“Greetings, Lady Sonea.”
“Greetings, Lord Dorrien,” Sonea replied, bowing gracefully.
A servant from the stables appeared while they were talking, and Rothen passed the horse’s reins to the man.
“Where shall I take the bags, my lord?” the servant asked.
“My rooms,” Rothen told him. The man nodded and led the horse away.
“Let’s get out of the cold,” Dorrien suggested.
Nodding, Rothen started up the University stairs. As they entered the warmth of the interior, Dorrien sighed.
“It is good to be back,” he said. “How are things here, Father?”
Rothen shrugged. “As quiet as usual - at least, the only dramas in the last year seemed to have involved us.” He smiled at Sonea. “And you know all about them.”
Dorrien chuckled. “Yes. And how is Ambassador Dannyl?”
“He hasn’t communicated with me directly for some months, but I have received a few letters, and a box of Elyne wine.”
“Any left?”
“Yes.”
“Now that’s good news.” Dorrien rubbed his hands together.
“How are matters in the northeast?”
Dorrien shrugged. “Nothing unusual. A bout of winter-fever was the most exciting event of the last year. As usual, a few of the farmers tried to continue with their work and got themselves a case of lungrot on top. A few accidents to deal with, a few old ones passing on, a few new babes taking their place. Oh, and one of the reber- herder boys came to me with burns. He claimed he was attacked by what the locals call the Sakan King.”
Rothen frowned. “The Sakan King? Isn’t that an old superstition about a ghost that lives on Mount Kanlor?”
“Yes, but I’d say from the injury that the boy had dropped some burning wood on himself.”
Rothen chuckled. “Young boys can be amazingly creative when they don’t want to admit they’ve done something wrong, or foolish.”
“This was a rather entertaining story,” Dorrien agreed. “The boy invented quite a vivid picture of this Sakan King.”
Rothen smiled. Mind communication was too direct for this kind of chatter. It was so much better to be talking face to face. In the corner of his eye he could see Sonea watching Dorrien. As his son turned away to peer into the Foodhall she gave him a more appraising look.
Dorrien noted the direction of Rothen’s gaze and glanced back at her. She took this as an invitation to join the conversation.
“Did you have a difficult journey?”
Dorrien groaned. “Awful. Blizzards in the mountains and endless snow for the rest. But when the Guild calls, one must come, even if it means spending every shred of your power carving a path through the snow and keeping yourself and your horse from freezing.”
“Could you have waited until spring?”
“Spring is the busiest time for the reber-herders. The reber start to drop their young, the farmers work too hard, have accidents.” He shook his head. “Not a good time.”
“Summer, then?”
Dorrien shook his head again. “Someone always comes down with heat exhaustion or sunburn. And summer-cough.”
“Autumn?”
“Harvest time.”
“So winter is the best time.”
“There’s always someone who comes to me with frostrot, and living indoors for months can be a health problem, and—”
“There’s no good time, is there?”
He grinned. “No.”
Emerging from the back entrance of the University, they walked through falling snow to the Magicians’ Quarters. Rothen saw Sonea’s eyebrows rise as Dorrien stepped onto the tiled area in the stairwell and began to float upward.
“Are you still using the stairs, Father?” Dorrien crossed his arms and shook his head. “I suppose you’re still preaching about exercise and laziness. What about keeping your skills in shape as well as your body?”
“I’m surprised you have any energy left to levitate after all the trials you went through on the way here,” Rothen replied.
Dorrien shrugged. Looking closely, Rothen noted signs of strain in the young man’s expression. So he’s showing off, Rothen mused. Yaldin had once commented that Dorrien could charm the wool off a reber if he set his mind to it. Rothen looked at Sonea. She was staring at Dorrien’s feet, probably sensing the disc of energy beneath them.
They reached the top of the stairs, Dorrien stepping onto the landing with a quiet sigh of relief. He gave Sonea an appraising look.
“Has my father shown you how to levitate yet?”
She shook her head.
“Well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Dorrien sent Rothen a reproachful look. “It’s a skill that can come in very handy at times.”
Dorrien ignored that. Rothen smiled and led them to his door. They entered the warmth of the guestroom and were greeted by Tania.
“Warmed wine, my lords?”
“Please!” Dorrien exclaimed.
“None for me,” Sonea said, remaining in the doorway. “I still have three chapters of medicine to study.”
Dorrien looked as if he might protest, then changed his mind. “It’s close to the end of First Year for you, isn’t it, Sonea?”
“Yes, two weeks until the First Year tests.”
“A lot of studying.”
Sonea nodded. “Yes, so I must leave you two to catch up. I am honored to meet you, Lord Dorrien.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Sonea.” Dorrien lifted his glass. “I’ll see you later, or at dinner.”
The door closed quietly behind her. Dorrien’s eyes lingered.
“You didn’t tell me she had short hair.”
“It was much shorter a year ago.”
“She’s so fragile-looking.” Dorrien frowned. “I expected something... rougher, I suppose.”
“You should have seen how thin she was when she first came here.”
“Ah,” Dorrien sobered. “Raised in the slums. No wonder she’s so small.”
“Small, perhaps,” Rothen agreed, “but not weak. Not in the magical sense, anyway.” Rothen considered his son. “I was hoping you might distract her a little. All she’s thought about since summer is study and her problems with the other novices.”
The glint of humor flared into life again in Dorrien’s eyes. “Distract her? I think I can do that - if you think she won’t find a country Healer horribly boring.”
The main street of Kiko Town wound around the island in an unbroken spiral, ending at the Vindo Emperor’s home at the peak. The city had been built that way, according to Dannyl’s guide, to confound and slow invaders. The road was also used as a route for parades during festivals, ensuring that all city dwellers had a view of the procession.
The harvest festival had been in full swing when Dannyl and Tayend arrived, and was still going three days later. The tasks Lorlen had asked Errend to take care of were minor, but numerous. Dannyl could not start to work
