Chapter Six – Weakness.

There was nothing to do except to sit and worry. Sonea did both in excess. She sat because she was unable to stand or walk, although she strongly suspected that pacing the room would help to distract her. And she worried because there was simply so much she could worry about.

Not for the first time, she wondered if Akkarin had been right when he had told her that her family, her aunt and uncle and two little cousins were safe and healthy, and whether they were worried that she had not contacted them. She worried about her other friends, Cery and Harrin and the other youths she had spent her childhood with, although she had not spoken to any of them except Cery since she had joined the Guild.

And last but not least, she was afraid of what the future might bring. It was Freeday, which meant that the Hearing was to take place in four days. Even though Osen had reassured them that they would almost certainly come out of it well there were just so many things that could go wrong. As far as Sonea knew, knowledge and practice of black magic was still punishable with execution and this time, there would be no way of denying being guilty of either.

Sonea was almost grateful when Marin came around midday to show her the exercises that would help to strengthen her muscles. She lost every concept of time while he told her to bend her knees, stretch her legs and execute a series of movements she was sure she would never manage without his help, and when he was finally satisfied with her, she was drenched in sweat and knew that tomorrow, every single muscle in her body would burn.

"If there is anything you need," Marin said just before he left her again. "Do not hesitate to call for me."

She nodded, glad that his care had apparently not stopped with her release from the Healers' Quarters. But that could not change the fact that she was now alone again. She wished Akkarin was with her. Just like before, she almost physically felt his absence although he was probably less than ten steps away on the other side of the wall.

She smiled as she remembered earlier in the day, before Lady Vinara had interrupted them. In the weeks that had passed, she had often wondered whether her memory was playing tricks on her, that she had not only forgotten what had happened after Sachaka but that some of the memories she had were also not what had happened. Sometimes it seemed so ridiculous to think that Akkarin would have thought of her that way, touched her that way. But her own feelings at least felt as real as they could, and even the most doubtful part of her could not imagine a reason for Akkarin to treat her the way he had when she had been recovering. Today had been the first and until now only hint that he might, in fact, love her.

She shook her head. It was stupid to doubt that much, she was only ruining her own happiness. She had spent too much time alone today, even though it had only been a few hours, she had started worrying too much the instant the door had closed behind her.

She jumped when there was a knock on the door. Then she was angry at herself, it was not so unusual for people to knock before they entered, she really should be used to it instead of almost suffering a heart attack every time it happened.

A servant entered and brought a tray with what apparently should be her evening meal. He had barely set it on the chair a few feet away from Sonea when he had already hurried out of the room again. He had not even raised his gaze from the floorboards long enough to look at her. Sighing, Sonea sat up and quietly endured the pain it caused her to get to her feet and cross the tiny distance between the bed and the chair and back again. But her silence in no way meant she was not cursing; she had learnt a long time ago that she did not need to voice the words for which her aunt had scolded her and that Rothen had spent so much time on trying to erase them from her vocabulary to feel the relief a proper curse offered.

The soup was merely lukewarm when she tasted it, but she did not mind much. She took the opportunity to practice and gently heated the bowl until its contents steamed. It was strange how unfamiliar it felt to use her powers, she had barely gotten used to it when they had gone to Sachaka and now it seemed so uncomfortable again.

The water was laced with something bitter that she recognised only after the second mouthful. She grimaced as she remembered the last time she had tasted nemmin, Akkarin had had it brought to her every evening for the first two or three weeks after he had taken her as a novice because he knew that she would not sleep at all if he did not force her to. She had been desperate then, and she was very close to desperation now. She gulped down the sleeping drug without second thought.

In the morning – at least she thought it must be morning because the lamp had burned down but there was light under the door that looked like sunlight – she woke to the sound of soft knocking on the door. It took her a moment to understand that that was where the noise came from, her mind was still numbed by the aftereffects of the nemmin in her system. She awkwardly sat up and rubbed her face to get the sleep out of her eyes before she called the invitation.

The man who stepped into her prison cell was the last man she had expected but she probably should have known that he would come to see her sooner or later. He shut the door behind himself and then stayed where he was, looking at her as if he did not believe she was actually there and not just a ghost. For some reason, she thought the same when she looked at him.

"I think I thought you were dead," she managed after inexplicably long moments of silence. "Why did I think that?"

