But the magicians did this all the time, she reminded herself. Did they keep a store of anger and hate inside to draw upon? She shuddered. What kind of people were they?
Staring at the piece of wood, she realized that she was going to have to do just that. She would have to hoard her anger and gather her hate, storing them up for the times she needed to use magic. If she didn’t, she would fail and Faren would abandon her to the Guild.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt a smothering desperation rush over her. I’m trapped, she thought. I have two choices: either I become one of them, or I let them kill me.
A soft snapping sound reached her ears, a noise like a length of material being thrown into the air and quickly jerked back again. She jumped and turned around.
Bright orange flames curled across the surface of a small table between two of the chairs. She leapt up and away, her heart racing.
Did I do that? she thought. But I wasn’t angry.
The fire began to crackle as the flames multiplied. Sonea edged closer, unsure what to do. What would Faren say when he discovered his hideout had been burned? Sonea snorted. He’d be irritated, and a little disappointed that his pet magician had died.
Smoke was pouring upward and curling along the roof. Creeping forward on hands and knees, Sonea grabbed a leg of the table and dragged it forward. The fire flared with the movement. Flinching at the heat, Sonea lifted the table and threw it into the fireplace. It settled against the grate and continued to burn.
Sonea sighed and watched the fire consume the table. She had discovered something new, at least. Tables don’t burst into flames on their own. It seemed desperation was an emotion that would rouse magic as well.
Anger, hate and desperation, she mused. What fun it is to be a magician.
“Did you sense that?” Rothen asked, his voice tense with excitement.
Dannyl nodded. “Yes. It’s not what I was expecting. I always thought that sensing magic was like feeling someone singing. This felt more like a cough.”
“A cough of magic.” Rothen chuckled. “That’s an interesting way of describing it.”
“If you don’t know how to sing or speak, would you make rough noises instead? Perhaps this is what magic sounds like when it is uncontrolled.” Dannyl blinked, then stepped away from the window and rubbed his eyes. “It’s late, and I’m getting far too abstract for comfort. We should get some sleep.”
Rothen nodded, but didn’t move from the window. He gazed out at the last few lights glinting in the city.
“We’ve been listening for hours. There’s nothing to be gained by doing so any longer,” Dannyl told Rothen. “We know we can sense her now. Get some sleep, Rothen. We’ll need to be alert tomorrow.”
“It seems incredible to think she’s so close to us, but we haven’t been able to find her,” Rothen said softly. “I wonder what she tried to do.”
“Rothen,” Dannyl said sternly.
The older magician sighed and turned from the window. He smiled wanly.
“Very well. I will try to sleep.”
“Good.” Satisfied, Dannyl walked to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Dannyl.”
Looking back as he closed the door, Dannyl was pleased to see his friend walking toward the bedroom. He knew Rothen’s interest in finding the girl had gone past duty. As he started down the corridor, he smiled to himself.
Years before, when Dannyl was a novice, Fergun had circulated rumors about him in revenge for a prank. Dannyl hadn’t expected anyone to take Fergun seriously, but when the teachers and novices began treating him differently and he realized he could do nothing to regain their regard, he had lost all respect for his peers. The enthusiasm he’d had for his lessons fled, and he fell further and further behind.
Then Rothen had taken him aside and, with seemingly endless determination and optimism, had turned Dannyl’s mind back to magic and learning. It seemed he could not help wanting to help rescue youngsters in strife. Though Dannyl was sure his friend was as determined as ever, he could not help wondering if Rothen was truly prepared to take on the education of this girl. There had to be a big difference between a sullen novice and a slum girl who probably hated magicians.
One thing was sure: life was going to get very interesting when she was found.
9
An Unwelcome Visitor
A chill wind whipped the rain into flurries and clawed at winter coats. Cery pulled his longcoat tighter and hunched deeper into the folds of his scarf. He grimaced as the rain beat at his face, then resolutely leaned into the wind.
It had been seductively warm in the bolhouse with Harrin. Donia’s father had been in a generous mood, but even free bol could not tempt Cery to stay—not when Faren had finally allowed him to visit Sonea.
Cery grunted as a tall man pushed past him. He glowered at the back of the stranger as the man strode on down the road. A merchant, Cery guessed, from the way the rain glistened on new cloak and boots. He muttered an insult and trudged on.
When Cery had returned from the thugs’ shop, Faren had questioned him about the night’s work. The Thief had listened to Cery report, expressing neither praise nor disapproval, then simply nodded.
He’s testing my usefulness, Cery mused. Wants to know what my limits are. I wonder what he’ll ask me to do next.
Looking up, he scanned the street. A few dwells hurried through the rain. Nothing unusual in that. Ahead, the merchant had stopped and was standing beside a building for no reason Cery could see.
Continuing down the road, Cery glanced up at the merchant as he passed him. The stranger’s eyes were closed and he was frowning as if in concentration. Stepping into the next alley, Cery looked back just in time to see the man’s head snap up and his eyes focus on the road.
No, Cery thought, his skin crawling, beneath the road.
He looked closer, examining the merchant’s clothes. The man’s shoes were both familiar and unusual. A small symbol gleamed in the dull light...
Cery’s heart skipped. Turning, he broke into a run.
Through the rain, Rothen could see the shape of a tall cloaked man standing on the street corner opposite him.
— We’re close, Dannyl sent. She’s somewhere below these houses.
— All we have to do is find a way in, Rothen replied.
It had been a slow and frustrating day. Sometimes the girl had used magic several times in a row, and they made good progress. Other times they waited hours only to find she made a single attempt, then stopped.
He had noted quickly that his cloak, while hiding his robes, still marked him as someone too well dressed for the slums. He had also realized that several cloaked men loitering in one area were going to attract attention so, as the magicians drew closer to the girl, he had ordered most of them to move away.
A buzz at the edge of his mind snatched his attention back to the girl. Dannyl moved from his position and entered an alleyway. Checking with the other searchers, Rothen decided that the girl must be somewhere below the house to his left.
— I think there’s an entrance to the passages here, Dannyl sent. A ventilation grille in the wall, like we’ve seen before.
— This is as close as we’re going to get without revealing ourselves, Rothen sent to the searchers. It’s time. Makin and I will watch the front entrance. Kiano and Yaldih keep an eye on the back door. Dannyl and Jolen will enter the passage first, since that’s the way she’ll probably try to escape.