“Well, if you were like me, and couldn’t help what you felt, then the Healers would find out, wouldn’t they?”
“Not necessarily.”
The scholar’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me...?”
“They sense the physical. That is all. If there is something in a man’s body that causes him to desire men, the Healers haven’t found it yet.”
“But I was told... I was told Healers can tell if there’s something wrong with someone.”
“They can.”
“So this... isn’t a wrongness or...” Tayend frowned and looked at Dannyl. “So how did you know about me?”
Dannyl smiled. “Your mind was shouting it so loud I could hardly ignore it. People with magical potential who don’t learn to use it often project their thoughts strongly.”
“Oh?” Tayend looked away, his face reddening. “How much did you... read?”
“Not much,” Dannyl assured him. “Mostly your fears. I didn’t continue listening. That’s not good manners.”
Tayend nodded. He thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “You mean I could have joined the Guild!” He frowned. “But I’m not sure I would have liked it much.” Moving to the chair next to Dannyl’s, Tayend sat down. “Can I ask a personal question?”
“Yes.”
“What really happened between you and that novice?”
Dannyl sighed. “Nothing.” He glanced at Tayend and found the scholar watching him expectantly. “Very well. The whole story, then.
“I wasn’t popular. New novices often seek older ones to help with their studies, but I had trouble finding someone who’d agree to help me. I’d heard tales about one of the older boys, and that other novices avoided him because of these stories, but he was one of the best in his year and I decided to ignore the rumors. When he agreed to help me I was rather pleased with myself.” He shook his head. “But there was a novice in my class who hated me.”
“Lord Fergun?”
“Yes. We’d thrown insults and played tricks on each other since classes first started. He’d heard the tales about my helper, and they were all he needed to start new rumors. The next I knew I was being questioned by the Higher Magicians.”
“What happened?”
“I denied the rumors, of course. They decided the best way to stop the gossip was to keep us apart, so I was ordered to stay away from the boy. Of course, this was all the confirmation the novices needed.”
“What happened to him? Were the rumors about him true?”
“He graduated and returned to his country. That’s all I can tell you.” Seeing Tayend’s gaze sharpen with curiosity, Dannyl added: “No, I’m not going to tell you his name.”
Looking disappointed, Tayend leaned back in his chair. “So what happened then?”
Dannyl shrugged. “I kept studying and made sure I didn’t bring suspicion on myself again. Eventually everyone forgot about it, except Fergun - and the Elyne court, it seems.”
Tayend didn’t smile. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “And what will you do now?”
Dannyl refilled his glass. “Since the Tombs of White Tears are closed during the festival, there’s not much to do except drink and relax.”
“And then?”
“I guess we visit the Tombs.”
“And then?”
“That depends on what we find. Either way, we’ll return to Elyne.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Tayend held Dannyl’s eyes. “If being seen with a novice who might or might not have been a lad was enough to cause you so much trouble, then associating with a man known to be a lad must be much, much worse. You said you must avoid bringing suspicion on yourself. I can still assist you from the library, but I’ll send what I find to you by messenger.”
Dannyl felt something twist inside. He hadn’t considered that Tayend might suggest this. Remembering his earlier thoughts of ending the friendship he felt a pang of guilt.
“Oh, no,” he replied. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“But what could bring more suspicion upon you than associating with—”
“—a scholar of the Great Library,” Dannyl finished. “A useful and valuable assistant. And a friend. If the gossips are going to talk, they’ll have started already. They’ll have more to talk about if they hear we’re communicating in secret.”
Surprised, Tayend opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. Looking down at his glass, he lifted it to toast Dannyl.
“Here’s to friendship, then.”
Smiling, Dannyl lifted his glass to meet the scholar’s.
Rothen ran a finger along the spines of the books as he searched. He paused as the door of the Magicians’ Library opened, and looked up to see Dorrien striding into the room followed by Sonea. He frowned. Sonea had asked him to get several books from the library, but here she was with Dorrien.
Lord Jullen scowled and told her to leave her box on the shelves near the door. She pulled a few sheets of paper out and left the box behind. Dorrien nodded politely to the librarian, then led Sonea into the long rows of shelving.
Deciding to find the books before pursuing the pair, Rothen continued his search, eventually finding the first book on his list several shelves from where it should have been. He silently cursed the magician who had misplaced it.
He was only vaguely aware of somebody approaching Lord Jullen and asking for help, but he did notice that Dorrien had begun a friendly conversation with Lord Galin in the next aisle. A loud coughing started behind him, and he glanced behind to see Lord Garrel holding a nosecloth to his mouth. Then an exclamation drew his attention away.
“Regin!” Galin barked, striding out into the aisle. Looking through the shelves, Rothen could see Regin standing next to Jullen’s desk.
“Yes, my lord?” His expression was all innocence and puzzlement.
“What did you just put in this box?”
“What box, my lord?”
Galin’s eyes narrowed.
“What is the problem, Lord Galin?” Lord Garrel strode down the aisle and approached Jullen’s desk.
“I just saw Regin take something from Jullen’s desk and put it in this box.” Galin pulled Sonea’s box off the shelf and placed it on the desk in front of Regin.
Hearing murmuring voices, Rothen looked around to see magicians gathered in twos and threes, watching this drama unfold. Lord Jullen strode out from behind the shelves. He looked from the magicians to the novice and then to the box. “What is going on here? This is Sonea’s box.”
Galin’s brows rose. “Is it? How very interesting.” He repeated what he’d seen. Lord Jullen’s eyebrows dropped into a disapproving frown.
“Shall we see which of your possessions Regin has decided that Sonea would dearly like to own?”
Regin paled. Rothen felt a smile spread over his face. He nearly yelped in surprise as a hand touched his shoulder. Turning, he found Dorrien standing beside him, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What have you done?” Rothen whispered accusingly.
“Nothing,” Dorrien replied, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Regin did it all himself. I just made sure someone was watching.”
Hearing Sonea’s box click open, Rothen watched as Jullen took out a black, shiny object. “My two-hundred- year-old Elyne inkwell.” The librarian frowned. “Valuable, but leaky. I must congratulate you, Regin. Even if Sonea had managed to return it herself, her notes would still be covered in ink.”
