The sound of running feet filled the corridor behind her.
“Sonea! Sooooneeeeaaaa!”
The older novices about her turned at the noise. Sonea knew by their stares that Regin and his gang were right behind her now. She drew in a deep breath, resolving to face Regin without flinching.
A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her around roughly. She shook it off and glared at Kano.
“Were you ignoring us, slum girl?” Regin asked. “That’s very rude, but I guess we can’t expect you to have any manners, can we?”
They encircled her. She glanced around at the grinning faces. Hugging her books closer to her body, she stepped forward and pushed her shoulder between Issle and Alend to break free from the ring of bodies. Hands reached out, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back into the middle. Surprised, she felt a growing dread. They hadn’t tried to physically abuse her before, other than giving her arm a yank to make her trip over, or fall into something unpleasant.
“Where are you going, Sonea?” Kano asked. Someone gave her another shove in the back. “We want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” she growled. Turning, she tried to push her way through again, but was shoved and pulled back into the circle. She felt a flash of fear. “Let me through.”
“Why don’t you beg us to, slum girl?” Regin jeered.
“Yeah, go on and beg. You must be good at it.”
“You had plenty of practice in the slums.” Alend laughed. “Surely you haven’t forgotten so quickly. I bet you were one of those snivelling brats that hang around the back of our fathers’ houses begging for food.”
“Please give me some food. Pleeese!” Vallon whined. “I’m staaaarving!” The others laughed and joined in.
“Or perhaps she had something to sell,” Issle suggested. “Good evening, my lord.” Her voice became a suggestive wheedle. “Need some company?”
Vallon choked back a laugh. “Just think how many men she’s had.”
Sniggers filled the corridor, and then Alend recoiled from her. “She’s probably diseased.”
“Not anymore.” Regin sent Alend a knowing look. “They told us the Healers checked her when she was found, remember? They’d have fixed her up.” He turned to Sonea and looked her up and down, his lips pursed.
“So... Sonea.” His voice became silky. “How much did you charge?” He moved closer, and as Sonea shrank away hands pressed into her back to push her toward him again. “You know,” he drawled. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I could get to like you. You’re a bit skinny, but I can overlook that. Tell me, did you specialize in any certain, ah, favors?”
Sonea tried to shrug away the hands on her shoulders, but the novices tightened their gip. Regin shook his head in mock sympathy. “I suppose the magicians said you had to give it up. How frustrating for you. But they don’t have to know. We won’t tell them.” He tilted his head to one side. “You could make a lot of money around here. Lots of rich customers.”
Sonea stared at him. She couldn’t believe he would even pretend to be interested in bedding her. For a moment she was tempted to call his bluff, but knew if she did, he’d claim she’d taken him seriously. Over his shoulders she could see that the other novices in the corridor had stopped to watch the scene with interest.
Regin leaned closer. She could feel his breath on her face. “We’ll just call it a business arrangement,” he crooned. He was just trying to intimidate her, and to see how much she would endure. Well, she had dealt with this kind of bullying before.
“You’re right, Regin,” she said. His eyes widened in surprise. “I have met many men like you before. And I do know exactly what to do with them.” She snaked a hand up and wrapped it tightly around his throat. His hands flew to his neck, but before he could grab her wrist she slipped a leg around his and shoved with all her strength. She felt his knee buckle and enjoyed a surge of triumph as he fell backward, arms flailing the air, and crashed onto the floor.
Silence filled the corridor as all novices, young and old, stared at him. Sonea sniffed with disdain.
“What a fine example you are, Regin. If this is how the men of House Paren behave, then they have no better manners than the average bolhouse lout.”
Regin stiffened and his eyes narrowed to slits. She turned her back at him and glared at the other novices, daring any to touch her again. They backed away and, as the circle broke, she strode through.
She had taken only a few steps when Regin’s voice echoed loudly in the corridor.
“You’re obviously well qualified to make such comparisons,” he called. “How does Rothen compare? He must be a very happy man, having you living in his rooms. Ah, it all makes sense now. I always wondered how you managed to convince him to be your guardian.”
Sonea felt herself go cold, then hot anger flooded her body. She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to turn back. What could she do? Hit him? Even if she dared strike the son of a House, he would see it coming, and shield. And then he would know how much he had got to her.
The quiet muttering of the older novices followed her down the corridor. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the stairs ahead, not wanting to see the speculation in their faces. They wouldn’t believe what Regin had suggested. They couldn’t. Even if they believed the worst of her because of her origins, nobody would think something like that of Rothen.
Would they?
“Administrator!”
Lorlen stopped at the University entrance and turned to face Director Jerrik. “Yes?”
The Director approached Lorlen and handed him a piece of paper. “I received this request from Lord Rothen yesterday. He wants to move Sonea to the winter intake of First Year novices.”
“Really?” Lorlen scanned the page, skimming through Rothen’s explanations and assurances. “Do you think she’s capable?”
Jerrik pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Possibly. I’ve asked the First Year teachers, and they all believe she could do it if she studied hard.”
“And Sonea?”
“She certainly seems willing to do the work.”
“Then you will allow it?”
Jerrik frowned and lowered his voice. “Probably. What I don’t like about this is the true motivation behind the change.”
“Oh? What is that?” Lorlen resisted smiling. Jerrik had always maintained that novices never worked harder purely for the sake of learning. They were motivated by the need to impress, be the best, please their parents, or to be in the company of friends or someone they admired.
“As we expected, she hasn’t mixed with the other novices well. In such circumstances, the rejected novice often becomes an object of derision for others. I believe she wants only to get away from them.” Jerrik sighed. “While I admire her determination, my concern is that the winter class will be no more accepting. She will have worked hard for nothing.”
“I see.” Lorlen nodded as he considered Jerrik’s words. “Sonea is a few years older than the others in her class, and she is mature for her age—by our standards at least. Most novices are little more than children when they come here, but they lose most of their childish habits during the first year. The winter novices may be less troublesome.”
“True, they are a sensible group,” Jerrik agreed. “Training in magic can’t be hurried along, however. She can fill her mind with knowledge, but if she hasn’t gained the skill to use her powers well, she may make dangerous mistakes later.”
“She has been using her powers for over six months,” Lorlen reminded him. “Though Rothen spent that time teaching her the basic education she needed to enter the university, her powers would have become familiar to her—and it must be frustrating to watch the other novices fumbling with theirs.”
“So I take it you are in favor of allowing this?” He gestured to Rothen’s request.
“I am.” Lorlen handed back the request. “Give her the opportunity. I think you’ll find her more resourceful than you expect.”