As he descended to the floor, Cery pulled on her arm. “What’s he going to do?” he whispered.
“He’s going to read my mind,” she told him.
“Oh,” he said, relaxing. “That’s all.”
Amused, she turned to regard him. “It’s not as easy as you’d think, Cery.”
He shrugged. “It seemed easy enough.”
“Sonea.”
She looked up to see that Lorlen had reached her side.
“See Rothen over there, Cery?” She pointed to Rothen. “He’s a good man. Go stand beside him.”
Cery nodded, then squeezed her arm and moved away. As he reached Rothen’s side, she turned to face Lorlen. The Administrator’s expression was sober.
“You have experienced a sharing of minds while learning Control,” he said. “This will be a little different. I will be wanting to see your memories. It will take a great deal of your concentration to separate what you want to show me from anything else that you think of. To help you, I will prompt you with questions. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
“Close your eyes.”
Obeying, she felt his hands touch the sides of her head.
— Show me the room that is your mind.
Drawing up the wooden walls and doors, she sent Lorlen an image of the room. She sensed a fleeting amusement.
— Such a humble abode. Now, open the doors.
Turning to face the double doors, she willed them open. Instead of houses and a street, darkness stretched beyond. A blue-robed figure stood within it.
— Hello, Sonea.
The image of Lorlen smiled. He strode across the darkness and stopped at the doors. Extending a hand, he nodded to her.
— Bring me in.
She reached out and took his hand. At her touch, the room seemed to slide under his feet.
— Don’t be afraid or concerned, he told her. I will look at your memories, then I will be gone. He moved over to a wall. Show me Fergun.
Focusing on the wall, she created a painting. Within it she placed an image of Fergun’s face.
— Good. Now show me what he did to make you lie for him.
It took no force of her will to animate the image of Fergun. The painting swelled to fill the wall and changed to show Rothen’s guest room. Fergun strode toward them and placed Cery’s knife on the table in front of her.
I have the owner of this knife locked in a dark little room that nobody here knows of...
The scene blurred and then Fergun was crouching in front of them, larger than reality.
Do what I tell you, and I will release your friend. Give me any trouble, and I will leave him there forever... When you tell them this, the Higher Magicians will have no choice but to grant me your guardianship. You’ll enter the Guild, but I assure you, it won’t be for long. Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.
You’ll get what you want and so will I. You have nothing to lose from helping me, but... he picked up the dagger and ran a finger along the blade, you’ll lose that little friend of yours if you don’t.
She felt a wave of anger from the presence at her side. Distracted, she glanced at Lorlen, and the painting faded into the wall. Turning back, she willed it to appear again.
Drawing on her memory, she filled the painting with an image of Cery, dirty and thin, and the room he had been imprisoned in. Fergun stood to one side, looking smug. The smell of stale food and human waste flowed from the painting into the room.
At this scene the Lorlen image shook his head. He turned to face her.
— This is outrageous! It is fortunate, indeed, that the High Lord found your friend today.
At the mention of the black-robed magician, Sonea sensed the painting change. As she turned toward it, Lorlen followed her gaze and drew in a sharp breath.
— What is this?
Within the frame stood the High Lord, dressed in blood-soaked beggar’s clothes. Lorlen turned to stare at her.
— When did you see this?
— Many weeks ago.
— How? Where?
Sonea hesitated. If she let him see the memory, he would know that she had trespassed and spied upon the Guild. He had not entered her mind to see that, and she was sure he could not complain if she pushed him out.
But a part of her wanted him to see. There could be no harm now in letting the magicians discover her intrusion, and she craved an answer to the mystery of the black-robed magician.
— Very well. It began like this...
The painting changed to show Cery leading her through the Guild. She felt Lorlen’s surprise, then a growing amusement as the image jumped from scene to scene. She was spying through windows one moment, running through the forest the next, and looking at the books Cery had stolen. She sensed amusement from Lorlen.
— Who would have guessed that was where Jerrik’s stolen books went? But what of Akkarin?
Sonea hesitated, reluctant to uncover that memory.
— Please, Sonea. He is our leader and my friend. I must know. Was he hurt?
Drawing up the memory of a forest, Sonea projected it into the painting. Once again she moved through the trees to the gray house. The servant appeared, and she dropped down between the bushes and the wall. The tinkle that had attracted her to the grille rang in her imaginary room.
The High Lord stood in the painting again, this time wearing a black cloak. The servant arrived and she sensed recognition from Lorlen.
— Takan.
It is done, the High Lord said, then removed his cloak to reveal the bloodstained clothes. He looked down at himself in disgust. Did you bring my robes?
At the servant’s mumbled answer, the High Lord pulled off the beggar’s shirt. Beneath it was the leather belt strapped to his waist and the dagger pouch. He scrubbed himself down, then moved out of sight and returned wearing black robes.
Reaching for the pouch, he removed the glittering dagger and began to wipe it on a towel. At this she sensed surprise and puzzlement from Lorlen. The High Lord looked up at the servant.
The fight has weakened me, he said. I need your strength.
Dropping to one knee, the servant offered his arm. The High Lord ran the blade over the man’s skin, then placed a hand over the wound. Sonea felt an echo of the strange fluttering within her head.
— No!
A wave of horror swept over her. Startled by the force of Lorlen’s emotions, Sonea’s concentration snapped. The painting went black, then disappeared completely.
— It can’t be! Not Akkarin!
— What is it? I don’t understand. What did he do?
Lorlen seemed to gather his emotions to himself. His image slowly faded to nothing and she realized he had left her mind.
— Do not move or open your eyes. I must think this over before I face him again.
He was silent for several heartbeats, then his presence returned.
— What you have seen is forbidden, he told her. It is what we call black magic. By using it, a magician can take strength from any living creature, human or animal. For Akkarin to be using it is ... is terrible beyond belief. He is powerful—more powerful than any of us... Ah! This must be the reason for his extraordinary strength! If that is so, then he must have been practicing these vile arts before he returned from abroad...
Lorlen paused as he considered this.
— He has broken his vow. He should be stripped of his rank and expelled. If he has used these powers to kill, the penalty is death... but...