For the next two weeks, Sonea put up the blocks the High Lord had shown her before going to sleep each night. They were effective, and she did not have any recurrences of the strange dreams she had experienced before, dreams that she now realized belonged to the High Lord. At first, she was grateful, for it made her sleep much more restful, but after awhile, she began to wonder if perhaps she should be paying more attention to the dreams. After all, though she did not know what they meant, he clearly did not want anyone to see them, and she had to wonder why. Perhaps more insight into them could also help her figure out why he had threatened her family and insisted she join the Guild.
With that thought in mind, she decided not to put the mental blocks in place one night, instead falling asleep as she had before the incident with Regin. At first, she lay awake, wondering if he would somehow realize she had not followed his instructions. However, she felt no different than she had before, so she eventually drifted off to sleep. When she woke the next morning, she had not experienced one of the dreams. Even before starting the exercises, however, she did not have them every night, so she did not think much of it. She quickly grabbed her clothes and headed for the baths, hoping to arrive before any of the other Novices. Since her last confrontation with Regin, he had not openly attacked again, but she would not say that the situation with the other Novices was necessarily better. Rather, Regin and his followers had simply become a bit quieter with their threats. She had also heard a few insinuations about her relationship with the High Lord based on the fact that he had intervened to keep her from punishment.
If only they knew, Sonea thought, pushing open the door of the baths to find them blissfully empty. She selected one near the middle, filled it, and warmed the water with a bit of magic. The warming spell had been one of the first ones she had learned and remained one of her favorites. She had rarely experienced the luxury of any sort of bath in the Slums and never a warm one, but now that she had, she did not know how she would live without it.
Sonea slipped out of the tub as soon as she heard voices outside, drying and dressing quickly in one of the back corners of the room. By keeping her head down, she managed to avoid any conversation with the Novices who entered though she need not have worried–they were older than her, likely Fourth or Fifth Years who did not even know who she was. They gave her no notice as she left quietly and returned to Rothen's rooms.
Of course, she could not avoid the other Novices forever, but she did her best to ignore the whispers and snickers as she entered her first class of the day. She took out her notes and turned to the front of the room, her pen already ready. If nothing else, the torment and lack of friends would make her an excellent student. There was not much for her to do outside of classes except studying. Rothen had actually come back from the Night Room two nights before smiling with pride before telling her how two of her teachers had sought him out to compliment her performance in class. He had made a comment about how she would likely be top of her class by the end of the year.
Sonea paused as a sudden thought hit her. Surely the top of her class would not be too far from the level of ability of the class above her. If she could prove herself equal to them, would the magicians allow her to skip ahead to that class? So far, she had not experienced much hostility from the other classes, just her own, and that seemed to be mostly Regin's doing. If she could get away from Regin, perhaps things would be easier. Oh, she never expected everyone to accept her–that would be asking far too much. But perhaps she could at least avoid most of the tormenting or even, dare she hope, make a friend.
Those thoughts occupied Sonea for much of the rest of the day, and she gradually grew more excited as she considered them. She found herself constantly distracted from her studies, and it was only the realization that such distraction would be self-defeating that allowed her to focus at all. Finally, the time came for the evening meal. Rothen could tells she was distracted right away, and he looked at her expectantly. "Well?"
Now that the time had come to tell her plan to someone else, however, Sonea suddenly worried that she was being silly. Perhaps Rothen was simply trying to make her feel good when he mentioned her professor's compliments. Maybe she was not truly that far ahead in which case it would be silly to assume she could meet the requirements of the next class. However, Rothen was expecting her to say something, so she took a deep breath and began. "I was thinking about what you said the other night, about how the teachers had mentioned I was doing well in classes, and I was wondering. . . how much work would it take for me to move ahead a class?"
Rothen stared at her curiously for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes. "There is no guarantee that moving a class will solve your problems. You could end up with the same issues with a different group of novices."
