Chapter 24

A Request

As she left the Baths, Sonea thought of the past two weeks and was surprised to feel some regret that the break was over. She had spent most of the time exploring the University, reading or, on warmer days, walking up through the forest to the spring.

In some ways, little had changed. She still planned her movements about the Guild to avoid someone. Akkarin was far easier to avoid than Regin, however. The only time she saw him was in the evenings, when she returned to the High Lord's Residence.

A servant had been assigned to her. Unlike Tania, Viola was distant and businesslike. Having noted Sonea's habit of rising early, she always appeared just after dawn. It had taken several requests before the woman finally brought a jar of raka powder, and her expression when the aroma filled Sonea's room spoke clearly of her distaste for the stimulant so loved by the slum dwellers.

Each morning, Sonea left the High Lord's Residence and headed to the Baths, where she soaked in luxuriously warm water and decided how she would fill the day. Relaxation allowed hunger to catch up with her, and she visited the Foodhall next. A small number of cooks and servers catered to the handful of novices who had remained in the Guild. Bored, and eager to cultivate opportunities for future positions serving the Houses, they encouraged these novices to request favorite meals. Though Sonea had no high connections, the younger cooks indulged her as well, no doubt because of the incal on her sleeve.

After eating, Sonea would pace through the passages of the University to reinforce her memory of the plan. From time to time she would stop in a quiet room and open a book, sometimes reading for hours before she decided to move on again. As evening settled in, however, her dread would slowly return until she could no longer concentrate on reading. She had been given no hour to return by. Though she had tried arriving at the residence later and later, Akkarin was always there, waiting for her. After a week she had resigned herself to this daily encounter, and started to return at a time that allowed her to get a good night's sleep.

Just as she had been getting used to her new routine, the break ended. She had spent most of the previous afternoon at a University window, watching carriages coming and going. On most days, when the Guild was filled with magicians, it was easy to forget that wives, husbands and children also lived on the grounds. Sonea had realized how few she could name. Deciding she ought to know more about her future colleagues, she had begun to note family groups, and the House incals on the carriages they arrived in.

There had been a lack of formality to this homecoming. While servants had been kept busy hauling baggage and tending horses, magicians and their spouses had paused to chat with others. Children had run into the gardens to play in the snow. Novices had gathered in knots of brown robes, their shouts and laughter audible through the University windows.

But today, magicians were striding about the grounds, clearly the masters of their domain. Servants hurried about, but the families she had watched were nowhere to be seen. Novices were everywhere.

Walking toward the University, Sonea felt a familiar uneasiness. Though she was sure Regin wouldn't dare harass the High Lord's favorite, she created a barrier about herself just in case. Reaching the stairs, she noted that the novice in front of her was shivering and rubbing his arms. A newcomer, she mused. Lord Vorel had claimed that the winter intake novices always learned to shield faster than those who started training in summer. Now she understood why.

"That's her."

"Who?"

The whispers came from behind her. She resisted the urge to glance behind as she continued up the stairs.

"The slum girl."

"So it's true?"

"Yes. Mother says it isn't right. She says there are plenty of novices as strong as her. Ones that don't have a bad history."

"My father says it's an insult to the Houses—and even the Administrator didn't…"

The rest was lost as Sonea turned into the corridor on the second floor. Pausing, she examined the novices in the corridor ahead, then began to walk. Unlike the first time she had appeared as Akkarin's novice, they did not stare at her. Instead, they looked once, scowled, then turned away. Eyebrows rose and meaningful looks were exchanged.

This is not good, she thought.

As she approached her classroom, she felt a rising dread. She paused at the doorway to take a deep breath, then stepped inside. The teacher who looked up at her was surprisingly young. It could not have been many years since he'd graduated. She glanced at her schedule for his name.

"Lord Larkin," she said, bowing.

To her relief, he smiled. "Take a seat, Sonea."

Only half of the other novices had arrived. A few watched her as she moved to her usual position by the window. Their expressions weren't friendly, but they weren't disapproving, either. The feeling of dread eased.

Larkin rose. Seeing that he was approaching her desk, she sighed. No doubt he would want her to move closer to the front.

"The High Lord asked me to tell you he wishes to see you after the next class," he told her quietly. "You are to return to his residence."

Sonea felt all warmth leave her face. Guessing that she had turned pale, she looked down at her desk, hoping he hadn't noticed. "Thank you, my lord."

Larkin turned away and moved back to his desk. Sonea swallowed hard. What did Akkarin want? Frightening scenarios came to mind, and she jumped when Larkin rose and began to address the class. Looking around, she realized that the rest of the novices had arrived.

