Trudi Canavan - The Magicians' Guild

When Rothen had asked for time to speak with her, Fergun had promptly asked for the same. What did he plan to say? All she wanted now was for the Hearing to be finished and over with.

Fergun gave her a sickly smile as he reached her side.

“Everything going as planned?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Good,” he crooned. “Very good. Your story was convincing, if a little badly spoken. Still, it had a charming honesty.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said dryly.

He looked up at the Higher Magicians. “I doubt if they will want to discuss this any longer. They will make their decision soon. After that, I will arrange a room for you in the Novices’ Quarter. You should smile, Sonea. We want people to believe you are filled with delight at the prospect of being my novice.”

Sighing, she forced the corners of her mouth upward into what she hoped the distant magicians would take as a smile.

“I’ve had enough of this,” she said between her teeth. “Let’s go back and get it over with.”

His brows rose. “Oh, no. I want my full ten minutes.”

Pressing her lips together, Sonea resolved to avoid saying another word. When he spoke to her again she ignored him. Seeing the flicker of annoyance in his eyes, she found it much easier to smile.

“Lord Fergun?”

She turned to see Lord Osen beckoning. Letting out a sigh of relief, she followed Fergun back to the front of the hall. The room still hummed with voices. Osen lifted his hands.

“Quiet, please.”

Faces turned back to the front and the hall settled into an expectant silence.

In the corner of her eye, Sonea could see Rothen staring at her. She felt another pang of guilt.

“From the accounts given today, we can clearly see that Lord Fergun was the first to recognize Sonea’s abilities,” said Lord Osen. “Does anybody contest this conclusion?”

“I do.”

The voice was deep and strangely familiar, and it echoed from somewhere behind her. Scraping and the rustle of robes filled the hall as all shifted in their seats. Sonea turned around and saw that one of the huge doors was standing slightly open. Two figures were striding down the aisle toward her.

As she recognized the shorter one she gave a cry of joy.

“Cery!”

She took a step forward, then froze as she saw Cery’s companion. Whispered questions drifted to her ears from either side. As the black-robed magician neared, he gave her an appraising look. Disturbed by his gaze, Sonea turned her attention to Cery.

Though pale and dirty, Cery was grinning happily. “He found me and let me out,” he told her. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Sonea looked questioningly at the black-robed magician. His lips curled into a half smile, but he said nothing. Moving past her, he gave Osen a nod, then started up the stairs between the Higher Magicians. No one protested as he settled into the seat above the Administrator.

“For what reason do you contest this conclusion, High Lord?” Osen asked.

The room seemed to tilt beneath her. She stared at the black-robed magician. This man was no assassin. He was the Guild’s leader.

“Evidence of deception,” the High Lord replied. “The girl has been forced to lie.”

Sonea heard a strangled sound to her right. Turning, she saw that Fergun’s face was white. She felt a flare of triumph and anger and, forgetting the black-robed magician, jabbed her finger at Fergun.

“He made me lie!” she accused. “He said he would kill Cery if I didn’t do what he said.”

From all around came gasps and hisses of surprise. Sonea felt Cery grip her arm tightly. She turned to look at Rothen, and as he met her eyes she knew he understood everything.

“An accusation has been made,” Lady Vinara observed.

The hall quietened. Rothen opened his mouth to speak, then frowned and shook his head.

“Sonea. Do you know the law regarding accusations?” Lord Osen asked.

Sonea drew in a sharp breath as she remembered. “Yes,” she replied, her voice shaking. “A truth read?”

Osen nodded, then turned to face the Higher Magicians. “Who will perform the truth read?”

Silence followed. The Higher Magicians exchanged glances, then looked up at Lorlen. The Administrator nodded and rose from his chair.

“I will perform the truth read.”

As he descended to the floor, Cery pulled on her arm. “What’s he going to do?” he whispered.

“He’s going to read my mind,” she told him.

“Oh,” he said, relaxing. “That’s all.”

Amused, she turned to regard him. “It’s not as easy as you’d think, Cery.”

He shrugged. “It seemed easy enough.”

“Sonea.”

She looked up to see that Lorlen had reached her side.

“See Rothen over there, Cery?” She pointed to Rothen. “He’s a good man. Go stand beside him.”

Cery nodded, then squeezed her arm and moved away. As he reached Rothen’s side, she turned to face Lorlen. The Administrator’s expression was sober.

“You have experienced a sharing of minds while learning Control,” he said. “This will be a little different. I will be wanting to see your memories. It will take a great deal of your concentration to separate what you want to show me from anything else that you think of. To help you, I will prompt you with questions. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes.”

Obeying, she felt his hands touch the sides of her head.

— Show me the room that is your mind.

Drawing up the wooden walls and doors, she sent Lorlen an image of the room. She sensed a fleeting amusement.

— Such a humble abode. Now, open the doors.

Turning to face the double doors, she willed them open. Instead of houses and a street, darkness stretched beyond. A blue-robed figure stood within it.

— Hello, Sonea.

The image of Lorlen smiled. He strode across the darkness and stopped at the doors. Extending a hand, he nodded to her.

— Bring me in.

She reached out and took his hand. At her touch, the room seemed to slide under his feet.

— Don’t be afraid or concerned, he told her. I will look at your memories, then I will be gone. He moved over to a wall. Show me Fergun.

Focusing on the wall, she created a painting. Within it she placed an image of Fergun’s face.

— Good. Now show me what he did to make you lie for him.

It took no force of her will to animate the image of Fergun. The painting swelled to fill the wall and changed to show Rothen’s guest room. Fergun strode toward them and placed Cery’s knife on the table in front of her.

I have the owner of this knife locked in a dark little room that nobody here knows of...

The scene blurred and then Fergun was crouching in front of them, larger than reality.

Do what I tell you, and I will release your friend. Give me any trouble, and I will leave him there forever... When you tell them this, the Higher Magicians will have no choice but to grant me your guardianship. You’ll enter the Guild, but I assure you, it won’t be for long. Once you have performed a little task for me, you’ll be sent back where you belong.

You’ll get what you want and so will I. You have nothing to lose from helping me, but... he picked up the dagger and ran a finger along the blade, you’ll lose that little friend of yours if you don’t.

She felt a wave of anger from the presence at her side. Distracted, she glanced at Lorlen, and the painting faded into the wall. Turning back, she willed it to appear again.

Drawing on her memory, she filled the painting with an image of Cery, dirty and thin, and the room he had been imprisoned in. Fergun stood to one side, looking smug. The smell of stale food and human waste flowed from the painting into the room.