The Magicians' Guild (43 page)

“I can arrange for you to meet him, if you wish,” he replied. “He will want to meet you. So may others. Before then, I should teach you some of the rules and customs of the Guild.”

She looked up, her eyes brightening with interest. Relieved to see her curiosity return, Rothen smiled.

“For a start, there is the custom of bowing.”

Her expression changed to dismay. Rothen chuckled sympathetically.

“Yes. Bowing. All non-magicians—apart from royalty, of course—are expected to bow to magicians.”

Sonea grimaced. “Why?”

“A gesture of respect.” Rothen shrugged. “Silly as it may seem, some of us get quite offended if we are not bowed to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

“Not usually,” he told her. “But there are times when neglecting to bow is obviously intended to be rude.”

She considered him warily. “Do you expect me to bow to you from now on?”

“Yes and no. I don’t expect it in private, but you should bow when we are outside these rooms, even if just to accustom yourself to the habit. You should also use the honorific. Magicians are referred to as Lord or Lady, except in the cases of the Directors, Administrators and the High Lord, for whom you must use their title.”

Rothen smiled at Sonea’s expression. “I didn’t think you’d like it. You may have grown up in the lowest class in society, but you have the pride of a king.” He leaned forward. “One day everyone will be bowing to
you,
Sonea. That will be even harder for you to accept.”

She frowned, then picked up her glass and drained it.

“Now,” Rothen continued, “there are the rules of the Guild to cover as well. Here.” He reached forward and poured her another glass of wine. “Let’s see if these are any easier to stomach.”

Rothen left just after dinner, no doubt to spread the news. As Tania began to clear the table, Sonea moved to a window. She paused to look at the screen covering it, and realized for the first time that the complex pattern printed on it was actually made up of tiny Guild symbols.

Her aunt had owned an old, mold-spotted pair of screens. They had been the wrong shape for the window of their room in the stayhouse, but her aunt had leaned them up against the glass anyway. When the sun shone through the paper, it had been easy to ignore their flaws.

Instead of the usual pang of homesickness at the memory, she felt a vague longing. Looking around at the luxurious furnishings, the books and the polished furniture, she sighed.

She would miss the comforts and the food, but she was resigned to that. Leaving Rothen would not be so easy, however. She liked his company—his conversations, their lessons, and talking mind to mind.

I was going to leave anyway,
she reminded herself for the hundredth time.
I just hadn’t thought about how much I’d gained here.

Knowing that she would be forced from the Guild had made her realize what she was losing. Pretending that she wanted to stay was going to be far too easy.

Just as well Fergun doesn’t know,
she mused.
It would make his revenge so much sweeter.

Fergun was risking much to pay her back for humiliating him. He must be very angry—or very sure he could get away with it. Either way, he was prepared to put a lot of effort into having her barred from the Guild.

“Lady?”

Turning, Sonea found Tania standing behind her. The servant smiled.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’ve decided to stay,” she said. “It would be a poor shame if you didn’t.”

Sonea felt her cheeks grow hot. “Thank you, Tania.”

The woman folded her hands together. “You look like you’re all full of doubts. You’re doing the right thing. The Guild never take in poorer folk. It’ll do them good to see you doing everything they can, and just as well as they.”

A sliver of cold ran down Sonea’s back. This wasn’t just about revenge!

The Guild didn’t
have
to invite her to join them. They could have blocked her power and sent her back to the slums. Yet they hadn’t. For the first time in centuries, the magicians had considered teaching someone from outside the Houses.

Fergun’s words echoed in her mind.
“Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.”
Back where she
belonged?

She had heard the contempt in his voice, but hadn’t understood the significance. Fergun didn’t just want to make sure
she
didn’t enter the Guild. He wanted to make sure no dwell was ever given the chance again. Whatever “task” Fergun had planned for her would prove that dwells were untrustworthy. The Guild would never consider inviting another dwell into their ranks.

She gripped the window sill, her heart beating fast with anger.
They are opening their doors to me, a dwell, but I’m going to walk out as if that means nothing!

