Trudi Canavan - The Novice

They followed the old man into a corridor, then down a long, spiral staircase that looked as if it had been carved out of the rock wall. The last section of the staircase was made of sturdy wood, and opened out into the middle of a vast room.

Dannyl smiled as he heard Tayend’s gasp. Clearly, the scholar had not expected to be impressed.

The room was carefully divided by rows of shelving. Spread before them were stuffed animals, bottles of preserving liquid containing organs and creatures, carvings made from all manner of materials, strange contraptions, lumps of rock and crystal, countless scrolls, tablets, and shelf after shelf of books. Huge sculptures stood here and there, making Dannyl wonder how they could have been brought down the stairs into the library—or even transported through the mountains. Charts of stars and other mysterious diagrams hung from the walls.

They followed the Dem through these marvels, too amazed to speak. As he led them down an aisle between the books, Tayend peered at the small plaques engraved with subjects and numbers attached to each shelf.

“What are these numbers for?” the scholar asked.

The Dem turned and smiled. “Cataloguing system. Each book has a number and I keep a record of them all on paper.”

“We don’t have anything this detailed at the Great Library. We keep books on the same subject together... as best we can. How long have you had this system in place?”

The old man glanced at Tayend sideways. “My grandfather invented it.”

“Did you ever suggest the Great Library adopt it?”

“Several times. Irand did not see any value in it.”

“Really.” Tayend looked amused. “I would love to see how it works.”

“You will,” the old man replied, “since that is what I am about to show you.”

They left the shelves and arrived at a large desk surrounded by wooden chests of drawers.

“Now, is there any particular subject you would like to explore?”

“Have you got any books on ancient magical practices?” Tayend asked.

The old man’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. But can you be more specific?”

Dannyl and Tayend exchanged a glance.

“Anything to do with the King of Charkan or Shakan Dra.”

The Dem’s eyebrows rose higher. “I will check.”

He turned and pulled open a drawer to reveal rows of cards. Flicking through, he called out a number. Then, closing the drawer, he moved down to the end of the shelves and turned into an aisle. Stopping at one of the bookcases, the Dem ran a finger along the spines, then tapped one.

“This is it.” He drew out the book and handed it to Tayend.

“It’s a history of Ralend of Kemori.”

“There must be a reference to the King of Charkan in there, or my cards would not have led me to this book,” the Dem assured him. “Now, follow me. I believe we have some artifacts, too.”

They followed the Dem out of the bookshelves to several rows of drawers. These, too, were numbered. The old man pulled out a drawer and set it on a nearby table. As he peered inside he gave a low exclamation.

“Ah! That’s right. This was sent to me five years ago. I remember thinking that your High Lord would have wanted to see it.”

Once more Tayend and Dannyl exchanged a glance.

“Akkarin?” Dannyl asked, looking into the box. It contained a silver ring. “Why would he be interested?”

“Because he came to me many years ago looking for information about the King of Charkan. He showed me this symbol.” The Dem held up the ring. Set into it was a dark red gem, and carved into the surface of the gem was a crescent moon next to a crude hand. “But when I sent him a letter telling him what I had received, he replied that he was unable to visit because of his new position.”

Taking the ring, Dannyl examined it closely.

“The person who sent it said that, according to legend, magicians can use it to communicate with each other without fear of being overheard,” the Dem added.

“Really? Who was this generous donor?”

“I don’t know. He—or she—didn’t give their name.” The Dem shrugged. “Sometimes people don’t want their family to know they’ve given something valuable away. In any case, it’s not a true gem. It’s only glass.”

“Try it,” urged a voice at Dannyl’s shoulder.

Dannyl looked at Tayend, surprised. The scholar grinned. “Go on!”

“I’d need to be communicating with another magician,” Dannyl pointed out, as he slipped the ring on his finger. “And have a third to test if he could detect our conversation.”

Dannyl looked down at the ring. He felt nothing to indicate anything magical was happening.

“I can’t sense anything from it.” He pulled it off and gave it back to the Dem. “Perhaps it once held some magical properties, but has lost them over time.”

The old man nodded and put the box away. “The book may be more enlightening. There are chairs over here for reading,” he said, waving them across the room. As they reached the chairs, the woman they had seen earlier arrived with a tray laden with food. Another followed carrying glasses and a bottle of wine. Tayend sat down and began leafing through the history of Ralend of Kemori.

“‘The King of Charkan spoke of his path,’ ” he read. “‘He came by the mountains, stopping to offer gifts at Armje, the city of the moon.’ ” Tayend looked up. “Armje. I’ve heard that name.”

“It is a ruin now,” the Dem said, his mouth still full of savory bun. “Not far from here. I used to climb up there all the time, in my younger days.”

As the Dem began to describe the ruins enthusiastically, Dannyl saw that Tayend wasn’t listening. The scholar’s gaze sharpened as he continued to read the book. Knowing that look, Dannyl smiled. The Dem’s library hadn’t turned out to be the collection of useless oddities that Tayend had been expecting.

In the two weeks since she had first entered the secret passages, Sonea hadn’t once encountered Regin. While she hoped discovery by Lord Yikmo had put off Regin’s allies, she suspected it hadn’t.

She had heard nothing to indicate they had been punished. Yikmo had not mentioned the incident again, and no one else seemed to know of it, so she guessed he had respected her request to keep silent. Unfortunately, this would only give Regin’s allies more confidence that they could harass her and get away with it.

Since Regin had always waylaid her somewhere on the second level, where the library was, she had been careful to exit the secret passages on the lower floor. The previous evening, she saw the first sign that he had worked this out. Entering the main corridor on the lower floor, she had seen a novice standing at the far end and, a few steps later, in the Entrance Hall, came face to face with one of the older boys. Though he hadn’t dared to attack her, he had smiled smugly as she passed.

So this evening she had exited the secret passages on the third level instead. Keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible, she cautiously made her way toward the main corridor.

If she encountered Regin and his friends, she could still run away and escape into the secret passages. If she wasn’t cornered before she could get to an entrance, that is, and if she could get into the passages without them seeing.

Rounding a corner, she glimpsed a flash of brown material around the next turn and felt her heart sink. As she backed away, she heard a faint whisper. Footsteps echoed from the direction she had come. She cursed under her breath and began to run. Darting into a side passage, she collided with a lone novice. A blast of magic hit her shield, but he was alone and she easily pushed him away.

Three turns later she encountered two more novices. They tried to block her path, but gave up after a moment. At the door to a portal room, she was delayed when four novices stepped out to fight her. Pushing past them, she placed a magical lock on the door.