She turned to meet his gaze and was gratified to see his stare falter. He clenched his fists, then slowly nodded.
“Very well,” he said, rising. “I will take you to him.”
She felt a thrill of triumph, but it quickly faded. He wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t have Cery locked away. She also knew that, when someone’s life was being traded for something, the hardest part was stopping the kidnapper from killing their captive as soon they had what they wanted.
Moving to the door, Fergun opened it and waited for her to step through. As she entered the corridor, two magicians stopped and stared at her in alarm, then relaxed as Fergun joined her.
“Has Rothen told you about the buildings of the Guild?” Fergun asked brightly as they started toward the stairs.
“Yes,” she replied.
“They were constructed about four hundred years ago,” he said, ignoring her. “The Guild had grown too large ...”
The end of the week at last! Dannyl thought jubilantly as he stepped out of the classroom. The possibility that Sonea would be joining the Guild hadn’t occurred to several of the novices. They had been discussing it all day, and he had been forced to keep two back as punishment when they had become too much of a distraction for the others.
Sighing, he placed books, paper and writing box under his arm, and started down the University corridor. As he reached the staircase he froze, unable to believe what he saw in the hall below him.
Fergun and Sonea had just stepped into the University. The Warrior looked around the hall, then checked the stairs opposite Dannyl. Taking a step backward out of sight, Dannyl listened as the pairs’ footsteps moved under him, fading as they started down the ground-floor corridor.
Keeping his steps as quiet as possible, Dannyl descended the stairs. He moved across the hall to the lower corridor entrance and peered around the corner. Fergun and Sonea were several paces away, walking quickly. As he watched, they turned into a side passage.
Heart beating faster now, Dannyl made his way down the corridor. He slowed as he reached the side passage, realizing it was the same one that he had observed Fergun hurrying down a few days ago. He risked a quick glance.
The passage was empty. Starting down it, he listened carefully. The faintest sound of Fergun’s voice drew him to a door that led to the inner passages of the University. Slipping through, Dannyl followed the voice along a few more passages until, abruptly, it ceased.
The silence sent his skin prickling. Had Fergun realized he was being followed? Was he waiting for his pursuer to catch up?
Reaching a bend in the corridor, Dannyl mouthed a curse. Without Fergun’s voice, he had no idea if he was about to stumble upon the magician. Taking a cautious look around the corner, he sighed in relief. It was empty.
He started forward, then slowed as he found himself facing a dead end. It wasn’t technically a dead end, as none existed in the University. One of the doors would lead to a side passage that would meet the main corridor. Yet if Fergun had gone that way, Dannyl would have heard a door close. Fergun hadn’t been trying to be quiet.
But he might have if he had detected someone following him.
Taking the handle of the door leading to the side passage, Dannyl turned it. The hinge creaked dramatically as the door opened, as if it wanted to reassure Dannyl that he would have heard Fergun opening it. Moving through, Dannyl found the side passage empty.
Exploring further, he saw that the main corridor was also empty. Puzzled, Dannyl retraced his steps and tried other doors, but found no sign of Sonea or Fergun.
Shaking his head, he made his way back out of the University, his head buzzing with questions. Why had Fergun taken Sonea out of Rothen’s rooms? Why had he led her into the deserted inner passages of the University? How could they have disappeared?
— Rothen?
— Dannyl.
— Where are you?
— In the Night Room.
Dannyl scowled. So Fergun had waited until Rothen was absent before approaching Sonea. Typical.—Stay there. I’m coming to meet you.
Pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders, Cery listened to the chattering of his teeth. The temperature of the room had dropped slowly over several days and was now cold enough to freeze the moisture on the walls. Somewhere above, winter was tightening its grip on the city.
The magician now brought a candle with each meal, but it only lasted a few hours. When darkness came again, Cery slept or paced the room to keep his blood warm, counting the steps so that he did not bump into the walls. He hugged the water bottle to his chest to prevent it freezing.
A soft sound caught his attention and he stopped, sure that he had heard footsteps behind his own. Only silence followed. Sighing, he returned to his pacing.
In his mind, he had rehearsed countless conversations with his captor. After his unsuccessful attempt at killing the magician, Cery had spent many hours considering his situation. Breaking out of the cell was impossible, and he was no threat at all to his captor. His fate was entirely in the magician’s hands.
Though it brought a sour taste to his mouth, he knew his only chance of escape lay in gaining the magician’s good will. It seemed an impossible task—the magician was not inclined to talk and obviously regarded Cery with disdain. For Sonea’s sake, Cery thought, I have to try.
Sonea. Cery shook his head and sighed. It was possible she had been forced to tell him that she needed the Guild to teach her to control her powers, but he doubted it. She hadn’t been tense or frightened, only resigned. He had seen how her powers had reacted to her emotions, how dangerous they had become. It was not hard to believe that her magic would have eventually killed her.
Which meant that taking Sonea to the Thieves had been the worst decision he could have made. By putting her in a situation where she was forced to use magic every day, her powers had been encouraged to grow, perhaps speeding her toward losing control of them much sooner.
She would have reached that point eventually, no matter what he had done. Sooner or later, the Guild would have found her—or she would have died.
Grimacing in the dark, Cery thought of the letter the magicians had sent, claiming they did not intend to harm Sonea and offering her a place among them. Sonea hadn’t believed them. Neither had Faren.
But Cery had an old acquaintance among the Guild servants. The man might have been able to confirm the truth, but Cery hadn’t asked.
I didn’t want to know. I wanted us to be together. Sonea and I, working for the Thieves ... or just together...
She was not one for the Thieves—or for him. She had magic. Whether she liked it or not, she belonged with magicians.
He felt a twinge of jealousy then, but he pushed it away. In the dark he had begun to question his hate for the Guild. He could not help thinking that, if the magicians had gone to so much trouble to save her—and many of the slum dwellers—from her powers, they could not be as indifferent as the dwells thought.
And what better future could he imagine for Sonea? She could have wealth, knowledge and power. How could he deny her that?
He couldn’t. He had no claim on her. The knowledge brought an ache like bruising after a blow to the chest. Though his heart had leapt the moment she had appeared in his life again, she had never expressed anything more than the fondness of friendship.
Hearing a faint noise, he stilled. In the distance, he could hear the faint but growing slap of shoes against stone. As the footsteps drew closer, he moved back to allow room for the magician to enter. From the quick pace, it sounded as if Fergun was in a hurry.