A familiar feeling of helplessness crawled over her. She couldn’t stay. Cery’s life depended on her leaving.

“Lady?”

Sonea blinked at Tania. The servant laid a hand lightly on her arm.

“You will do well,” Tania assured her. “Rothen says you’re very strong, and you learn quickly.”

“He does?”

“Oh, yes.” Tania turned and picked up her basket, laden with dishes. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t go worrying. Everything will be fine.”

Sonea smiled. “Thanks, Tania.”

The servant grinned. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The servant slipped out of the door, leaving Sonea alone. Sighing, she stared out of the window. Outside it was snowing again, white flakes dancing in the night.

Where are you, Cery?

Thinking of the dagger Fergun had shown her, she frowned. It was possible that he had found it; that he did not have Cery locked away …

Leaving the window, she dropped into a chair. There was so much to think about: Cery, Fergun, the Hearing, guardianship. Despite Tania’s assurances, she was not going to get much sleep during the next few weeks.

Every Threeday, Dannyl joined Yaldin and his wife for the evening meal. Ezrille had started the routine years before when, concerned that Dannyl had not found himself a wife, she began to worry that he would grow lonely if he had to end every day by himself.

As he relinquished his empty plate to Yaldin’s servant, Dannyl gave a little sigh of contentment. Though he doubted he would ever sink into the melancholy Ezrille feared, it was certainly better eating in company than by himself.

“I have heard rumors about you, Dannyl,” Yaldin said.

Dannyl frowned, his contentment evaporating. Surely Fergun wasn’t at it again. “Oh, what rumors?”

“That the Administrator is so impressed with your negotiations with the Thieves that he is considering you for an ambassadorial role.”

Dannyl straightened and stared at the old magician. “He is?”

Yaldin nodded. “What do you think? Does travelling appeal?”

“I…” Dannyl shook his head. “I’ve never considered it. Me? An ambassador?”

“Yes.” Yaldin chuckled. “You’re not as young and foolish as you once were.”

“Thanks,” Dannyl replied dryly.

“This could be good for you,” Ezrille said. She smiled and pointed a finger at him. “You might even bring back a wife.”

Dannyl gave her a withering look. “Don’t start that again, Ezrille.”

She shrugged. “Well, since there’s obviously no woman in Kyralia who is good enough for—”

“Ezrille,” Dannyl said sternly. “The last young lady I met stabbed me. You know I’m cursed when it comes to women.”

“That’s ridiculous. You were trying to catch her, not romance her. How is Sonea doing, anyway?”

“Rothen says she’s progressing well with her lessons, though she’s still determined to leave. She’s become quite chatty with Tania.”

“I suppose she’ll feel more comfortable with servants than with us,” Yaldin mused. “They’re not as high above her status as we are.”

Dannyl winced. Once he wouldn’t have questioned the remark—he would have agreed with it—but now that he had conversed with Sonea, it seemed unfair, even insulting. “Rothen would not like to hear you say that.”

“No,” Yaldin agreed. “But he is unique in his opinions. The rest of the Guild feel that class and status are very important.”

“What are they saying now?”

Yaldin shrugged. “It’s got beyond friendly wagers over the guardianship claim now. A lot of people are questioning the wisdom of having someone with her dubious background in the Guild at all.”

“Again? What are their reasons this time?”

“Will she honor the vow?” Yaldin said. “Will she be a bad influence on other novices?” He leaned forward. “You’ve met her. What do you think?”

Shrugging, Dannyl wiped the sugar from his fingers onto a napkin. “I’m the last person you should ask. She stabbed me, remember?”

“You’re not ever going to let us forget it,” Ezrille remarked. “Come now, you must have noticed more than that.”

“Her speech is rough, though not as bad as I expected. She has none of the manners we’re used to. No bowing or ‘my Lord.’ ”

“Rothen will teach her that when she’s ready,” Ezrille said.

Yaldin snorted softly. “He better make sure she knows before the Hearing.”

“You’re both still forgetting that she doesn’t want to stay. Why would he bother to teach her etiquette?”

“Perhaps it would be easier all round if she did leave.”

