds except a few shallow cuts? Then her blood turned to ice. A memory flashed into her mind of Akkarin in the underground room.
Takan dropped to one knee and offered his arm. In Akkarin’s hand was a glittering dagger. He ran the blade over the servant’s skin, then placed a hand over the wound…
“Sonea. Are you listening?”
She blinked, then looked at her uncle. “Yes. Just remembering something. From a long time ago. All this talk of murderers.” She shivered. “I must go.”
As she stood, Jonna enveloped her in a hug. “It is good knowing you can protect yourself, Sonea. I don’t have to worry about you.”
“Hmph. You could at least worry about me a bit.”
Jonna laughed. “All right. If it makes you feel better.”
Sonea said goodbye to Ranel, then stepped out into the street. As she continued through the slums, she could not help remembering Lorlen’s words during the truth-read.
“I fear that, though I do not like to think it, you may be an attractive victim for him. He knows you have strong powers. You would be a potent source of magic.”
But Akkarin could not kill her. If she disappeared, Rothen and Lorlen would tell the Guild of his crime. Akkarin would not risk that.
Yet, as she walked through the city gates into the North Quarter, Sonea could not help worrying. Had he made the slums his hunting ground? Were her aunt and uncle in danger?
He will not kill them, either, she told herself. Then I would tell the Guild the truth.
But then it suddenly occurred to her that visiting her aunt and uncle was the worst kind of foolishness. She had all but disappeared; only Tania knew where she had gone. If Lorlen and Rothen had heard she was missing, they might decide it was Akkarin’s doing. Or Akkarin might have concluded that she had left the Guild, and be preparing to silence the others right now.
Shivering, she realized she would not feel safe until she was back in the Guild, even though it meant living under the same roof as the man who might be the very murderer the slum dwellers feared.
33
The High Lord’s Warning
The sound of birdsong and wind greeted Dannyl as he woke. He opened his eyes and blinked at his surroundings, momentarily confused. Stone walls stood on all sides, but there was no roof above. He lay on a thick bed of pulled grass. The air had the feel of morning.
Armje. He was in the ruins of Armje.
Then he remembered the chamber, and the domed ceiling that had attacked him.
So I survived.
He looked down at himself. His robes were charred around the hem. The skin around his calves above where his boots had been was red and stinging. Looking up, he saw his boots standing n
eatly together a few steps away. They were blistered and charred.
He had come very close to dying, he realized.
Tayend must have taken him out of the cavern to this place. Dannyl looked around, but saw no sign of the scholar. Catching a splash of color on the ground nearby, he recognized Tayend’s blue jacket lying folded beside another bed of grass.
He considered getting up and looking for his friend, but remained on his grass bed. Tayend would not be far away, and he felt an overwhelming reluctance to move. He needed rest—not because his body needed it, but because he needed to recover magically.
Focusing on the source of his power, he found he had almost no magic to draw upon. Normally, he would have slept until at least partially recovered. Perhaps the lingering memory of danger had woken him as soon as he had regained enough strength to pull out of his exhausted slumber. Knowing that he lacked magic should have made him feel vulnerable and uneasy, but instead he felt freer, as if released from something.
Hearing footsteps, he drew himself up onto one elbow. Tayend stepped into the room and smiled when he saw that Dannyl was awake. The scholar’s hair was a little ruffled, but otherwise he still managed to appear well groomed despite having slept on a bed of grass.
“You’re awake at last. I just refilled our flasks. Thirsty?”
Realizing he was, Dannyl nodded. He accepted his flask and drained it.
Tayend crouched beside him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. A bit cooked around the ankles, but nothing worse.”
“What happened?”
Dannyl shook his head. “I was about to ask you that same question.”
“Your part comes first.”
“Very well.” Dannyl described the chamber, and how it had attacked him. Tayend’s eyes widened as he listened.
“After you went in, I kept reading the glyphs,” the scholar said. “The writing said that the door led to a place called the Cavern of Ultimate Punishment, and a little farther I worked out that it was made to execute magicians. I tried to call to you—to warn you—then I heard you call me and you made the lights. Before I could reach the end of the passage, they went out.”