Dannyl shook his head as he neared the University. It was merely a coincidence that the one slum dweller who he had tested possessed magical potential. Perhaps she was the daughter of a prostitute who had conceived a magician’s child. Dannyl had no illusions about other magicians’ habits.
Then he remembered Lord Solend’s words: “If this young woman is a natural, we should expect her to be more powerful than our average novice, possibly even more powerful than the average magician.” The girl they were seeking might be at least as strong as him. She might even be stronger ...
He shivered. Suddenly it was easy to imagine the existence of thieves and murderers secretly wielding powers that only the magicians of the Guild were meant to possess. It was a frightening thought, and he knew that he was not going to feel so completely invulnerable next time he walked the streets of the slums.
The air in the attic was deliciously warm. Late afternoon light streamed through two small windows and painted bright squares on the walls. The smell of reber wool and smoke fought for dominance in the room. Here and there small groups of children sat bundled in blankets, talking quietly.
Sonea watched them from the corner she had claimed for herself. When the trapdoor to the attic opened she looked up eagerly, but the boy who climbed into the room was not Cery. The other children greeted the newcomer eagerly.
“Have you heard?” he said, dropping onto a bundle of blankets. “The magicians say they’ll give a reward to anyone who shows them where that girl is.”
“A reward!”
“Really?”
“How much?”
The boy opened his eyes wide. “A hundred gold.”
A murmur of excitement ran through the children. They gathered around the newcomer, forming a circle of eager faces. A few cast thoughtful glances in Sonea’s direction.
She forced herself to watch them, keeping her expression neutral. They had given her more than a few curious looks since she’d arrived. The attic was a refuge for homeless children. It lay in the area where the slums met the markets, and a view of the Marina could be seen from the tiny windows. She was too old to be admitted, but Cery knew the owner—a kind retired merchant called Norin—and had promised a favor in return.
“The magicians really want to get this girl, don’t they?” one of the girls said.
“They don’t let anyone have magic ’cept themselves,” a stocky boy replied.
“Lot of people be looking for her now,” the newcomer said, nodding wisely. “That’s a lot of money.”
“It’s blood money, Ral,” the girl replied, her nose wrinkling.
“So?” Ral replied. “Some people won’t care. They just want the money.”
“Well, I wouldn’t turn her in,” she said. “I hate the magicians. My cousin was burned by them, years ago.”
“Really?” another girl asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“It’s true.” The first girl nodded. “In the Purge. Gilen was playing around, though. He probably fished for it. One of those magicians got him with his magic. He was burned all down one side of his face. There’s a big, red scar there now.”
Sonea shivered. Burned. A memory of a charred body flashed into her mind. She looked away from the children. The attic no longer seemed cozy. She wanted to get up and leave, but Cery had been firm about her staying put and not drawing attention to herself.
“My uncle tried to rob a magician once,” a girl with long, knotted hair said.
“You’re uncle was stupid,” murmured a boy at her side. She scowled at him, and aimed a kick at his shin that he evaded easily.
“He didn’t know it was a magician,” the girl explained. “The man wore a big cloak over his robes.”
The boy snorted, and the girl raised her fist. “You were saying?” he asked innocently.
“He tried to cut his purse,” the girl continued, “but the magician had magicked it so he’d know if anyone touched it. Well, the magician turned around real quick and hit him with his magic and broke his arms.”
“Both arms?” one of the younger boys asked.
She nodded. “Without even touching him. He just put up his hands like this ...” she raised her hands so her palms faced them, “and the magic hit my uncle like someone had thrown a wall at him. That’s how he told it, my uncle did.”
“Hai!” the boy breathed. The room was silent for a few minutes, then a new voice lifted out of the quiet.
“My sister was killed because of the magicians.”
Every face turned toward a skinny boy who sat cross-legged at the edge of the rough circle.
“We were in a crowd,” he told them. “The magicians started their flashing lights in the street behind us and everyone began to run. Ma dropped my little sister, but she couldn’t stop because there were so many people running. Da went back and found her. I heard him cursing them, saying that it was their fault that she died. The magicians’ fault.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at the floor. “I hate them.”
Several of the heads around the circle nodded. A thoughtful silence followed, then the first girl made a satisfied noise.
“See,” she said, “would you help the magicians? Not me. That girl showed ’em, she did. Maybe next time she’ll get more of ’em.”
The children grinned and nodded at each other. Sonea let out a silent sigh of relief. She heard the creak of the hatch as it opened, and smiled as Cery climbed into the attic. He moved to her side and sat down, grinning.
“We’ve been betrayed,” he murmured. “The house is about to be searched. Follow me.”
Her heart skipped. Staring at him, she saw that the grin did not reach his eyes. He climbed to his feet again, and she leapt up to follow. A few children watched her pass them, but she avoided their eyes. She could feel their interest growing as Cery stopped and opened the doors of a large cabinet at the back of the room.
“There’s a secret door to the passages here,” he murmured, reaching inside. He tugged at something gently, then frowned and pulled harder. “It’s been blocked from the other side.” He cursed under his breath.
“Are we trapped?”
He glanced back at the room. Most of the children were watching them now. He closed the cabinet door, then moved across to one of the windows.
“No use in pretending now. How are your climbing skills?”
“It’s been a while ...” She looked up. The windows had been set into the roof, which sloped down almost to the floor.
“Give me a leg up.”
Linking her hands, she grimaced as he stepped onto them. She staggered as Cery climbed up onto her shoulders. Grabbing a roof beam, Cery steadied himself, pulled a knife out of his coat and began to work at the window.
From somewhere below the attic Sonea heard the sound of a door slamming, then the muffled sound of raised voices. Sonea felt a stab of fear as the trapdoor sprang open, but the face that appeared was that of Norin’s niece, Yalia.
The woman took in the children, Sonea, and Cery poised on top of her shoulders, in one glance.
“The door?” she asked.
“Blocked,” he told her.
She scowled, then looked down at the children.
“The magicians are here,” she told them, “They’re going to search the house.”
The children began asking questions. Above Sonea, Cery muttered a colorful curse. Sonea almost dropped him as he shifted his weight abruptly.
“Hai! You’re not being a very good ladder, Sonea.”
His weight suddenly lifted from her hands. Cery’s foot kicked out, hitting her in the chest. Sonea bit back a sour retort as she ducked out of the way of his swinging legs.
“They won’t harm us,” Yalia was telling the children. “They wouldn’t dare. They’ll see straight away that you’re all too young. They’re more interested in—”
“Hai! Sonea!” Cery whispered harshly.
She looked up to see that Cery had slipped his legs through the window frame and was dangling down, reaching for her.