The Magicians' Guild

'For a start,' he continued, 'I expected you to search my rooms. I would have if I was in your position. It doesn't bother me. Forget about it.'

Her cheeks reddened slightly, but she remained silent.

'Secondly, your friends and family are in no danger from us.' She looked up and met his eyes. 'You worry that we'll threaten to harm them if you do not agree to cooperate.' He held her gaze. 'We won't, Sonea. To do so would break the King's law.'

She looked away again, her expression hardening.

'Ah, but you worry anyway. You have little reason to believe we respect the King's law,' Rothen acknowledged. 'Little reason to trust us. Which brings me to your third fear, that I'll discover your plans to escape.'

Her face slowly drained of color.

'You don't need to make such plans,' he told her. 'We won't force you to stay if you don't want to. Once you have learned Control you can leave or stay as you choose. Becoming a magician involves a vow that we all must make - a vow which holds us for our entire life. It is not a vow to be made unwillingly.'

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. 'You'll let me go?'

He nodded, then chose his next words carefully. It was too soon to tell her that the Guild would not let her leave unless her powers were blocked first, yet she needed to know that she would lose all her magical abilities.

'Yes, but I must warn you: without training you will not be able to use your powers. What you were able to do before will no longer be possible. You will not be able to use magic at all.' He paused. 'You will be of no use to the Thieves.'

To his surprise, she looked relieved. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. 'That won't be a problem.'

Rothen looked at her closely. 'Are you sure you want to return to the slums? You'll have no means to defend yourself.'

Sonea lifted her shoulders. 'It'll be no different from before. I got along well enough.'

Rothen frowned, impressed by her confidence and yet alarmed by the idea of sending her back into poverty. 'I know you want to be reunited with your family. Joining the Guild won't mean you have to abandon them, Sonea. They can come and visit you, or you can visit them.'

She shook her head. 'No.'

He pursed his lips. 'Do you fear that they will be afraid of you, that you will be betraying all dwells by becoming what they hate?'

The quick, penetrating look she gave him revealed that he had come closer to understanding her than she had expected.

'What would it take for you to remain acceptable in their eyes?'

She snorted. 'As if the Guild - or the King - would let me do whatever I wanted to please the dwells!'

'I'm not going to deceive you into thinking it would be easy,' Rothen replied. 'But it is a possibility you should consider. Magic is not a common gift. Many people would give all their wealth to have it. Think of what you could learn here. Think of how you could use it to help others.'

Her gaze wavered for a moment, then her expression hardened.

'Control is all I'm here for.'

He nodded slowly. 'If that is all you want, then that is all we can give. It will be a great surprise to all here when they hear you've chosen to return to the slums. Many won't understand why someone who has lived in poverty all her life would refuse such an offer. I know you well enough to see you don't place great value in wealth and luxuries.' He shrugged, then smiled. 'And will not be the only one to admire you for doing so. However, you should know that I'm going to try very hard to convince you to join us.'

For the first time he could remember, she smiled. 'Thanks for the warning.'

Feeling pleased with himself, Rothen rubbed his palms together. 'Well, that's that. Shall we start your lessons?'

She hesitated, then pushed her chair around to face his. Bemused by her eagerness, he took her offered hands.

Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and sought the presence that would lead him to her mind. She was well practiced at visualizing now, and he instantly found himself standing before an open doorway. Moving through, he entered a familiar room. Sonea stood at the center.

A feeling of determination imbued the air. He waited for the usual disturbance in the scene, but nothing unwanted appeared in the room. Surprised and pleased, he nodded at the image of Sonea.

- Show me the door to your power.

She looked away. Following her gaze, he found himself standing in front of a white door.

- Now open it and listen carefully. I am going to show you how to control this power of yours.

Sinking to his knees, Cery let out a hiss of frustration.

He had examined his prison thoroughly, his breath catching in his throat whenever he felt the scuttle of eight-legged faren under his hands. His search had revealed that the walls were made of large stone bricks and the floor of hard dirt. The door was a thick slab of wood with large iron hinges.

As soon as the magician's footsteps had faded beyond his hearing, he had taken a pick from his longcoat and groped for the door. Finding the keyhole, he had manipulated the lock until he heard the mechanism turn, but when he had pulled on the door it would not open.

He remembered laughing, then, as he realized that the magician hadn't locked the door. He had just picked the lock closed.

Manipulating the lock again, he found that the door was still held fast. Recalling that he had heard the sound of a key turning, he had decided that there must be another lock. He searched for another keyhole.

Finding none, he decided that the lock holding the door must only have a keyhole on the outside. Taking his pick, he inserted it in the crack between the door and its frame. It had seemed to catch on something.

Feeling pleased that he had found the lock at the first try, he had tugged at the pick to remove it, only to discover that it was stuck.

It had flexed as he tried to twist or wiggle it free. Afraid he would damage it, he left the tool lodged in the crack and reached for another. This he inserted slightly higher than the first.

Before he'd had a chance to prod around to find what was holding his first tool, the second had locked into place. Cursing, Cery had pulled at it with all his strength, but he only succeeded in bending it.

Reaching into his coat for a third pick, he had slipped it in the gap between the floor and door. At once it became stuck. No matter how hard he pulled, the pick remained in place. He tried removing the others, with no success.

As dark hours passed, he had tried several times to retrieve his tools. He could think of no device that would grab and hold a pick so fast. Nothing except, of course, magic.

His legs began to cramp with the cold, so he rose to his feet. He put a hand out to the wall to steady himself as his head began to spin. His stomach growled, telling him it had been far too long since he had eaten, but his thirst was worse. He longed for a mug of bol or a glass of pachi juice, or even a little water.

He wondered, again, if he would be left to die in the cell. If the Guild had wanted him dead, however, he was sure they would have arranged it before hiding his body somewhere. That gave him some hope. It meant that their plans probably relied on him being alive - for now. If those plans failed, however, he might find himself getting very hungry.

Thinking of the other magician - the blue-robed one - he could not remember any signs of deceit in the man's demeanor. The magician was either skilled at projecting trustworthiness, or he had known nothing about Cery's impending captivity. If the latter was true, then this was Fergun's game.

Whether the blonde magician was the sole plotter or not, Cery could see only two reasons for his imprisonment: the Thieves or Sonea.

If the magicians intended to use Cery to manipulate the Thieves, they would be disappointed. Faren didn't need or care about Cery that much.

They might try torture to get information out of him. While he preferred to think that he could resist such