Sonea shrugged. "I know, but at least there's the possibility of a change. If I don't do anything, I know that things will stay the same."
Rothen nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that is true." He considered for a moment. "I certainly do not think it is impossible, but it will take a good deal of work. Are you prepared for that?"
"It's not as if I have anything else to do with my time."
Rothen's eyes took on the now-familiar look of sympathy, but he had known her long enough not to say anything out loud. "In that case, I can start helping direct your studies tomorrow."
Sonea was so excited by the thought of changing classes that she completely forgot putting up the mental blocks that night, only realizing the next morning that she had slept the entire night without them. Despite her lack of blocks, however, she did not experience any dreams. She wondered briefly if perhaps the High Lord was putting up his own blocks to reduce them, but even if he was, she could not think of anything to do about that. There were other, more pressing problems, that required her attention.
As Rothen had warned, skipping ahead a class was not going to be easy, a fact Sonea came to fully appreciate when he brought her the first stack of books to study. Still, she simply thanked him for his help and opened the first one, refusing to let the height of the stack daunt her.
Fall turned into winter, and as winter term ended, Sonea sat the first year exams with the rest of the winter class. Fortunately, nothing on them was too surprising after all the studying she had done, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she finished the last one. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but she had done it, and she even felt relatively confident in her performance. As a reward for herself, she spent the afternoon in the garden, creating a heat shield around herself given the chilly temperatures. She had learned where the most secluded spots were long before, and she sought one out now, settling down to simply relax and breathe in the fresh air. It did not take long for exhaustion to catch up to her, however, and without meaning to, she drifted off to sleep, her head lolling against the brick wall of the garden.
Though her sleep was dreamless at first, at some point, things changed. In fact, it seemed almost as if Sonea herself changed. It did not take her long to figure out what was happening—she was having one of the strange dreams again. Actually, she corrected herself, she was sharing the dreams of the High Lord again. She knew she should back away, force herself to wake somehow, but curiosity and worry compelled her to stay. She guessed she was once more in his body, for she did not see anyone else around. Glancing down, she saw that he was not wearing his normal black robes, however, but instead a dark-colored, frayed cloak over a simple tunic and trousers, similar to what many of the Dwells wore. Power surged through his body, far stronger than she had felt in any of the other dreams.
Glancing around, she tried to figure out where she was, but it was so dark that she could not see any details of her location. She was outside, and there were dark shapes in front of her that appeared to be some sort of buildings, but she could not place them. Without warning, the High Lord began moving forward, and Sonea watched carefully as he turned a corner, bringing a dark figure into view. The figure was moving away from him, crouching in the shadows, intent on something that Sonea could not see. Before she could puzzle over him further, however, the High Lord sprung forward, sending out a burst of magic that immediately pierced the flimsy shield the figure had around him. The person turned, but Sonea could not make out any of his features, for they were hidden in shadows. She saw magic crackle in the air around the High Lord and imagined that the person—who was obviously a magician—was fighting back. However, it quickly became clear that the High Lord was much stronger, and it did not take long for him to subdue the other magician.
Once the other magician was lying on the ground, overcome by numerous Forcestrikes, Sonea expected the High Lord to back away, but he instead moved closer, reaching down to pull something from his belt. Sonea felt the familiar weight of a knife just before she saw a slight glimmer from the blade as the High Lord raised the weapon. Sonea wondered why he did not just kill the other magician with magic if he was going to kill him, for it seemed far cleaner than a knife. Instead of bringing the blade up for a killing blow, however, the High Lord sliced the skin of his opponent's arm, pressing his hand immediately to the wound. Sonea wanted to recoil from the feel of the warm, pulsing liquid, but though she shared all of the High Lord's senses, she could not control his movement. Instead, he remained crouched over the victim until the blood flow slowed at which point he stood, wiped his knife on the man's clothes, and turned away. As he began to walk away, Sonea felt herself pulling away from his body, and she awoke with a jerk, taking a moment to place her surroundings. She was still in the garden, but night had fallen at some point while she slept. She stood, grateful that she had unconsciously maintained the bubble of heat in her sleep, for her fingers were chilled instantly when they briefly moved outside it as she adjusted her robes.
