The Rogue (4 page)

The latch clicked and the door swung inward. A short, thin man took a step forward, grinning maniacally. As he saw her, and his eyes dropped to her black robes, his expression turned to one of horror. He went pale and took a few steps backwards.

But something stopped him. Something made him halt and brought a crazed hope to his face. Something made him put aside all fear of who and what she was.

“Please,” he whined. “I got to have some. Let me have some.”

A wave of pity, anger and sadness swept over her. She sighed, stepped out of the room, then closed the door and snibbed the mechanical lock with magic.

“We don’t keep it here,” she told the man. He stared at her, then his face darkened with anger.

“Liar!” he shrieked. “I know you have it. You keep some to wean people off it. Give it to me!” His hands became claws and he hurled himself at her.

She caught his wrists and halted his charge with a gentle pressure of magic against his chest. He was already agitated enough without her adding to his desperation by wrapping him in magical force. She could see the flash of green cloth in the corner of her eye as Healers further down the corridor, having heard his outcry, hurried to deal with him.

Before long the man’s arms had been seized by two Healers and they began half dragging, half guiding him back down the corridor. A third Healer remained, and as she looked up at the man she felt her heart lift in surprised recognition.

“Dorrien!”

The man who smiled back at her was a few years older and tanned from plenty of hours spent in the sun. Rothen’s son was the local Healer for a small town at the edge of the southern mountains, where he lived with his wife and children. A long time ago, when she was still a novice, he had come to the Guild for a visit and a friendship had started between them – a friendship that could have become a romance. But he’d had to return to his village and her to her studies.
Then I fell in love with Akkarin, and after he died I could not contemplate being with anyone else
. Dorrien had stayed in Imardin to help with the recovery after the Ichani Invasion, but his village had never stopped being his true home, and he eventually returned to it. He’d married a local woman and had two daughters.

“Yes, I’m back,” Dorrien said. “A short visit this time.” He glanced at the drug-crazed man. “Am I right in guessing the cause of his problem is something called roet?”

Sonea sighed. “You are.”

“It’s the reason I’m here. A couple of young men in my village returned from market a few months back with it. By the time they’d used what they’d bought, they’d grown reliant on it. I’d like advice on how to treat them.”

She looked at him closely. Unlike Healers in the city, he was under no obligation to avoid “wasting” his magic on treating the drug. Had he tried to use Healing magic to rid the young men of their habit and failed, as she had with most of the patients she’d secretly treated?

“Come with me,” she said, then turned and unlocked the storeroom. As he stepped inside she followed, shutting the door behind her. He glanced around the room, eyebrows raised, but took the seat Cery had been sitting in without comment. She settled on the chair she had just vacated.

“Did you try to Heal them?” she asked.

“Yes.” Dorrien described how the young men had come to him for help, realising belatedly that they couldn’t afford a roet habit, and embarrassed to find they’d been caught up in a vice of the city. He’d searched with his Healing senses for the source of the problem in their bodies, and Healed it, as Sonea had done with the patients she had worked with. And, as she had, he’d had varying success. One of the brothers had been cured, the other still craved the drug.

“I’ve had the same result,” she told him. “I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s possible to Heal some people and not others.”

He nodded. “So what do you advise for those that aren’t?”

“They shouldn’t use the drug again, in case the effect gets stronger. Some of my patients say keeping busy helps them ignore the cravings. Some drink. But not in small quantities – they say too little weakens their resolve to avoid rot.”

“Rot?”

“It’s the drug’s nickname on the streets.”

Dorrien grimaced. “I gather it’s an appropriate one.” He frowned and looked at her thoughtfully. “If we can’t Heal away other people’s addiction, can we Heal away our own? Not that I have a roet addiction,” he added, smiling faintly.

Sonea answered his smile with a grim one of her own. “That’s a question I’ve also been seeking the answer to, but with far less success. So far I haven’t found one roet-using magician willing to be examined. I’ve questioned a few, but that’s not going to produce the evidence I need.”

