class.
But she was alone. Looking at the empty seat in front of her, she sighed. Poril had injured himself a week before, having burned his hands while studying. She missed him, particularly since he hadn’t seemed to care that she had apparently been proven to be a thief.
“Lord Elben?”
Sonea looked up. In the doorway stood a woman in green robes. She stepped aside and propelled a short novice into the room with a gentle push. Sonea felt her heart lighten.
“I have decided that Poril is well enough now to attend classes. He still won’t be able to do anything with his hands, but he can watch.”
Poril’s gaze went straight to Regin. Looking away quickly, he bowed to Lord Elben, then hurried to his seat. The Healer nodded to the teacher, then retreated from the room.
As Elben began to instruct the class, Sonea’s attention slipped to her friend’s back from time to time. Poril didn’t seem to be paying attention to the lesson. He sat stiffly, occasionally looking down at his hands, which were reddened with fresh scars. When the midbreak gong rang out hours later, he waited until the rest of the novices had left, then rose quickly and hurried toward the door.
“Poril,” she called after him. Bowing hastily toward Elben, she caught up with the boy in a few paces.
“Welcome back, Poril.” As he looked at her she smiled. “Need some help catching up?”
“No.” He frowned and lengthened his stride.
“Poril?” Sonea reached out to grab his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Poril looked at her, then glanced at the rest of the class walking farther down the corridor. Regin was hovering at the back of the group, glancing at them over his shoulder and smiling in a way that sent a chill over Sonea’s skin.
Poril shivered. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t.” He shook her hand off.
“But—”
“No, leave me alone.” He turned away, but she caught his arm again and held it firmly.
“I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me what’s going on,” she said between gritted teeth.
He hesitated before answering. “It’s Regin.”
Looking at Poril’s pale face, she felt her stomach turn over. He kept looking at the other novices, and she knew he didn’t want to tell her any more. He just wanted to get away from her. “What did he say?” she pressed.
Poril swallowed. “He says I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m sorry...”
“And you’re just going to do what he says?” It was unfair, she knew, but she was burning with anger now. “Why didn’t you tell him to go and drown himself in the Tarali River?”
He lifted his scarred hands. “I did.”
Sonea’s anger turned to ice. She stared at Poril. “He did that?”
Poril’s nod was so slight she almost missed it. She looked down the corridor, but the class had reached the stairs and descended out of view.
“That’s... Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I can’t prove it.”
A truth-read would prove it. Did Poril have a secret to hide, like she did? Or was he simply so frightened by the thought of a magician reading his mind he would do anything to avoid it?
“He can’t get away with burning your hands just because you’re my friend,” she growled. “If he threatens you again, tell me. I’ll... I’ll...”
“What? You can’t do anything, Sonea.” His face was flushed now. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t.” He turned away and ran down the corridor.
Shaking her head, Sonea followed at a distance. Reaching the stairs, she descended slowly. As she reached the ground floor she heard a low rumbling sound. Looking down the corridor toward the Great Hall, she blinked in surprise.
The hall was full of magicians. They stood in pairs or larger groups, talking. Sonea paused, wondering what had brought so many together. It was not a Meet day, so there must be another reason.
“I wouldn’t draw attention to myself, if I were you,” a voice said at her ear.
Recoiling, she turned to stare at Regin.
“They might decide they missed one,” he said, his eyes bright with glee.
She stepped away from him, puzzled but sure she didn’t want to know what he was talking about. His eyes flashed with delight as he saw her incomprehension, and he drew closer.
“Oh, you don’t get it, do you?” His grin was ugly. “Had you forgotten? Today is that most festive day of the year for slum trash like you. The day of the Purge.”
Realization struck her like a blow. The Purge. Every year, since the first Purge over thirty years before, the King sent the Guard and the Guild out to clear the city streets of “vagrants and miscreants.” The purpose, or so the King claimed, was to make the streets safer by removing petty thieves. In truth, the Thieves were barely inconvenienced by the event; they had their own ways in and out of the city. Only the poor, homeless people were herded into the slums. And, in the case of her own family a year ago, those people who rented rooms in “overcrowded and unsafe” stayhouses. She had been so angry that day, she had joined a gang of youths throwing stones at the magicians, and had loosed her power for the first time.
Regin laughed with delight. Feeling anger rising, she forced herself to turn and walk away. Regin stepped forward to block her path. His face was twisted with triumph and cruel satisfaction, and she felt grateful that novices did not join in the Purge. Then she thought to the future and shuddered. Clearly Regin was looking forward to the day he could use his powers to chase helpless beggars and poor families out of the city.
“Don’t go now,” Regin said, nodding toward the hall. “Don’t you want to ask your guardian how much fun he had?”
Rothen? He wouldn’t... Sure that he was simply baiting her, she turned around. Scanning the faces, she found a familiar one in a nearby group. Rothen.
She went cold. How could he have gone when he knew how she felt about the Purge? But he couldn’t refuse the King’s orders...
Yes, he could! Not all magicians go. He could have refused and let another go in his place!
As if sensing her gaze, Rothen looked up and met her eyes. His attention slid to Regin, and he frowned.
Regin chuckled. Suddenly all she wanted to do was get away. Turning, she strode past Regin out of the University. Regin followed, taunting her all the way to the Magicians’ Quarters, where he finally stopped and let her enter alone. Entering Rothen’s rooms, she was relieved to find them empty. She did not want Tania about right now in case she snapped at the servant out of frustration.
She was pacing when the door opened a short time later.
“Sonea.”
Rothen’s expression was apologetic. She didn’t answer him, but stopped at the window and stared outside.
“I’m sorry, I know this feels like a betrayal,” he said. “I wanted to tell you I was going. I kept putting it off, and I didn’t hear we were to be called out today until early this morning.”
“You didn’t have to go,” she said. Her voice sounded like that of a stranger’s, dark with anger.
“I did,” he said.
“No, you didn’t. Someone else could have gone instead.”
“True,” he agreed. “But that’s not why I had to go.” He drew closer, his voice low and gentle. “Sonea, I had to be there, to do whatever I could to ensure no mistakes were made. If I hadn’t gone, and something did happen...” He sighed. “Everyone was uneasy this time. It may be hard to perceive, but the Guild’s confidence in itself was shaken by what happened last year. Whether that came from a fear of making mistakes, or,” he chuckled, “another magic-wielding dwell, it doesn’t matter. The Guild needed someone to keep an eye on it.”
Sonea looked down. It made sense. She felt her anger fading. Sighing, she looked at him and managed a nod. He smiled hopefully.
“Forgive me?”
“I suppose,” she said grudgingly. Looking down at the table, she saw that Tania had left a meal of savory breads and other cold dishes. Clearly a meal prepared by someone who wasn’t sure when anyone would return to