She strode quickly back to Rothen's quarters, knowing he would be worried. As expected, he met her at the door to his rooms, his expression anxious. "Sonea! Thank the lords. Where have you been?"
"I'm sorry; I was just taking some time to relax in the gardens and must have fallen asleep."
He peered at her closely. "Well, I suppose it's not surprising given how late you have been working lately. There is a two week break coming up. I expect to see you resting for much of it."
"Shouldn't I study so that I'm prepared when the new term starts? If I do manage to move up a class, I will probably be behind."
Rothen gave her a small, almost sad smile. "I think you will find yourself much better prepared than any of your classmates. Take a break, Sonea. You've earned it."
Sonea did take Rothen's advice for the first three days of term, spending much of her time sleeping or reading some fiction books he brought her. She learned on the second day that she had passed all the exams which took a great weight off her mind. She only hoped that the winter class would be more accepting than the summer one.
By the fourth day, Sonea was growing restless. Growing up in the slums, she had become accustomed to activity. Given the level of poverty, even small children were expected to work, helping out in ways they could with household chores and even some minor paid jobs. Sonea had never had time for idleness before and, now that she did, she found she did not like it much. Setting her book aside, she considered what she might do instead. It did not take long for an idea to occur to her. She had carefully avoided thinking about the dream she had witnessed the day of her final exam, for she had been too tired to think clearly through the possible ramifications. Now, however, she was well-rested and realized that the High Lord was hiding something, possibly something that could endanger the entire Guild—and even Imardin with it. As far as she knew, she was the only one who knew about it, too.
Briefly, Sonea considered confiding in someone—Rothen, of course, being the obvious choice, but she quickly dismissed that thought. She did not have any evidence other than her dreams, and she had already decided not to mention those to him. She supposed she could have him Truth Read her, but after her last experience, she was not eager to have a second Truth Read done even if Rothen was likely to be far more gentle than the High Lord. Besides, the fact remained that they were still just dreams—they were not necessarily reality.
After some consideration, Sonea decided that her best course of action was to try and gather more information. She needed to watch the High Lord more closely to try and catch him doing. . . whatever he was doing. With the Guild much more empty than normal due to the break, she would have a bit more freedom of movement which would certainly help though she could not think of the best place to start, for she rarely saw the High Lord in the University Halls. She knew he lived in his own Residence, however; Rothen had pointed it out when giving her a tour of the grounds a few weeks before. Perhaps if she waited near that at night, she could catch him emerging and follow him.
With a plan in place, Sonea sought her bed. She would need all the sleep she could get in the afternoon if she planned to spy on the High Lord at night.
For the next three nights, Sonea would wait until Rothen went to bed and then slip silently out of the room, making her way in the shadows to the imposing building where the High Lord lived. She had found some convenient shrubs close enough to the residence that she could watch the front door but far enough away that he was unlikely to see her there. She passed the time by trying to recall all the magical facts she had learned for the First Year exams, committing them to her long-term memory while she watched the door for any sign of movement. There was a brief moment of excitement on the second day when the door opened and a figure emerged, but it did not take Sonea long to realize it was not the High Lord. The man who exited the building was a good deal shorter than the High Lord, and his skin was many shades darker. He walked with his head down, his bearing subservient, and Sonea realized he was likely the High Lord's servant. She watched him closely as he stepped beneath a shaft of moonlight, noting the rounded features and rather wide nose. He did not look like any Kyralian Sonea had ever met nor, indeed, anyone from the Allied Lands. However, there was a niggling feeling of familiarity, but Sonea dismissed it, assuming she had seen him on the Guild grounds at some point. She had far more important tasks than spying on a servant.
