Trudi Canavan - The Novice

“Already?” Lorlen replied. “He has accomplished a lot in the last five years.”

Derril smiled. “He certainly has. It’s good to see our youngest has become such a responsible man—despite Velia spoiling him so much.”

“I don’t spoil him anymore,” she protested. Then she sobered. “I’ll be relieved when he no longer has to patrol the streets, though,” she added, her smile suddenly gone.

“Hmmm.” Derril looked at his wife and frowned. “I must agree with Velia. Every year the city becomes more dangerous. These recent murders are enough to make even the bravest man lock his doors at night.”

Lorlen frowned. “Murders?”

“You haven’t heard?” Derril’s eyebrows rose. “Why, the whole city’s in a stir about them.”

Lorlen shook his head. “I might have been told, but events in the Guild have occupied my mind lately. I haven’t paid much attention to city matters.”

“You should poke your head out of that place more often,” Derril said disapprovingly. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken an interest in this. They say it’s the worst set of murders seen in the city for over a hundred years. Velia and I know more about them, of course, because of Barran.”

Lorlen smothered a smile. Not only did Derril relish telling people the “secret” information that his son passed on, but he enjoyed being the first to know anything. It must have been satisfying indeed for him to be the first to inform the Administrator of the Magicians’ Guild of these crimes.

“You had better tell me about them then—before anyone else realizes my ignorance,” Lorlen prompted.

Derril leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “What is chilling about this murderer is that he performs some kind of ritual as he kills his victims. A woman witnessed one of the murders two nights ago. She had been packing clothes away when she heard her employer struggling with a stranger. When she realized the pair was coming into the room, she hid inside a cupboard.

“She said that the stranger tied up her employer, then took out a knife and cut off his shirt. He made small cuts on the man’s body, five on each shoulder.” Derril splayed his fingers over his shoulder. “Those cuts are how the Guard knows it’s the same man doing the murders. The woman said the murderer placed his fingers over the cuts and started chanting under his breath. When he was finished whatever he was saying, he cut the man’s throat.”

Velia made a noise of disgust, then rose. “Excuse me, but this gives me the chills.” She hurried inside.

“The servant said something else,” Derril added. “She said she thought the man was dead before his throat was cut. Barran says the cuts on the man’s shoulders weren’t enough to kill anybody, and there was no sign of poison. I think he has decided that the man passed out. I’d be half dead with fright, myself... are you all right, Lorlen?”

Lorlen forced his rigid facial muscles into a smile. “Yes,” he lied. “I just can’t believe I haven’t heard about this yet. Did the woman give a description of the murderer?”

“Nothing useful. She said it was difficult to see because it was dark and she was watching through a keyhole, but that the man had dark hair and was dressed in shabby clothes.”

Lorlen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And chanting, you said. How strange.”

Derril grunted in agreement. “Until Barran joined the Guard, I had no idea the world held such crooked and disturbed people. The things some people do!”

Thinking of Akkarin, Lorlen nodded. “I’d like to know more about this. Will you tell me if you hear anything?”

Derril grinned. “I’ve caught your interest, haven’t I? Of course I will.”

Rothen looked up in surprise as Sonea entered the room.

“Back already?” His eyes slid to her robes. “Oh. What happened?”

“Regin.”

“Again?”

“All the time.” Sonea dropped her book of notepaper on the table. It made a squelching noise and a small puddle of water began to form around it. Opening it, she found that all her notes were saturated, the ink running and mixing with the water. She groaned as she realized she would have to write them all out again. Turning away, she walked into her bedroom to change.

At the entrance to the University, Kano had leapt out and thrown a handful of food in her face. She had approached the fountain in the center of the courtyard, planning to wash it off, but as she leaned over the pool the water had surged up over her, drenching her to the skin.

Sighing, she opened her clothes cupboard and pulled out an old shirt and a pair of trousers and changed into them. Picking up the saturated robes, she returned to the guestroom.

“Lord Elben said something interesting yesterday.”

Rothen frowned. “Oh?”

“He said that I’m several months ahead of the class—almost as good as the winter intake of novices are.”

He smiled. “You did have months of practice before you started.” Then his smile faded as he saw her clothes. “You must wear your robes all the time, Sonea. You can’t go to class like that.”

“I know, but I don’t have any clean ones left. Tania will bring some back tonight.” She held out the dripping robes. “Unless you could dry these for me?”

“You should be able to do that yourself by now.”

“I can, but I’m not supposed to do any magic unless—”

“—instructed by a magician,” Rothen finished. He chuckled. “That rule is a flexible one, Sonea. Generally it’s understood that, if a teacher instructs you to practice what he has taught you, you’re free to do it outside of class unless he says otherwise.”

She grinned, then looked down at the robes. Steam began to mist from the material as she sent heat flowing through it. When the robes were dry, she set them aside and helped herself to a leftover sweet cake from the morning meal.

“You said once that an exceptional novice can be moved to a higher class. What would it take for me to do that?”

Rothen’s eyebrows rose. “A lot of work. You may be well practiced at using magic, but your knowledge and understanding of it would need much improvement.”

“So is it possible?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “If we work every night and Freeday you might pass the half-year tests in a month or so, but the hard work wouldn’t stop there. Once you had advanced, you would need to catch up with the winter novices. If you fail the First Year tests, you’ll drop back down to the summer class again. That means you’d have to work very hard for two or three months.”

“I understand.” Sonea bit her lip. “I want to try it.”

Rothen considered her closely, then moved to the chairs and sat down. “So you’ve changed your mind, then.”

Sonea frowned, puzzled. “Changed my mind?”

“You wanted to wait until the others had caught up.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Forget them. They’re not worth it. Do you have the time to teach me? I don’t want to take you away from your classes.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll do my preparation work while you study.” Rothen leaned forward. “I know you’re doing this to get away from Regin. I have to point out that the next class mightn’t be any better.”

Sonea nodded. She dropped into a chair beside him and began to carefully separate her notes. “I’ve thought about that. I don’t expect them to like me, just to leave me alone. I’ve watched them when I could, and there doesn’t seem to be someone like Regin among them. They have no single novice who rules them.” She shrugged. “I can live with being ignored.”

Rothen nodded. “You’ve thought about this carefully, I see. Very well. We’ll do it.”