“Have you been out of the grounds many times since you came here?” he asked, slowing his stride as they entered the University.
“A few times. Not since I started at the University, though.”
“But that’s nearly six months ago.” Dorrien shook his head. “Rothen really should take you out more. It’s not healthy spending all your time indoors.”
Amused by his disapproval, she smiled. She couldn’t imagine him being comfortable indoors for long periods of time. A light tan colored his face and hands, hinting at long hours spent under the sun. His strides were long and easy, and she had to walk fast to keep up.
She had expected a younger Rothen. While Dorrien’s eyes were the same brilliant blue as his father’s, his jaw was narrower and his frame was thinner. However, the main difference was in their personalities. Or was it? While Rothen was dedicated to teaching novices, Dorrien was commited to looking after the villages in his care. They just practiced different disciplines and lived in vastly different surrounds.
“Where did you go?” Dorrien asked.
“I visited my aunt and uncle in the slums a few times,” she told him. “Every time I did, I think a few magicians were worried I might try to run away.”
“Have you ever thought of running away, Sonea?”
Surprised by the question, she looked at him closely. His gaze was level, and his expression serious.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, lifting her chin.
Dorrien smiled. “Don’t think you’re the only novice who ever did,” he said quietly. “Nearly all of us think about it at some time - usually just before testing time.”
“But you did get away in the end, didn’t you?” Sonea pointed out.
He laughed. “You could look at it that way.”
“How long have you been working in the country?”
“Five years.” Reaching the end of the corridor, they stepped into the Entrance Hall, and started up the stairs.
“Do you miss the Guild?”
He pursed his lips. “Sometimes. I miss Father most, but I also miss having access to all the medicines and knowledge here. If I need to find out how to treat an illness I can communicate with Healers here, but it’s a slower process and I often don’t have the medicines in my store that I need.”
“Is there another Healers’ Quarters where you live?”
“Oh, no,” Dorrien smiled. “I live in a little house on a hillside, on my own. People come to me to have their illnesses treated, or I visit them. Sometimes I have to travel for several hours, and I have to take everything I might need with me.”
Sonea absorbed this as she followed him up the second flight of stairs. When they reached the top she noted that, while she was a little out of breath, Dorrien wasn’t at all affected by the exertion.
“This way.” He beckoned and walked down the main corridor. They were on the third floor of the University. Mystified, Sonea wondered what could be so interesting up here.
Dorrien turned into a smaller passage. After taking several turns and passing through a small, unused room, he stopped before a door and waved a hand slowly over a panel set into the wood. Sonea heard a click, then the door swung inward. Gesturing for her to follow, Dorrien moved into an unlit staircase. As the door closed behind them a globe of light sparked into existence above Dorrien’s head.
“Where are we?” Sonea breathed. They had taken so many turns that she was completely disorientated. She was sure they were somewhere near the front of the University. There were no floors above, yet the staircase continued upward.
“We’re inside the University,” Dorrien told her with an innocent smile.
“I know that.”
He chuckled and turned toward the stairs. They climbed up to another door, which responded to Dorrien’s hand as the other had. As it swung open, a blast of icy wind rushed in to chill her skin.
“Now we’re outside the University,” Dorrien said as they stepped through the door.
Finding herself on a wide pathway, Sonea caught her breath in surprise. They were standing on the University’s roof.
It curved slightly to prevent rain and snow from gathering. She could see the large glass ceiling of the Great Hall in the center. A little snow had gathered around the frame of each panel of glass. The ornate edging that topped the two longer sides of the building formed a sturdy railing at waist height.
“I didn’t know it was possible to get onto the roof,” she admitted.
“Only a few magicians are allowed to come here,” Dorrien told her. “The locks respond to their touch. I was given access by Lady Vinara’s predecessor, Lord Garen.” Dorrien’s expression became wistful. “After mother died, he and I became friends of sorts. He was like an additional grandfather, I suppose. One who was always around to talk to me. He taught me when I decided to b—”
A blast of wind whisked his words away and grabbed at their robes. Sonea’s fringe whipped around her face, stinging her eyes. She reached behind her head and grabbed the clip that held her hair back. Turning to face the wind, she gathered the wayward strands together and fastened them tightly.
Then the wind abruptly stopped. Sensing the barrier Dorrien had created to shield them, she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes bright in the sunlight.
“Come down here,” he beckoned.
He strode down to the railing. Sonea followed, noting how the surface of the roof had been carved with grooves to prevent boots slipping when it was wet. Dorrien stopped halfway along the length of the building. Brushing snow off the railing, she leaned over to stare at the ground. It was a dizzyingly long way down.
A group of servants hurried along the path, making their way through the gardens toward the Healers’ Quarters. She could see the roof of the circular building over the treetops. Turning to her right, she saw the Novices’ Quarters, the Dome, the Seven Arches building and the Baths. Behind was Sarika’s Hill, the forest dusted with snow. At the top of the hill the disused, crumbling lookout was just visible, mostly hidden by trees.
Turning around completely, she looked at the city, then beyond. A ribbon of blue, the Tarali River, wound away from Imardin toward the horizon.
“Look,” Dorrien said, pointing. “You can see barges on the river.”
Sonea shaded her eyes and saw a long line of flat craft floating on the river just beyond the city outskirts. On each stood tiny men with poles, with which they constantly prodded the riverbed. She frowned.
“Isn’t the river deep?”
“It is closer to the city,” Dorrien told her, “but up there it’s still shallow enough for the bargemen. When they arrive in the city a boat will come out and guide them into the port. They’re carrying produce from the northwest, most likely,” Dorrien noted. “See the road on the other side of the river?”
Sonea nodded. A narrow brown line ran beside the blue line of the river.
“When they have delivered their load they will tie the barges to gorin, who will pull them back upstream. The gorin will be used to bring other trade downstream - they’re slower and cheaper to hire.
“To get to my home, you follow that road.” Dorrien pointed. “The Steelbelt Ranges appear on the horizon after a few days’ riding.”
Sonea followed the direction of his finger. Dark clumps of trees grew along the distant road, and beyond them she could see fields stretching to the horizon.
She had studied maps of Kyralia, and knew that mountains marked the border between Kyralia and Sachaka, just as, in the northwest, the Grey Mountains formed the border of Elyne. As she stared out into the distance, a strange feeling stole over her. There were places out there she had never seen - never even thought to wonder about - but they were still a part of her country.
And beyond that there were other lands she had only recently begun to learn about.
“Have you ever been outside Kyralia?”
“No,” Dorrien shrugged. “I might travel one day. Never had a good reason to go, and I don’t like being away from my village too long.”
“What about Sachaka? You live right near one of the passes, don’t you? Haven’t you ever slipped through to have a look?”
He shook his head. “A few of the herders have, probably to see if it was worth grazing there. There are no
