The sound of snow crunching under boots told Sonea that the novices behind her were drawing close. She strengthened her shield but, to her surprise, they moved around her to stand behind Regin.
“Hmmm,” Regin continued. “Perhaps I could teach you some of what Lord Balkan has shown me.” He glanced at the others and nodded. “Yes, I think you’d find that interesting.”
Sonea’s mouth went dry. She had known Regin was taking extra classes in Warrior Skills, but not that he was learning under Balkan, the Head of that discipline. As Regin raised his palms, the other novices moved closer to their leader and placed their hands on his shoulders.
“Defend yourself,” Regin said, mimicking Lord Vorel’s commanding tone.
Throwing more magic into her shield, she blocked the flow of energy that flashed from each of Regin’s palms. The strikes were weak, but rapidly grew in force until they were stronger than anything she had faced in the Arena. Surprised, she poured more and more magic into her shield.
How was this possible? She had fought Regin enough times to know his strength. He had always been much weaker than her. Had he been holding back, just waiting for a moment to surprise her with his real strength?
Regin’s face stretched into an ugly grin, and he took a step toward her. Abruptly, the attack weakened, then stopped as he paused to glare at the others. They hurriedly stretched forward to regain their hold on his shoulder.
As they touched Regin again, he resumed his attack. She considered what this meant. Obviously the others were lending him their power. She hadn’t heard that it was possible, but there was plenty about the Warrior Skills she didn’t know—or might have missed during Vorel’s long and boring lectures.
Her senses rang with the magic that filled the air. The snow between them had melted into sizzling puddles. So much power... the thought of what was being directed at her was appalling, and set her heart racing. If she failed to hold her shield, the consequences would be brief—and fatal. He was taking such a risk... or was he?
What if he means to kill me?
Surely not. He would be expelled from the Guild.
Yet when she pictured Regin facing the assembled magicians in the Guildhall, she could easily hear what they’d say. An unfortunate accident. He wasn’t to blame for her poor skills. Four weeks’ work in the library, and don’t let it happen again.
Anger replaced her fear. As she regarded the novices, she saw that they were glancing at each other doubtfully. Regin was no longer grinning, but frowning with concentration. He growled something, and the others protested in reply. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t having the effect they’d expected.
Was this, then, as strong as they could be when combined? She smiled. She was holding them off easily. He had underestimated her—and if the globe light floating above them was any indication, she still had strength to spare.
How, then, would this end? She was sure striking back would break their attack. But if they could not defend themselves she might be the one facing the Higher Magicians and exile.
And if they did manage to shield, they would still continue to hound her all of the way back to the Novices’ Quarters. How could she get away from them? She glanced up at the globe light. If she extinguished it, it would take a few minutes for their eyes to grow used to the dark. She could slip away. Unfortunately, she would suffer the same night-blindness...
Blindness...?
She smiled. Closing her eyes tightly, she exerted her will. Light flashed brightly behind her eyelids, and she felt the attack falter. When she opened her eyes again the novices were blinking or rubbing their faces.
“I can’t see!” Kano exclaimed.
It worked! She grinned as Alend swore vehemently and spread his arms out, having nearly lost his balance on the uneven ground. Issle groped about until she found a tree, then grasped it as if she was afraid it would run away.
Sonea took a step backward. Hearing the crunch of snow, Regin reached out and took a step toward her. His boot landed in the mud created by the melted snow, then slipped sideways. He landed face first in the mire. An exclamation of disgust and frustration burst from him as he struggled to his feet.
Sonea choked back laughter. A murderous look crossed Regin’s face and he leapt up from the ground. Evading his groping hands, Sonea backed away from the novices.
“Thanks for the lesson, Regin. I never knew you were a man of such vision.”
Chuckling, she turned away and started toward the lights of the University.
16
The Rule About Accusations
Rothen was dismantling a delicate construction of tubes, valves, and glass baubles when a voice spoke his name. He looked up to find a young man in servant’s clothes, wearing the green sash that marked him as a Healer’s messenger, standing in the doorway of the classroom.
“Yes?” Rothen said.
“Lady Vinara requests your presence in the Healers’ Quarters.”
Rothen’s heart skipped. What could Vinara want? Had something happened to Sonea? Had one of Regin’s pranks gone too far? Or was it someone else? His old friend, Yaldin? Or Ezrille, his wife?
“I will be there shortly,” he replied.
The messenger bowed and hurried away. Rothen looked at the novice who had stayed back to assist him. Farind smiled.
“I’ll finish if you want, my lord.”
Rothen nodded. “Very well. Just make sure you dispose of the acid carefully.”
“Of course.”
Hurrying down the corridor, Rothen tried to stop himself from guessing the reason for Vinara’s summons. He would know soon enough. The night air was icy cold outside the University, so he surrounded himself with a shield and warmed the air within. Reaching the Healers’ Quarters he found Lady Vinara waiting for him in the entrance.
“You sent for me?” Rothen asked breathlessly.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “There was no need to hurry, Lord Rothen,” Vinara told him. “The novices here who claim to be victims of your favorite are not about to expire. Do you know where Sonea is?”
Victims? What had she done? “Studying in her room, most likely.”
“You haven’t seen her this evening?”
“No.” Rothen frowned. “What is this about?”
“Six novices found their way here an hour ago. They claim that Sonea ambushed them in the forest and blinded them.”
“Blinded them? How?”
“With a bright light.”
“Oh.” Rothen relaxed, but seeing the Healer’s grim expression, he grew worried again. “Not permanently?”
She shook her head. “No. None of their injuries are serious—certainly not bad enough to waste Healers’ time on. They will recover.”
“Any injuries other than blindness?”
“Cuts and bruises from finding their way out of the forest.”
“I see.” Rothen nodded slowly. “Would one of these novices be Garrel’s favorite, Regin?”
“Yes.” Her lips thinned. “I have heard Sonea has a particular dislike for this boy.”
Rothen gave a short, bitter laugh. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you. May I speak to Regin?”
“Of course. I will take you to him.” Vinara turned and began to walk along the main corridor of the building.
As Rothen followed, he considered all that Vinara had told him. He didn’t believe for a minute that Sonea had ambushed Regin and his friends. More likely they had ambushed her. Something had gone wrong, however.
They might have blinded themselves so they could blame her for it, but he doubted that had been the case. If they had intended to do so, they would have arranged for others to find and guide them back to the Healers’ Quarters. That they hadn’t even called for assistance mentally suggested they had hesitated to call attention to their situation.
Vinara stopped by a door and gestured inside. Looking into the room, Rothen saw a familiar young man in mudstained robes sitting on the edge of a bed. Regin’s face was flushed. His fists clenched and unclenched and his eyes burned fiercely at a point far beyond the shoulder of his guardian, Lord Garrel.