“You need for what?”

“To convince the Guild this is a serious problem. Skellin’s plan to enslave magicians with roet could have been successful – could still be successful.”

Leaning back in his chair, Dorrien considered that. He shook his head. “Magicians have been blackmailed and bought by other means before. Why is this any different?”

“Perhaps only in the scale of the problem. That’s why it needs more investigation. What percentage of magicians could be affected by roet? Are the ones not affected going to become addicts if they continue using the drug? Just how much does it alter thought patterns and behaviour?”

Dorrien nodded. “What is your guess? How big do you think the problem to be?”

Sonea hesitated as Black Magician Kallen came to mind. If Cery was right, and Anyi had seen the magician buying roet, the problem could be
very
big indeed. But she did not want to reveal what she knew until she was certain Kallen
was
using roet and she had proof that roet was as big a problem as she suspected. He might have been buying it for someone else. If she claimed he was an addict incorrectly she’d look a fool, and if she revealed it before she had proven that roet was dangerous to magicians then it would look like she was making a petty fuss about nothing.

Oh, but I wish I could tell someone.
She had not told Rothen. He would want to do something immediately. He did not like it that Kallen treated her as if she couldn’t be trusted. Rothen was always urging her to put Kallen under as much scrutiny as he put her under. So would Dorrien.

“I don’t know,” she replied, sighing.

Ironically, the one person she thought she could probably tell and trust to remain silent was Regin, the magician who had helped her find Lorandra.
Ironic that the novice I once hated for making my life a torture is now a magician I’d trust.
He understood the importance of timing. Though she had met with Regin to discuss the search for Skellin, so far she hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention Kallen.

Perhaps I’m even more afraid that Regin won’t believe me, and I’ll make a complete fool of myself.
She smiled wryly.
No matter how much I tell myself we are not novices and deadly enemies any more, I can’t shake the suspicion that he’ll use any weakness against me. It’s ridiculous. He’s proven that he can keep a secret. He’s been nothing but supportive.

But he often did not make it to their meetings, or arrived late and was distracted. She suspected he had lost interest in the search for Skellin. Perhaps he felt that tracking down the rogue magician Thief was an impossible task. It had certainly begun to feel that way.

With Cery forced into hiding, and his people unable to find any sign of Skellin, she was not sure how they could find the rogue – aside from pulling the city apart brick by brick, and the king would never agree to that.

The Foodhall was, as always, noisy with the clatter of cutlery on crockery and the voices of novices. Lilia let out an unheard sigh and stopped trying to hear what her companions were discussing. Instead she let her gaze move slowly across the room.

The interior was a strange mix of sophistication and simplicity, the decorative and the practical. The windows and walls were as finely crafted and decorated as most other large rooms in the University, but the furniture was solid, simple and robust. It was as if someone had removed the polished, carved chairs and table in the grand dining room of the house she had grown up in, and replaced them with the solid wooden table and bench seats from the kitchens.

The occupants of the Foodhall were as varied a mix. Novices from the most powerful Houses to those born of beggars on the dirtiest streets of the city ate here. When Lilia had first started magic lessons, she had wondered why the snooties had continued to eat their meals in the Foodhall when they were rich enough to have their own cooks. The answer was that they didn’t have time to leave the grounds each day to dine with their families – and they weren’t supposed to leave without permission anyway.

She suspected there was a feeling of territorial pride at work as well. The snooties had been eating in the Foodhall for centuries. The lowies were the newcomers. The Foodhall had been the scene of many a prank between the lowies and snooties. Lilia had never been a part of either. Though she had never said it aloud, she was from the upper end of the lowie group. Her family were servants for a family belonging to a House of reasonable political power and influence – neither at the top of the political hierarchy nor in decline. She could trace her line back for several generations, naming which of her ancestors had worked for which families within the House.

