Every Threeday, Dannyl joined Yaldin and his wife for the evening meal. Ezrille had started the routine years before when, concerned that Dannyl had not found himself a wife, she began to worry that he would grow lonely if he had to end every day by himself.
As he relinquished his empty plate to Yaldin’s servant, Dannyl gave a little sigh of contentment. Though he doubted he would ever sink into the melancholy Ezrille feared, it was certainly better eating in company than by himself.
“I have heard rumors about you, Dannyl,” Yaldin said.
Dannyl frowned, his contentment evaporating. Surely Fergun wasn’t at it again. “Oh, what rumors?”
“That the Administrator is so impressed with your negotiations with the Thieves that he is considering you for an ambassadorial role.”
Dannyl straightened and stared at the old magician. “He is?”
Yaldin nodded. “What do you think? Does travelling appeal?”
“I...” Dannyl shook his head. “I’ve never considered it. Me? An ambassador?”
“Yes.” Yaldin chuckled. “You’re not as young and foolish as you once were.”
“Thanks,” Dannyl replied dryly.
“This could be good for you,” Ezrille said. She smiled and pointed a finger at him. “You might even bring back a wife.”
Dannyl gave her a withering look. “Don’t start that again, Ezrille.”
She shrugged. “Well, since there’s obviously no woman in Kyralia who is good enough for—”
“Ezrille,” Dannyl said sternly. “The last young lady I met stabbed me. You know I’m cursed when it comes to women.”
“That’s ridiculous. You were trying to catch her, not romance her. How is Sonea doing, anyway?”
“Rothen says she’s progressing well with her lessons, though she’s still determined to leave. She’s become quite chatty with Tania.”
“I suppose she’ll feel more comfortable with servants than with us,” Yaldin mused. “They’re not as high above her status as we are.”
Dannyl winced. Once he wouldn’t have questioned the remark—he would have agreed with it—but now that he had conversed with Sonea, it seemed unfair, even insulting. “Rothen would not like to hear you say that.”
“No,” Yaldin agreed. “But he is unique in his opinions. The rest of the Guild feel that class and status are very important.”
“What are they saying now?”
Yaldin shrugged. “It’s got beyond friendly wagers over the guardianship claim now. A lot of people are questioning the wisdom of having someone with her dubious background in the Guild at all.”
“Again? What are their reasons this time?”
“Will she honor the vow?” Yaldin said. “Will she be a bad influence on other novices?” He leaned forward. “You’ve met her. What do you think?”
Shrugging, Dannyl wiped the sugar from his fingers onto a napkin. “I’m the last person you should ask. She stabbed me, remember?”
“You’re not ever going to let us forget it,” Ezrille remarked. “Come now, you must have noticed more than that.”
“Her speech is rough, though not as bad as I expected. She has none of the manners we’re used to. No bowing or ‘my Lord.’ ”
“Rothen will teach her that when she’s ready,” Ezrille said.
Yaldin snorted softly. “He better make sure she knows before the Hearing.”
“You’re both still forgetting that she doesn’t want to stay. Why would he bother to teach her etiquette?”
“Perhaps it would be easier all round if she did leave.”
Ezrille gave her husband a reproachful look. “Yaldin,” she scolded. “Would you send the girl back to poverty after showing her all the wealth here? That would be cruel.”
The old man shrugged. “Of course not, but she wants to go and it’ll be easier if she does. No Hearing for a start, and the whole issue about taking in people from outside the Houses will be forgotten.”
“They’re wasting their breath arguing about it,” Dannyl said. “We all know that the King wants her here, under our control.”
“Then he won’t be too happy if she sticks to her intention to leave.”
“No,” Dannyl agreed. “But he can’t make her take the vow if she doesn’t want to.”
Yaldin frowned, then glanced at the door as someone knocked on it. He waved a hand lazily, and the door swung open.
Rothen stepped inside, beaming. “She’s staying!”
“Well, that settles that,” Ezrille said.
Yaldin nodded. “Not everything, Ezrille. We still have the Hearing to worry about.”
“The Hearing?” Rothen waved a hand dismissively. “Leave that to another time. For now, I only want to celebrate.”
27
Somewhere Under the University
Curling up in a chair, Sonea yawned and considered the day so far.
In the morning, Administrator Lorlen had visited to ask her about her decision, and to explain, over again, about guardianship and the Hearing. She had felt a pang of guilt as he expressed genuine pleasure that she was staying—a feeling she grew familiar with as the day continued.
Other visitors had come: Dannyl, then the stern and intimidating Head of Healers, and an old couple who were friends of Rothen’s. Each time someone had knocked at the door she had tensed, expecting Fergun, but the Warrior had not appeared.
Guessing that he would not visit until she was alone, she was almost relieved when Rothen left after dinner, saying he would be absent until late and that she should not wait up for him.
“I’ll stay and chat with you, if you like,” Tania offered.
Sonea smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Tania, but I think I’d like to be alone tonight.”
The servant nodded. “I understand.” She turned back to the table, then paused as a knock came from the door. “Shall I answer that, Lady?”
Sonea nodded. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the servant opened the door a crack.
“Is the Lady Sonea present?”
Hearing the voice, Sonea felt her stomach sink with dread.
“Yes, Lord Fergun,” Tania replied. She glanced anxiously at Sonea. “I will ask if she wishes to see you.”
“Let him in, Tania.” Though her heart had begun to race, Sonea managed to speak calmly.
As the servant stepped away from the door, the red-robed magician moved into the room. Inclining his head to Sonea, he placed a hand on his chest.
“I am Fergun. I believe Lord Rothen has told you about me?”
His eyes shifted to Tania, then back again. Sonea nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “He has. Will you sit down?”
“Thank you,” he said, bending gracefully into a chair.
— Send the woman away.
Swallowing, Sonea looked up at Tania. “Is there anything more you need to do, Tania?”
The servant glanced at the table, then shook her head. “No, Lady. I will return later for the dishes.” She bowed, then slipped out of the room.
As the door closed behind her, Fergun’s friendly expression vanished. “I was only told this morning that Rothen has announced you ready. It took you some time to tell him.”
“I had to wait for the right moment,” she replied. “Or it would have seemed strange.”
Fergun stared at her, then waved a hand dismissively. “It is done. Now, just to make sure you understand my instructions, I want you to repeat them to me.”
He nodded as she recited what he had told her to do.
“Good. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” she told him. “How do I know if you really have Cery? All I’ve seen is a dagger.”
He smiled. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” She snorted loudly and forced herself to stare into his eyes. “I want to see him. If I don’t, I might have to ask Administrator Lorlen if blackmail is a crime in the Guild.”
His lip curled into a sneer. “You’re in no position to make such threats.”
“Aren’t I?” Rising, she strolled to the high table and poured herself a glass of water. Her hands shook and she was glad she had her back to him. “I know all about this kind of blackmail. I’ve lived with the Thieves, remember? You need to make it clear that you can carry out your threat. All I’ve seen is a dagger. Why should I believe you have its owner?”