Trudi Canavan - The Novice

“Good evening, Lorlen,” Akkarin said, smiling.

Lorlen stared at the High Lord in surprise.

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Of course!” Shaking his head as if to clear it, Lorlen stepped back. Akkarin strolled inside and folded himself into one of the large cushioned chairs. The High Lord’s gaze strayed to Lorlen’s desk.

Following his friend’s gaze, Lorlen caught his breath as he saw Dannyl’s letter lying open. It took all his will to stop himself rushing over and stuffing the pages back into the box. Instead, he crossed the room casually, stopping to straighten a chair, then dropped into his seat with a sigh.

“As always, you find me in a mess,” he muttered. Picking up Dannyl’s letter, he dropped it back in the secure box. After tidying a few more items on the desk, he slipped the box into a drawer. “What brings you here at this late hour?”

Akkarin shrugged. “Nothing in particular. You’re always visiting me, so I thought it was time I dropped in to see you. I knew better than to try your rooms first, though this is a late hour even for you.”

“It is.” Lorlen nodded. “I was just reading some mail, then I was going to finish for the night.”

“Anything interesting? How is Lord Dannyl?”

Lorlen’s heart skipped. Had Akkarin been able to see Dannyl’s signature, or had he recognized the writing? He frowned as he tried to remember what had been written on the exposed page.

“He’s on his way to Lonmar to settle the council’s argument about Greater Clan Koyhmar. I asked Errend to see to it, since he now has a Second Ambassador to deal with Elyne matters while he’s away, but Errend decided to send Dannyl in his place.”

Akkarin smiled. “Lonmar. A place that will either whet the appetite for travel, or kill it.”

Lorlen leaned forward. “What did it do for you?”

“Hmmm,” Akkarin considered the question carefully. “It did give me a hunger to see more of the world, but it also hardened me as a traveller. Lonmars may be the most civilized people of the Allied Lands, but there is much that is harsh and cruel about them. You learn to tolerate their sense of justice, perhaps understand it as well, but by doing so your own beliefs and ideals are strengthened. The same could be said of Elyne frivolity, or the Vindo obsession with trade. There is more to life than fashion and money.”

Akkarin paused, his gaze distant, then shifted in his seat. “And you discover that, just as not every Elyne is frivolous, or every Vindo is greedy, not every Lonmar is unbending. Most are kind and forgiving, preferring to resolve disputes privately. I did learn much about them, and though the whole journey there proved to be a waste of time as regards my research, the experience has proven to be valuable to my role here.”

Lorlen closed his eyes and massaged them. A waste of time? Was Dannyl also wasting his time?

“You are tired, my friend,” Akkarin said, his voice softening. “I am keeping you from your bed with my tales.”

Blinking, Lorlen looked up at the High Lord. “No—don’t mind me. Please go on.”

“No.” Akkarin rose, his black robes rustling. “I was putting you to sleep. We’ll catch up another time.”

Disappointment and relief mingled as Lorlen followed Akkarin to the door. Stepping into the corridor, Akkarin turned back to regard Lorlen, and smiled crookedly.

“Good night, Lorlen. You will get some rest, won’t you? You look exhausted.”

“Yes. Good night, Akkarin.”

Closing the door, Lorlen sighed. He had just learned something useful—or had he? Akkarin might be saying he had found nothing in Lonmar to hide something he had discovered. It was odd that he should suddenly talk of the journey when he had avoided the subject in the past.

Lorlen winced as a cold draft chilled his neck. Distracted from his thoughts, he yawned, then returned to his desk and moved the secure box to its proper place in the cupboard. Feeling better, he left the office and started for his rooms.

He must be patient. Dannyl would find out soon enough whether his journey to Lonmar was a waste of time.

How had he done it?

Sonea walked slowly down the corridor. In her arms was the box in which she kept her pen, inkwell and unbound folder of notes and fresh paper.

The folder was empty.

Once more she searched her memory. When had she given Regin an opportunity to get to her belongings? She was always cautious, never leaving her notes unattended for a moment.

But in the classroom, during Lady Kinla’s lesson, the novices were often called from their seats to observe some demonstration. It was possible Regin had slipped her notes out of their cover as he passed her table. She had believed such nimble-fingeredness was beyond the pampered children of the Houses. Obviously she was wrong.

She had checked her room thoroughly, and even slipped back into the University to check the classroom late in the night. All the time she had searched, she had known she wouldn’t find the notes, at least not in one piece or before today’s tests.

As she entered the classroom her suspicions were confirmed by Regin’s smug expression. Refusing to show any drop in her composure, she bowed to Lady Kinla and moved to her usual seat beside Poril.

Lady Kinla was a tall, middle-aged Healer. Women Healers always wore their hair bound back in a knot at the nape of their neck, and on Lady Kinla this fashion gave her thin face a permanently severe expression. As Sonea sat down the Healer cleared her throat and looked at each of the novices intently.

“Today I will test you on the lessons we have covered in the last three months. You may consult your notes.” She lifted a few sheets of paper, her eyes flitting across the page. “Firstly, Benon...”

Sonea felt her heart skip as the testing began. Lady Kinla wandered up and down the classroom, threading her way past the novices as she threw questions at them. When Sonea heard her name she felt her heart skip, but, to her relief, the question was easy and she could answer it from memory.

Slowly, however, the questions became more difficult. As other novices began to hesitate and consult their notes before answering, Sonea grew anxious. The air stirred beside her as Kinla walked past her chair.

Then the Healer stopped and turned to stare at Sonea. She took a few steps forward until she towered over Sonea’s desk.

“Sonea,” she placed a fingertip on the table. “Where are your notes?”

Sonea swallowed. For a second she considered pretending that she had forgotten them. But making up such a story would give Regin even more satisfaction, and another excuse came to mind...

“You said this lesson would be a test, my lady,” she said. “I didn’t think I would need to take any notes.”

Lady Kinla’s eyebrows rose, and she regarded Sonea speculatively. From somewhere behind them came a smothered chuckle of anticipation.

“I see.” The teacher’s tone was dangerous. “Name twenty bones of the body, starting from the smallest.”

Sonea cursed silently. Her answer had angered the Healer, who obviously didn’t expect Sonea to be able to remember so much.

But she had to try. Slowly, then with more confidence, Sonea drew the names from memory, counting them on her fingers as she spoke. When she had finished Lady Kinla stared at her in silence, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You are correct,” the Healer said grudgingly.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Sonea watched the teacher turn and continue her meandering among the novices’ desks. Glancing at the class, she found Regin staring at her, his eyes narrowed to slits.

She looked away. Thankfully, she had helped Poril with his notes and could copy them out again for herself. She doubted she’d see her own again now.