The Novice

“Then challenge him. A formal challenge. In the Arena.”

“A formal challenge?” She stared at him. “You mean... fight him in front of everybody?”

“Yes.”

“But...” She remembered something Lord Skoran had said. “There hasn’t been one for over fifty years - and it was between two adult magicians, not novices.”

“There’s no rule against novices making formal challenges.” Dorrien shrugged. “Of course, it is a risk. If you lose, the harassment will probably get worse. But if you’re so much stronger than him, how can you lose?”

“‘Skill can overcome strength,’ ” Sonea quoted.

“True, but you’re not unskilled.”

“I’ve never beaten him before.”

Dorrien’s eyebrow rose. “But if you are as strong as they say, your powers will have been limited in class, am I right?”

She nodded.

“They won’t be in a formal battle.”

Sonea felt a tiny spark of hope and excitement. “Is that so?”

“Yes. The idea is for the combatants to face each other as they are, no restraints or enhancements. It’s a ridiculous way to solve a dispute, really. No battle ever proved a man - or a woman - right or wrong.”

“But that’s not what this is about,” Sonea said slowly. “This is about persuading Regin that it’s not worth bothering me. Once he’s suffered a humiliating defeat, he won’t want to risk another.”

“You’ve got the idea.” Dorrien smiled. “Make your challenge as public as possible. He will be forced to accept it or dishonor his family name. Give him the most public thrashing you can bring yourself to deal out to the stupid boy. If he harasses you afterward, challenge him again. He’ll give you no reason to keep putting him in such a position.”

“Nobody else gets dragged into it,” Sonea breathed. “No one will get hurt and I won’t have to wheedle myself into any false friendships.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” he said soberly. “You’ll still need those supporters. He might decide that people will admire his determination if he fights you over and over, in search of a way to beat you. Gather other novices around yourself, Sonea.”

“But...”

“But?”

She sighed. “I’m not like that, Dorrien. I don’t want to be the leader of some petty gang.”

“That’s fine.” He smiled. “You don’t have to be like Regin. Just be enjoyable company, which you shouldn’t have any difficulty with. I think your company is very enjoyable.”

She looked away. I should say something to put him off now, she thought. But she could not think of anything. Looking at him again, she saw a wary, disappointed expression on his face, and realized she had told him enough by not saying anything.

He smiled, but this time there was no twinkle in his eyes. “What else have you been up to?”

“Not much. How is Rothen?”

“He misses you terribly. You know he considers you like a daughter, don’t you? It was hard enough on him when I left, but he knew I was going and had got used to the idea by the time it happened. With you, it was a bigger shock.”

Sonea nodded. “For both of us.”

Entering the classroom, Rothen directed the two volunteers toward the demonstration table. As the novices set down their burdens, he unlocked the supply cupboard and checked that there were enough utensils for the next class.

“Lord Rothen,” one of the boys said.

Looking up, Rothen followed the boy’s gaze toward the door. His heart skipped as he saw who was standing there.

“Lord Rothen,” Lorlen said. “I wish to speak to you in private.”

Rothen nodded. “Of course, Administrator.” He looked at the two novices and nodded toward the door. They hurried out of the room, pausing to bow to Lorlen.

As the door closed behind them, Lorlen strolled forward to the window, his expression taut and worried. Rothen watched him, knowing that only something very important would have brought the Administrator to him in defiance of Akkarin’s order that they not talk to each other.

Or had something happened to Sonea? Rothen felt dread rising. Had Lorlen come to bring the awful news, knowing that it would free him to confront Akkarin?

“A short time ago I saw your son in the garden,” Lorlen began. “Is he visiting for long?”

Rothen closed his eyes, relieved. This was about Dorrien, not Sonea.

“A week,” he replied.

“He was with Sonea.” Lorlen frowned. “Did they become... familiar when Dorrien visited last?”

Rothen drew in a sharp breath. He had guessed - and hoped - that Dorrien’s interest in Sonea had been more than just curiosity. From Lorlen’s question, enough was apparent between the pair for the Administrator to suspect something more. Rothen might have been pleased, but instead he felt only alarm. What would Akkarin do if he discovered this?

Rothen chose his words carefully. “Dorrien knows that it will be many years before Sonea is free to leave the Guild - and that she may not want to join him when that time comes.”

Lorlen nodded. “He may need a little more discouragement than that.”

“With Dorrien, discouragement is often taken as encouragement,” Rothen said wryly.

The look that Lorlen gave him was humorless. “You’re his father,” he snapped. “You of all people should know how to convince him.”

Rothen looked away. “I don’t want him involved in this any more than you do.”

Lorlen sighed and looked down at his hands. He wore a ring, and the ruby in the setting glittered in the light. “I’m sorry, Rothen. We have enough to worry about. I trust you will do everything you can. Do you think Sonea will see the danger and turn him away?”

“Yes.” Of course she would. Rothen felt a pang of sympathy for his son. Poor Dorrien! He would have half- expected Sonea to lose interest anyway, considering the years of study ahead of her and his long absences. But if Dorrien knew the real reason, it would probably drive him to do something foolish. Better that he didn’t know.

How did Sonea feel about this? Was it difficult to turn Dorrien away? Rothen sighed. How he wished he could ask her.

Lorlen moved to the door. “Thank you, Rothen. I will leave you to your preparations.”

Rothen nodded and watched the Administrator leave. Though he understood Lorlen’s resigned manner, he resented it. You’re supposed to find a way out of this, he thought at the man’s back. Then resentment changed to a feeling of hopelessness.

If Lorlen couldn’t find a way, then who could?

It’s still late, Sonea thought fuzzily. Not long past midnight. Why am I awake? Did something wake me...?

A faint chill touched her cheek. A breeze. Opening her eyes, she took a moment to register the square of darkness where there should have been a door. Something pale moved within that darkness. A hand.

By the next heartbeat she was completely awake. A pale oval floated above the hand. Otherwise, he was invisible in his black robes.

What is he doing? Why is he here?

Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She forced her breathing to slow and stay even, afraid of what he might do if he realized she was awake and aware of him. For an excruciatingly long time he stood there. Then, between one blink and the next, he was gone and the door was closed.

She stared at the door. Had it been a dream?