"The history of magician-designed architecture is a long one," Larkin told the class. "Parts are unbearably dry, but I will skip as many of those as possible. Instead, I will begin with the story of Lord Loren, the architect who designed the University."

Thinking of the map she had drawn up of the University passages, Sonea straightened in her seat. This would be interesting. Taking sheets of paper from his desk, Larkin walked up and down the rows of desks, handing one to each novice.

"This is a rough plan of the top level of the University— a copy of a sketch drawn by the man himself," Larkin said. "Lord Loren's early work was often unstable and ridiculous in appearance. He was considered to be an artist obsessed with making large, impractical sculptures rather than habitable buildings, but his discovery of the methods of shaping and strengthening stone with magic changed more than architecture. He began to make buildings that people wanted to live in."

Larkin waved a hand at the ceiling. "The University is one of his finest works. By the time Lord Loren was requested to design and construct the new Guild buildings, he was famous throughout the world for his work." Larkin paused to chuckle. "The Guild still felt it necessary to stipulate in their guidelines that he wasn't to use spirals in the design—something he was known to do in excess.

"However, the use of spirals can be found in the glass ceiling above the Guildhall and the staircases of the Entrance Hall," Larkin continued. "From the diaries and records kept by other magicians of that era, we know Lord Loren was a devious character at the best of times. Over a hundred years later a magician named Lord Rendo wrote a book detailing the architect's career. I have included with the plan a few extracts of this biography and a chronology of his life and works. Read them now. After class you may want to look around the grounds at the buildings he designed. You will, as I did, see much that you had not noticed before. I will expect an essay on his work three weeks from today."

As the other novices began to read, Sonea looked down at the plan of the University. The four towers at the corners and the huge room at the center were clearly drawn, as was the design of the glass ceiling, but the rooms and passages on either side of the main corridor were unmarked.

She took her map out of her box and lay it next to the plan. After staring at both, she started copying the ceiling design onto her own sketch. As she suspected, the lines that marked the spirals in the glass met those showing the passages. Though the passage turns were at right angles, they combined with the ceiling design to form even larger spirals.

"What are you doing, Sonea?"

Realizing that the teacher was standing over her desk, she felt her face heat.

"I… I thought of what you said about spirals, my lord," she explained, "and started looking for them."

Larkin tilted his head and examined her sketch, then pointed to the inner passages she had marked. "I've looked at the University plans many times but I've never seen this many. Where did you get this plan?"

"I, ah, made it. I didn't have much else to do over the break. I hope I wasn't going anywhere I wasn't supposed to."

He shook his head. "The only place in the University that is forbidden to novices is the Guildhall and the Administrator's office."

"But … those rooms between the normal passages and the decorated ones. They seemed to be a kind of barrier."

Larkin nodded. "In the past they were locked, but as more space was needed it was decided that the inner areas should be accessible to all."

Sonea thought of the disapproving look she had received from the magician she encountered the first night of exploration. Perhaps he had merely been suspicious of a novice wandering about alone. Perhaps he simply distrusted the slum girl.

"Would you mind if I took a copy of your plan?" Larkin asked.

"I'll draw one for you if you like," she offered.

He smiled. "Thank you, Sonea."

As he moved away, Sonea watched him speculatively.

There didn't seem to be any of the disapproval or disdain in his manner that she was used to from the other teachers. Would only the novices resent her now? She glanced around the room and saw several heads turn away, but one caught her gaze.

Regin's eyes bored into her own. Looking away, Sonea shivered. How had she ever earned such unveiled hatred?

Every time she had done well in class, he had managed to equal or surpass her. He was better at Warrior Skills, so if this was about being better than her, he was winning.

But now she had succeeded in a way that he could never match. She had become the High Lord's favorite. To make it worse, he dared not make her suffer for it.

She sighed. He wouldn't be so jealous if he knew what was really going on. I'd swap places any day. He'd be scared out of his wits…

Or would he? Would Regin, who relished having power and influence and was willing to harm others to get it, be able to resist the lure of black magic? No, he'd probably want to join Akkarin. She shuddered. Regin as a black magician. The idea was truly frightening.

As Dannyl stepped into the Guild House, Ambassador Errend strolled out of the audience room.

"Welcome back, Ambassador Dannyl."

"Thank you, Ambassador Errend," Dannyl replied, inclining his head politely. "It is good to be back. If I ever get it into my head to go sailing around the world again, please remind me of the last two weeks."

The Ambassador smiled. "Ah, sea travel does lose its romance after the first few journeys."

Dannyl grimaced. "Especially if you encounter a storm."

