“I’ve seen plenty of passages before,” he said, “and I don’t mind the cold. The pretty things in this building are more interesting.”
The magician closed his eyes and nodded. “I see.” He straightened and smiled. “Well, it’s good to know you don’t mind the cold.”
Something pressed on Cery’s back, forcing him toward the rectangle. He yelled and grabbed the edges of the hole, but the push was too strong and his fingers slipped on the polished wood. Falling forward, he brought his hands up in time to protect his face as he slammed into a wall.
The force held him firmly against the bricks. He could not even move a finger. Heart racing madly, he cursed himself for trusting the magicians. He heard a click behind him. The secret doorway had closed.
“Yell now if you want.” Fergun chuckled, a low, nasty sound. “Nobody comes down here, so you won’t bother anyone.”
A piece of cloth dropped over Cery’s eyes and was bound tightly. His hands were pulled together behind his back, and bound with more cloth. As the pressure against his back eased, a hand gripped his collar and shoved him forward.
Cery staggered down the passage. After a few steps he reached a steep stairway. He felt his way down, then the guiding hands pushed him along a route that twisted lazily.
The temperature of the air dropped rapidly. After a few hundred steps, Fergun halted. Cery’s stomach sank as he heard the sound of a key turning in a lock.
The blindfold was pulled away. Cery found himself standing at the door of a large, empty room. The cloth about his wrists was untied.
“In you go.”
Cery looked at Fergun. His hands itched for his knives, but he knew he would only lose them if he tried to fight the magician. If he didn’t walk into the room himself, Fergun would push him.
Slowly, numbly, he entered the cell. The door swung shut, leaving him standing in darkness. He heard the lock turn, then the muffled sound of footsteps moving away.
Sighing, he dropped to his haunches. Faren was going to be furious.
21
A Promise of Freedom
As he hurried along the corridor of the Magicians’ Quarters, Rothen received more than a few inquiring looks from the magicians he passed. He nodded to some, and smiled at those he was most familiar with, but did not slow his stride. Reaching the door to his rooms, he grasped the handle and willed the lock to release.
As the door opened, he heard two voices from the guestroom within.
“—my father was a servant of Lord Margen, Lord Rothen’s mentor. My grandfather worked here too.”
“You must have many relations here.”
“A few,” Tania agreed. “But many of them have left to take up positions in the Houses.”
The two women were sitting beside each other on the chairs. Seeing him, Tania leapt to her feet, her face flushed.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Rothen said, waving a hand.
Tania bowed her head. “I have not yet finished my work, my Lord,” she told him. Her face still glowing, she hastened away into his bedroom. Sonea watched, clearly amused.
— She’s not afraid of me anymore, I think.
Rothen considered his servant as she reappeared with a bundle of clothes and bedding under her arm.
— No. You two are getting along well.
Pausing, Tania gave Rothen a hard look, then glanced at Sonea speculatively.
— Can she tell that we’re talking like this? Sonea asked.
— She sees our expressions changing. You don’t have to be around magicians for long to know this is a sure sign that a silent discussion is taking place.
“Excuse us, Tania,” Rothen said aloud. Tania’s brows rose, but she gave a little shrug and dropped the bundle of clothes into a basket.
“Is that all, Lord Rothen?”
“Yes, thank you, Tania.”
Rothen waited until the door had closed behind the servant, then sat down beside Sonea. “It’s probably about time I told you that it’s not considered polite to communicate mind to mind while others are present, especially if they haven’t the ability to join in. It’s like whispering behind someone’s back.”
Sonea frowned. “Have I offended Tania?”
“No.” Rothen smiled at her expression of relief. “However, I should also warn you that mind communication isn’t as private as you may think. Mental conversations can be picked up by other magicians, particularly if they are listening for them.”
“So someone might have been listening to us just now?”
He shook his head. “It’s possible, but I doubt it. Listening in is considered to be rude and disrespectful—and it takes concentration and effort. If it didn’t, the distraction of other people’s conversations would probably drive us mad.”
Sonea looked thoughtful. “If you don’t hear until you are listening, how do you know when someone wants to talk to you?”
“The closer you are to a magician, the easier it is to hear them,” he told her. “When you are in the same room you can usually detect the thoughts they project at you. When you are far away, however, they need to get your attention first.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “If you wanted to talk to me while I was in the University, for instance, you would have to project my name loudly. While other magicians will hear, they won’t reply or open their minds to listen to the conversation that follows. When I shout your name in reply you’ll know I’ve heard you, and we can start talking. If we are skilled and familiar with each other’s mind voice, we can make it harder for others to hear us by focusing our projected thoughts, but that is all but impossible over long distances.”
“Has anyone ever ignored this rule?”
“Probably.” Rothen shrugged. “That’s why you must remember that mind communication is not private. We have a saying here: secrets are better voiced than spoken.”
Sonea snorted softly. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Not when taken literally.” He chuckled. “But the words ‘speak’ and ‘hear’ have other meanings here in the Guild. Despite the general rule of courtesy, it is amazing how often people discover that the secret they have tried so hard to hide has become the latest subject of gossip. We often forget that magicians aren’t the only people who can hear us.”
Her eyes brightened with interest. “They aren’t?”
“Not all children found to have magical potential enter the Guild,” he told her. “If the child is the eldest brother, for example, he may be of more value to his family as their heir. There are laws in most lands that discourage magicians from involving themselves in politics. A magician cannot become King, for example. For this reason, it is not wise to have a magician as the head of a family.
“Mental communication is an ability that comes with magical potential. Sometimes, though it is very rare, an individual who did not become a magician will find their ability to communicate mentally has developed naturally. These people can be taught how to truth read, which can be a very useful skill.”
“Truth read?”
Rothen nodded. “It can’t be done with an unwilling recipient, of course, so it’s only useful when somebody wants to show another person what they have seen or heard. We have a law in the Guild concerning accusations. If somebody accuses a magician of falsehood or of committing a crime, they must allow themself to be truth read or withdraw their accusation.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Sonea said. “It was the magician who did something wrong.”
“Yes, but it does prevent false accusations. The accused, whether magician or not, can easily prevent a truth read.” He hesitated. “There is one exception, however.”
Sonea frowned. “Oh?”
Rothen leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers together. “A few years ago, a man suspected of committing particularly malicious murders was brought to the Guild. The High Lord—our leader—read his mind and confirmed his guilt. It takes great skill to get past the blocks in an unwilling mind. Akkarin is the only one of us who has managed it, though I have heard that magicians in the past could do it. He is an extraordinary man.”