"Where are you going in such a hurry?" a voice jeered from behind Sonea. She forced herself to ignore it, clutching her box tighter as she continued to take measured steps toward the Magicians' Quarters. "Oh, I know, you're going back to your mentor. I bet he's been missing you since you've been in classes all day." A round of snickers accompanied that comment, and Sonea bit back the scathing remark on the tip of her tongue. She was intelligent enough to know that if she engaged with them, it would just encourage them. Someone had started a rumor a few days before about her relationship with Rothen, implying it was much more than it actually was. She considered him a father, and he, in fact, had mentioned a son who was a few years older than she. However, the truth of the situation did not seem to matter to the rest of the Guild.
When Sonea first consulted Rothen about the rumors, he had advised her to just ignore them, remarking that something so patently ridiculous would surely blow over soon enough. Instead, however, the rumors seemed to have gotten worse until Sonea found it hard to walk across the Guild grounds without hearing some suggestive comment.
When she at last reached the sanctuary of Rothen's quarters, she shut the door firmly behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She had made it through another day which meant she had at least twelve hours before needing to endure the taunting once more. When she opened her eyes, she startled, for Rothen was not alone in the sitting room. A younger man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties sat with him. Sonea stared at him a moment, trying to place his face. He had pleasing enough features—though few would likely label him handsome—and sand-colored hair that he wore long and tied back. Oddly enough, instead of robes from one of the disciplines, he wore blue. It took a moment for Sonea to remember Rothen's lecture on robe colors, and her eyes widened as she finally realized who the man was. "Administrator," she greeted, bowing to him.
"Good afternoon, Sonea." Sonea looked to Rothen's face, concerned when she saw the worry lines creasing it. What could the Administrator possibly want? For one wild moment, she thought that perhaps he had discovered her knowledge of the High Lord's secret activities. She had heard the Administrator and High Lord were old friends, so maybe he had come to warn or threaten her as well. But why would he do so with Rothen?
Suddenly, Sonea realized that there was another, much more logical reason for the Administrator to be sitting in Rothen's rooms—the rumors. With a sinking feeling, she knew that if the rumors had made it to the Administrator, they were not going to go away easily as Rothen suggested. "Sonea, perhaps you should take a seat. The Adminstrator wanted to talk about something that concerns both of us."
Sonea nodded, taking the free armchair. "They're not true, you know. They're just ridiculous gossip." The Administrator's eyebrows rose for a moment before a small, sad smile formed on his face. Sonea was grateful to see that his eyes held no suspicion or derision, two expressions with which she was unfortunately all too familiar.
"I see you are one who appreciates going straight to the point. In that case, I will tell you that though I personally feel the rumors are baseless, my opinion is not the one that matters here. A number of people have pointed out the fact that Guardians rarely live with their Novices, particularly when they are of opposite genders, for good reason."
"You know our reasons, Administrator," Rothen told him.
"I do, but I am afraid that those reasons will not convince the rest of the Guild."
"So you're saying, what, that I have to leave? Because of some silly rumor?"
"Not leave the Guild, no, but I think it would be best if you took a room in the Novice quarters."
"Perhaps it will help you to make friends with your new classmates," Rothen suggested. Sonea knew he was trying to remain positive, but all she could think about was how living in the Novice quarters would give Regin one more avenue to torment her. Rothen's rooms had become her safe haven from the rest of the Guild, and now they were asking her to give up even that.
"Do I have to make a decision now?" she asked, wishing her voice did not sound so small.
Lorlen gave her a sympathetic smile. "It would be best to do so soon."
"Alright. And. . . you think this is best?" Though she was still facing the Administrator, her eyes darted to the side, seeking the approval of the man she considered a father.
"We do, Sonea," Rothen said gently.
"I suppose I will make it work in that case." She gave them a slightly shaky smile. "I suppose I should go. . . pack and stuff. For the move." She stood, turning toward the guest room where she was staying. She saw Lorlen open his mouth, likely to stop her, but Rothen quickly shook his head, obviously understanding she needed time to herself. Sonea was grateful for his intervention, for she was unsure whether or not she would be able to keep her tears at bay much longer, and she hated crying in front of other people.
The following day, Sonea did move into the Novice quarters. After a lecture from Director Jerrick about proper behavior, she retreated to her room, shutting and locking the door magically behind her. She glanced around. It was smaller than her room at Rothen's but still larger than any room she had stayed in before that. The furnishings looked comfortable enough, but Sonea knew she would be anything but comfortable in that room. She sighed, shaking those thoughts from her head. She would do what she needed to do and keep her head high so no one knew how it affected her.
She had the strange dreams again that night—the ones she now knew were coming from the High Lord. They were muddled, and she did not remember much of them the morning after except that they gave her a vague feeling of unease. She made a new resolve to put up her mental blocks before falling asleep, for she was gaining nothing from the dreams except further exhaustion, and she needed all the sleep she could get to keep up in her classes.
Two weeks after her move, she was reading at her desk when she felt a searing pain suddenly shoot across her body. It was so intense that she gave a strangled cry as she dropped her pen, letting it roll across her desk and onto the floor. Briefly, she wondered if there was some form of magic which let someone torture another at a distance, but that did not seem right. Looking down at her body, she also saw no signs of any injuries despite the pain that still suffused every part of her. Unsure what else to do, she tried to send Healing energy to her body, but she quickly discovered she had nowhere to direct it.
It did not take her sharp mind long to realize what was happening. Quickly, she stood, pushing the pain to the back of her mind as she left her room. No matter her thoughts on the High Lord's actions, she did not want him to die.