Though Errend's face did not change much, Dannyl was sure he saw a hint of smugness in the man's expression. "Well, you're on solid ground now," the man said. "No doubt you'll want to rest for the remainder of the day. You can tell me of your adventures tonight."

"Have I missed much?"

"Of course." Errend smiled. "This is Capia." He took a step back toward the audience room, then paused. "Some urgent letters arrived for you two days ago. Do you want to read them now, or wait until tomorrow?"

Dannyl nodded, curious despite his weariness. "Have them sent to my room. Thank you, Ambassador."

The big man inclined his head gracefully, then turned away. Walking down the main corridor of the house, Dannyl considered the work ahead of him. He expected that there was much work to catch up on, and he had a report to compile for Lorlen. It wouldn't be easy to find time to visit the Great Library.

But his research would continue through other means as well. The invitation to Bel Arralade's party would probably be among the letters waiting for him. He had to admit, he was looking forward to it. It had been some time since he'd exercised his gossip-gathering skills.

When he had returned from the small Baths within the Guild House, he found a pile of letters on his desk. Sitting down, he spread them out and immediately recognized the elegant handwriting of Administrator Lorlen.

Breaking the seal, he unfolded the thick paper and began to read.

To Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne, Dannyl, of family Vorin, House Tellen.

It has been brought to my attention recently that some people believe you have spent less time attending to your ambassadorial duties than you have to "personal" research. You have my gratitude for the time and effort you have given to my request. The work you have done has been invaluable. However, to prevent further questions arising, I must ask you to cease your research. Further reports will not be needed.

Administrator Lorlen.

Letting the letter fall to the desk, Dannyl stared at it in astonishment. All the travelling and studying of books, and now it was all to be abandoned because of a few gossips? Obviously the research hadn't been that important, after all.

Then he smiled. He had only assumed there was a good reason for reviving Akkarin's quest for ancient magical knowledge. When his own curiosity had lagged in the face of reading some particularly boring old books and the discomfort of sea travel, his enthusiasm had been sustained by the thought that there might be a more significant reason for gathering the information than simply continuing Akkarin's research. Perhaps Akkarin had been on the brink of rediscovering a valuable method of using magic, and Lorlen wanted another to take up the search. Perhaps a lost piece of history was to be found.

But Lorlen had, in just a few scribbled lines, put an end to the research as if it meant nothing after all.

Shaking his head, Dannyl folded the letter and put it aside. Tayend would be disappointed, he mused. They had no reason to attend Bel Arralade's party now. Not that it would keep either of them from going—and he would still visit his friend at the library. Without Lorlen's request as excuse, he would have to find another "public" reason to talk to the scholar … perhaps something else to research …

Dannyl stilled. Was Tayend the reason Lorlen had stopped the research? Had Lorlen heard the gossip about Tayend, and grown concerned that questions about Dannyl's reputation would reemerge?

Dannyl frowned down at the letters. How could he know if this was the true reason? It was not as if he could ask Lorlen.

Another Guild symbol among the letters caught his eye. Picking up the letter, he smiled as he recognized Rothen's sturdy handwriting. Straightening, he broke the seal and began to read.

To Ambassador Dannyl.

I am not sure when you will read this, as I have heard that you have been visiting other lands. No doubt you are familiarizing yourself with the peoples you may need to work with in the future. If I had realized the duties of ambassador included travelling the world, I may have put aside my teaching years ago. I'm sure you'll have plenty of stories to tell me when you visit us again.

I have news, but you may have heard it already. I am no longer Sonea's guardian. She has been chosen by the High Lord. While others believe this to be an extraordinary turn of good fortune for Sonea, I am not pleased. I am sure you'll understand why. Along with the loss of her company, I am left with a feeling of having left a work unfinished.

So, at Yaldin's suggestion, I have adopted a new interest to replace the old. You will, no doubt, be amused to hear of it. I have decided to compile a book about ancient magical practices. It is a task Akkarin began ten years ago, and I am determined to complete it.

From what I recall, Akkarin began his search at the Great Library. Since you are living close to the library, I thought I might ask if you would visit it for me. If you do not have time, is there anyone you have met who might be trusted with such a task? They would need to be discreet, since I do not want to give the High Lord the impression I am investigating his past! It would, however, be satisfying to succeed where he failed. I know you will appreciate the irony.

Yours in friendship,

Lord Rothen.

P.S. Dorrien visited for a few weeks. He asked me to forward his congratulations and good wishes to you.

Dannyl read the letter twice, then chuckled. He had never seen Rothen fail to achieve something he had set out to do. Mostly these "interests" were the novices he took guardianship of. To lose Sonea to the High Lord must sting.

