Trudi Canavan - The Novice

Tania drew in a sharp breath. “He wouldn’t dare hurt her, would he?”

“Not in any way that would do lasting damage, or have him expelled.” Rothen scowled at the table.

“Why doesn’t the High Lord put a stop to it—or hasn’t he heard about it? Perhaps you should tell him.”

Rothen shook his head. “He knows. It’s his place to know.”

“But—” Tania stopped at a knock on the door. Relieved at the interruption, Rothen willed it open. A messenger stepped inside, bowed, and handed Rothen a letter, before retreating from the room again.

“It’s for Sonea.” Rothen turned the letter over and felt his heart skip. “It’s from her aunt and uncle.”

Tania moved closer. “Don’t they know she isn’t living in your rooms anymore?”

“No. Sonea thought Regin might get hold of her mail if it came to her in the Novices’ Quarters, and she probably hasn’t contacted them since she moved to the residence.”

“Would you like me to take it to her?” Tania offered.

Rothen looked up, surprised. It was easy to forget that others had no reason to fear Akkarin. “Would you?”

“Of course. I haven’t spoken to her in such a long time.”

Akkarin might grow suspicious if he saw Rothen’s servant delivering a message to Sonea, however. “She’ll want to read this as soon as possible. If you deliver it to her room, she won’t get it until tonight. I think she spends Freedays in the Novices’ Library. Could you give it to Lady Tya?”

“Yes.” Tania took the letter and slipped it into the front of her uniform. “I’ll drop by the library after dropping these dishes off at the kitchen.”

“Agh! My legs hurt!” Tayend complained.

Dannyl laughed quietly as the scholar collapsed onto a boulder to rest. “ You wanted to visit the ruins. It wasn’t my idea.”

“But Dem Ladeiri made them sound so interesting.” Tayend pulled out his flask and drank a few mouthfuls of water. “And closer.”

“He just neglected to say we’d have to scale a few cliffs to get here. Or that the rope bridge wasn’t safe.”

“Well, I suppose he did tell us it had been a long time since he had come up here. Levitation must really come in handy at times.”

“At times.”

“Why aren’t you breathing hard?”

Dannyl smiled. “Levitation isn’t the only useful trick the Guild teaches us.”

“You’re healing yourself?” Tayend threw a small stone at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Then I assume you would refuse my assistance if I offered it.”

“No, I feel it would be only fair that I have the same advantage as you.”

Dannyl sighed in mock resignation. “Give me your wrist, then.” To his surprise, Tayend offered his arm without hesitation, but as Dannyl placed his palm against the scholar’s skin, Tayend looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

Sending a little Healing magic into Tayend’s body, Dannyl soothed the stressed muscles. Most Healers would frown at this waste of magic. There was nothing wrong with Tayend, he was simply unused to the strain of trekking across mountainous territory.

As Dannyl released Tayend’s arm, the scholar stood and looked down at himself.

“That is amazing!” he exclaimed. “I feel like I did this morning, before we left.” He grinned at Dannyl, then began striding up the path. “Come on, then. We haven’t got all day.”

Bemused, Dannyl followed. Only a few hundred paces on, Tayend reached a rise and slowed to a stop. As Dannyl caught up with the scholar, the ruins came into view. Spread over a gentle slope were low walls, marking the outlines of buildings. Here and there an ancient column had survived, and at the center of the small deserted city a larger, roofless structure still stood intact, its walls constructed of huge slabs of stone. Grass and other vegetation grew over and around everything.

“So this is Armje,” Tayend muttered. “Not much left.”

“It is over a thousand years old.”

“Let’s take a closer look.”

The path, as it curved around to meet the city, widened into a grassy road. As it reached the first of the buildings it straightened, leading to the large building. Dannyl and Tayend paused to examine some of the exposed rooms of the smaller buildings.

“Do you think this was some kind of public washroom?” Tayend asked at one point, standing by a stone bench that had holes cut into it at regular intervals.

“Perhaps some kind of kitchen,” Dannyl replied. “The holes might have held pots over a fire or brazier.”

When they reached the large structure at the center, Dannyl noticed a stillness in the air. They passed beneath a heavy lintel into a wide room. The floor was hidden beneath dirt and waist-high grass and herbs.

“I wonder what this place was,” Tayend mused aloud. “Something important. A palace, perhaps. Or a temple.”

Moving into a smaller room, Tayend suddenly darted to one side. He peered at the wall, which was carved with a complex pattern.

“There are words in this,” he said. “Something about laws.”

Dannyl looked closer, then felt his heart skip a beat as he saw a carved hand. “Look.”

“That’s the glyph for magic,” Tayend said dismissively.

“A hand is the sign for magic in ancient Elyne?”

“Yes—and it is in many ancient writings. Some scholars believe that the modern letter ‘m’ is derived from the symbol of a hand.”

“So half of the Charkan King’s title indicates magic. What does the crescent moon mean, then?”

Tayend shrugged and moved farther into the ruin. “Moon magic. Night magic. Does magic ever follow the cycles of the moon?”

“No.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with women. Women’s magic. Wait—look at this!”

Tayend had stopped before another carved wall. He was pointing at a section high up where some of the stone had fallen away, leaving only part of the carving behind. Then Dannyl drew in a sharp breath. The scholar wasn’t pointing at one of the carved glyphs. He was pointing at a familiar name written in modern lettering.

“Dem Ladeiri didn’t mention anything about Akkarin coming up here,” Tayend said.

“Perhaps he forgot. Perhaps Akkarin didn’t tell him.”

“But he really wanted us to come here.”

Dannyl stared at the name, then looked at the rest of the wall. “What does the ancient writing say?”

Tayend looked closer. “Give me a minute...”

As the scholar examined the glyphs, Dannyl stepped back and looked around the room. Below Akkarin’s name was a relief carving of an archway. Or was it? He scuffed the dirt and grass away from the base and smiled as he uncovered a crack.

Tayend drew in a sharp breath. “According to this, this is a—”

“Door,” Dannyl finished.

“Yes!” Tayend tapped the wall. “And it leads to a place of judgment. I wonder if it can still be opened.”

Looking at the door, Dannyl extended his senses. He detected a simple mechanism, designed to be opened from the inside only—or by magic.

“Stand back.”

As Tayend moved out of the way, Dannyl exerted his will. The mechanism turned reluctantly, straining against the dirt, dust and grass clogging the doorway. A loud rumble and scraping noise filled the room as the stone door swivelled inward, revealing a dark passage.

When the door had opened wide enough for a man to slip through sideways, Dannyl released the mechanism, afraid he would do lasting damage if he forced it farther. He exchanged a look with Tayend.

“Shall we go in?” the scholar whispered.

Dannyl frowned. “I will go first. It might be unstable.”

Tayend looked as if he would protest, but seemed to change his mind. “I’ll continue translating this.”