Rothen smiled sadly. "The group I joined was defeated by the Ichani. I dared not contact the Guild openly. But I thought the same about you for some time because nobody would tell me what was going on. You do not look too alive yourself, if you ask me."

In another life she might have laughed. Now the comment only made her self-conscious, her fingers instinctively touched the fresh scar on her cheek and suddenly the bandages on her leg seemed much heavier and thicker than before. "Nobody told me anything either," she said to distract herself. "The world might have ended and I don't think I would have known. It didn't end, though, did it?"

"Almost. It might have but you saved it. You saved us. All of the Allied Lands should be grateful for that."

Sonea had heard that before but it sounded so strange to hear it from Rothen. She still had no memory of what exactly she had done, and the notion of deserving gratitude had never been so weird.

Her former guardian moved the chair so he could sit opposite of her, and when he sat he let out a badly hidden sigh of relief. He was injured, Sonea realised. Injured and probably worried half to death. She felt a pang of affection for him; she could not even begin to understand how he must have felt. Rothen had probably spent about the last two years or so worrying about her and knowing that she had been at the centre of a war he had witnessed had probably not helped to lighten his burden.

"So," Rothen began and watched her closely. "Do you have any plans?"

"Plans for what?"

He waved a hand. "The future. Anything. What are you going to do after the Hearing?"

She shrugged. "That all depends on the outcome, I suppose. We'll have to do whatever the Guild decides, won't we? If they decide to keep us here, we will stay. If they want to banish us again, or have us imprisoned, we will have to obey. The future is not in our hands."

Sonea had known that before but saying it out loud raised it to a whole new level. The future is not in our hands. They can do what us whatever they wish, she thought, and for a moment, she was horrified. Then she felt incredibly weak. If there was no way she could win, what was the sense in joining the fight in the first place? Most magicians must have already made up their mind on how they thought about the two Black Magicians, and nothing she could say or do what persuade them otherwise.

Suddenly, her sight was blurred, she felt strangely light-headed. There was nothing she could do. Her future was written in stone.

The embrace came so unexpectedly that she stiffened for a moment before she buried her face in the soft, heavy fabric of Rothen's robes. I will not cry, she told herself while the tears stung in her eyes. I still have that much strength left. It was for naught. The self-control she had built for herself as a child crumbled to pieces and sobs shook her body violently only a moment later.

As a girl child in the slums, Sonea had learned at a very young age that crying made nothing better and everything worse. Weeping meant weakness, and weakness would only get her hurt or killed. She had stopped weeping when she was, what, five years old? When her mother died a year later, she had not cried, neither when her father left her his wife's sister to feed and raise. The Guild caught her when she was seventeen, and although they had taken her away from anything she had ever known, she had refused to show them how hard it had hit her and not shed a single tear. A year and a half later, Akkarin had taken her as his novice to ensure her and Rothen's silence concerning his illegal activities as a Black Magician, and she had not cried although she had sometimes wished to.

Now she cried, and she did not even know why.

After a long time, the tears dried up, and Sonea stopped shaking. "I'm sorry," she muttered but did not sit up. It felt too good in Rothen's arms, too safe and familiar to just give it up.

"Don't apologise. You have done nothing wrong. Do you feel better now?"

She did not. Never had she felt so weak, so tired and weary in her life. For years, she had been cramming her sadness and fears behind a wall, and that wall had been torn down and could not be rebuilt. The feelings just came flooding into her mind, and she was too worn-out to try and keep them at bay. She shook her head before she could stop herself. She did not want to show any more weakness.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than for Rothen to leave her alone. She had longed for company yesterday, and now she just longed for solitude. Nobody should see her this way, and she did not seem able to gather up the strength to talk to him for much longer.

He knew her too well. "Shall I go?"

Sonea did not answer, did not even meet his eyes but he understood anyway. He held her for just one more heartbeat, and then he was gone and the door closed behind him and Sonea was alone to collapse back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, without any more tears to spare.

It was the longest week of her life.

I won't even try to apologise. But it will be better now. I promise. Huge thanks to those of you who wrote reviews in the last couple of months, basically telling me to get the hell to work. This chapter was a hard one, which is why I put it off for so long. Now we can slowly start on the fun part. I hope you're with me in this.

Love,

Jojo