If asked later, Akkarin would not be able to tell anyone how he had made it back to the Residence on that particular night. His extensive knowledge of the tunnels certainly helped, for he did not have to spare any thought for how to go home. His feet moved him in that direction automatically. Still, he was barely upright as he stumbled through the doors to the lower room, thankful he had left most of his magical barriers off of them for he had neither the power nor presence of mind to remove them. He had used all but the last trickle of power he possessed to heal the worst of his wounds, for they would have been fatal otherwise.
As he entered the room, his strength began to give out, and he reached out to steady himself on a nearby bookshelf, knocking off some of the books in the process. The resulting clatter had the fortunate result of attracting Takan's attention, and the devoted servant appeared at the top of the stairwell a few seconds later. He gasped when he saw Akkarin who had finally given in to gravity and let himself slump to the ground. "Master!" he called, rushing down the steps and lowering Akkarin carefully to the ground. His eyes were already scanning Akkarin's body, assessing his wounds. "Do you need more strength? I should have some left."
Akkarin shook his head, wincing in pain. "I don't think I have the strength to take yours at the moment. If you could just bandage the worst of the wounds, I can heal myself once I have recovered some of my power."
"I don't know. . . Master, some of these are quite deep."
"It's the only choice, Takan." Akkarin closed his eyes against the pain. Part of him desperately wanted to welcome unconsciousness, but he knew he needed to stay awake until the immediate danger of death had passed.
"High Lord?" a new voice called. It took Akkarin's hazy, pain-filled mind a moment to place it.
"Sonea," he hissed. "Stop her from coming down here, Takan."
"Master, perhaps we should-"
"She knows too much already. Just stop her!" However, it was too late. Akkarin heard someone on the steps—Takan had obviously left the door open in his haste—and a few moments later, the Novice's head came into view.
"High Lord!" she exclaimed, and Akkarin thought he heard a note of concern in her voice before his brain told him it was only the pain talking. She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees beside his prostrate body. She caught her lip between her teeth as she looked at him. "I-I've never healed wounds this bad before. I don't even know where to start!"
"Start the same way as always. I'll help—just supply the power." Sonea nodded, placing a hand on his chest which had become exposed when one of the attacker's strikes ripped apart his robes. He felt warmth begin to spread from the spot she touched, and he doubted it was all from the magic she was giving him. Forcing that intriguing thought aside, he focused on the Healing energy now flowing into his body, noting with satisfaction that it was directed at the worst of his wounds. He sent her his feeling of satisfaction at her choice before helping her with some of the trickier repairs. It took quite a bit of time, but eventually, he was able to sit up again. They stared at each other for a moment before she dropped her gaze. She grimaced as she looked at her hands, and Akkarin echoed her expression when he noted they were red with blood. Glancing around, he noted that Takan had brought down a bowl of water and a rag, and he pushed himself slowly to his feet and retrieved the rag, wringing it out before handing it to her. Grimly, she wiped the crimson liquid from her hands, still not meeting his gaze. "Thank you," Akkarin told her sincerely. She said nothing for a few seconds as the motion of her hands gradually slowed, the rag hanging limply. Akkarin took it from her with a gentleness that surprised even him, returning it to the water which soon ran red with blood. His blood.
"What happened?" she finally questioned. Her voice was soft, but there was a forcefulness to it that he would not have expected given her size and experience.
"It does not concern you," he told her.
"You almost died tonight!"
"Yes, I thank you for reminding me," he snapped. In truth, he was not irritated at her but at himself. It had taken him much too long to find the latest magician, and he had had a good deal of time to strengthen himself. The resulting battle had been much too close. "It will not happen again."
"How do you know?"
"I learn from my mistakes."
"So this is the first time you have ended up in such a state?" He looked away, for once unable to meet the gaze of another. In truth, he had been injured before though admittedly never so severely. "I thought so. Tell me, High Lord, if you are acting in the best interest of Kyralia, what happens if you die and are not able to do so anymore?" She had reached the heart of the matter with very little information. He had known she was powerful, but he had not realized just how clever she was until that moment. However, he could not tell her what he was doing for so many reasons. He narrowed his eyes at her, forcing concern out of his tone.
"I do not need a half-trained Novice interfering in my affairs."
"You obviously need someone if this is the result of those affairs. If you don't tell me, what about the Higher Magicians?"
"What makes you think they do not already know?"
"Perhaps I will have to discuss what happened tonight with the Administrator and figure out why he was not here to heal you."
"You will do no such thing!"
"And why not?"
"They would not believe you for one."
"Perhaps they will. We won't know unless I try."
"You should tell her, Master," a new voice interjected, and Akkarin turned his dark gaze to Takan who was still standing in the shadows, watching the entire exchange.
"You know my reasons, Takan," he reminded the other man.
"And you know I do not agree with them. She is right, Master. What if something should happen to you? It is reaching the point where you can no longer act alone."
"And you would suggest a Novice for my ally. She is not even trained!"
"Better to tell her now than when she has five years of prejudice to overcome." Takan stared at him earnestly, and Akkarin felt his resolve start to waver. He was correct—if anyone was likely to accept his nightly activities, it would be Sonea, for she did not have the same prejudices as those in the Houses. In addition, she already knew a great deal and had proven to be quite clever, so it was possible she would figure out some details for herself which could be dangerous without a full picture of what was occurring. Finally, he sighed. He was much too tired to make such a decision tonight.
"I will consider it," he finally agreed. "But that does not mean it's a yes," he cautioned upon seeing the faces of both Takan and Sonea relax. "It is late, Sonea. You should return to your dormitory. I will contact you when I have had a chance to think." She studied him for a moment before nodding and turning to leave the room. Akkarin noted she did not even bow, but he supposed that after everything that had occurred that night, they were past such formalities.