On the third night, Sonea's efforts were finally rewarded though not in the way she had expected. In the wee hours of the night, she was finishing a mental review of the medicinal properties of lavender when the scene in front of her suddenly changed. She was standing in some sort of dark chamber with stone all around. Lying on the floor in front of her was a man in uniform, unmistakeably dead. She looked down at her hands—or rather, the High Lord, for she knew she was in another of his dreams, looked down at his hands. They were covered in a dark, warm liquid. Blood.
The High Lord turned to another man behind him. He was quite thin, barely more than skin and bones, but it took only a moment for Sonea to recognize his face. He was the servant she had seen exiting the Residence the previous night. The High Lord said something to him in a language Sonea did not understand, and he nodded. Together, the two skirted the body and left the room at a run. The scenes afterwards were somewhat confused, but Sonea heard shouting in the same foreign language as well as the pounding of running feet. She caught flashes of fighting, felt the warm slickness of blood, and she sensed that the High Lord was growing stronger, gaining his magic. Sonea tried to watch carefully, hoping for some more information about what was occurring, but with the language barrier and general panic that seemed to suffuse the memory, she was not able to glean much.
Eventually, the High Lord pushed through a heavy wooden door and she felt the cool outside air on his face. He continued to run, the sounds of pursuit still loud in his ears. He did not look back, instead following a number of winding streets. Sonea frowned, not recognizing where he was though she was familiar with much of the Slums. Perhaps he was in the Inner Circle though that did not make much sense either given the state of the buildings around him.
Finally, he slipped into a narrow alleyway, pressing himself against one of the buildings, working hard to control his breathing. He glanced at the man who had followed him who nodded, leaning heavily against the building as well. They waited for some time before the High Lord glanced out, seeing nothing but an empty street. He said something to his companion who nodded again, and the two slipped back onto the main street. As they emerged onto a larger street, a shaft of moonlight shone down on them, and the High Lord looked up at it before turning his gaze down to his hands which were crimson with blood. "The Eye forgive me," he muttered in Kyralian, pressing his palms hard against the threadbare trousers he wore. With those words, the vision disappeared, leaving Sonea staring at the Residence and breathing hard, wondering what had just occurred.
Akkarin's guide left him with a curt nod at the entrance to the University tunnels. As soon as the boy was out of sight around a corner, Akkarin let the weariness show on his face for the first time that night. He had been tracking a new slave for two weeks, but it seemed that every time he came close, the man would slip away without a trace. That meant a number of sleepless nights for Akkarin. On top of that, the King had entered into a series of trade negotiations with other members of the Allied lands, and he insisted on Akkarin attending many of the meetings, claiming that his knowledge of foreign lands gained from his travels as well as his mind-reading abilities made him an invaluable addition to the meetings. Akkarin could not argue with that reasoning though he wondered what the King would say if he realized the extent of Akkarin's knowledge of foreign lands.
After a few minutes' rest, Akkarin turned toward the Residence. It was the early hours of the morning, so there was still a chance Akkarin could get a bit of sleep that night though he knew it was nowhere near the amount he needed. As he neared the entrance to the underground room in his Residence, he stopped short, sensing someone nearby. He knew there was another exit to the tunnels not far from where he stood, and he guessed that someone must be near it. However, that made no sense. It was close enough to his Residence that there would be no reason for someone to be there unless that person was visiting him. He doubted anyone visiting him so late at night had good intentions.
Concerned, he turned toward the door, casting his senses out to see if he could find out more about whoever might be waiting outside the exit. The other person was a magician and a powerful one at that, for he could sense the power pulsing around him. However, the level did not seem as high as the Black Magicians he had fought. The magic was familiar, too, something he had sensed before.
The answer hit him just as he reached the tunnel exit. The natural—Sonea-it had to be her. She was the only Guild magician with such a high level of power, and given that she was still a Novice, it made sense that she had not yet learned to shield her power. It also explained the nagging familiarity. But what was Sonea doing near his Residence so late at night? Did she not realize the danger in which she was placing herself?
