The Magicians' Guild

novice.

'I'm sending them to a Guard hall,' Dannyl told the old magician. He turned away, wove between the other magicians milling around in the hall, then started down the stairs.

'Good luck,' Larkin called.

Dannyl raised a hand in reply. Ahead, a dark crowd of milling bodies was pressed against the ornate bars of the Guild Gates. Dannyl grimaced, and sought a mind familiar to him.

- Rothen!

- Yes?

- Look. Dannyl sent a mental image of the scene. He felt alarm from the other magician, which quickly changed to amusement as Rothen realized who the people were.

- Informers already! What are you going to do?

- Tell them to come back later, Dannyl replied, and that we won't be tossing money to anyone until we have the girl. As quickly and clearly as mental communication allowed, he explained that Administrator Lorlen was organizing a place in the city to interview the 'informers.'

- Shall I come back to help?

- I couldn't keep you away if I tried.

He sensed amusement from the older magician, then Rothen's presence faded beyond his detection.

Drawing closer to the gate, Dannyl could see people pressing against the bars and jostling each other. A bewildering clamor of voices reached his ears as they all began to call to him at once. The guards regarded Dannyl with a mixture of relief and curiosity.

He stopped about ten paces from the gates. Straightening his back to take full advantage of his height, he crossed his arms and waited. Slowly the noise dwindled. When the crowd had quietened, Dannyl worked the air before him to amplify his voice.

'How many of you are here with information regarding the girl we are seeking?'

A clamor of voices rose in reply. Dannyl nodded and lifted a hand to silence them again.

'The Guild welcomes your assistance in this matter. You will be given an opportunity to speak to us individually. We are arranging for a Guard hall to be prepared for this purpose. The location of this hall will be posted on these and the city gates in an hour. In the meantime, we ask that you return to your homes.'

A few grumbling voices rose in the back of the crowd. Dannyl lifted his chin and put a note of warning in his voice.

'No reward will be given until the girl is secure within our protection. Only then will the reward be paid, and only to those who have given us useful information. Do not approach the girl yourself. She may be da -'

'She's here!' a voice shrieked.

Despite himself, Dannyl felt a thrill of hope. A disturbance stirred the crowd and people grumbled as someone pushed their way forward.

'Let her through,' he commanded.

The crowd parted and a shrivelled woman pressed up against the gate. A bony hand thrust through the bars and beckoned to him. The other held the arm of a thin young girl dressed in dirty, threadbare clothes.

'This is her!' the woman declared, her huge eyes staring at him.

Dannyl looked closely at the girl. Short, unevenly cut hair surrounded a thin, hollow-cheeked face. The girl was pitifully thin and her clothes hung loosely from her formless body. As Dannyl's eyes fell on her, she burst into tears.

Doubts crept over him, then, as he realized he could not remember the face of the girl Rothen had projected in the Guildhall.

- Rothen?

- Yes?

He sent the magician an image of the girl.

- It's not her.

Dannyl sighed in relief. 'She is not the one,' he announced, shaking his head. He turned away.

'Hai!' the woman protested. He turned back to find her glaring at him. He held her gaze, and she quickly lowered her eyes. 'Are you sure, my lord?' she wheedled. 'You've not looked at her close.'

The sea of faces watched him expectantly and he realized that they wanted some kind of visible proof. Unless he convinced them that he could not be deceived, others would bring young girls in the hope of gaining the reward - and he couldn't keep asking Rothen to identify every girl who was brought to him.

He approached the gate slowly. The girl had stopped crying, but as Dannyl drew closer she turned white with terror.

Dannyl reached out a hand to her and smiled. The girl stared at it and shrank away, but the woman beside her grabbed her arm and pushed it through the bars of the gate.

Taking it, Dannyl sent a mental inquiry to her mind. He immediately sensed a well of power lying dormant. Surprised, he hesitated a moment before releasing her hand and stepping back.

'She is not the one,' he repeated.

The informers began shouting again, but there was less urgency and demand in the din. He moved away a few paces and lifted his arms. They shied back.

'Go!' Dannyl called. 'Return this afternoon.'

He turned quickly so his robes swirled around him dramatically and strode away. A low exclamation of awe rose from the crowd. Smiling, he lengthened his stride.

But his smile vanished as he considered the power he had sensed in the beggar girl. She had not been particularly strong. If she had been a daughter of a House, it was unlikely that she would have been sent to the Guild for training. She would have been more valuable to her family as a bride who would strengthen the magical bloodlines in her House. If she'd been a second or third son, however, they would have been delighted. Even a weak magician brought prestige to a family's name.

Dannyl shook his head as he neared the University. It was merely a coincidence that the one slum dweller who he had tested possessed magical potential. Perhaps she was the daughter of a prostitute who had conceived a magician's child. Dannyl had no illusions about other magicians' habits.

Then he remembered Lord Solend's words: 'If this young woman is a natural, we should expect her to be more powerful than our average novice, possibly even more powerful than the average magician.' The girl they were seeking might be at least as strong as him. She might even be stronger ...

He shivered. Suddenly it was easy to imagine the existence of thieves and murderers secretly wielding powers that only the magicians of the Guild were meant to possess. It was a frightening thought, and he knew that he was not going to feel so completely invulnerable next time he walked the streets of the slums.

The air in the attic was deliciously warm. Late afternoon light streamed through two small windows and painted bright squares on the walls. The smell of reber wool and smoke fought for dominance in the room. Here and there small groups of children sat bundled in blankets, talking quietly.

Sonea watched them from the corner she had claimed for herself. When the trapdoor to the attic opened she looked up eagerly, but the boy who climbed into the room was not Cery. The other children greeted the newcomer eagerly.

'Have you heard?' he said, dropping onto a bundle of blankets. 'The magicians say they'll give a reward to anyone who shows them where that girl is.'

'A reward!'

'Really?'

'How much?'

The boy opened his eyes wide. 'A hundred gold.'

A murmur of excitement ran through the children. They gathered around the newcomer, forming a circle of eager faces. A few cast thoughtful glances in Sonea's direction.

She forced herself to watch them, keeping her expression neutral. They had given her more than a few curious looks since she'd arrived. The attic was a refuge for homeless children. It lay in the area where the slums