Perhaps putting us up here was intended as compensation for that. But I suspect the main reason was to avoid having to do some major carpentry to the Front. There’s simply no room to add two more magicians below us.
Her attention snapped back to the meeting as Administrator Osen’s voice rose to address them all.
“Those in favour of blocking Lorandra’s powers, raise your hands.”
Sonea lifted hers. She counted the raised hands around her and was relieved to see that most of the Higher Magicians supported the action.
“The vote is cast; Lorandra’s powers will be blocked.” Osen looked up at Kallen. “Black Magician Kallen will establish the block.”
A few magicians glanced at Sonea and she resisted a grim smile. There was no reason a black magician had to put the block in place, but it had become one of the duties that she and Kallen were expected to perform. I think everyone assumes it’s easier for us, since we can get around a mind’s natural tendency to push out an unwelcome visitor. Perhaps it is; I never had to do it before I learned black magic, so I have no way to compare.
Forcing a block onto an unwilling person was never a pleasant task, but she would have made herself do it if it had given her the opportunity to read Lorandra’s mind. When Administrator Osen had asked if she would do it, however, she’d had to refuse. If she was to bribe Lorandra with the promise of unblocking her power, the intention of dishonesty might be faintly detectable, and warn the woman to not trust Sonea. She hadn’t been so specific when explaining the reason for her refusal to Osen. She’d simply said she didn’t want to give Lorandra even more reason to refuse to cooperate with her in the search for Skellin.
Sonea did not want to have to deceive Lorandra, but the search for the rogue magician was going nowhere. They’d lost Regin’s help. Cery was expending as much effort keeping out of the reach of Skellin’s people and allies as in trying to find where Skellin was. To send Anyi off to spy for Cery, or to drag Dorrien’s family to Imardin so he could risk his life helping her, seemed far worse than lying to a woman who had defied the Guild’s laws, murdered Thieves and imported roet in the hope of setting her son up as king of the underworld.
I admit that, for all that I was impatient for the Guild to stop dithering and make the obvious decision, I was in no hurry to start the deception. Until Lorandra’s powers were blocked there was nothing to bribe her with. But now … she sighed … now there will be no putting it off for much longer.
Osen announced the meeting was over, and the hall began to echo with the sounds of boots on wooden steps, voices and the rustle of robes. Rothen waited for Sonea to descend to the level of the Heads of Studies, then followed close behind her.
“It turns out Dorrien is as good as he claims to be at attracting gossips,” he murmured.
Reaching the floor, she moved a little apart from the rest of the magicians.
“What did he say?”
“That Lord Regin and his wife are at odds.”
“That’s illuminating,” Sonea said dryly. “Did he find out what they were at odds over?”
Rothen opened his mouth, then, as he saw Lady Vinara coming toward them, closed it again and shook his head.
“Lady Vinara,” Sonea said as the woman reached them, Rothen echoing the greeting.
“Black Magician Sonea, Lord Rothen,” the elderly Healer said, nodding at each of them in turn. “You must be looking forward to having Lord Dorrien and his family living in Imardin sooner than first planned.”
Sonea looked at Rothen, who returned her questioning look with one of his own.
“So he’s made definite arrangements now?” Rothen asked, his tone full of resigned amusement.
Vinara smiled sympathetically. “Yes. He set a date so I can schedule him in to work at the Healers’ Quarters.” She turned to Sonea. “He wants to work at the hospices, but I felt it would be wise to have him for a short time where I can evaluate his grasp of recent Healing advances before I set him loose on the city.”
Sonea nodded. “I agree. Thank you,” she said, with heartfelt gratitude. She had never needed to order Dorrien around, and suspected he would be more challenging to direct than any other Healer. As a more senior Healer, who had once been his teacher, rather than a younger woman he had first met as a novice, Vinara would have no trouble correcting any bad habits Dorrien might have picked up.
Vinara nodded and moved away. Turning to Rothen, Sonea gave him a speculative look. He spread his hands and opened his eyes wide.
“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t know!” He shook his head in exasperation. “He realised we’d both work together to make him promise not to come back to the Guild if he told us before he left.”
Sonea shrugged. “Do you mind if he joins me? Just because he’s moving back to Imardin earlier than planned doesn’t mean he has to be involved in the search.”
Rothen’s eyebrows rose. “I doubt you’d be able to stop him.”
She smiled wryly. “No, not once he starts working at the hospices. I’m sorry Rothen. I’ll do what I can to ensure he stays safe.”
“Why are you apologising to me?”
“For getting your son involved in a dangerous search for a rogue magician.”
“You haven’t done anything to encourage him,” he pointed out. “Instead, I should apologise for raising my son to be such a stubborn, persistent man.”
Sonea laughed bitterly. “I don’t think either of us can be blamed for how our sons turned out, Rothen. Some things are out of a parent’s hands.”
The record books that Dannyl had bought in the market had cost him a small fortune. The seller wouldn’t tell him at first where they’d come from, but when Dannyl had hinted he’d be keen to buy more the man had admitted they came from an estate at the edge of the wasteland which, like many, was failing due to the advance of the dust and sands.
The seller might have meant it as a reproach, but Dannyl had felt a guilty excitement in response. If other estates were selling their property to survive, there might be more records to buy. The drying effect of the wastes had kept the books and scrolls in good condition, too.
Not surprisingly, the records Dannyl had purchased often referred to the wasteland.
Visited Ashaki Tachika. He took me to see the damage to his estate. All within the area was burned. Not even bones of animals to remind us of the deaths here. The exact edge is hard to find, as wind has blown ash into the unburned land, and in the weeks since the blast plants have begun to sprout within the burned parts. The air smelled of smoke and unanswered questions. Agreed to twenty gold for five reber, including a young male.
The record Dannyl was reading was written in an economical style, but from time to time the Ashaki author slipped from strict record-keeping into evocative description. Dannyl was intrigued by the reference to plants growing within the wasteland so soon after its creation. It made him wonder afresh why the land had not recovered. Had these plants struggled for a time, then failed?
Reading on, Dannyl spent hours skimming the record before he found anything interesting again. When he did, he checked dates and was surprised. Nearly twenty years had passed before the author mentioned the wasteland again.
Ashaki Tachika has sold his estate and moved to Arvice. He says he will be dead before the damaged land recovers and worries that the land will never support crops again. It is a pity. He had such success at first, but recently many estates have suffered the same reversal. It is a mystery why this is so.