Trudi Canavan - The Novice

A few days after their arrival, the Splendid Temple priests replied to Dannyl’s request to see the collection of scrolls. He was relieved at this break from his ambassadorial duties. Already, the squabbling of the Lonmar Council of Elders was trying his patience.

Lorlen’s reasons for sending a foreign Guild Ambassador to Lonmar were annoyingly valid. One of the Greater Clans had fallen out of favor and fortune, no longer able to support its novices and magicians. The other clans were required to take on the responsibility.

Studying the agreements between the Guild and other lands had been part of Dannyl’s preparations for his role. While the Kyralian King apportioned part of his tax revenue to pay for the needs of Kyralian magicians, and left the selection of entrants to chance, other lands had different approaches. The Elyne King offered a number of places each year and chose applicants with a mind to future political implications. The Vindo sent as many entrants as they could find and afford, which was not many since they had little magical ability in their bloodlines.

The Lonmars were ruled by a Council of Elders made up of representatives from the Greater Clans. Each Clan funded the training of its own magicians. The centuries-old agreement made between the Lonmars and the Kyralian King stated that, if a clan should be unable to finance its magicians, the other clans must equally share the cost of supporting them. The Guild did not want magicians falling on hard times, and turning to unethical uses of magic to survive.

Not surprisingly, several clans were protesting. From what Ambassador Vaulen had told Dannyl, however, they only needed to be gently and firmly reminded of the disadvantages of having the agreement annulled, their magicians sent home, and access to Guild training withheld, and they would cooperate. Vaulen played the role of gentle Elyne persuader, Dannyl was to be the firm, immovable Kyralian.

But not today.

Hearing that Dannyl’s request to the Temple had been successful, Ambassador Vaulen had immediately ordered servants to prepare the Guild carriage.

“Today is a day of rest,” he said. “Which means the Elders will be visiting each other and debating what to do. You may as well do some sightseeing.” He offered them dried fruit softened with honeyed water as they waited.

“Is there anything I should know about the priests before I go?” Dannyl asked.

Vaulen considered. “According to Mahga doctrine, all men find a balance between joy and pain in their lives. While magicians are considered to have been gifted with magic, they are barred from the priesthood. Only a few exceptions have been made.”

“Really?” Dannyl straightened. “In what circumstances?”

“In the past, a few were judged to have suffered greatly and could seek balance by joining the priesthood, but only if they gave up their powers—though they were still barred from the higher ranks.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean that they’ll cause me pain to balance my own gifts.”

Vaulen smiled. “You are an unbeliever. That is balance enough.”

“What can you tell me of High Priest Kassyk?”

“He respects the Guild, and speaks highly of the High Lord.”

“Why Akkarin in particular?”

“Akkarin visited the Temple over ten years ago, and it seems he impressed the High Priest greatly.”

“He has a way of doing that.” Dannyl looked at Tayend, but the scholar was absorbed in eating. Tayend, to his surprise, had returned from the tailor the day after their arrival dressed in typically colorless Lonmar clothes. “They’re very comfortable,” the scholar had explained. “And I fancied owning some as a souvenir of our visit.” Shaking his head, Dannyl had replied: “Only you could turn a statement of humility into an object of indulgence.”

“Your carriage is here,” Vaulen said, rising.

Hearing hoofbeats and the creak of springs outside, Dannyl moved to the door. Tayend followed, wiping the sticky residue from the dried fruit off his fingers with a damp cloth.

“Give my regards to the High Priest,” Vaulen said.

“I will.” Dannyl stepped out of the building. At once he was bathed in the heat radiating from a sunlit wall on the other side of the street. Dust raised by the carriage tickled his throat.

A servant opened the carriage door. Climbing in, Dannyl winced as he entered the suffocatingly hot cabin. Tayend followed, settling onto the opposite seat with a grimace. The servant handed them two bottles of water, then signalled the driver to leave.

Opening the carriage windows in the hope of catching a breeze, Dannyl endured the dust that billowed in, washing it from his throat with mouthfuls of water. The streets were narrow, which kept them as shaded as possible, but the clutter of pedestrians slowed the carriage. Some streets were covered by wooden roofs, forming dark tunnels.

After a few brief conversations, they fell silent. Talking only filled their mouths with dust. The carriage moved slowly, plodding through the endless city. It was not long before Dannyl tired of seeing people and houses that all looked the same. He slumped against the side of the carriage and dozed.

The new sound of pavement under the horses’ hooves roused him. Looking out of the window, he saw smooth walls passing on either side. After a hundred paces or so the corridor ended and the carriage entered a wide courtyard. At last the Splendid Temple came into view.

As with all Lonmar architecture, the building was single-storied and undecorated. The walls were marble, however, the blocks fitting together so accurately it was difficult to make out their edges. Obelisks were set into the face of the building at intervals, each as wide at the base as the building was high, and rising higher than the carriage window allowed him to see.

The carriage stopped and Dannyl climbed out, too eager to leave the stifling heat of the interior to wait for the driver to open the door. Looking up, he drew in a breath as he saw how tall the obelisks were. Placed every fifty paces or so in all directions, they filled the sky.

“Look at them all,” Dannyl said to Tayend quietly. “It’s like a forest of gigantic trees.”

“Or a thousand swords.”

“Or masts of ships waiting to take souls away.”

“Or an enormous bed of nails.”

“You’re in a good mood today,” Dannyl remarked dryly.

Tayend smiled crookedly. “I am, aren’t I?”

As they approached the door to the Temple, a man in a simple white robe stepped out to greet them. His hair was white, contrasting with the rich black of his skin. Bending only slightly, he clasped his hands together, then opened them in the ritual gesture of the Mahga followers.

“Welcome, Ambassador Dannyl. I am High Priest Kassyk.”

“Thank you for allowing us to visit,” Dannyl replied. “This is my assistant and friend, Tayend of Tremmelin, scholar of the Great Library of Capia.”

The High Priest repeated the gesture. “Welcome, Tayend of Tremmelin. Would you both like to see some of the Splendid Temple before viewing the scrolls?”

“We would be honored,” Dannyl replied.

“Follow me.”

The High Priest turned and led them into the coolness of the temple building. They wandered down a long corridor, the priest gesturing as he explained the history or religious significance of features. Long corridors crossed the one they followed. Light filtered through small, narrow windows set just below the arched roof. Occasionally they passed a tiny courtyard filled with wide-leafed plants, surprising the visitors with their unexpected lushness. At other times they stopped at fountains set into the walls to drink a palmful of water.

The High Priest showed them the small rooms where the priests lived and spent their time in study or contemplation. He guided them through large, cavernous halls where prayers and rituals were held each day. Finally he guided them into a complex of small rooms where scrolls and books were displayed.