Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

The youth staggered to his knees. Cery ducked away as his second attacker swung a cudgel at him. Behind him, Harrin dodged another thrust from Burril. As the two pairs of fighters separated for a moment, Evin slipped past them and started toward Sonea.

His hands were empty, Sonea noted with relief. She had no idea where the iron bar had gone. Perhaps it was tucked into his coat...

“Do something!” Donia yelped, her grip on Sonea’s arm tightening.

Looking down at the slat in her hands, Sonea realized that attempting to repeat what she had done in the North Square would be pointless now. There was no magicians’ shield to get past, and she doubted that throwing the slat at Evin was going to stop him.

She had to try something else. Perhaps she could will the slat to hit harder? Could I? She looked up at Evin. Should I? What if I do something really awful to him?

“Do it!” Donia hissed, backing away as Evin drew closer.

Taking a deep breath, Sonea threw the slat at Evin, willing it to knock him back. He batted it aside without checking his stride. As he reached toward Sonea, Donia stepped in front of her.

“How can you do this, Evin?” she demanded. “You used to be our friend. I remember you and Sonea playing tiles together. Is this—”

Evin grabbed Donia’s shoulders and shoved her to one side. Sonea lunged forward and punched him in the stomach with all her strength. He spluttered and staggered back a step, warding off her blows as she struck again, this time aiming for his face.

A strangled cry filled the room. She looked up to see Cery’s opponent backing away, one hand clutching his arm. Then something slammed into her chest and she fell backward. As she landed on the floor she twisted, trying to roll out of Evin’s reach, but he threw his weight across her and held her down.

“Get off her!” Donia screamed. The girl stood over Evin, a wooden slat in her hands. It smashed down on Evin’s head and he yelled. He rolled aside, and Donia’s second swing caught his temple. He went limp and sagged back onto the floor.

Donia brandished her weapon at the unconscious youth, then relaxed and grinned at Sonea. Extending a hand, she helped Sonea back to her feet. They turned to find Burril and Harrin still fighting. Cery was looking down at the other two youths, one clutching his side, the other sagging against a wall with a hand pressed to his head.

“Hai!” Donia exclaimed. “I think we’re winning!”

Burril stepped back from Harrin and glanced at her. He reached into a pocket, then made an abrupt gesture. Red mist filled the air about Harrin’s head.

Harrin swore loudly as the papea dust began to sting his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he backed away from Burril.

As Donia started toward Harrin, Sonea grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her back.

Harrin dodged as Burril lunged forward again but not quickly enough. An exclamation of pain followed and Harrin’s knife clattered to the floor. Cery leapt toward Burril, who turned just in time to meet the attack. Still wiping at his eyes, Harrin dropped into a crouch and groped for his knife.

Pushing Cery away, Burril reached into his coat, made another abrupt gesture and again, a stream of red dust flew from his hands. Cery ducked too late. His face contorted with pain, he staggered backward as Burril advanced on him.

“He’ll kill them!” Donia cried.

Reaching down, Sonea grabbed another wooden slat. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to remember what she had done in the North Square. Gripping it tightly, she gathered all her anger and fear. Concentrating on the slat, she hurled it at Burril with all her strength.

He grunted as it struck his back and turned to glare at her. Then he threw up his arms as Donia began to throw anything she could get hold of.

“Use your magic,” Donia urged as Sonea joined her.

“I tried. It’s not working.”

“Try again,” Donia panted.

Burril reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny packet. Recognizing it, Sonea felt a surge of anger. She braced herself to throw the slat in her hands, then hesitated.

Perhaps she was concentrating too much on throwing hard. Magic was not a physical thing. She watched as Donia hurled a box at Burril. No need to throw anything herself...

Focusing on the box, she gave it a mental push, willing it to shoot forward and strike Burril hard enough to knock him out.

She felt something loosen inside her mind.

A flash of light lit the room and the box burst into flame. Burril yelled as it roared toward him, then ducked out of the way. It clattered across the floor and came to rest in a puddle, the water sizzling as it evaporated.

The packet of papea dust fell to the floor. Burril stared at her. Smiling, Sonea stooped to pick up another slat, straightened, then narrowed her eyes at him.

All color drained from his face. Sparing no glance at his allies, he leapt for the door and staggered away.

Sonea heard a thin noise beside her, and turned to find Evin standing, conscious, only a few paces away. He took two steps backward, then darted for the door. Seeing their companions leaving, the other two youths scrambled to their feet and followed.

As their footsteps faded, Harrin’s laughter filled the room. He rose, swayed, then walked carefully to the doorway. “What’s the problem?” he shouted. “Did you think she’d just let you take her?”

Grinning, he turned to blink at Sonea. “Hai! Well done!”

“Nice finish,” Cery agreed. He rubbed at his eyes and grimaced. Slipping a hand into his coat, he pulled out a small flask and began washing his eyes with the contents. Donia hurried to Harrin’s side and examined his wounds.

“You need these dressed. You hurt, Cery?”

“No.” Cery handed her the flask.

Donia began washing Harrin’s face. His skin was red and blotchy. “You’ll be sore for days. Do you think you could heal him, Sonea?”

Sonea frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. That wood wasn’t supposed to start burning. What if I try to heal Harrin and burn him instead?”

Donia looked at Sonea with wide eyes. “That’s an awful thought.”

“You need to practice,” Cery said.

Sonea turned to regard him. “I need time to practice, and a place where I won’t get anyone’s attention when I do.”

He pulled a cloth out of his coat and wiped his daggers clean. “Once this gets around, people will be too scared to try and catch you. That’ll give us some rope.”

“It won’t,” Harrin said. “You can bet Burril and the others won’t tell anyone about this. Even if they do, some will think they can do better.”

Cery frowned, then cursed.

“Then we better get away from here real quick,” Donia said. “Where next, Cery?”

He scratched his head, then smiled. “Who’s got money?”

Harrin and Donia looked at Sonea.

“It’s not mine,” she protested. “It’s Jonna and Rand’s.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you spending it to save your life,” Donia told her.

“And they’d think you stupid if you didn’t,” Cery added.

Sighing, Sonea reached inside her shirt for the buckle of her money pouch. “I suppose, if I ever get out of this mess, I can pay them back.” She looked at Cery. “You better find them soon.”

“I will,” he assured her. “Just as soon as you’re safe. For now, I think we should split up. We’ll meet again in an hour. I have a place in mind where no one will think to look for you. We can only stay for a few hours, but it will give us a chance to figure out where to go next.”

Returning from the stables alone, Rothen slowed as he reached the gardens. The air was cold, but not uncomfortably so, and the stillness was welcome after the bustle of the city. He drew in a deep breath and sighed.