beside him with the box of wine in his arms. “Come on, then. Let’s get our wine. I don’t know about you, but I just got a lot thirstier.”
Tayend took a few unsteady steps, then seemed to regain his confidence. A guard pressed the money bag into his hands. Dannyl smiled at the scholar’s expression, then, indicating that the merchant’s companion should follow, started toward the Guild House.
The words on the page before Sonea suddenly disappeared under fat black droplets. She looked over her shoulder, but no one stood nearby. Hearing more drops hit the page, she looked up and saw an ornate ink bottle hovering high above her.
From behind the shelves of books to her left she heard giggles. The bottle moved, threatening to splash ink on Sonea’s robes. Narrowing her eyes at it, she sent out a flash of power. At once the ink sizzled and dried, and the ink bottle began to glow red. It shot away toward the shelves, and she heard a yelp.
Smiling grimly, she looked down again, but her smile vanished as she saw the ink drying on the page. She drew out a nosecloth and dabbed at the spots. Then she muttered a curse as the ink spread.
“Bad idea. You’re only making it worse,” said a voice at her shoulder.
She jumped and turned to find Dorrien standing behind her. Before she could stop herself, she snapped the book shut.
He shook his head. “That certainly won’t help.”
Sonea frowned with annoyance and searched for a retort, but he reached out to take the book from her.
“Here, let me have a look.” He laughed. “First Year Alchemy. This isn’t even worth saving!”
“But it’s from the library.”
Dorrien leafed through to the stained pages and grimaced. “There’s nothing you can do to fix this,” he said, shaking his head. “But don’t worry. Rothen can have another copy made.”
“But...”
Dorrien’s brows rose. “But?”
“It will cost—”
“Money?” Dorrien finished. “That’s hardly a problem, Sonea.”
Sonea opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again.
“You don’t think it’s fair for him to pay for it, do you?” Dorrien dropped into one of the chairs beside her. “After all, you didn’t damage the book.”
Sonea chewed on her lip. “You saw them?”
“I passed a novice nursing burned fingertips and another holding what looked like a melted ink bottle. When I saw you trying to rescue this book, I guessed the rest.” His lips twitched. “Rothen has told me of your admirers.”
She regarded him silently. He laughed at her expression, but it was a laugh edged with bitterness.
“I wasn’t very popular in my First Year of University, either. I understand a little of what you’re going through. It’s torture, but you can get yourself out of it.”
“How?”
He put the book down on the table and leaned back in the chair. “Before I say anything, you had better tell me what they’ve done to you so far. I need to get an idea what these novices are like, particularly Regin, before I can help you.”
“Help me?” She regarded him dubiously. “What can you do that Rothen can’t?”
He smiled. “Maybe nothing, but we won’t know that if we don’t try.”
Somewhat reluctantly, she told him about the first day, about Issle and how all the class turned from her. She related how she had worked until she could join the next class only to have Regin follow her, and how soon after he had put Narron’s pen in her box so that everyone would think she was a thief. And then she described the ambush in the forest.
“I don’t know why, but I left that meeting with the Higher Magicians with a feeling that something else was going on that I didn’t know about,” she finished. “They didn’t ask the sort of questions I expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
Sonea shrugged. “Questions about who started the whole thing. They only asked if I was tired.”
“You had just demonstrated how strong you were, Sonea,” Dorrien pointed out. “They would have been more interested in that than some squabble between you and the novices.”
“But they banned Regin from Balkan’s class until the middle of next year.”
“Oh, they had to punish him,” Dorrien waved a hand dismissively, “but that’s not why they questioned you. They wanted you to confirm his story, but mostly they wanted to gauge your limits.”
Sonea thought back to that interview and nodded slowly.
“From what I’ve heard, you’re stronger than many of the lower-level teachers now,” he continued. “Some believe your powers have developed young and won’t grow much further, others think you’ll continue at this rate and become as powerful as Lorlen. Who knows? It doesn’t mean anything until you know how to use that power.”
Dorrien leaned forward and rubbed his palms together. “But the magicians have to acknowledge that Regin and his friends are ganging up on you now. Unfortunately, they can only do something about it when there’s proof. We have to give them that proof. I think we should convince them that he was the one who planted Narron’s pen in your box.”
“How?”
“Hmmm.” Dorrien leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the cover of the book. “Ideally, it should involve him trying to set you up as a thief again. Then when he’s caught, everyone will have to consider that you were set up before. Yet we’ll have to make sure there’s no possibility that they’ll think we set him up...”
As they tossed ideas back and forth, Sonea felt her spirits lighten. Perhaps Dorrien could help her. He was certainly nothing like she had expected him to be. In fact, she decided, he was nothing like any magician she had met before.
I think I actually like him, she mused.
18
Friendship
Opening the door to her room, Sonea blinked in surprise.
“Enough studying,” Dorrien announced. “You’ve been stuck in there every night this week. It’s Freeday, and we’re going out.”
“Out?” Sonea repeated.
“Out,” he affirmed.
“Where to?”
“That,” Dorrien’s eyes twinkled, “is a secret.”
Sonea opened her mouth to protest, but he put a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he said. “No more questions.”
Curious despite her annoyance, she pulled the door closed and followed him down the corridor of the Novices’ Quarters. She caught a soft sound behind her and looked back over her shoulder. Regin was peering out from the open doorway of a room, his lips curled into a sly smile.
Turning away, she followed Dorrien outside. The sun was shining, though the grounds were still buried deep under snow. Dorrien walked fast, and she had to hurry to keep up with him.
“How far away is this secret place?”
“Not far.” Dorrien smiled.
Not far. Like most of Dorrien’s answers, it told her nothing. She pressed her lips together, determined to ask no more questions.