Yet having the High Lord choose her was no failure. Without Rothen's hard work contributing to her success, Sonea may not have caught Akkarin's eye. Dannyl nodded. He must remember to say that in his reply.

He scanned the letter again, slowing as he reread Rothen's request for assistance. He did appreciate the irony, but even more amusing was that Rothen should ask for the same information that Lorlen had just decided he was no longer interested in. Quite a coincidence.

Dannyl picked up Lorlen's letter and unfolded it. Looking from one letter to the other, he felt the skin tingle at the back of his neck. Was this a coincidence? He stared at the two letters for some time, noting the hurried marks of Lorlen's and the carefully shaped letters of Rothen's. What was going on here?

If he set aside all speculation, only three certainties remained. Firstly, Lorlen had wanted to know what Akkarin had learned on his journey, and now didn't. Secondly, Rothen now wanted the same information that Akkarin had sought. Thirdly, both Lorlen and Rothen wanted the search to remain a secret, and Akkarin had never made his own discoveries public.

There was a mystery here. Even if Rothen hadn't requested his help, Dannyl might have been curious enough to continue the research for his own interest. Now he was determined to. After all, he hadn't spent several weeks at sea to just abandon everything.

Smiling to himself, he folded the letters and placed them with his notes on Akkarin's journey.

At every step from the University to the High Lord's Residence, the knot in Sonea's stomach tightened. By the time she had reached the door her heart was racing. She paused, took a deep breath, and tapped the handle.

As always, it swung open at the first touch. She felt her mouth go dry as she looked inside the guestroom. Akkarin was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for her.

"Come in, Sonea."

Swallowing, she forced herself to step inside and bow, keeping her eyes to the floor. Robes rustled softly as he rose from the chair. Her heart skipped as he walked toward her. She stepped back and felt her heel meet the door behind her.

"I have had a meal prepared for us."

She barely heard him, conscious only of the hand that reached toward her. His fingers curled around the handle of her box. At his touch she jerked her hand back, surrendering the box. He set it on a low table.

"Follow me."

As he turned away she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She started after him, then stopped as she realized he was heading for the stairs that led to the underground room. As if sensing her hesitation, he turned to look at her.

"Come along. Takan will not be pleased if the food goes cold."

Food. A meal. Surely he didn't eat down there. She sighed with relief as he began to ascend the stairs. Forcing herself to move, she entered the stairwell and followed him up.

Reaching the corridor, Akkarin passed two doors before stopping at a third. The door swung open, and he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.

Looking into the room beyond, Sonea saw a large polished table surrounded by lavishly decorated chairs. Plates, forks and glasses had been laid out on the table.

A formal meal. Why?

"Go on," he murmured.

She glanced at him, catching a glitter of amusement in his eyes before stepping through the door. He followed and pointed to a chair.

"Please, sit." Moving around the table, he settled into the opposite chair.

Obeying, she wondered how she was going to eat. Her appetite had fled with Lord Larkin's message. Perhaps she could say she wasn't hungry. Perhaps he would let her go.

She looked down at the table, then caught her breath. Everything before her was made of gold: cutlery, plates and even the rims of the glasses were coated with it. A half-forgotten thrill of temptation ran through her. It would be so easy to slip one of these forks into her clothing when he wasn't looking. Though she was not as quick-fingered as she had once been, she had tested herself now and then by playing tricks on Rothen. Just one of these beautiful forks could fetch a fortune—or, at least, enough to live on until she found some remote place to disappear in.

But I can't leave. Frustrated, she wondered if it would be worth stealing something just to annoy him.

She jumped then, as she realized that Akkarin's servant was standing beside her. Disturbed that she had not heard him approaching, she watched as he poured wine into her glass, then moved around the table to perform the same service for Akkarin.

Since she left her room early, and returned late, she had only glimpsed the servant a few times. Now, looking closer, she shivered as she realized she had seen him before, in the underground room, helping Akkarin perform the black magic ritual.

"How were your lessons today, Sonea?"

Startled, she looked at Akkarin, then quickly evaded his eyes.

"Interesting, High Lord."

"What did you learn?"

"About magician-designed architecture. Lord Loren's designs."

"Ah, Lord Loren. Your investigation of the University passages must have familiarized you with some of his peculiarities."

She kept her eyes lowered. So he knew about her exploration of the University. Had he watched her? Followed her? Despite Lord Larkin's assurances that she had not ventured anywhere forbidden to novices, she felt her face warming. Taking her glass, she sipped at the wine. It was sweet and strong.

"How are your classes with Lord Yikmo going?"

