The Magicians' Guild

Dannyl swallowed. 'Yes, High Lord.'

Akkarin nodded to them both. 'Have a good evening.' He turned and walked away, leaving the two magicians staring at his retreating back. Dannyl let out an explosive breath.

'How did he know?' he whispered.

Rothen shrugged. 'It is said that he knows more about the affairs of the city than the King himself, but then, perhaps Yaldin told someone.'

Dannyl frowned and looked across the room at the aging magician. 'That's not like Yaldin.'

'No,' Rothen agreed. He smiled and patted Dannyl on the shoulder. 'It doesn't look like you got yourself into any trouble, however. In fact, it looks like you just received a personal request from the High Lord.'

Sonea curled the edge of the page and sighed. Why couldn't these Guild writers use normal, sensible words! This one seemed to have enjoyed arranging his sentences in ways that bore no resemblance to normal speech. Even Serin, the middle-aged scribe who was teaching her to read, could offer little explanation for many of the terms and phrases.

Rubbing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair. She had been staying in Serin's basement for several days. It was a surprisingly comfortable room, with an ample fireplace and sturdy furniture, and she knew she would be disappointed when she had to leave it.

After her near capture, the night Cery had taken her to the Guild, Faren had taken her to Serin's home in the North Quarter. He had decided she should stop practicing magic until he could arrange for new, better-situated hiding places. In the meantime, he said, she would spend her time studying the books Cery had found.'

She looked down at the page again and sighed. A word lay before her - an alien, strange, annoying word which refused to make any sense. She stared at it, knowing the meaning of the whole sentence revolved around this infuriating word. She rubbed her eyes again, then jumped at a rapping on the door.

Rising, she peered through the spy hole, smiled, and unlocked the door.

'Good evening,' Faren said as he slipped into the room. He handed her a bottle. 'I brought you a little token of encouragement.'

Sonea uncorked the bottle and sniffed. 'Pachi wine!' she exclaimed.

'That's right.'

Moving to a cupboard, Sonea took out two mugs. 'I don't think these are right for Pachi wine,' she said. 'But that's all I have - unless you want to ask Serin for something better.'

'They'll do.' Faren drew a chair up to the table and sat down. Accepting a mug of the clear green liquor, he took a sip, sighed contentedly, and leaned back in his chair. 'Of course, it's better spiced and warmed.'

'I wouldn't know,' Sonea said. 'I've never tasted it before.' Taking a sip, she smiled as a sweet, fresh flavor filled her mouth. Faren chuckled at her expression.

'I thought you'd like it.' He stretched and leaned back in the chair. 'I've also got news for you. Your aunt and uncle are expecting a child.'

Sonea stared at him. 'They are?'

'You'll have a little cousin soon,' he told her. Taking another sip, he gave her a speculative look. 'Cery told me that your mother died when you were a child, and your father left Kyralia soon after.' He paused. 'Did either of your parents show signs of having magic in their blood?'

She shook her head. 'Not that I know of.'

He pursed his lips. 'I had Cery ask your aunt. She says she has never seen any magical talent in either your parents or grandparents.'

'Does it matter?'

'Magicians like to trace their bloodlines,' he told her. 'My mother had magic in hers. I know because her brother - my uncle - is a magician, and my grandfather's brother is, too - if he is still alive.'

'You have magicians in your family?'

'Yes, though I've never met either of them, and probably never will.'

'But...' Sonea shook her head. 'How can that be?'

'My mother was the daughter of a wealthy Lonmar merchant,' he replied. 'My father was a Kyralian sailor, working for a ship captain who regularly transported wares for my mother's father.'

'How did they meet?'

'By chance first, then in secret. The Lonmar, as you know, keep their women from sight. They don't test them for magic, as the only place they can learn to use it is the Guild, and the Lonmar believe it is unseemly for women to be far from home - or even speak to men other than those in their family.' Faren paused to take another mouthful of wine. Sonea watched expectantly as he swallowed. He smiled briefly.

'When her father discovered that my mother had been seeing a sailor, she was punished,' he continued. 'They whipped her and then imprisoned her in one of their towers. My father left his ship and stayed in Lonmar, seeking a way to free her. He did not have to wait long, for when her family discovered she was with child, they cast her out in disgrace.'

'Cast her out? Surely they would just find a home for the child?'

'No.' Faren's expression darkened. 'They considered her spoiled, and a disgrace to her family. Their traditions required her to be marked so that other men would know her crime, then she was sold in a slave market. She had two long scars on each cheek, and one down the center of her forehead.'

'That's awful,' Sonea exclaimed.

Faren shrugged. 'Yes, to us it seems awful. The Lonmar, however, believe they are the most civilized of the world's peoples.' He took another sip of wine. 'My father bought her and passage for both of them back to Imardin. Their troubles did not end there. He had caused the ship captain to lose an important customer, as my mother's family would not trade through him anymore. And no other ship owner would hire my father, so my parents grew poorer. They built a house in the slums and my father took a job in a gorin slaughterhouse. I was born soon after.'

He drained his mug. Looking at her, he smiled. 'See? Even a lowly thief can have magic in his blood.'

'A lowly thief?' Sonea snorted.

She had never seen Faren so talkative. What else might he tell her? Pouring more wine, she gestured impatiently. 'So, how did a slaughterman's son become a leader of the Thieves?'

Faren lifted the mug to his lips. 'My father died in the battles after the first Purge. To have enough money to feed us, my mother became a dancer in a whorehouse.' He grimaced. 'Life was hard. One of her customers was an influential man among the Thieves. He liked me, and took me in as his son. When he retired, I replaced him, then worked my way up from there.'

Sonea pursed her lips. 'So anyone can become a Thief? You just have to make friends with the right person.'

'It takes more than just being good company.' He smiled. 'Do you have plans for your friend then?'

She frowned in mock puzzlement. 'Friend? No, I was thinking of myself.'

He threw back his head and laughed, then raised his mug to her.

'Here's to Sonea - a woman of small ambitions. First magician, then Thief.'

They drained their mugs together, then Faren looked down at the table. Reaching out, he turned the book around to face him.

'Is this making any more sense yet?'

She sighed. 'Even Serin can't work out some of it. It's written for someone who knows more than I do. I need a book for a beginner.' She looked up at Faren. 'Cery had any luck?'

He shook his head. 'It might have been better if you'd kept practicing. It would have kept the Guild busy. In the last week, they've checked every pawn shop inside and outside of the walls. If there were any books on magic in the city, they aren't there anymore.'

Sonea sighed and pressed her hands to her temples. 'What are they doing now?'

'They're still snooping around the slums,' he told her. 'Waiting for you to use your magic.'

Sonea thought of her aunt and uncle, and the child they were expecting. Until the magicians stopped searching, she would not be able to see them. How she longed to talk to them. She looked down at the book and felt a surge of frustration and anger. 'Don't they ever give up?'

She jumped as a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a light patter of something scattering over