Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan

After the last picture from Sonea had faded away Rothen stood frozen, paralyzed by shock and grief. He wasn't responding for so long that the magicians grew worried about his health. When he finally thawed he went into a rage. Dannyl shuddered as he remembered. He admired Rothen's courage as he confronted every magician in the room that was guilty, in his eyes, of unfair and cruel treatment of Sonea. He suspected that one would have to be on a brink of madness to be quite so direct. The magicians gathered in the Night Room were so shaken by the recent mental communication that they took Rothen's criticism meekly, with their heads bowed. Even Lord Garrel, Regin's guardian, shrank with shame and guilt at Rothen's judgment of his character. Whatever the magicians had thought of Sonea after they had learned she had been using Black Magic, they didn't think she deserved to die. Not in this way anyway, Dannyl corrected himself. Now, that she was dead, killed by cruel Ichani in a foreign land that they had sent her to, the slum girl didn't seem quite so threatening anymore.

A bit late, Dannyl thought bitterly.

At long last, Rothen ran out of his charges. He cast a contemptuous look at the magicians around him and stormed out of the room. He left a ringing silence in his wake. It took the magicians several minutes to recover, and then, as one the magicians started worrying about Rothen.

Their compassion was a new quality in the guild, Dannyl reflected. Such solidarity in the face of tragedy never happened before.

Administrator Lorlen sent for Lady Vinara in case Rothen needed medical assistance. Dannyl went to find his mentor. Lord Garrel, to everyone's astonishment, suggested that they should send summons to Rothen's son, Dorrien. And upon receiving approval, he hurried away in search of a messenger who would deliver a letter to the South Pass.

The nightly guild grounds were in uproar, magicians were hurrying to and fro, globe lights hovering over their heads like lampions during the festival in the capital of Vin. Dannyl didn't know what purpose each of them had, but he was sure that it was brought about by Rothen's outburst.

Dannyl found him in the ancient cemetery. His face was drawn with misery and his eyes were distant, unfocused. Dannyl put his hand on his mentor's arm.

"Rothen," he said quietly.

The older magician looked at him, his eyes sparkled with moisture.

"She's dead, Dannyl," he shuddered. "I didn't save her."

"You couldn't have done anything," Dannyl assured him. "None of us could."

They were silent for some time, staring into the darkness.

"Come, my friend," Dannyl said eventually. "You need to rest."

They returned to the Magicians' Quarters to find Lady Vinara waiting for them.

"Lord Rothen," she said softly. "Please, accept my deepest condolences and sympathies for your loss."

Rothen nodded.

"Thank you."

He opened his door and gestured for them to enter.

"Would you like some sumi?" he asked hoarsely.

Dannyl exchanged a glance with Lady Vinara. They shook their heads.

"I would like to examine you," Lady Vinara told him.

Dannyl tensed, wary of his mentor's reaction, but Rothen had no fire left in him. He nodded and waved for her to follow him into his bedroom.

Dannyl settled into a chair, waiting. Fifteen minutes later Lady Vinara returned, she met his gaze gravely.

"How is he?" Dannyl asked anxiously.

"He's fine," she told him. "I gave him nemmin. He's sleeping."

Dannyl heaved a sigh of relief.

"I thought he was losing his mind," he admitted.

Lady Vinara allowed herself a small smile.

"Yes," she sighed. "It appears to have been shock."

Dannyl chuckled darkly.

"That's too bad," he said. "If he was mad he wouldn't have to apologize later."

"Actually," her smile disappeared. "Almost everyone agrees that he was justified in his opinions."

Dannyl's eye brows rose in surprise.

"Yes," she stood up. "Ambassador Dannyl, I must ask you to remain here in case he wakes up."

"Of course," he said.

"I'll send Lord Yaldin later to change you."

Dannyl nodded his thanks. When she left he looked around for something that would occupy his troubled thoughts. He picked up a book of poetry he found on Rothen's shelf. This was the same book that he had given to Tayend for the scholar's birthday, Songs of Kyralia by Lord Ralo.

Dear Ralobat, I sincerely hope you do not mind that I used the title of your fan fiction for my collection of poems. After all, your stories are a bit like poetry themselves.

I have some issues with the next few chapters so I might take longer updating next time.

Do you have any constructive criticism so far?