As his friend turned away, Dannyl uttered a short, humorless laugh. Somewhere above them, a striker rang the University gong. Sighing, Dannyl straightened his shoulders and entered the classroom.
Leaning on the window sill, Sonea watched the last of the magicians and novices hurry out of sight. Not all had responded to the University gong, however. Two distant figures remained standing at the other side of the gardens.
One was a woman in green robes with a black sash—the Head of Healers. So women did have some influence in the Guild, she mused.
The other was a male dressed in blue robes. Thinking back to Rothen’s explanation of the robe colors, she could not recall him mentioning blue. The color was uncommon, so perhaps he, too, was a magician of influence.
Rothen had explained how the magicians in high positions were selected by a vote among Guild members. This method of choosing leaders by the agreement of the majority was intriguing. She had expected that the strongest magicians would rule the others.
According to Rothen, the rest of the magicians spent their time teaching, experimenting, or working on public projects. This included work that ranged from the impressive to the ridiculous. She had been surprised to learn that the magicians had built the Marina, and amused to hear how one magician had spent much of his life trying to make stronger and stronger glues.
Drumming her fingers, she looked around the room again. In the last week she had found opportunities to examine everything, even the room Rothen slept in. A careful search of all cupboards, chests, and drawers had revealed clothes and everyday items. The few locks she had encountered succumbed easily to her picking skills, but old documents had been her only reward.
Catching a movement at the edge of her vision, she turned back to the window. The two magicians had parted, and the blue-robed man was now walking along the edge of the garden toward the two-story residence of the High Lord.
Remembering the night she had peeked into that building, she shivered. Rothen had mentioned nothing of assassin magicians, but that was hardly surprising. He was trying to convince her that the Guild was friendly and useful. If the black-robed magician wasn’t an assassin, then what else could he be?
A memory of a man in bloodstained clothes flashed into her mind.
“It is done,” the man had said. “Did you bring my robes?”
She jumped as the main door clicked open behind her. Turning, she let out a breath as Rothen strode into the room in a swirl of purple robes.
“Sorry I took so long.”
He was a magician, and yet he was apologizing to her. Amused, she shrugged in reply.
“I’ve brought some books from the library.” He straightened and regarded her earnestly. “But I thought we might start working on some mind exercises. What do you think?”
“Mind exercises?” She frowned, then felt herself go cold as she realized what he was suggesting. Did he think she trusted him after only a week?
Do I?
He was watching her closely. “We probably won’t start Control lessons,” he told her. “But you should gain a familiarity with mental communication in preparation for the lessons.”
Thinking about the past week, she considered what she had learned of him.
He had spent most of the time teaching her to read. At first she had been suspicious, and had expected to find something in the content of the books that he might use as a lure or bribe. She had been almost disappointed to find herself reading simple adventure stories, with little reference to magic at all.
Unlike Serin, who had been anxious to avoid angering her, Rothen did not hesitate to correct her when she made a mistake. He could be quite stern, but she had found, to her surprise, that he was not at all frightening. She had even caught herself wanting to tease him a little when he was being so serious.
When he was not teaching her, he tried to chat. She knew she wasn’t making this easy for him when there were so many subjects she refused to discuss. Though he was always willing to answer her questions, he hadn’t tried to trick or force her into revealing anything about herself in return.
Would mental communication be like this? Would she still be able to hide parts of herself?
The only way to find out is to try it, she told herself. Swallowing, she nodded quickly. “How do we start?”
He gave her a searching look. “If you don’t want to, we can wait a few more days.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Now is fine.”
He nodded, then gestured to the chairs. “Sit down. Make sure you’re comfortable.”
She lowered herself into a chair, then watched as he pushed the low table aside and moved a chair forward to face hers. He would be sitting close, she noted with dismay.
“I’m going to tell you to close your eyes,” he said. “Then I’m going to take your hands. While it’s not necessary for us to touch when we speak to each other, it helps to focus the mind. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, “and relax. Breathe deeply and slowly. Listen to the sound of your breathing.”
She did as he said. For a long time he was silent. After a while, she realized that the rhythm of their breathing was the same, and she wondered if he had changed his breath to follow hers.
“Imagine that, with every breath, a part of you relaxes. Your toes first, then feet, then ankles. Calves, knees, upper legs. Rest your fingers, hands, wrists, arms, your back. Let your shoulders drop. Let your head hang forward a little.”
Though she felt his instructions were a little peculiar, she did as he said. As she felt the tension leave her limbs, she grew aware of a fluttering in her stomach.
“Now I’m going to take your hands,” he told her.
The hands that enclosed hers seemed much larger. She resisted the urge to open her eyes to check.
“Listen. Think about what you can hear.”
Sonea was suddenly aware that she was surrounded by constant small noises. Each noise leapt out at her and demanded to be identified: the sound of footsteps outside, the distant voices of magicians and servants coming from both inside and outside the building ...
“Now let the sounds outside the room fade away. Instead, concentrate on the sounds within this room.”
It was quieter inside. The only sound was their breathing, now at different rhythms.
“Let those sounds fade away, too. Now listen to the sounds within your own body. The slow pounding of your heart...”
She frowned. Aside from her breathing, she could hear no sounds in her body.
“... The rush of blood circulating through your body.”
Though she was concentrating hard, she could not hear ...
“... The sound of your stomach ...”
... or could she? There was something ...
“... The vibration within your ears ...”
Then she realized that the noises he described were not heard so much as felt.
“... and now listen to the sound of your thoughts.”
For a moment Sonea was puzzled by his instruction, then she sensed a presence at the edge of her mind.
— Hello, Sonea.
— Rothen?
— That’s right.
The presence grew more tangible. The personality she could sense was surprisingly familiar. It was like recognizing a voice, a voice so individual that it could never be confused with another.
— So this is mind communication, she mused.
— Yes. Using it, we can speak to each other from great distances.
She realized that she was not hearing words, but sensing the meaning of thoughts that he had projected toward her. They flashed into her mind, and were understood so quickly and completely that she knew with certainty exactly what he wanted her to know.