When all had reported that they were in position, he instructed Dannyl and Jolen to go. As Dannyl opened the grille, he started sending images to them all.
Climbing through the opening, Dannyl dropped to the floor of the passage. He created a globe of light, and watched as Lord Jolen followed. They separated, each disappearing into the dark passage on either side.
After a hundred paces or so, Dannyl stopped and sent his light forward. It continued for several paces before reaching a turn.
— This goes under the street, I think. I’m going back.
A moment later, Lord Jolen sent an image of a narrow descending staircase. He started down, then stopped as a man stepped out in front of him. The newcomer stared at Jolen’s globe light, then turned and fled into a side passage.
— We’ve been spotted, Jolen sent.
— Keep going, Rothen replied.
Dannyl had stopped sending images so that Rothen could follow Jolen’s progress. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jolen started striding down a narrow passage. As he reached a turn, dust, noise and a sense of alarm battered Rothen’s senses. Confusion followed, as all of the magicians started sending questions.
— They’ve caved in the passage. Jolen replied, sending an image of a wall of rubble. Dannyl was behind me.
Rothen felt a stab of apprehension. Dannyl?
Silence followed, then a faint mental voice.
— Buried. Wait... I’m free. No harm done. Go on ahead, Jolen. They obviously meant to stop us getting past here. Go on and find her.
— Go, Rothen repeated. Jolen turned from the wall of rubble and hurried down the passage.
A bell chimed. Sonea looked up from the fireplace and climbed to her feet. A panel in the wall slid open and Faren stepped through. Dressed in black, with his striking eyes gleaming, he looked suitably insect-like and dangerous. He smiled and handed her something wrapped in material and fastened with cord.
“This is for you.”
She turned it over in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it,” Faren urged, folding his long limbs into one of the chairs.
Sitting opposite him, Sonea untied the string. The material fell open to reveal an old book with a leather cover. A large section of pages had come free from the binding. She looked up at Faren and frowned.
“An old book?”
He nodded. “Look at the title.”
Sonea glanced down, then looked up at him again.
“I can’t read.”
He blinked in surprise. “Of course.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I should have realized. It’s a book on magic. I had someone look in all the pawn shops and scavengers’ dens. Apparently, the magicians burn their old books but, according to the shop’s owner, this one was sold by an enterprising and disobedient servant. Look inside.”
Opening the cover, she found a folded piece of paper. Picking it up, she immediately noticed the thickness of the parchment. A sheet of paper this well made usually cost more than a meal for a large family or a new cloak. Unfolding it, she looked at the black characters curling in perfect lines across the page, then she drew in a breath as she saw the symbol stamped onto a corner. A diamond with a “Y” dividing it—the symbol of the Guild.
“What is it?” she breathed.
“A message,” Faren replied. “For you.”
“Me?” She looked up at him.
He nodded.
“How did they know how to get it to me?”
“They didn’t, but they gave it to someone they knew had connections with the Thieves, and he passed it on.”
She held it out to him.
“What does it say?”
He took the paper from her. “It reads: “To the young lady with magical powers. As we cannot speak to you in person, we are sending this message through the Thieves in the hope that they will be able to reach you. We wish to assure you that we do not intend to harm you in any way. Be assured, as well, that we did not intend to hurt you or the young man on the day of the Purge. His death was a tragic accident. We only wish to teach you how to control your power, and to offer you the opportunity to join the Guild. You are welcome among us.” It is signed: ‘Lord Rothen of the Magicians’ Guild.’ ”
Sonea stared at the message with disbelief. The Guild wanted her, a slum girl, to join them?
It must be a trick, she decided, an attempt to draw her out of hiding. Remembering the magician who had invaded the attic refuge, she recalled how he had called her an enemy of the Guild. He hadn’t known that she was listening. That, more likely, was the truth.
Folding the parchment, Faren slipped it into a pocket. Seeing his sly smile, Sonea felt a twinge of suspicion. How did she know whether what he had read out was truly what the message said?
But why would he make it up? He wanted her to work for him, not go running off to join the magicians. Unless he was testing her ...
The Thief lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think, young Sonea?”
“I don’t believe them.”
“Why not?”
“They’d never take a dwell.”
He rubbed the arm of his chair. “What if you were to discover that they did want you to join them? Many ordinary people dream of becoming a magician. Perhaps the Guild is anxious to redeem itself in the eyes of the public.”
Sonea shook her head. “It’s a trick. It was a mistake that they got the wrong dwell, not that they killed one.”
Faren nodded slowly. “That is what most witnesses say. Well, we shall decline the Guild’s invitation and get onto more important business.” He pointed at the book in her lap. “I don’t know if that will be useful. I will have to get someone to read it to you. It might be better if you learned to read yourself.”
“My aunt taught me a little,” Sonea told him, flicking through the pages. “But it was a long time ago.” She looked up. “Will I be able to see Jonna and Ranel soon? I’m sure Jonna could teach me to read.”
He shook his head. “Not until the magicians stop—” He frowned and tilted his head slightly. A faint ringing reached her ears.
“What’s that?”
Faren rose. “Wait here,” he said and disappeared into the darkness behind the panel.
Sonea put the book aside and moved to the fireplace. The panel slid open again and Faren stepped back into the room.
“Quickly,” he snapped, “follow me—and keep silent.”
He strode past her. Sonea stared at him for a heartbeat before following him across the room.
Drawing a small object from a pocket, Faren ran it back and forth over the panelling. Sonea drew closer and saw a knot in the wood slide forward until it protruded half a finger length into the room. Faren grasped this and pulled.
A section of the wall swivelled inward. Taking her arm, Faren pulled her into the shadows. After pushing the knot flush with the panel again, he closed the door.
They stood in darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that five tiny holes were spaced across the door at shoulder height. Faren’s eye hovered close to one.
“There are faster ways out of the room,” he told her, “but since we had the time, I thought it better to choose the door that is near impossible to open. Look.”
He moved away from the peephole. She blinked as a flame suddenly lit the darkness. Faren lifted a tiny lamp and slid the shutter across until only a thin ray of light spilled into the passage. Holding it up, he pointed out several metal bolts and complicated-looking gears on the back of the door.
“So what’s going on?” she asked.
Faren’s yellow eyes glinted in the dim light as he slid the bolts into place. “Only a handful of magicians are still searching for you. My spies now know what they look like, their names, their movements.” Faren chuckled. “We’ve been sending false informers to them, keeping them busy.