Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

“The other side of the University isn’t like this!” she exclaimed.

Tania shook her head. “The back entrance is for novices and magicians. This is the way that visitors come, so it has to be impressive.”

The servant continued through the room and started down a short corridor. Sonea could see the bottom half of another pair of enormous doors ahead. As they reached the end of the corridor, Sonea stopped and stared around in awe.

They stood at the threshold of an enormous room. White walls stretched up to a ceiling of glass panels that shone brightly in the gold light of the afternoon sun. At the level of the third floor, a web of balconies crisscrossed the room—so delicate that they seemed to float in the air.

Before her stood a building. A building within a building. The rough gray walls made a dramatic contrast to the airy white of the Hall. A row of slim windows was spaced, like soldiers, along its length.

“This is the Great Hall,” Tania said, indicating the room. “That,” she pointed to the building, “is the Guildhall. It’s over seven centuries old.”

“That’s the Guildhall?” Sonea shook her head in disbelief. “I thought they replaced it.”

“No.” Tania smiled. “It was well made and has historical value, so it would have been a shame to tear it down. They took the inside walls out and made it into a hall.”

Impressed, Sonea followed the servant around the building. Several more openings led out of the Great Hall. Tania pointed to a pair of doors in the side of the Guildhall. “That’s where you’ll go in. They’re having their Meet now. The Hearing will start when it’s finished.”

Sonea’s stomach began to flutter again. A hundred magicians sat inside, waiting to decide her fate. And she was about to stand before them all... and deceive them.

She felt a sickening wave of apprehension. What if, despite her cooperation, Fergun did not win the claim? Would he still let Cery go?

Cery ...

She shook her head as she remembered his halting admission in the dark cell. “I didn’t want to find out that the Guild really wanted to help you. You’d just come back and I didn’t want you going away. I didn’t want to lose you again.”

He loved her. Surprise had left her speechless at first, but when she thought back to the times she had noticed him watching her, how he would sometimes grow hesitant when talking to her, and how Faren had occasionally behaved as if Cery was more than just a faithful friend, it all made sense.

Did she feel the same way? She had asked herself the question countless times since their meeting, but she could not answer with certainty. She didn’t feel like she was in love, but perhaps the fear that gripped her when she considered the danger he was in meant she was. Or would she feel that concern for anyone she loved, whether as a friend or more than a friend?

If she loved him, wouldn’t her heart have leapt with joy at his admission? Wouldn’t she feel gratified that he had tried to rescue her, rather than guilty that his regard for her had led to his capture?

Surely, if she did love him, she wouldn’t have to ask herself these questions.

Pushing the thought aside, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Tania patted her shoulder. “Hopefully it won’t be long, but you never know ...”

A firm click echoed through the Hall, then the doors Tania had pointed to swung open. A magician stepped out of the building, then another. As more appeared, Sonea began to wonder why so many were leaving. Had the Hearing been cancelled?

“Where are they going?”

“Only the ones who are interested in watching the Hearing will stay,” Tania told her.

While some of the magicians left the Great Hall, others gathered into small groups. A few looked at her, their eyes bright with curiosity. Unsettled, Sonea avoided their gaze.

— Sonea?

She started, then looked toward the Guildhall.

— Rothen?

— It was a short Meet—over quickly. You’ll be called in soon.

Looking toward the Guildhall doors, Sonea saw a dark figure emerge. Her heart skipped as she recognized him.

The assassin!

She stared at him, sure that this was the man she had seen the night she had spied on the Guild. He wore the same grim, brooding expression she remembered. His black robes snapped around him as he strode across the room.

A few magicians turned and nodded to him, offering the same wary respect she had seen Faren give an assassin of the Thieves. He inclined his head in reply but did not stop. Though she knew she would draw his attention if she kept staring, she could not take her eyes from him. His gaze flickered to hers, lingered a moment, then shifted away.

She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder.

“There’s Lord Osen.” Tania was pointing toward the Guildhall doors. “The Administrator’s assistant.”

A young magician stood there, watching her. As she met his eyes, he beckoned.

“Go on,” Tania whispered, patting Sonea on the shoulder again. “You’ll be fine.”

Sonea took a deep breath and forced herself to walk across the Hall to the door. When she reached the young magician, he inclined his head politely.

“Greetings, Sonea,” he said. “Welcome to the Guildhall.”

“Thank you, Lord Osen.” She quickly sketched an awkward bow. Smiling, he gestured for her to follow him into the Guildhall.

The scent of wood and polish filled her senses as she stepped inside. The hall seemed larger than it had appeared on the outside, the walls rising up to a dark ceiling high above. Several magic globe lights hovered under the rafters, filling the room with a golden glow.

Rows of tiered wooden seats extended down the length of the building on each side. Sonea felt her mouth go dry as she saw the robed men and women watching her. Swallowing, she looked away.

Osen stopped and indicated that she should stay where she was, then climbed a steep arrangement of tiered seats to her right. These, she knew, were for the Higher Magicians. Rothen had drawn a diagram of the seating arrangement so she could memorize the magicians’ names and titles.

Looking up she saw that the topmost row was empty. Rothen had assured her that the King rarely attended Guild ceremonies. His chair at the center was larger than all others, and the royal incal had been stitched onto the cushioned back.

A single chair stood below it. Sonea felt a vague disappointment as she saw that it was empty. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of the High Lord.

Administrator Lorlen sat at the center of the middle row. The seats on either side of him were empty. He was talking to Osen and a long-faced man in the seat below him who wore a black sash over his red robes. This, Sonea recalled, was Lord Balkan, the Head of Warriors.

To Balkan’s left sat the stern Lady Vinara, the Head of Healers, who had visited Rothen after he had announced that Sonea would be staying. To his right was an old man with an angular face and a large nose—Lord Sarrin, the Head of Alchemists. Both were watching Lorlen intently.

In the lowest row of seats were the Principles—the magicians who controlled and organized lessons in the University. Only two seats were occupied. Sonea frowned as she struggled to remember why, then looked up at Lord Balkan. The Warrior held both positions, she recalled.

Osen straightened and descended to the floor again. The Higher Magicians turned to regard the hall. Rising, Administrator Lorlen lifted his chin and surveyed the magicians in the hall.

“The Hearing to decide the guardian of Sonea will now begin,” he intoned. “Would Lord Rothen and Lord Fergun, as claimants to that role, please approach the front.”