“Only the ones who are interested in watching the Hearing will stay,” Tania told her.
While some of the magicians left the Great Hall, others gathered into small groups. A few looked at her, their eyes bright with curiosity. Unsettled, Sonea avoided their gaze.
— Sonea?
She started, then looked toward the Guildhall.
— Rothen?
— It was a short Meet—over quickly. You’ll be called in soon.
Looking toward the Guildhall doors, Sonea saw a dark figure emerge. Her heart skipped as she recognized him.
The assassin!
She stared at him, sure that this was the man she had seen the night she had spied on the Guild. He wore the same grim, brooding expression she remembered. His black robes snapped around him as he strode across the room.
A few magicians turned and nodded to him, offering the same wary respect she had seen Faren give an assassin of the Thieves. He inclined his head in reply but did not stop. Though she knew she would draw his attention if she kept staring, she could not take her eyes from him. His gaze flickered to hers, lingered a moment, then shifted away.
She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder.
“There’s Lord Osen.” Tania was pointing toward the Guildhall doors. “The Administrator’s assistant.”
A young magician stood there, watching her. As she met his eyes, he beckoned.
“Go on,” Tania whispered, patting Sonea on the shoulder again. “You’ll be fine.”
Sonea took a deep breath and forced herself to walk across the Hall to the door. When she reached the young magician, he inclined his head politely.
“Greetings, Sonea,” he said. “Welcome to the Guildhall.”
“Thank you, Lord Osen.” She quickly sketched an awkward bow. Smiling, he gestured for her to follow him into the Guildhall.
The scent of wood and polish filled her senses as she stepped inside. The hall seemed larger than it had appeared on the outside, the walls rising up to a dark ceiling high above. Several magic globe lights hovered under the rafters, filling the room with a golden glow.
Rows of tiered wooden seats extended down the length of the building on each side. Sonea felt her mouth go dry as she saw the robed men and women watching her. Swallowing, she looked away.
Osen stopped and indicated that she should stay where she was, then climbed a steep arrangement of tiered seats to her right. These, she knew, were for the Higher Magicians. Rothen had drawn a diagram of the seating arrangement so she could memorize the magicians’ names and titles.
Looking up she saw that the topmost row was empty. Rothen had assured her that the King rarely attended Guild ceremonies. His chair at the center was larger than all others, and the royal incal had been stitched onto the cushioned back.
A single chair stood below it. Sonea felt a vague disappointment as she saw that it was empty. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of the High Lord.
Administrator Lorlen sat at the center of the middle row. The seats on either side of him were empty. He was talking to Osen and a long-faced man in the seat below him who wore a black sash over his red robes. This, Sonea recalled, was Lord Balkan, the Head of Warriors.
To Balkan’s left sat the stern Lady Vinara, the Head of Healers, who had visited Rothen after he had announced that Sonea would be staying. To his right was an old man with an angular face and a large nose—Lord Sarrin, the Head of Alchemists. Both were watching Lorlen intently.
In the lowest row of seats were the Principles—the magicians who controlled and organized lessons in the University. Only two seats were occupied. Sonea frowned as she struggled to remember why, then looked up at Lord Balkan. The Warrior held both positions, she recalled.
Osen straightened and descended to the floor again. The Higher Magicians turned to regard the hall. Rising, Administrator Lorlen lifted his chin and surveyed the magicians in the hall.
“The Hearing to decide the guardian of Sonea will now begin,” he intoned. “Would Lord Rothen and Lord Fergun, as claimants to that role, please approach the front.”
Hearing the scrape of booted feet, Sonea looked up at the rows of magicians. A familiar figure was making his way down to the floor. As Rothen stopped a few steps from Osen, he looked at her and smiled.
She felt an unexpected pang of fondness and started to smile in return, but then she remembered what she was about to do and she looked down at the floor. He was going to be so disappointed in her ...
Another set of footsteps filled the hall. Looking up, she saw that Fergun had stopped a few paces from Rothen. He, too, smiled at her. She quelled a shudder and looked at the Administrator instead.
“Both Lord Rothen and Lord Fergun have claimed guardianship of Sonea,” Lorlen told the audience. “Both believe they were the first magician to recognize her potential. We must now decide which claim shall be honored. I leave the proceedings of this Hearing to my assistant, Lord Osen.”
The young man who had led her into the room stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, Sonea stared at the floor and tried to steel herself for what she must do.
“Lord Rothen.”
Rothen turned to face Lord Osen.
“Will you please tell us of the events that led you to recognize Sonea as a potential magician.”
Nodding, Rothen cleared his throat. “On the day I recognized Sonea’s powers—the day of the Purge—I was paired with Lord Fergun. We had arrived at the North Square and were assisting in the barrier shield. As always, a group of youths started throwing stones.
“I was facing Lord Fergun at the time. The shield was about three paces from us, on my left. At the edge of my vision I saw a flash of light in the vicinity of the shield, and simultaneously felt the shield waver. I glimpsed a stone flying through the air just before it struck Lord Fergun on the temple, knocking him unconscious.”
Rothen paused, glancing at Fergun. “I caught Lord Fergun as he fell. When he was safely lying on the ground I searched for the one who had thrown the stone. That is when I saw Sonea.”
Osen took a step toward Rothen. “So this was the first time that you saw Sonea?”
“Yes.”
Osen crossed his arms. “At any point in time did you see Sonea performing magic?”
Rothen hesitated. “No, I did not,” he admitted reluctantly. A low murmur began among the magicians seated to his right, but it quickly died away as Lord Osen glanced in that direction.
“How did you know it was she who threw the stone that broke through the shield?”
“I judged the direction from which the stone had come, and guessed that it had to be one of two youths,” Rothen explained. “The closest—a boy—was not even paying attention. Sonea, however, was staring at her hands in surprise. As I watched she looked up at me, and I knew from her expression that she had thrown the stone.”
“And you believe that Lord Fergun could not have seen Sonea before then?”
“No, Lord Fergun could not have seen Sonea at all that day,” Rothen said dryly, “due to the unfortunate nature of his injury.”
A few chuckles and coughs echoed in the hall. Lord Osen nodded, then moved away. He stopped in front of Fergun.
“Lord Fergun,” he said, “will you please tell us of the events of that day as you saw them.”
Fergun inclined his head graciously. “I was assisting with the barrier in the North Square as Rothen has described. A group of youths came forward and began throwing stones at us. I noted that there were about ten of them. One was a young girl.” Fergun glanced at Sonea. “I thought she was behaving strangely, so when I turned away I continued to observe her in the corner of my eye. When she threw her stone I thought nothing of it, naturally, until I beheld a flash of light. I realized she must have done something to break the barrier.” Fergun smiled. “This surprised me so much that, instead of deflecting the stone, my first reaction was to glance at her to confirm that it was, indeed, her.”