Trudi Canavan - The Novice

“I have thought about that.”

“And?”

“What... what about the Dome?”

Yikmo’s eyebrows rose, then he grinned broadly. “I’m sure it can be arranged.”

As the carriage passed through the Guild Gates, Dannyl looked up at the University. The Guild buildings were so familiar, but now they seemed foreign and forbidding. He looked toward the High Lord’s Residence.

Especially that one .

He glanced at the satchel lying on the seat beside him, then picked it up. In it was a copy of the notes that he and Tayend had gathered, rewritten so that nothing in them read like a retracing of Akkarin’s journey. He chewed on his lip. If Akkarin believes any of this was an investigation of his past, this could infuriate him further. But I’ll be in trouble anyway, so it’s worth the risk .

The carriage stopped and rocked a little as the driver clambered down to the ground. The door opened. Dannyl stepped out and turned to the driver.

“Send my travel chest to my rooms,” Dannyl ordered. The man bowed, and moved to the back of the carriage, where the chest was roped to a narrow tray.

Tucking the satchel under his arm, Dannyl started down the path to the High Lord’s Residence. As he walked, he noticed that the gardens were empty, which was unusual for a sunny Freeday afternoon. Where is everyone?

By the time he reached the door of the Residence, his mouth was dry and his heart was beating too fast. Taking a deep breath, he reached out to the door handle. Before he could close his fingers around it, the door swung inward.

A servant stepped forward and bowed. “The High Lord is waiting for you in the library, Ambassador Dannyl. Please follow me.”

Stepping inside, Dannyl glanced appreciatively around the luxuriously decorated guestroom. He had never entered the High Lord’s Residence before. The servant opened a door, ushering Dannyl up a spiral staircase. At the top, he walked down a short corridor to a pair of open doors on the right.

The walls of the room inside were lined with books. What secrets might I find in them? Dannyl wondered. Any information about—?

Then he saw the desk at one side of the room, and the black-robed magician sitting behind it, watching him. He felt his heart skip a beat, then start racing.

“Welcome home, Ambassador Dannyl.”

Get a hold of yourself! Dannyl thought sternly. He inclined his head politely to Akkarin. “Thank you, High Lord.”

Hearing the doors close, Dannyl glanced back to see that the servant had left. Now I’m trapped ... He pushed the thought away, stepped forward and placed the satchel on Akkarin’s desk.

“My notes,” he said. “As you requested.”

“Thank you,” Akkarin replied. One pale hand picked up the satchel, the other waved toward a chair. “Sit down. You must be tired from the journey.”

Dannyl sank into the chair gratefully and watched as Akkarin leafed through his notes. Dannyl soothed away a nagging headache. The previous evening he had drunk a little too much siyo in an attempt to stop imagining what he might face the next day.

“You visited the Splendid Temple, I see.”

Dannyl swallowed. “Yes.”

“Did the High Priest allow you to read the scrolls?”

“He read them to me—after I vowed to keep their contents a secret.”

Akkarin smiled faintly. “And the Tomb of White Tears?”

“Yes. A fascinating place.”

“Which led you to Armje?”

“Not directly. If I had continued the course of my research, I might have entered Sachaka, but my duties as Ambassador did not allow for such a journey.”

Akkarin stilled. “Crossing the border would be... inadvisable.” He looked up and met Dannyl’s eyes, his expression disapproving. “Sachaka is not part of the Allied Lands and, as a member of the Guild, you should not enter unless under orders of the King.”

Dannyl shook his head. “I hadn’t considered that, but I was not about to go blundering into an unknown land without making some inquiries here first.”

Akkarin regarded Dannyl thoughtfully, then glanced down at the notes. “So why did you visit Armje?”

“Dem Ladeiri suggested I see the ruins while I was visiting him.”

Akkarin frowned. “He did, did he?” He fell silent then, reading the notes. After several minutes he made a small noise of surprise, then looked up and stared at Dannyl.

“You survived? ”

Guessing what Akkarin was referring to, Dannyl nodded. “Yes, though it exhausted me.”

As Akkarin continued reading, Dannyl wondered if he had ever seen the man express astonishment before. He decided he hadn’t, and felt a strange pride that he, of all people, had managed to surprise the High Lord.

“So you overcame the barrier,” Akkarin mused. “Interesting. Perhaps the chamber is losing strength. The power must dwindle eventually.”

“May I ask a question?” Dannyl ventured.

Akkarin looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You may ask.”

“If you had encountered this Chamber of Ultimate Punishment before, why didn’t you tell anyone here about it?”

“I did.” The corner of Akkarin’s mouth twitched upward. “But since it was impossible for anyone to investigate without triggering an attack—and for additional reasons of a political nature—it was decided that its existence should be known by only the highest magicians. Which means that I must order you to keep your knowledge of it to yourself.”

Dannyl nodded. “I understand.”

“It is unfortunate, indeed, that my warning had crumbled away.” Akkarin paused, his eyes narrowing. “Was there any sign that it might have been removed deliberately?”

Surprised, Dannyl thought of the wall, and what had been left of Akkarin’s name. “I couldn’t say.”

“Someone must investigate. That place could too easily become a death trap for magicians.”

“I will return there myself, if you wish.”

Akkarin regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yes. It would probably be best that no others learn of the place. Your assistant knows, does he not?”

Dannyl hesitated, and again he wondered how much Akkarin had sensed during their brief mental communication. “Yes—but I believe Tayend can be trusted.”

Akkarin’s gaze flickered slightly, and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as a knock sounded on the library door. His eyes shifted to the door, alert. The doors swung inward.

The servant stepped inside and bowed. “Lord Yikmo has arrived, High Lord.”

Akkarin nodded. As the doors closed again, he regarded Dannyl speculatively. “You may return to Elyne in a week.” He closed the satchel. “I will read these, and may wish to discuss them with you again. But for now,” he stood up, “I have a formal battle to attend.”

Dannyl blinked in surprise. “A formal battle?”

The High Lord almost seemed to smile. “My novice has, perhaps foolishly, challenged another to a fight.”

Sonea challenged Regin to a fight! As the possibilities and consequences of this dawned on Dannyl, he chuckled. “This I have to see.”

Akkarin strode out of the library. Dannyl followed, feeling surprised and relieved. There had been no hard questions about the reasons for the research. It almost seemed as if Akkarin was pleased with Dannyl’s progress. Dannyl and Tayend—and Lorlen—hadn’t earned themselves the High Lord’s disapproval. Neither had Rothen, though hopefully Akkarin didn’t know about Rothen’s new “interest” in ancient magic.

And nothing had been said about Tayend.

All that remained was to face Rothen. Dannyl’s mentor would be surprised to see him. Dannyl hadn’t warned Rothen of his visit, since no letter could have travelled faster than he had, and he would not risk communicating by mind. Rothen had always been able to read more of Dannyl’s thoughts than was intended. Dannyl did not know how well Rothen might take the news that his former novice was guilty of being what Fergun had claimed he was. He did not want to lose his only close friend in the Guild.