She winced. What should she say? Disappointing? Awful? Humiliating?

"You don't like the Warrior Skills."

It was a statement. She decided she didn't need to reply. Instead, she took another mouthful of wine.

"Warrior Skills are important. They draw on everything that you learn in the other disciplines, then challenge your understanding of them. Only in battle do you find the limits of your strength, knowledge and Control. It is a pity Rothen neglected to arrange extra training when you first showed a weakness in this part of your education."

Sonea felt a stab of hurt and anger at his criticism of Rothen. "I guess he saw no need for it," she replied. "We're not at war, or under any threat of it."

One of Akkarin's long fingers tapped the base of his glass.

"Do you think it is wise to throw away all our knowledge of war during times of peace?"

Sonea shook her head, suddenly wishing she hadn't volunteered an opinion. "No."

"Then shouldn't we preserve our knowledge and keep ourselves well practiced in its use?"

"Yes, but…" She paused. Why am I arguing with him?

"But?" he prompted.

"You don't need every magician to do it."

"Don't we?"

She cursed silently. Why was he even bothering to discuss this with her? He didn't care if she was good at Warrior Skills. He just wanted her occupied and out of his way.

"Perhaps Rothen neglected that part of your training because you are a woman."

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps he was right. In the last five years the few young women who considered becoming Warriors were persuaded otherwise. Do you think that is fair?"

She frowned at this question. He knew that she did not want to join the Warriors, so he could only be asking in an effort to draw her into conversation. If she cooperated, would this lead into dangerous territory? Should she refuse to talk to him?

Before she could decide whether to answer or not, the door behind Akkarin opened and Takan entered carrying a large tray. A delicious smell followed him to the table. The servant placed bowls and plates in a line between her and Akkarin, then put the tray under his arm and began to describe each dish.

Sonea's stomach stirred with hunger. At each savory breath the knots within it untied.

"Thank you, Takan," Akkarin murmured as the servant finished. Takan bowed. As he left, Akkarin picked up a serving ladle and began to select from the dishes.

From a few formal meals with Rothen, Sonea knew that this was the traditional way the Kyralian Houses entertained guests. In the slums, food was eaten with little preparation, and the only utensils used were the knives each person carried. The uniquely Kyralian tradition of serving food in small, bite-sized pieces required more preparation, and the more formal the meal, the more elaborate the food and utensils for eating it.

Fortunately, Rothen had made her memorize the purposes of all the different forks, ladles, tweezers and skewers. If Akkarin had thought he would humble her by drawing attention to her lack of "proper" upbringing, then he would be disappointed.

She helped herself to the dishes, first ladling onto her plate some of the rassook pieces wrapped in brasi leaves. As she skewered a piece with her fork and placed it between her teeth, she realized Akkarin had paused to watch her.

A delicious flavor filled her mouth. Surprised, she ate another. Soon her plate was empty, and she was eyeing the next dish.

As she sampled each of the dishes, she forgot all else. Slivers of fish were served in a tangy, red marin sauce. Mysterious parcels were stuffed with herbs and harrel mince. Large purple crots, beans she had always hated, were coated with a salty crumb that made them irresistible.

She had never tasted food so delicious. The meals in the University had always been good, and she had listened to the other novices' complaints in disbelief. This meal, however, explained how they could find the Foodhall wanting.

At Takan's return, she looked up and discovered Akkarin watching her, his chin resting on one hand. Averting her eyes, she watched Takan gather the empty plates and bowls, then carry them away.

"What did you think of the food?"

Sonea nodded. "Good."

"Takan is an excellent cook."

"He made all this himself?" She could not hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yes, though he has an assistant to stir the pots for him."

Takan returned with two bowls, which he set in front of them. Looking down, Sonea felt her mouth water. Pale crescents of pachi fruit glistened in a thick syrup. The first mouthful revealed a sweetness sharpened with an alcoholic tang. She ate slowly, savoring each mouthful. Meals like this might be worth suffering his company for, she thought.

"I want you to dine here with me every Firstday night."

Sonea froze. Had he read her mind? Or was this what he had intended all along?

"But I have evening classes," she protested.

"Takan is aware of the time allowed for the evening meal. You will not miss your lessons."

She looked down at the empty bowl.

"But you will miss your class tonight, if I keep you any longer," he added. "You are dismissed, Sonea."

Relieved, she all but leapt out of the chair, then put a hand on the table to steady herself as her head began to spin. Still a little dizzy, she bowed, then headed for the door.

Pausing in the corridor to catch her balance, she heard a murmur from the room behind her.

"Less wine next time, Takan."

"It was the dessert, master."