Perhaps I’m even more afraid that Regin won’t believe me, and I’ll make a complete fool of myself. She smiled wryly. No matter how much I tell myself we are not novices and deadly enemies any more, I can’t shake the suspicion that he’ll use any weakness against me. It’s ridiculous. He’s proven that he can keep a secret. He’s been nothing but supportive.
But he often did not make it to their meetings, or arrived late and was distracted. She suspected he had lost interest in the search for Skellin. Perhaps he felt that tracking down the rogue magician Thief was an impossible task. It had certainly begun to feel that way.
With Cery forced into hiding, and his people unable to find any sign of Skellin, she was not sure how they could find the rogue – aside from pulling the city apart brick by brick, and the king would never agree to that.
The Foodhall was, as always, noisy with the clatter of cutlery on crockery and the voices of novices. Lilia let out an unheard sigh and stopped trying to hear what her companions were discussing. Instead she let her gaze move slowly across the room.
The interior was a strange mix of sophistication and simplicity, the decorative and the practical. The windows and walls were as finely crafted and decorated as most other large rooms in the University, but the furniture was solid, simple and robust. It was as if someone had removed the polished, carved chairs and table in the grand dining room of the house she had grown up in, and replaced them with the solid wooden table and bench seats from the kitchens.
The occupants of the Foodhall were as varied a mix. Novices from the most powerful Houses to those born of beggars on the dirtiest streets of the city ate here. When Lilia had first started magic lessons, she had wondered why the snooties had continued to eat their meals in the Foodhall when they were rich enough to have their own cooks. The answer was that they didn’t have time to leave the grounds each day to dine with their families – and they weren’t supposed to leave without permission anyway.
She suspected there was a feeling of territorial pride at work as well. The snooties had been eating in the Foodhall for centuries. The lowies were the newcomers. The Foodhall had been the scene of many a prank between the lowies and snooties. Lilia had never been a part of either. Though she had never said it aloud, she was from the upper end of the lowie group. Her family were servants for a family belonging to a House of reasonable political power and influence – neither at the top of the political hierarchy nor in decline. She could trace her line back for several generations, naming which of her ancestors had worked for which families within the House.
Whereas some of the lowies were from very shabby origins. Sons of whores. Daughters of beggars. Plenty were related to criminals, she suspected. A strange sort of competition had begun between these lowies to lay claim to the most impressively low origin. If sewer ravi could be claimed as parents, some of them would boast of it as if it was a title of honour. Lowies from a servant family didn’t boast or make anything of it, or they invited a lot of trouble.
The hatred some lowies had for snooties did not seem fair to her. Her parents’ employers had treated their servants fairly. Lilia had played with their children when she was growing up. They had ensured that all of their servants’ children were given a basic education. Since the Ichani Invasion, they had brought a magician in every few years to test all children for magical ability. Though none of their own had enough latent power to be accepted into the Guild, they had been overjoyed when Lilia, and servant children before her, had been chosen.
The two girls and boys she spent her social time with were lowies, and they were nice enough. She, Froje and Madie had been friends since starting at the University. Last year Froje had paired up with Damend and Madie with Ellon, making Lilia the odd one out. The girls’ attention was mostly taken up by the boys now, and they rarely sought Lilia’s opinion, advice or suggestions for things to do. Lilia told herself it had been inevitable and that she didn’t mind too much, since she had always been more comfortable listening in than joining their conversations anyway.
Her gaze fell upon a novice she had been watching for a long time now. Naki was a year ahead of Lilia in University studies. She had long black hair and eyes so dark it was hard to find the edge of her pupils. Every movement she made was graceful. Boys were both attracted and intimidated by her. As far as Lilia could tell, Naki had shown no interest in any of them – not even some of the boys Lilia’s friends thought were irresistible. Perhaps she thought herself too good for them. Perhaps she was simply choosy about her friends.
Today Naki was sitting with another girl. She wasn’t talking, although the other girl’s mouth was moving constantly. As Lilia watched, the talker laughed and rolled her eyes. Naki’s mouth widened and thinned in a polite smile.
Then, without any little movement to warn that she was about to, Naki looked directly at Lilia.
Uh, oh, Lilia thought, feeling the heat of embarrassment and guilt beginning to rise. Caught out. Just as she was about to look away, Naki smiled.
Surprise froze Lilia. She wondered briefly what to do, then smiled in return. It would have been rude otherwise. She forced herself to look away. She didn’t seem to mind me watching her but … how embarrassing to be caught staring.
A movement in Naki’s direction tugged at Lilia’s attention. She resisted the temptation to glance back, trying instead to decipher what she was seeing in the corner of her eye. A dark-haired person was standing near where Naki was sitting. That person was walking now. That person was coming in this direction.
Surely not …
She could not stop her head from turning and her eyes from looking up. Naki, she saw, was walking toward her. She was looking right at her, and smiling.
Naki put her plate down next to Lilia’s and then slid onto the empty space on the bench beside her.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” Lilia replied uncertainly. What does she want? Does she want to know why I was looking at her? Does she want to chat? What on earth will I talk about if she does?
“I was bored. I thought I’d come over and see what you were doing,” Naki explained.
Lilia could not help looking over at Naki’s former companion. The talker was staring at them, looking confused and a little peeved. Lilia glanced at her companions. The girls were surprised, and the boys had that fearful and wistful expression they usually wore when Naki was close.
She said “… what you were doing”. It didn’t sound like it included all of us.
She turned back to Naki. “Not much,” Lilia said honestly, wincing at the lameness of her reply. “Just eating.”
“What were you talking about?” Naki prompted, glancing at the others.
“Whether we chose the right discipline,” one of the others said. Lilia shrugged and nodded.
“Ah,” Naki said. “I was tempted to choose Warrior, but for all that it’s fun I can’t see myself spending my life doing it. I’ll keep up my skills, of course, in case we’re ever invaded again, but I decided Alchemy would be more useful.”
“That’s what I thought about Healing,” Lilia told her. “More useful.”
“True, but I’ve never been much good at Healing.” Naki smiled wryly.
As Naki continued chatting, Lilia’s surprise slowly began to melt away. Somehow, by smiling at someone across the room, or perhaps because the talker on the other table had been boring, a beautiful and admired novice was chatting to her like they were new friends.