Ezrille gave her husband a reproachful look. “Yaldin,” she scolded. “Would you send the girl back to poverty after showing her all the wealth here? That would be cruel.”

The old man shrugged. “Of course not, but she wants to go and it’ll be easier if she does. No Hearing for a start, and the whole issue about taking in people from outside the Houses will be forgotten.”

“They’re wasting their breath arguing about it,” Dannyl said. “We all know that the King wants her here, under our control.”

“Then he won’t be too happy if she sticks to her intention to leave.”

“No,” Dannyl agreed. “But he can’t make her take the vow if she doesn’t want to.”

Yaldin frowned, then glanced at the door as someone knocked on it. He waved a hand lazily, and the door swung open.

Rothen stepped inside, beaming. “She’s staying!”

“Well, that settles that,” Ezrille said.

Yaldin nodded. “Not everything, Ezrille. We still have the Hearing to worry about.”

“The Hearing?” Rothen waved a hand dismissively. “Leave that to another time. For now, I only want to celebrate.”

Curling up in a chair, Sonea yawned and considered the day so far.

In the morning, Administrator Lorlen had visited to ask her about her decision, and to explain, over again, about guardianship and the Hearing. She had felt a pang of guilt as he expressed genuine pleasure that she was staying—a feeling she grew familiar with as the day continued.

Other visitors had come: Dannyl, then the stern and intimidating Head of Healers, and an old couple who were friends of Rothen’s. Each time someone had knocked at the door she had tensed, expecting Fergun, but the Warrior had not appeared.

Guessing that he would not visit until she was alone, she was almost relieved when Rothen left after dinner, saying he would be absent until late and that she should not wait up for him.

“I’ll stay and chat with you, if you like,” Tania offered.

Sonea smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Tania, but I think I’d like to be alone tonight.”

The servant nodded. “I understand.” She turned back to the table, then paused as a knock came from the door. “Shall I answer that, Lady?”

Sonea nodded. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the servant opened the door a crack.

“Is the Lady Sonea present?”

Hearing the voice, Sonea felt her stomach sink with dread.

“Yes, Lord Fergun,” Tania replied. She glanced anxiously at Sonea. “I will ask if she wishes to see you.”

“Let him in, Tania.”’ Though her heart had begun to race, Sonea managed to speak calmly.

As the servant stepped away from the door, the red-robed magician moved into the room. Inclining his head to Sonea, he placed a hand on his chest.

“I am Fergun. I believe Lord Rothen has told you about me?”

His eyes shifted to Tania, then back again. Sonea nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “He has. Will you sit down?”

“Thank you,” he said, bending gracefully into a chair.

—
Send the woman away.

Swallowing, Sonea looked up at Tania. “Is there anything more you need to do, Tania?”

The servant glanced at the table, then shook her head. “No, Lady. I will return later for the dishes.” She bowed, then slipped out of the room.

As the door closed behind her, Fergun’s friendly expression vanished. “I was only told this morning that Rothen has announced you ready. It took you some time to tell him.”

“I had to wait for the right moment,” she replied. “Or it would have seemed strange.”

Fergun stared at her, then waved a hand dismissively. “It is done. Now, just to make sure you understand my instructions, I want you to repeat them to me.”

He nodded as she recited what he had told her to do.

“Good. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” she told him. “How do I know if you really have Cery? All I’ve seen is a dagger.”

He smiled. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Trust
you?”
She snorted loudly and forced herself to stare into his eyes. “I want to see him. If I don’t, I might have to ask Administrator Lorlen if blackmail is a crime in the Guild.”

His lip curled into a sneer. “You’re in no position to make such threats.”

“Aren’t I?” Rising, she strolled to the high table and poured herself a glass of water. Her hands shook and she was glad she had her back to him. “I know all about this kind of blackmail. I’ve lived with the Thieves, remember? You need to make it clear that you can carry out your threat. All I’ve seen is a dagger. Why should I believe you have its owner?”

She turned to meet his gaze and was gratified to see his stare falter. He clenched his fists, then slowly nodded.

“Very well,” he said, rising. “I will take you to him.”