Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

Just as well Fergun doesn’t know, she mused. It would make his revenge so much sweeter.

Fergun was risking much to pay her back for humiliating him. He must be very angry—or very sure he could get away with it. Either way, he was prepared to put a lot of effort into having her barred from the Guild.

“Lady?”

Turning, Sonea found Tania standing behind her. The servant smiled.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’ve decided to stay,” she said. “It would be a poor shame if you didn’t.”

Sonea felt her cheeks grow hot. “Thank you, Tania.”

The woman folded her hands together. “You look like you’re all full of doubts. You’re doing the right thing. The Guild never take in poorer folk. It’ll do them good to see you doing everything they can, and just as well as they.”

A sliver of cold ran down Sonea’s back. This wasn’t just about revenge!

The Guild didn’t have to invite her to join them. They could have blocked her power and sent her back to the slums. Yet they hadn’t. For the first time in centuries, the magicians had considered teaching someone from outside the Houses.

Fergun’s words echoed in her mind. “Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.” Back where she belonged?

She had heard the contempt in his voice, but hadn’t understood the significance. Fergun didn’t just want to make sure she didn’t enter the Guild. He wanted to make sure no dwell was ever given the chance again. Whatever “task” Fergun had planned for her would prove that dwells were untrustworthy. The Guild would never consider inviting another dwell into their ranks.

She gripped the window sill, her heart beating fast with anger. They are opening their doors to me, a dwell, but I’m going to walk out as if that means nothing!

A familiar feeling of helplessness crawled over her. She couldn’t stay. Cery’s life depended on her leaving.

“Lady?”

Sonea blinked at Tania. The servant laid a hand lightly on her arm.

“You will do well,” Tania assured her. “Rothen says you’re very strong, and you learn quickly.”

“He does?”

“Oh, yes.” Tania turned and picked up her basket, laden with dishes. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t go worrying. Everything will be fine.”

Sonea smiled. “Thanks, Tania.”

The servant grinned. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The servant slipped out of the door, leaving Sonea alone. Sighing, she stared out of the window. Outside it was snowing again, white flakes dancing in the night.

Where are you, Cery?

Thinking of the dagger Fergun had shown her, she frowned. It was possible that he had found it; that he did not have Cery locked away ...

Leaving the window, she dropped into a chair. There was so much to think about: Cery, Fergun, the Hearing, guardianship. Despite Tania’s assurances, she was not going to get much sleep during the next few weeks.

Every Threeday, Dannyl joined Yaldin and his wife for the evening meal. Ezrille had started the routine years before when, concerned that Dannyl had not found himself a wife, she began to worry that he would grow lonely if he had to end every day by himself.

As he relinquished his empty plate to Yaldin’s servant, Dannyl gave a little sigh of contentment. Though he doubted he would ever sink into the melancholy Ezrille feared, it was certainly better eating in company than by himself.

“I have heard rumors about you, Dannyl,” Yaldin said.

Dannyl frowned, his contentment evaporating. Surely Fergun wasn’t at it again. “Oh, what rumors?”

“That the Administrator is so impressed with your negotiations with the Thieves that he is considering you for an ambassadorial role.”

Dannyl straightened and stared at the old magician. “He is?”

Yaldin nodded. “What do you think? Does travelling appeal?”

“I...” Dannyl shook his head. “I’ve never considered it. Me? An ambassador?”

“Yes.” Yaldin chuckled. “You’re not as young and foolish as you once were.”

“Thanks,” Dannyl replied dryly.

“This could be good for you,” Ezrille said. She smiled and pointed a finger at him. “You might even bring back a wife.”

Dannyl gave her a withering look. “Don’t start that again, Ezrille.”

She shrugged. “Well, since there’s obviously no woman in Kyralia who is good enough for—”

“Ezrille,” Dannyl said sternly. “The last young lady I met stabbed me. You know I’m cursed when it comes to women.”

“That’s ridiculous. You were trying to catch her, not romance her. How is Sonea doing, anyway?”

“Rothen says she’s progressing well with her lessons, though she’s still determined to leave. She’s become quite chatty with Tania.”

“I suppose she’ll feel more comfortable with servants than with us,” Yaldin mused. “They’re not as high above her status as we are.”

Dannyl winced. Once he wouldn’t have questioned the remark—he would have agreed with it—but now that he had conversed with Sonea, it seemed unfair, even insulting. “Rothen would not like to hear you say that.”

“No,” Yaldin agreed. “But he is unique in his opinions. The rest of the Guild feel that class and status are very important.”

“What are they saying now?”

Yaldin shrugged. “It’s got beyond friendly wagers over the guardianship claim now. A lot of people are questioning the wisdom of having someone with her dubious background in the Guild at all.”

“Again? What are their reasons this time?”

“Will she honor the vow?” Yaldin said. “Will she be a bad influence on other novices?” He leaned forward. “You’ve met her. What do you think?”

Shrugging, Dannyl wiped the sugar from his fingers onto a napkin. “I’m the last person you should ask. She stabbed me, remember?”

“You’re not ever going to let us forget it,” Ezrille remarked. “Come now, you must have noticed more than that.”

“Her speech is rough, though not as bad as I expected. She has none of the manners we’re used to. No bowing or ‘my Lord.’ ”

“Rothen will teach her that when she’s ready,” Ezrille said.

Yaldin snorted softly. “He better make sure she knows before the Hearing.”

“You’re both still forgetting that she doesn’t want to stay. Why would he bother to teach her etiquette?”

“Perhaps it would be easier all round if she did leave.”

Ezrille gave her husband a reproachful look. “Yaldin,” she scolded. “Would you send the girl back to poverty after showing her all the wealth here? That would be cruel.”

The old man shrugged. “Of course not, but she wants to go and it’ll be easier if she does. No Hearing for a start, and the whole issue about taking in people from outside the Houses will be forgotten.”

“They’re wasting their breath arguing about it,” Dannyl said. “We all know that the King wants her here, under our control.”

“Then he won’t be too happy if she sticks to her intention to leave.”

“No,” Dannyl agreed. “But he can’t make her take the vow if she doesn’t want to.”

Yaldin frowned, then glanced at the door as someone knocked on it. He waved a hand lazily, and the door swung open.

Rothen stepped inside, beaming. “She’s staying!”

“Well, that settles that,” Ezrille said.

Yaldin nodded. “Not everything, Ezrille. We still have the Hearing to worry about.”

“The Hearing?” Rothen waved a hand dismissively. “Leave that to another time. For now, I only want to celebrate.”