“A novice has died,” Kiano explained. “Shern.”
Sonea frowned, remembering the novice from the summer class whose powers had felt so strange. Died? Questions sprang into her mind. How? When?
“Oh, just go away,” Trassia growled. Startled by the girl’s outburst, Sonea stared at her.
“He was Benon’s cousin,” Kiano told her in a low voice.
Trassia glared back. Slowly, understanding came. By asking why the class had been cancelled, Lord Kiano had been forced to speak of Shern’s death in front of Benon. Sonea felt her face heating. As Narron looked up at her and scowled, she backed out of the room and fled.
She stopped running after only a few steps as anger and frustration caught up with her. How could she possibly have known that Shern was dead, or that Benon was his cousin? Asking why the class had been cancelled was a perfectly reasonable question.
Wasn’t it?
Her thoughts returned to Shern. When she searched her feelings she could find no more than a mild sadness. Shern had never even spoken to her, or anyone. In fact, the entire summer class had ignored him during the few weeks he had attended the University.
As she reached the end of the staircase she saw that Rothen was climbing toward her, and felt a surge of relief.
“There you are,” he said. “You’ve heard?”
“They cancelled classes.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “They always do when this happens. I went to find you in your room, but you weren’t there. Come and have a hot drink with me.”
Walking beside him, Sonea remained silent. It seemed remarkable that the Guild would close the University because of the death of a novice who had barely spent more than a few weeks there. But since all of the novices, apart from her, were from the Houses, the boy had probably been related to several novices and magicians.
“Shern was in your first class, wasn’t he?” Rothen asked as they entered his guestroom.
“Yes.” Sonea hesitated. “Can I ask what happened to him?”
“Of course.” Rothen collected a pot and cups from a side table, then brought out two jars from a cupboard. “Do you remember what I told you about Control failing when a magician dies?”
“Any unused magic is let loose, and consumes the body.”
Rothen nodded. He set down the crockery and jars. “Shern lost Control of his magic.”
Sonea felt a chill run down her spine. “But he passed the Second Level.”
“He did, but not well or completely. His mind was never stable enough.” Rothen shook his head. “Such a state is rare, but it does sometimes occur. You see, when children are found to have the potential for magic we also test them for problems like this. Sometimes they simply don’t have the mental strength or stability to Control magic.”
“I see,” Sonea said, nodding. Rothen poured water from a jug into the pot, and added sumi leaves from one of the jars. Reaching for the other jar, Sonea mixed raka powder with water and heated the mix with a little magic.
“Unfortunately, some people develop mental instability when they grow older,” Rothen continued, “or when their magic is released. By then it is too late. Sooner or later they lose the Control they have been taught—usually in their first few years. Shern started to show signs of instability months ago. The Guild took him away from the city to a place we had built for such novices. We try to keep them calm and happy, and they are treated by Healers who are well versed in the problem. But no one has ever found a cure, and any binding we place on their powers doesn’t seem to hold for long.”
Sonea shivered. “When I first saw him I thought his presence was strange.”
Rothen frowned. “You sensed the instability that early? No one else did. I must tell this to—”
“No!” Sonea’s heart lurched. If Rothen told anyone that she had sensed something wrong with Shern, the other novices would have something else to blame her for. “Don’t. Please.”
Rothen regarded her speculatively. “Nobody is going to look on you badly for not saying anything. You couldn’t possibly have understood what you were sensing.”
She held his eyes. Rothen sighed. “All right. I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” He placed his hands around the pot. At once steam began to drift from the funnel. “How do you feel about all of this, Sonea?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know him.” She then told him what had happened when she walked into the classroom. “It’s as if it was all my fault.”
Rothen frowned as he poured himself a cup of the brewed sumi. “They probably snapped at you because you interrupted at a bad time. Don’t worry about what they said. By tomorrow they will have forgotten about it.”
“So what am I going to do today?” she wondered aloud.
Rothen paused to sip his drink, then smiled. “I thought we might make a few plans for Dorrien’s visit.”
The captain of the Anyi had been delighted when Dannyl asked if he was headed for the Vin Islands. At first Dannyl had assumed the man was eager to see his homeland, but grew suspicious when the captain insisted that Dannyl and Tayend move into his own cabin. From what he knew of Vindo sailors, it should take more than homesickness or respect for the Guild to motivate a captain to give up his own space.
The evening after they left, Dannyl had discovered the true reason for the captain’s enthusiasm.
“Most ships to Kiko Town go to Capia first,” the captain told them, over a generous meal. “This way much faster.”
“Why don’t they sail straight to Kiko Town?” Tayend asked.
“Bad men live on Upper Islands of Vin.” The captain scowled. “They rob ships, kill crew. Dangerous people.”
“Oh.” Tayend looked at Dannyl. “And we’re going to sail past these islands?”
“No danger this time.” The captain smiled at Dannyl. “We have magician on board. Show Guild flag. They no dare rob us!”
Remembering the conversation, Dannyl smiled to himself. He suspected that merchants occasionally risked this route anyway, protecting themselves by displaying the Guild flag even when they didn’t have a magician on board. The pirates might have worked this out, too, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if a Guild uniform, real or copied, was kept in a chest somewhere for the days when a flag wasn’t enough to keep pirates away.
He had been too relieved to be leaving Lonmar to care. The dispute with the Council of Elders had taken over a month of fussing and arguing to settle. While the duties he would attend to in Vin were minor, he wondered if they, too, would turn out to be more trying than they appeared.
As the distance from Lonmar lengthened and the crew had grown increasingly tense and watchful, Dannyl had realized the threat of pirates was real. From the overheard conversations that Tayend translated, Dannyl guessed that an encounter with pirates was not a risk, but a certainty. It was a little disconcerting to know that these men believed their lives depended on his presence on the ship.
He looked at Tayend, lying on the second narrow bed. The scholar was pale and thin. Bouts of seasickness had taken their toll on his health. Despite weakness and obvious discomfort, Tayend still refused to let Dannyl heal him.
So far, their journey had not been the pleasant adventure Tayend had hoped for. Dannyl knew the scholar had been relieved to leave Lonmar, too. When they reached Kiko Town, he decided, they would spend a week or two resting. The Vindo were known for their warmth and hospitality. Hopefully they would make up for the heat and strangeness of Lonmar, and Tayend would regain his strength and enthusiasm for travelling.
Two small windows offered a glimpse of the sea on either side. The sky was a dusky late-afternoon blue, clear of clouds. Moving closer, Dannyl saw the distant shadow of islands dotting the horizon on one side—and two large boats.