Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

“Money?” Yaldin shook his head. “I don’t know ...”

“Since we’re already offering a reward, it will hardly matter if it goes to one of the Thieves.” Dannyl spread his hands. “Everybody knows that the money will go to someone from the slums anyway, so they must expect that person to be someone of questionable nature.”

Ezrille rolled her eyes. “Only you could make something like that sound perfectly reasonable, Dannyl.”

Dannyl grinned. “Oh, it gets better. If we present this carefully, everyone will be patting themselves on the back for persuading the Thieves to do a good service for the city.”

Ezrille laughed. “I hope the Thieves don’t realize this, or they’ll refuse to help you.”

“Well, it must remain a secret for now,” Dannyl told them. “I don’t want to stir things up here until I know whether Gorin is willing to help us or not. Can I rely on your silence?”

He looked at the others. Ezrille nodded enthusiastically. Rothen bowed his head once. Yaldin frowned, then shrugged.

“Very well. But be careful, Dannyl. It’s not just your skin you’re risking here.”

“I know.” Dannyl smiled. “I know.”

Travelling along the Thieves’ Road by lamplight was faster and more interesting than groping along in the dark. The walls of the passages were made of a seemingly endless variety of bricks. Symbols were carved into the walls and signs marked some of the intersections.

The guide stopped at a juncture of passages and set the lamp on the floor. He pulled a handful of black cloth from his coat.

“You must go blind from here.”

Cery nodded, and stood silently as the man bound a strip of cloth around his eyes. The man moved behind Sonea and she closed her eyes as the rough material was wrapped tightly around her face. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder, then another grasped her wrist and began pulling her along the passage.

Though she tried to memorize the turns, she soon lost count of them. They shuffled through darkness. Faint sounds reached them: voices, footsteps, dripping water, and a few noises she could not identify. The blindfold made her skin itch, but she dared not scratch herself in case the guide thought she was peeking.

When the guide stopped again she gave a sigh of relief. Fingers pulled the blindfold away. She glanced at Cery. He smiled back at her reassuringly.

Taking a polished stick from his coat, the guide pushed it into a hole in the wall. After a pause, a section of the wall swung inward and a large, muscular man stepped out.

“Yes?”

“Ceryni and Sonea to see Faren,” the guide stated.

The man nodded, opened the door wider and jerked his head at Sonea and Cery.

“Go on in.”

Cery hesitated, then turned to the guide. “I asked to see Ravi.”

The man smiled crookedly. “Then Ravi must want you to see Faren.”

Cery shrugged, then moved through the doorway. Following him, Sonea wondered if a Thief named after a poisonous eight-legged insect was more dangerous than a Thief named after a rodent.

They entered a small room. Two more heavily built men eyed them from chairs on either side. The first closed the passage door, then opened a door on the opposite side of the room and gestured for them to continue through.

Lamps hung from the walls of the next room, throwing warm yellow circles up onto the ceiling. The floor was covered with a large carpet which was fringed with gold-tipped tassels. At the far side of the room, sitting behind a table, was a dark-skinned man in black, slim-fitting clothes. Startling pale yellow eyes examined them closely.

Sonea stared back. The Thief was a Lonmar, a member of the proud desert race whose lands lay a long way to the north of Kyralia. Lonmar were uncommon in Imardin; few liked to live outside their rigid culture. Theft was considered a great evil to the Lonmar, as they believed that when one stole something, no matter how small, one lost a portion of their soul. Yet here was a Lonmar Thief.

The man’s eyes narrowed. Realizing that she was staring, Sonea quickly looked down. He leaned back in his chair, smiled and pointed a long brown finger at her.

“Come closer, girl.”

Sonea moved forward until she stood in front of the table.

“So you are the one the Guild is looking for, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Sonea, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Faren pursed his lips. “I was expecting something more impressive.” He shrugged, then leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “How am I to know you are what you say you are?”

Sonea glanced over her shoulder. “Cery said you’d know I was the one, that you would have been watching me.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Faren chuckled and his gaze slid to her friend. “A smart one, this little Ceryni, like his father. Yes, we’ve been watching you—both of you—but Cery longer. Come here, Cery.”

Cery moved to Sonea’s side.

“Ravi sends his regards.”

“From one rodent to the other?” Cery’s voice betrayed a slight quaver.

White teeth flashed, but Faren’s grin quickly faded and his yellow eyes slid back to Sonea.

“So you can do magic, can you?”

Sonea swallowed to wet her throat. “Yes.”

“Have you used it since your little surprise in the North Square?”

“Yes.”

Faren’s brows rose. He ran his hands through his hair. A few gray strands were visible at his temple, but his skin was smooth and unlined. Several rings, many set with large stones, burdened his fingers. Sonea had never seen stones that large on the hands of a slum dweller before—but this man was no ordinary dwell.

“You chose a bad moment to discover your powers, Sonea,” Faren told her. “The magicians are anxious to find you now. Their search has caused us a great deal of inconvenience—and the reward is, no doubt, causing you a great deal of inconvenience. Now you want us to hide you from them. Wouldn’t it be far better for us to turn you in and collect the reward? The searches end. I get a little richer. The annoying magicians go away ...”

She glanced at Cery again. “Or we could make a deal.”

Faren shrugged. “We could. What do you offer in exchange, then?”

“My father said you owed him—” Cery began.

The yellow eyes snapped to Cery. “Your father lost all that was due him when he deceived us,” Faren snapped.

Cery bowed his head, then lifted his chin and met the Thief’s eyes. “My father taught me a lot,” he began. “Perhaps I can—”

Faren snorted and waved a hand. “You might be useful to us one day, little Ceryni, but, as yet, you don’t have the friends your father had—and this is a great favor you ask. Did you know that the penalty for hiding a rogue magician from the Guild is death? There is nothing the King likes less than the idea of a magician sneaking about doing things that he didn’t order.” His eyes slid to Sonea and he smiled slyly. “But it is an interesting idea. One I like a great deal.” He folded his hands together. “What have you used your powers for since the Purge?”

“I made something catch fire.”

Faren’s eyes gleamed. “Really? Have you done anything else?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you demonstrate something now.”

She stared at him. “Now?”

He gestured to one of the books on the table, “Try to move this.”

Sonea looked at Cery. Her friend nodded slightly. Biting her lip, she reminded herself that, the moment she had agreed to seek the Thieves’ help, she had resigned herself to using magic. She had to accept it, no matter how uneasy it made her feel.

Faren leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, Sonea stared at the book and willed it to move.