Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

“How will we know what we’re looking for?” Vinara asked.

Lorlen looked at Rothen. “Can you remember what she looked like?”

Rothen nodded. Taking a few steps back, he closed his eyes and called up a memory of a small, skinny girl with a thin, childlike face. Drawing on his power, he opened his eyes and exerted his will. A glow appeared in the air before him, and quickly sharpened to form a slightly transparent face. As his memory filled in the rest, her rough clothing appeared: a colorless scarf around her head, a thick hooded shirt, trousers. The illusion complete, he looked up at the Higher Magicians.

“ That’s who attacked us?” Balkan muttered. “She’s barely more than a child.”

“A small package with a big surprise inside,” Sarrin said dryly.

“What if this is not the attacker?” Jerrik asked. “What if Lord Rothen is mistaken?”

Lorlen looked at Rothen and smiled faintly. “For now we can only assume he is correct. We shall know soon enough if the city gossips agree, and witnesses may be found among the public.” He nodded at the illusion. “That will be enough, Lord Rothen.”

Rothen waved a hand and the illusion vanished. When he looked up again he found Lord Sarrin looking at him appraisingly.

“What are we going to do with her once we’ve found her?” Vinara asked.

“If she is a rogue we will apply the law,” Lorlen replied. “If she is not, we will teach her to control her powers.”

“Of course, but afterward? What then?”

“I think the question Lady Vinara is asking is: should we make her one of us?” Balkan said.

At once the hall filled with voices.

“No! She’s probably a thief!”

“She attacked one of us! She should be punished, not rewarded!”

Rothen shook his head and sighed as the protests continued. While there was no law forbidding the testing of children from the lower classes, the Guild sought magic in the children of the Houses only.

“The Guild hasn’t taken a novice from outside the Houses for centuries,” Balkan said quietly.

“But if Solend is correct, she may be a powerful magician,” Vinara reminded him.

Rothen suppressed a smile. Most women magicians became Healers, and he knew Lady Vinara would happily overlook the girl’s origins if it gained her another powerful helper.

“ ‘Strength is no blessing if a magician proves corrupt,’ ” Sarrin quoted. “She could be a thief, or even a whore. What influence would someone with that background have on the other novices? How can we know if she would value our pledge?”

Vinara’s brows rose. “So you would show her what she is capable of, then bind her powers and send her back into poverty?”

Sarrin nodded. Vinara looked at Balkan, who shrugged. Biting back a protest, Rothen forced himself to remain silent. From the row above, Lorlen regarded the three magicians silently, his expression betraying no opinion.

“We should give her a chance at the very least,” Vinara said. “If there is any possibility that she will conform to our rules and become a responsible young woman, then we should offer her the opportunity.”

“The further her powers develop, the harder it will be to bind them,” Sarrin reminded her.

“I know,” Vinara leaned forward, “but it is not impossible. Consider how we will be regarded if we take her in. A little generosity and kindness will go a lot further toward redressing the damage we did to our reputation this morning than blocking her powers and returning her to the slums.”

Balkan’s brows rose. “True, and it may save us the trouble of a search if we make it known that she will be welcomed among us. Once she learns that she could become a magician, with all the position and wealth that entails, she will come to us.”

“And the loss of that wealth may be all the deterrent she will need should she consider returning to any distasteful ways she once had,” Sarrin added.

Lady Vinara nodded. She looked around the hall, then her gaze slid to Rothen and her eyes narrowed. “What do you think, Lord Rothen?”

Rothen grimaced. “I’m wondering if she would believe anything we told her after this morning.”

Balkan’s expression darkened. “Hmm, I doubt it. We will probably need to capture her first and explain our good intentions afterward.”

“Then there is little point in waiting to see if she will come to us,” Lorlen concluded. “We will begin our search tomorrow as planned.” He pursed his lips, then turned to face the seat above him.

Rothen looked up. Between the Administrator’s and King’s seats was a single chair reserved for the Guild’s leader: the High Lord Akkarin. The black-robed magician had not spoken throughout the Meet, but that was not unusual. Though Akkarin had been known to alter the course of a debate with a few mild words, he generally remained silent.

“High Lord, have you any reason to suspect there are rogue magicians in the slums?” Lorlen asked.

“No. There are no rogues in the slums,” Akkarin replied.

Rothen was close enough to see the quick glance that passed between Balkan and Vinara. He smothered a smile. The High Lord was rumored to have particularly fine senses, and nearly all the magicians were at least a little in awe of him. Nodding, Lorlen turned back to face the hall. He struck the gong, and as its peal echoed through the hall, the buzz of voices dropped to a faint murmur.

“The decision whether to teach the girl or not shall be deferred until she is found and her temperament assessed. For now, we will focus on the task of finding her. The search will begin here at the fourth hour tomorrow. Those of you who feel you have valid reason to remain in the Guild, please prepare a request and present it to my assistant tonight. I now declare this Meet ended.”

The Hall filled with the rustling of robes and the clatter of booted feet. Rothen stepped back as the first of the Higher Magicians stepped down from his seat and strode toward the side doors of the hall. Turning, he waited as Dannyl wove through the rest of the magicians and hurried to meet him.

“Did you hear Lord Kerrin?” Dannyl asked. “He wants the girl punished for attacking his dear friend, Fergun. Personally, I don’t think the girl could have found a nicer magician to knock out.”

“Now Dannyl—” Rothen began.

“—and now they’ve got us sorting through rubbish down in the slums,” a voice said behind him.

“I don’t know what’s the greater tragedy: that they killed the boy or that they missed the girl,” another replied.

Appalled, Rothen turned to stare at the speaker, an old Alchemist who was too busy looking glumly at the floor to notice. As the magician shuffled away, Rothen shook his head.

“I was about to lecture you about being uncharitable, Dannyl, but there’s little point, is there?”

“No,” Dannyl agreed, stepping aside as Administrator Lorlen and the High Lord passed.

“What if we don’t find her?” the Administrator asked his companion.

The High Lord gave a low laugh. “Oh, you’ll find her, one way or the other—though I’d say by tomorrow most will be in favor of the more spectacular, less fragrant alternative.”

Rothen shook his head again as the two Higher Magicians moved away.

“Am I the only one who cares what happens to this poor girl?”

He felt Dannyl’s hand pat his shoulder.

“Of course not, but I hope you’re not thinking of lecturing him , old friend.”

“She’s a tag.”

The voice was male, young and unfamiliar. Where am I? Sonea thought. Lying on something soft, for a start. A bed? I don’t remember getting into a bed—