Sonea hoped Regin’s allies would eventually lose interest. Just to be safe, she had started leaving her box in the library instead of carrying it back to her room. They had made a mess of her notes and books after they had grown bored with tormenting her with stunstrikes. And she had been forced to leave it behind, being too exhausted to carry it.
Keeping her footsteps quiet meant walking slowly, when she desperately wanted to hurry. Not for the first time, she wondered if magician boots were made to be noisy. No matter how gently she stepped, their hard soles made a tapping that echoed in the silent passages. She sighed. Only a few weeks ago she had enjoyed wandering around in the passages of the University. Now, she actually felt relief when she entered the door of the High Lord’s Residence.
A faint sound reached her ears. A snigger, half smothered. She stopped, realizing they had blocked her way to the main corridor. They didn’t know that she’d heard them, however. If she ran back and slipped through a portal room into the inner passages, she could make her way to the corridor from another direction.
Turning on her heel, she dashed away.
“Run, Sonea run!” came Regin’s voice. The sound of footsteps and laughter filled the passage.
She leapt around a corner, then another. A familiar door appeared. She grabbed the handle and slipped through. Not waiting to see if they followed, she hurried across the portal room to the opposite door and ran along the passage beyond. Behind her she heard the muffled sound of a door closing. She dashed into the first side passage.
It twisted to the right, met another and ended at another door. A novice stood outside this, his mouth stretched into a grin.
Sonea skidded to a halt and regarded the novice with dismay. So they knew about the inner passages now. The novice’s grin widened and she narrowed her eyes. Obviously he’d been posted to watch for her. He was alone, however, and easily overcome.
His grin vanished as he read her expression, and he hastily stepped aside. Slipping through the door, she crossed the room and entered the ordinary passages again. As she heard a door opening somewhere behind her, she broke into a run. The main passage was only a few turns away. She threw herself around one corner, then another, then into a rain of red fire.
She hadn’t been shielding, hoping to conserve her strength as long as possible. As pain ripped through her body, everything went black. When her sight cleared again, she was lying on the floor and her shoulder felt bruised. Another flash of fire seared her, making it impossible to do anything but grit her teeth. When it stopped, however, she managed to shield.
Rolling over, she tucked her feet under her and stood up. Regin and four other novices stood behind her. Three others blocked her way to the main corridor. Two more novices arrived, then three more. Thirteen novices. More than before. She swallowed hard.
“Hello again, Sonea.” Regin smiled. “How is it that we keep running into each other like this?”
The novices sniggered. There was no sign of doubt in their expressions now. They hadn’t been called to account for ambushing and torturing her, proving that, as Regin had predicted, she wouldn’t tell Akkarin about it.
Regin placed a hand on his heart. “What a strange thing is love,” he said wistfully. “I thought you hated me, but here you are, following me around!”
One of the novices passed him a paper box. Sonea frowned. Boxes like these usually contained sugared nuts, or other sweets.
“Ah! A gift!” Regin said, flipping the lid open. “Something to show my regard for you.”
Inside were twists of colored paper. An odor wafted to Sonea’s nose and she felt her stomach turn. Harrel pellets, she guessed, or reber dung—or both. Regin took one out.
“Shall I feed it to you, like young lovers do?” He glanced at his followers. “But you look as if you might need some warming up first.”
As he blasted her shield, the others joined in. Her stomach sank with dread. With so many novices attacking her, there was no chance of outlasting them. Turning to the ones blocking her path to the main corridor, she started pushing against their attack. Slowly they fell back, but after several paces she felt herself weakening. The novices, however, showed no signs of tiring.
She stopped. It had taken her a long time to crawl down to the University doors last time. She had wished she’d had just a little energy left, enough to be able to stand and walk. To conserve power she could let her shield fall a little early, and pretend to be completely exhausted. Yes, that might work.
But looking at the sweet box, she changed her mind. She would hold out as long as possible. As she felt her strength failing, she resolved to spit them back at him.
She felt the last of her power slowly drain away. As her shield failed, stunstrikes hit her body and she gasped with the pain. She felt her knees buckle and hit the floor. When the fire finally stopped she opened her eyes to see Regin crouching in front of her, crinkling the sweet wrapper between his fingers.
“What is going on here?”
Regin’s eyes widened and his face turned a deathly white. He quickly closed his fingers around the “sweet” and straightened. As he moved away, Sonea saw the owner of the voice and felt heat rush to her face. Lord Yikmo stood in the passage, his arms crossed.
“Well?” he demanded.
Regin bowed and the other novices hastily followed suit.
“Just a little game, my lord,” he said.
“A game, is it?” Yikmo glowered. “Do the rules of this game take precedence over those of the Guild? Fighting outside lessons or the Arena is forbidden.”
“We weren’t fighting,” one of the novices said. “Just playing.”
Yikmo’s eyes narrowed. “Really? So you were using stunstrikes outside of battle—on a defenseless young woman.”
Regin swallowed. “Her shield failed before we realized it, my lord.”
Lord Yikmo’s eyebrows rose. “It appears you are neither as disciplined nor as skilled as Lord Garrel claims. I’m sure Lord Balkan will agree.” Yikmo’s eyes scanned the group, noting identities. “Get back to your rooms, all of you.”
The novices hurried away. As Lord Yikmo turned to regard her, Sonea wished she’d had the strength to slip away while his attention had been on the novices. He looked very disappointed. She forced her legs under herself and rose unsteadily.
“How long has this been going on?”
She hesitated, not wanting to admit it had happened before. “An hour.”
He shook his head. “The stupidity of these novices. Attack the High Lord’s favorite? In numbers, too.” He looked at her, then sighed. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
“Please, don’t tell anyone.”
He considered her, frowning. She took a step forward, then swayed as the corridor began to spin. A hand grasped her arm to steady her. She felt a little Healing energy tingle through her arm. As soon as she had regained her sense of balance she brushed his hand from her arm.
“Tell me, did you strike back?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
“What use would that be?”
“None, but most people, when outnumbered, will fight back out of pride. But perhaps you refrained for the same reason.”
He regarded her expectantly, but she looked away and remained silent.
“Of course, if you had targeted one or two of the weaker novices, you might have left them as exhausted as you. It would be a discouragement to the others, at the least.”
Sonea frowned. “But they had no inner shields. What if I hurt one of them?”
He smiled, pleased. “That is the answer I want to hear. Yet I think there is more to your reluctance to strike than caution.”
Sonea felt a flare of anger. Once again he was pushing and poking her, prying out her weaknesses. But this was not a lesson. Wasn’t the humiliation of being found by him enough? She wanted him to leave her alone, and thought of the one subject that made most magicians flinch.