Angry now, he exited the tunnels, emerging in the center of some shrubbery. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so it did not take him long to find the slim figure crouched a few meters in front of him, staring intently at the door to his Residence. He watched for a few minutes, trying to discern her purpose, but she did not move. With another jolt of anger, he realized she had no intention of going closer to the Residence—she was spying on him. She had ignored all of his warnings and threats. He doubted she was even still putting up the barriers he had shown her though he had asked her to do so for her own good. His mind contained secrets that no other magician should know. They were his burdens to bear.
"Care to explain what you are doing?" he asked, keeping his voice low and menacing. She whirled around, her eyes widening when she saw him standing so close, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at her.
"High Lord," she stammered, quickly rising to his feet and giving a clumsy bow. He continued to glare at her. She obviously found him intimidating as he intended, so why was she defying him?
"I am still waiting for your explanation."
"I was just. . .you see. . ." she trailed off, obviously realizing that there was no reason for what she was doing except for the truth.
"I thought I made it clear that you were to forget everything you had seen and make every attempt not to learn more." He stepped closer to her, and she took a step back before something flashed in her eyes. Somewhat surprisingly, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, a feat most could not accomplish.
"I find it hard to forget seeing someone murder someone else, High Lord."
His eyes flashed, for he had not realized that she had discovered so much. Of all the scenarios he had planned for if someone exposed his secret—and he had planned for a good deal—having a half-trained Novice discover the intimate details of his activities had not been one. However, perhaps he could use her inexperience to his advantage. She likely did not understand the full implications of what she had seen. All she seemed to have realized was that he had killed, and he could use that knowledge to increase her fear of him and ensure she stayed silent. "I thought I made the possibilities quite clear when we last spoke. Perhaps now that you know what I am capable of, you will be more inclined to do as I say."
"I've met people like you before, in the Slums. People who think that they're so powerful they can do anything they want. But they all had their weaknesses."
Akkarin had his share of weaknesses as well, but he was not about to tell her that. "And your plan is to find mine and do what exactly?" he questioned, his tone sardonic.
"Stop you! You can't just go around murdering people!"
"Can't I?"
"It's. . . it's. . . wrong!"
"Is it?" Akkarin had meant the question to provoke her, but it surprisingly had the opposite effect. Instead, her brow furrowed, and he saw a new emotion in her eyes. It seemed almost like understanding, but that could not be correct. Trying to avoid dangerous territory, he remarked, "It would do you well to keep in mind that you are merely a Novice and I am the most powerful magician in the Guild. You pose no challenge to me."
The defiance returned to her posture. "I could tell someone what I know. Rothen or. . . or the Administrator! They would help me stop you!"
"Would they?" She seemed a bit unsure at his confidence, and he decided it was time for the final blow to her plan. Stepping closer, he dropped his voice to a low hiss and told her, "Even if you managed to garner the support of all of the magicians in the Guild, you could not defeat me." Her eyes went wide.
"That's not possible! You could not. . ."
He raised a single eyebrow. "Perhaps you should ask your mentor just how many others I defeated in the test for High Lord." She stared at him for a moment, mouth open in shock, and he kept his face impassive. After a few seconds, she seemed to realize he was telling the truth, and her face fell. Akkarin allowed himself a small smirk, trusting she would be more obedient in the future. "I do not want to see you out here again," he told her. "I will not tolerate anyone interfering with my business." He turned away, assuming the matter was closed, but a single word from her lips stopped him.
"Why?"
He slowly turned back to face her, wondering how she had so much courage. Most fully-trained magicians cowered under his scrutiny. "My reasons are my own," he answered before striding away, refusing to look back lest she engage him again. He needed sleep, but after the recent confrontation, he doubted his sleep would be restful.
