“We can’t go back,” he mused aloud as he walked, “in case the other magicians have found another way in. We’ll have to ...” He moved closer to the wall to inspect it. “Ah, here it is.” He touched something on the wall.
She gasped as the floor fell away from under her feet. Something hard slapped her backside, then she was sliding down a steep, smooth surface. The air began to warm rapidly and gain a distinctly unpleasant odor.
She was airborne suddenly, then plunging into wet darkness. Water filled her ears and nose, but she kept her mouth tightly closed. Kicking out, she discovered the floor and pushed herself up to the surface of the water. She opened her eyes in time to see Faren fly from a tunnel and splash into the pool. He thrashed around, pushing himself up to the water’s surface with a curse.
“Argh!” he roared. He wiped his eyes and swore again. “Wrong trapdoor!”
Sonea crossed her arms. “So where did the magician end up?”
Faren looked up and an evil light filled his yellow eyes.
“The garbage chute of the bol brewhouse a few houses away,” he breathed. “After he wades out of there he’ll stink of fermented tugor mash for a week.”
Sonea snorted and began to wade to the edge of the pool. “That’s worse than this?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps for a magician. From what I hear, they hate the stuff.” He followed her out of the pool, then gave her a speculative look. “I think I owe you a bath and a change of clothing, eh?”
“For nearly failing to protect me?” Sonea shrugged. “It’ll do, but you’ll have to think of something better for dropping me in a sewer.”
He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
10
Taking Sides
Though the air was crisp with the gathering winter cold, and the sky was heavy with gray cloud, Rothen’s mood lifted when he stepped outside. It was a Freeday. For most magicians, the fifth and last day of the week was a day of leisure. For novices, it was, in part, dedicated to study, and for teachers it allowed time to review and prepare lessons.
Rothen usually spent an hour walking in the gardens, then returned to his rooms to work on lessons. He had nothing to prepare this week, however. Officially designated as the organizer of the search, his duties as a teacher had been delegated to another magician.
He spent most of his time coordinating the volunteers. It was an exhausting task—for himself and the volunteers. They had spent the last three weeks, including Freedays, searching. Rothen knew that some would withdraw their help if the demands on their time continued, so he had decided to call the search off for a day.
As he turned a corner, the Guild’s Arena came into sight. Eight spires curved up from the circular base, providing a framework for a powerful shield which protected everything outside from the forces thrown about during Warrior classes. Four novices stood within, but today no spectacular show of power was in progress.
Instead, the novices stood in pairs, swinging swords in controlled, synchronized movements. A few paces away stood Fergun, sword in hand, observing the novices closely.
Watching them, Rothen struggled not to disapprove. Surely the novices’ time would be better spent on study than pursuing this redundant martial art?
Sword fighting was not part of the University’s studies. Those novices who were determined to learn the art gave up their spare time to do so. It was a hobby, and Rothen knew it was healthy for the youngsters to have an interest that didn’t involve magic and got them out of their stuffy rooms.
However, he had always believed that robes and swords did not go together well. There were already too many ways a magician could harm another person. Why add a non-magical one to the list?
Two magicians stood on the steps surrounding the Arena, watching intently. Rothen recognized Fergun’s friend, Lord Kerrin, and Lord Elben, a teacher of Alchemy. Both were from the powerful House Maron, as was Fergun. He smiled to himself. Novices and magicians were expected to leave House alliances and enmities behind them when they joined the Guild, but few ever did.
As he watched, Fergun called one of the novices over to him. Teacher and novice saluted each other and dropped into a crouch. Rothen caught his breath as the novice advanced, sword flashing in a confident attack. Fergun stepped forward, his weapon all but vanishing in a blur of movement. The novice froze and looked down to find Fergun’s weapon pressing against his chest.
“Tempted to join Lord Fergun’s classes?” asked a familiar voice behind him.
Rothen turned. “At my age, Administrator?” He shook his head. “Even if I were thirty years younger, I wouldn’t see the value in it.”
“It sharpens the reflexes, I’m told, and is useful in teaching discipline and concentration,” Lorlen said. “Lord Fergun has some support for it now, and has asked us to consider including sword fighting in the University studies.”
“That would be for Lord Balkan to decide, wouldn’t it?”
“Partly. The Head of Warriors must present the addition to the Higher Magicians for vote. When and if he does that is up to him.” Lorlen spread his hands. “I heard you had decided to give the searchers a rest for the day.”
Rothen nodded. “They’ve been working long hours, sometimes late into the night.”
“It has been a busy four weeks for you all,” Lorlen agreed. “Are you making any progress?”
“Not much,” Rothen admitted. “Not since last week. Every time we sense her, we find she has moved to another location.”
“As Dannyl predicted.”
“Yes, but we’ve been looking for repetitions in her movements. If she is returning to some of these hiding places, we might be able to locate them in the same way we did the first time, but over a longer period.”
“And what of this man who helped her escape? Do you think he was one of the Thieves?”
Rothen shrugged. “Perhaps. He accused Lord Jolen of invading his territory, which suggests he was, but I find it hard to believe that one of the Thieves is a Lonmar. The man may simply be a protector and his accusation designed to lure Jolen over the trapdoor.”
“So there’s a possibility she is not involved with the Thieves?”
“A possibility, yes, but it is unlikely. I doubt she has the money to pay for protectors. The men Jolen encountered in the tunnel, and the comfortable rooms she was staying in, suggest that someone well organized and funded is looking after her.”
“Either way, not good news.” Lorlen sighed and looked at the novices in the Arena. “The King is not happy about this, and he won’t be until we have her under our control.”
“Neither will I.”
Lorlen nodded. He pursed his lips, then regarded Rothen again. “There is another matter I should discuss with you.”
“Yes?”
Lorlen hesitated, as if considering his words carefully. “Lord Fergun wishes to claim guardianship of her.”
“Yes, I know.”
Lorlen’s eyebrows rose. “You are unexpectedly well informed, Lord Rothen.”
Rothen smiled. “Unexpectedly, yes. I learned of this by accident.”
“Do you still intend to claim her guardianship yourself?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Should I?”
Lorlen shook his head. “I do not see the need to tackle that issue until she is found. But you understand that I must call a Hearing when she has been, if you both still intend to claim her?”
“I understand.” Rothen hesitated. “May I ask a question of you?”
“Of course,” Lorlen replied.
“Does Fergun have a strong argument to support his claim?”
“Perhaps. He says that, since he experienced the consequences of the girl’s magic, he was the first to know of her powers. You reported that you saw her after she used her powers, and that you guessed it was her from her expression, which means you never saw or sensed her use her powers. It is unclear how the law should be applied in this case, and when it comes down to bending a law to suit a situation, the simplest interpretation often wins the vote.”