Trudi Canavan - The Novice

“What news do you have?” he asked.

Between mouthfuls, Akkarin described the antics of the King and his court. “I’ve heard good reports of our new Ambassador in Elyne,” he added. “Seems that more than a few young unmarried women have been presented to him, but he has been politely disinterested in all of them.”

Lorlen smiled. “I’m sure he’s enjoying himself.” Pausing, he decided this was a good opportunity to pose a question about Akkarin’s travels. “I envy him. Unlike you, I never had the opportunity to travel, and I don’t know if I will ever get the time now. I don’t suppose you kept a diary? I know you used to when we were novices.”

Akkarin regarded Lorlen speculatively. “I remember a certain novice who used to try to read my diary at every opportunity.”

Chuckling, Lorlen looked down at his plate. “Not anymore. I’m just looking for a travel story to read late at night.”

“I can’t help you,” Akkarin said. He sighed and shook his head. “My journal and all the notes I made were destroyed during the last part of my journey. I have often wished that I had made a copy, and sometimes I have a fancy to return and collect all the information again. Like you, I have responsibilities that keep me in Kyralia. Perhaps when I’m an old man I’ll slip away again.”

Lorlen nodded. “Then I’ll have to look elsewhere for travel stories.”

As Takan returned for the platter, Akkarin began to suggest books. Lorlen nodded and tried to look attentive, but a part of his mind was racing ahead. Knowing Akkarin, there probably was a diary. Had it contained references to black magic? Was it really destroyed, or was Akkarin lying? It might be in the High Lord’s Residence somewhere. Could he sneak in and search for it?

But as Takan served bowls of stewed piorres laced with wine Lorlen knew that such a search would be risky. If Akkarin found even the slightest evidence of an intruder, he would be alerted to the possibility of someone knowing his secret. Better to wait and see if Dannyl discovered anything before trying something that dangerous.

“Sonea has succeeded in completing the half-year tests, Lord Kiano,” Jerrik announced. “I have moved her to this class.”

Eight pairs of eyes fell on Sonea. The novices were arranged in a half-circle around the teacher’s desk. She looked at each face, trying to read their expressions. None sneered at her, but she saw no welcoming smiles, either.

The teacher was a short, stocky Vindo with sleepy eyes. He nodded to the University Director and Rothen, then regarded Sonea. “Take a seat from the back of the room and join the others.”

Sonea bowed and went to the stack of chairs near the far wall. Picking up a seat, she considered the novices. With their backs to her she could not see their faces and know which might care if she sat near them. Then, as she headed back to the front of the room, a boy looked across at her and smiled faintly. She moved toward him and was gratified to see him slide his chair aside a little to make room.

Rothen and Jerrik had retreated from the doorway. Their echoing footsteps in the corridor quickly faded away. Lord Kiano cleared his throat, looked around the class and resumed his lecture.

The other novices bent over their notebooks, writing rapidly. As the Healer rattled out a rapid string of illnesses and the medicines that should be used to treat them, Sonea quickly pulled out a sheet of paper and began scribbling down everything she heard. She had no idea what she should be taking down, so she wrote every word in a messy scrawl that she suspected she’d have trouble deciphering later. When Lord Kiano finally paused to draw a diagram on a board she was able to cautiously look around at the other novices.

One girl and six boys. Aside from a tall Lan youth, an Elyne and a Vindo boy, the rest were Kyralian—though the boy beside her was unusually short and might be half Vindo. His skin was blotchy and his hair hung in limp strands.

Sensing her gaze he smiled uncertainly, then grinned as she returned the smile. Then his eyes dropped to the page in her hand and he frowned. He turned his notes so she could read them and wrote on the corner of a page.

Did you get everything?

Sonea shrugged and wrote on the corner of her page: I hope so—he talks so fast.

The boy started to write something else, but Lord Kiano then began a detailed explanation of the drawing and both Sonea and her companion realized with a shock that they should have been copying it. For several minutes she scribbled and sketched as fast as she could. Before she had managed to finish, the familiar sound of the midbreak gong echoed through the University.

Lord Kiano moved to stand in front of the class. “Before the next class I want you to study and memorize the names and potency of the plants with mucolytic qualities as detailed in chapter five. You may go.”

As one, the novices rose and bowed to the teacher. The teacher turned to the board and waved his hand. To Sonea’s dismay, the diagram disappeared from its surface.

“How much did you copy?”

She turned. The boy stood next to her, craning his neck to see her notes. Sonea turned the page to show him. “Not all, but it looks like you caught a few things I missed. Can I... can we compare notes?”

“Yes. If... if you don’t mind.”

The other novices had packed away their belongings and were filing out of the class. A few glanced back at her, perhaps curious about their new classmate. She looked at the boy.

“Are you going to the Foodhall?”

His smile faded a little. “Yes.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

He nodded. They followed the rest of the class into the corridor. The novices walked in pairs, but stayed close enough to suggest they would all keep together. A few glanced at her, but none moved away or made any obvious attempt to snub her.

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

“Poril. Family Vindel, House Heril.”

“I’m Sonea.” She searched for something else to ask. “You’ve all been here since last winter?”

“Oh, everyone except me.” Poril shrugged. “I started the summer before last.”

A slow learner. She wondered what was holding him back. He could be strong magically but still have trouble understanding the lessons, or he might simply be too weak to complete the tasks he was given.

Poril started to talk about his family, his brothers and sisters—of which there were six—and numerous other details about himself. She nodded and encouraged him, dreading the inevitable questions about herself.

The class descended to the ground floor of the University, then entered the Foodhall. As they moved to a table Sonea hesitated, but Poril stepped forward and quietly slipped into one of the seats. She sat down beside him, and was relieved that the others accepted this with no protest.

Servants brought trays of food, and all began to eat and talk. She listened carefully as they discussed people she didn’t know, and the lesson. They seemed distracted by her presence, though, and eventually one of the boys looked at her directly.

“You’re from Regin’s class, aren’t you?” he asked, waving a hand toward one side of the room.

Sonea’s stomach turned. So her old class was known as “Regin’s class.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

He gestured with his cutlery. “They gave you a rough time from what I hear.”

“At times.”

The boy nodded, then shrugged. “Well, you won’t get that from us. There’s no time for playing around now. You’ll have to work hard. This isn’t Control exercises anymore.” The other novices nodded.

She held back a laugh. Control lessons? He obviously didn’t know much about her history... or he did and this was just a more subtle kind of jibe than what she was used to.