“You have to understand that this is what I do,” he told her. “I take novices who are having difficulties with Warrior Skills training and find out why. In all cases but yours, however, the novices I have taught have sought my help willingly. When they realize that I am going to raise personal matters that may be the cause of their problems, they have three choices: accept my method of teaching, find another teacher, or choose another discipline.
“But you? You’re here only because your guardian wishes it.” He looked at her directly. “Am I right?”
Sonea nodded.
“It’s hard to like what one is not good at.” The magician regarded her levelly. “Do you want to be better at this discipline, Sonea?”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “I suspect you are saying only what you believe you ought to say, Sonea. I will not repeat your answer to your guardian, if that is what you fear. I will not regard you badly if you say you do not. Consider the question carefully. Do you really wish to master this art?”
Looking away, Sonea thought of Regin and his followers. Perhaps if what Yikmo taught her helped her to defend herself... but with so many novices allied against her what use was there in skill and strategy?
Was there any other reason to improve? She certainly didn’t care about gaining the High Lord’s approval—and even if she became as proficient as Yikmo or Balkan, she would never have the strength to fight Akkarin.
But one day the Guild might discover the truth about the High Lord. She wanted to be there to lend her strength in the fight. It would only increase the chances of beating him if she was good at Warrior Skills, too.
She straightened. Yes, that was a good reason to improve her skills. She might not enjoy Warrior Skills classes, but if they helped the Guild oust Akkarin one day she should learn all she could.
She looked up at Yikmo. “If it’s hard to like what one isn’t good at, will I like it more when I am better at it?”
The Warrior smiled broadly. “Yes. I promise that you will. Not all the time, though. We all have to suffer defeat from time to time, and I don’t know anyone who enjoys that.” He paused, his expression sobering. “But first we have some tougher matters to attend to. You have many weaknesses to overcome, and what you witnessed during the Purge has brought about most of them. Fear of killing has made you reluctant to strike and knowing that you are stronger than others makes you even more cautious. You have to learn to trust yourself. You have to learn the limits of your strength and Control—and I have devised some exercises that will help you do that. This afternoon we have the use of the Arena.”
Sonea stared at him in surprise. “The Arena?”
“Yes.”
“Just me?”
“All to yourself—and your teacher, of course.” He took a step toward the door. “Come along, then.”
Rising, she followed him out of the room and into the passage.
“Isn’t the Arena used by other classes every day?”
“Yes,” Yikmo replied. “But I convinced Balkan to find something else for his class to do this afternoon.” He glanced at her, smiling. “Something fun that took them outside the Guild, so they would not resent your intrusion.”
“What are they doing?”
He chuckled. “Blasting rock out of an old quarry.”
“What will they learn from that?”
“To respect the destructive potential of their powers.” He shrugged. “It also helps to remind them of the damage they could do to their surroundings should they ever fight outside the Arena.”
They reached the main corridor and continued to the rear stairway. As they left the building and started on the path to the Arena, Sonea looked up at the University windows. Though she could see no faces, she was suddenly conscious that her “private” lesson was not going to be at all private.
Descending into the Arena’s portal, they moved through darkness and into the sunlight again. Yikmo pointed toward the Healers’ Quarters.
“Strike at the barrier.”
She frowned. “Just... strike?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Any. It doesn’t matter. Just strike.”
Taking a deep breath, she focused her will and sent a firestrike toward the invisible shield. As it hit, hundreds of fine threads of energy rippled out between the curved spires of the Arena. The air vibrated with a muted tinkling.
“Strike again, but stronger.”
This time lightning covered the entire domed barrier. Yikmo smiled and nodded.
“Not bad. Now put all your strength into it.”
Power flashed through and out of her. It was an exhilarating sensation. The shield crackled with light and Yikmo chuckled.
“Now give it all your strength, Sonea.”
“I thought I had.”
“I don’t think you did. Imagine everything that matters to you depends on one immense effort. Don’t hold back.”
Nodding, she imagined that Akkarin stood in front of the barrier. She pictured Rothen standing beside her, the target of Akkarin’s immense power.
Don’t hold back, she told herself as she let loose her magic.
The Arena barrier glowed so brightly she had to shield her eyes. Though the tinkling was no louder, her ears vibrated with the sound. Yikmo crowed quietly.
“That’s more like it! Now do it again.”
She looked at him. “Again?”
“Stronger, if you can.”
“What about the Arena barrier?”
He laughed. “It would take much more than that to break the Arena barrier. Magicians have been strengthening it for centuries. I expect to see the supports glowing red by the end of this lesson, Sonea. Go on. Give it another blast.”
After another few strikes, Sonea realized she was beginning to enjoy herself. Though battering the Arena barrier posed no challenge, it was a relief to be able to strike without worrying about precautions or restrictions. Each strike was a little weaker, however, and soon all she could do was send a few ripples of light across the barrier.
“That will do, Sonea. I don’t want you falling asleep in your next class.” He looked at her questioningly. “How do you feel about this lesson?”
She smiled. “It wasn’t as hard as your usual ones.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I guess.”
“In what way?”
She frowned, then suppressed a smile. “It’s like... seeing how fast I can run.”
“Anything else?”
She couldn’t tell him that she had imagined she was blasting Akkarin to ashes. But he had noticed her hesitation. Something similar, then? Looking up at him, she smiled mischievously. “It’s like throwing stones at magicians.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is it really?” Turning, he gestured for her to follow him to the Arena portal. “We’ve tested your limits today, but not in any way that will measure your strength against others. That will be the next step. Once you know how much power you can safely use against another, then you should stop hesitating before you strike.” He paused. “It is two days since Regin exhausted you. Were you tired yesterday?”
“A little, in the morning.”
He nodded slowly. “Go to bed early tonight, if you can. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”
“So what do you think of my sister?”
Seeing that Tayend was grinning broadly, Dannyl chuckled. “Rothen would say she speaks plainly.”
“Ha!” Tayend replied. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Mayrie of Porreni was as plain as her brother was handsome, though both were slim and small-boned. She had a forthright manner and a bold sense of humor that made her easy to like.
The estate her husband managed produced horses, some food crops, and wines that were sought after in all of the Allied Lands. The house was a sprawling single-story mansion with a verandah all around. After dinner, Tayend had taken a bottle of wine and some glasses and led Dannyl out under the verandah, where chairs were arranged to take in the view of the vines.