Whereas some of the lowies were from very shabby origins. Sons of whores. Daughters of beggars. Plenty were related to criminals, she suspected. A strange sort of competition had begun between these lowies to lay claim to the most impressively low origin. If sewer ravi could be claimed as parents, some of them would boast of it as if it was a title of honour. Lowies from a servant family didn’t boast or make anything of it, or they invited a lot of trouble.

The hatred some lowies had for snooties did not seem fair to her. Her parents’ employers had treated their servants fairly. Lilia had played with their children when she was growing up. They had ensured that all of their servants’ children were given a basic education. Since the Ichani Invasion, they had brought a magician in every few years to test all children for magical ability. Though none of their own had enough latent power to be accepted into the Guild, they had been overjoyed when Lilia, and servant children before her, had been chosen.

The two girls and boys she spent her social time with were lowies, and they were nice enough. She, Froje and Madie had been friends since starting at the University. Last year Froje had paired up with Damend and Madie with Ellon, making Lilia the odd one out. The girls’ attention was mostly taken up by the boys now, and they rarely sought Lilia’s opinion, advice or suggestions for things to do. Lilia told herself it had been inevitable and that she didn’t mind too much, since she had always been more comfortable listening in than joining their conversations anyway.

Her gaze fell upon a novice she had been watching for a long time now. Naki was a year ahead of Lilia in University studies. She had long black hair and eyes so dark it was hard to find the edge of her pupils. Every movement she made was graceful. Boys were both attracted and intimidated by her. As far as Lilia could tell, Naki had shown no interest in any of them – not even some of the boys Lilia’s friends thought were irresistible. Perhaps she thought herself too good for them. Perhaps she was simply choosy about her friends.

Today Naki was sitting with another girl. She wasn’t talking, although the other girl’s mouth was moving constantly. As Lilia watched, the talker laughed and rolled her eyes. Naki’s mouth widened and thinned in a polite smile.

Then, without any little movement to warn that she was about to, Naki looked directly at Lilia.

Uh, oh
, Lilia thought, feeling the heat of embarrassment and guilt beginning to rise.
Caught out.
Just as she was about to look away, Naki smiled.

Surprise froze Lilia. She wondered briefly what to do, then smiled in return. It would have been rude otherwise. She forced herself to look away.
She didn’t seem to mind me watching her but … how embarrassing to be caught staring.

A movement in Naki’s direction tugged at Lilia’s attention. She resisted the temptation to glance back, trying instead to decipher what she was seeing in the corner of her eye. A dark-haired person was standing near where Naki was sitting. That person was walking now. That person was coming in this direction.

Surely not …

She could not stop her head from turning and her eyes from looking up. Naki, she saw, was walking toward her. She was looking right at her, and smiling.

Naki put her plate down next to Lilia’s and then slid onto the empty space on the bench beside her.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Lilia replied uncertainly.
What does she want? Does she want to know why I was looking at her? Does she want to chat? What on earth will I talk about if she does?

“I was bored. I thought I’d come over and see what you were doing,” Naki explained.

Lilia could not help looking over at Naki’s former companion. The talker was staring at them, looking confused and a little peeved. Lilia glanced at her companions. The girls were surprised, and the boys had that fearful and wistful expression they usually wore when Naki was close.

She said “... what
you
were doing”. It didn’t sound like it included all of us.

She turned back to Naki. “Not much,” Lilia said honestly, wincing at the lameness of her reply. “Just eating.”

“What were you talking about?” Naki prompted, glancing at the others.

“Whether we chose the right discipline,” one of the others said. Lilia shrugged and nodded.

“Ah,” Naki said. “I was tempted to choose Warrior, but for all that it’s fun I can’t see myself spending my life doing it. I’ll keep up my skills, of course, in case we’re ever invaded again, but I decided Alchemy would be more useful.”

“That’s what I thought about Healing,” Lilia told her. “More useful.”

“True, but I’ve never been much good at Healing.” Naki smiled wryly.